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luminnara · 1 month

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Protector | Feyd-Rautha x reader

ANON REQUEST: your marriage to Feyd-Rautha is an arranged one, and your only task is to provide an heir. When you finally become pregnant, your new husband suddenly grows obsessed with you—but does he care about you, or is he simply protective of his progeny?

Warnings: pregnancy, labor, and related talk; canon typical violence

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Your marriage was one born out of duty, not love. You couldn’t even call it a marriage of convenience; there was nothing convenient about leaving your homeworld and traveling across an entire galaxy to marry someone you had never even met before. Yes, the Houses had agreed beforehand that you were to marry Feyd-Rautha, the Na-Baron of House Harkonnen, and immediately after the deal had been struck you had seen his face and read his writing, but you hadn’t met him until your wedding day.

You had chastised yourself for thinking it could be like the fairytales of Ancient Earth. You, a princess, your betrothed a handsome prince…in the stories of your childhood, he would have whisked you away, off to a great, shining palace full of magical wonders, and you would have lived happily ever after. Instead, your prince had proved to be disinterested in you, busying himself with his arena and his concubines, ignoring you most of the day. The Harkonnen fortress did not shine, nor did it hold any great wonders, and Giedi Prime felt far from magical, with its harsh black sun and polluted landscape.

After your vows, you had naively thought your wedding night would be full of romance. Perhaps you had been holding onto hope as a means to protect yourself, clinging to optimism to distract yourself from your harsh, sad reality. You had been all too eager to shed your dress and veil in Feyd-Rautha’s living quarters, though had not expected them to be ruined by his blade, and you had not expected him to greedily conquer you as if it were yet another battle in the arena. He had slept next to you that night, but had made it painfully obvious that he had no interest in holding you or even touching you, keeping far to his side of the bed while you remained far to yours. In the morning, you had awoken alone, and had realized that it was the beginning of a long and lonely road on your new planet.

Everyone expected an heir. That was the entire point of this marriage, a legitimate heir for the Harkonnen line. Anyone else could have done it—you were of fine breeding, yes, but any of the other Houses could have offered up a daughter to suffer at Feyd-Rautha’s side. Why it had to be you surely came down to the only things powerful men seemed to care about—money and spice. An allegiance with House Harkonnen protected your family, and your small share of spice harvesters on Arrakis added yet another drop into their vast bucket and one less smuggling operation to worry about. Your parents were happy. Baron Vladimir Harkonnen was happy.

And you were miserable.

Two months after your wedding, your monthly cycle continued as normal, and you were forced to shamefully inform the na-Baron. After an annoyed sound and a grimace, he bent you over the nearest table and took you for a second time, leaving you to clean yourself up and cry at your husband’s callousness. You didn’t know why he couldn’t bring himself to care. You supposed he already had everything he could possibly want; wealth, concubines, a throne to inherit…you brought nothing of real value to him, save for the ability to produce an heir.

Time passed, and it became clear that Feyd-Rautha would have to touch you more than once a month if he was to have any hope of fathering a child. You cursed yourself for your apparent inability to conceive—fertility had been one of your parents’ selling points when negotiating with the Baron, and now, you couldn’t even do the one thing that was expected of you. It brought you to tears every night, the stress of being reduced to this and yet still being unable to perform your task. It was maddening, though you knew you were hardly the first woman to find yourself in such a situation. You did worry, however, that you may have been the weakest.

One evening, as Feyd performed his husbandly duties, he noticed a tear slipping down your cheek and paused. You felt a rough hand cup the side of your face and opened your eyes to find your husband staring at you with dark eyes, his head tilted to suggest he was curious.

“Tears?” He asked in his raspy voice that was still so alien to you.

“My apologies, na-Baron,” you looked away from him.

“You are crying.”

You stifled an annoyed sigh. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Do not worry yourself with me, husband.” You said.

“Tell me.”

This was perhaps the longest conversation you had had since marrying him, and part of you didn’t want it to end. You looked at him once more, finding him still watching you with that unwavering, predatory gaze, and another tear rolled down your cheek and onto his hand.

“I am sorry I have not given you a child.” You whispered.

“Then let me put one into you.”

His tone sent a chill down your spine, frightening and exciting you all at once. That night, Feyd-Rautha did not let you sleep, shocking you with his determination. It was simply because the sooner you conceived, the sooner he could return to his own concerns, you reasoned.

Sure enough, your period did not arrive when expected, nor did the next. A medical test confirmed what you already knew—you were pregnant, with Feyd-Rautha’s child. A Harkonnen child, who would grow up to be just as ruthless and savage as its father, you thought.

Upon receiving the positive result, you immediately set off to tell the na-Baron. He should not be made to wait; you wanted him to know that the entire point of your union was finally achieved, and that you could both go back to ignoring each other as usual. As you walked, you had the worrying thought that he may not even keep you alive after the delivery.

“Na-Baron,” you addressed him upon finding him in his armory.

He looked up from the blade he was sharpening. “Wife.”

“I bring news,” you said, folding your hands in front of yourself.

“Then tell me, before I grow bored of waiting.” He returned to the hunting knife, looking away from you once more.

“I am with child.”

You watched as Feyd-Rautha paused, tilting his head to look at you. “My child?”

“Yes. Who else could it possibly belong to?” You asked, exasperated. “The physicians confirmed it just now. I wanted you to be the first to know.”

He nodded slowly, looking back at the knife in his hand as he thought. “I see.”

Whatever hopes you had once had for him to suddenly flip his entire personality at the news were quickly dashed by his lack of emotion. You left him there, a hand over your mouth as you tried not to cry, returning to your bed to be alone once more.

-0-

In those earlier days of pregnancy, you were often ill, sprinting from bed to the wash basin nearly every day to be sick. Usually, you were alone; Feyd-Rautha rose early, spending his mornings training and sometimes killing his instructors. Whenever that happened, he would come back, wearing blood and a grin on his face as if he had just won some great contest.

Today, however, he was enjoying a rare occasion of sleeping in. He had begun spending his nights in the center of the bed, crowding you as you attempted to stay away from him. One morning you had even woken up to find his arm throne over you, his body closer than ever. Now, he was sleeping, and you would have been content to let him remain there were you not busy launching yourself over him as you ran to the adjoining wash room.

You missed the way your husband sat up, eyes wide and frenzied as he pulled a dagger from beneath the pillows. When he found the room to be empty and free of danger, he grew confused…until he heard your retching in the next room, and slipped out of bed.

“Wife?” He asked from the doorway.

“What?” You groaned, leaning your cheek on the cool basin.

“…are you alright?”

You sighed. “No, na-Baron, I am not. I mean…I am, I just…”

“You are sick,” he pointed out.

It took every bit of willpower you possessed to swallow down the part of you that desperately wanted to throttle him. “Yes. I am. It’s the pregnancy, the pills from the doctors haven’t been working—“

“This has happened before?” He interrupted.

“Most days, yes,” you felt another wave of nausea coming over you and hunched your shoulders, preparing for the worst.

You never expected to feel a cool hand brushing your hair away from your forehead, nor the feeling of your husband’s chest against your back as he held you.

“Harkonnen women don’t have this problem,” he commented as he held your hair.

It was the least helpful statement he possibly could have made as you vomited once more, and yet it was also quite possibly the best.

“If Harkonnen women have no hair, then what do you pull?” You asked wryly, too ill and too exhausted to hold yourself back.

Feyd-Rautha stared you, unblinking, before a smirk found its way onto his lips. “If you are feeling brave, perhaps I will show you one day.”

You let out a laugh as the nausea ebbed, leaning back against him. “Perhaps one day I will finally stop seeing my lunch so many times, and then you can regale me.”

-0-

Your sickness faded as your pregnancy progressed, thankfully, but Feyd-Rautha’s company did not. By the time you were beginning to truly show, he was refusing to leave you alone, demanding your presence wherever he went. As a result, you sat in on many a sparring session, and he made up his mind to abandon the arena until after the baby was born. His sudden change in attitude was shocking; he had never paid so much attention to anything before, and now, his hands were constantly on you.

“I must keep you safe,” he had said when you first asked about it, and had acted as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe.

You assumed he was protective due to the baby, the precious new heir to the Harkonnen throne. As its vessel, you were afforded some luxuries, but you fully expected that to change after the birth. For now, though, you were content to receive any and all attention your husband saw fit to pay you.

“That went well,” you said one day after the doctor examined you.

“He should not have touched you like that.” Feyd-Rautha growled.

“What do you mean? He’s a doctor,” you laughed, somewhat nervously.

“I did not like it.” His voice was tense.

“I could tell.” You grumbled, dropping your happy façade. He had nearly chased the doctor out of the room, hunting knife in hand. “Examinations are unavoidable, I’m afraid.”

“No more.”

“But—“

“No more strangers touching you.”

"Doctors help," you protested. "Don't you want your child to be healthy?"

At that, Feyd paused in thought. "...You may have a Harkonnen midwife."

"Because a Harkonnen doctor is too much?" You asked dryly.

He glared at you briefly before looking away towards the door. "Come."

You audibly groaned, one hand on your lower back. "Na-Baron, I am tired. I wish to retire to bed."

He looked back at you, and you caught an expression of distress on his face. "I need to train."

"You train every day."

"Yes." he said it as if it were obvious, but something in his tone suggested more; he made it sound urgent, as if it were something he had to do daily, and missing a single session would be disastrous. "Come."

You heaved a sigh and followed him.

-0-

In the months that followed, your unborn child grew, as did your body. You found yourself becoming large and bloated, your gait slowing as your flexibility waned. New maternity gowns were brought to you, an interesting mix of styles--the flowing, heavy garments of your homeworld meeting the simple, stark aesthetics of Giedi Prime. You found them strange, but at that point, you really didn't care; you would have walked around naked if no one would have stopped you. You spent your days feeling uncomfortable and awkward, with swollen feet and a sore lumbar region. Harkonnen servants brought whatever you needed, and your husband ensured--no, demanded--that all of your food be tasted by someone else while you watched so that there could be no chance of poison passing between your lips.

You wondered if this was simply some aspect of Harkonnen culture that the other Houses weren't aware of or never cared to talk about. Perhaps on a planet as harsh and toxic as Giedi Prime, infertility and infant mortality were more commonplace than the rest of the known universe. Perhaps this possessiveness was common among Harkonnen men, if conception was more difficult for their people.

Whether your theory was correct or not, Feyd-Rautha had certainly become even more attached to you. Not a morning went by when he wasn’t there next to you in bed, and as of late, he had begun waking you up by reminding you exactly how you had ended up like this in the first place. Before your pregnancy, he had acted as though bedding you were a boorish duty he had no choice but to perform; now that you were heavy with child, however, he was more than interested in you physically, constantly touching you with those rough, murderous hands.

You enjoyed the attention, and you enjoyed the way he squeezed and massaged you with surprising gentleness. He didn’t want to break you, you supposed, not right now; after the child arrived, perhaps, but not now. That was a grim thought, and one you had often—what was to come of your after the birth? Would Feyd-Rautha want more children, in case this one died some horrible, brutal, Harkonnen death? Or would you be disposed of, no longer needed after his legacy was secured?

You tried not to dwell on it.

One morning, you roused on your own, without Feyd’s interference. Wondering if he was even still there, you reached out to the side, feeling for him—and you nearly jumped when you felt bare flesh beneath your hand. When you rolled onto your back with considerable effort and turned your head to the side, you saw that your husband was there, still sleeping, and that what you had felt was his exposed chest.

You took the moment to look at him, really look at him. He seemed so peaceful like this, when he wasn’t fighting and killing. You had seen him take lives so quickly that his victims hadn’t even known they had died, and you had wondered how someone could be so dismissive of those around them. The first time you had watched your husband slit a throat, you had nearly vomited, and he had found your revulsion amusing; the most recent, however, you had simply sighed and looked away. You were desensitized, it seemed, just like he was, and now, you slept just as easily after watching him commit horrendous acts of violence as he did now.

Feyd-Rautha was handsome as far as Harkonnens went. His skin was smooth like marble, free of the scars and bruises one might expect to see on a warrior. His face, usually so harsh during the waking hours, was relaxed now, and you realized he was beautiful. You couldn’t keep yourself from brushing your fingers over his lips and feeling how surprisingly soft they were, though in a way, this felt wrong. Feyd-Rautha didn’t strike you as the kind of person who would allow this sort of touch, but when would you have this opportunity again? He always rose first in the morning and slept last at night. You never caught him with his guard down, and you kept your hands to yourself during the day. This was the only time you could marvel at him like this.

As your fingers ghosted across his cheek, he twitched, and you froze. Then, to your horror, an eye cracked open, and you knew that he had been awake all along.

When you moved to pull away, he caught your wrist, then covered your hand in his. He held your gaze for several long, strange moments, and you realized that he hadn’t simply been awake—he had been allowing you to touch his face, to explore him in a way you had never been brave enough to before. It felt like a gift, in a way. In his way.

“I apologize,” you breathed, unable to look away from him.

“Why?” He asked, voice deep and rough with sleep.

“I should not have touched you without permission.”

“I am your husband,” he said. “And you are carrying my child. You do not need permission to touch me.”

Somehow, you knew his words carried a deeper meaning. You knew you were one of, if not the only, one on all of Giedi Prime whom he had said those words to. And for the first time since marrying him, you felt that Feyd-Rautha was truly your husband.

-0-

He was with you when the labor began.

You had been lounging in your shared chambers, enduring the final week of your pregnancy. It felt bittersweet, in a way; you had no way of knowing then if you would ever be experiencing this again, and a part of you desperately wanted to hold onto it while the rest was fed up with feeling massive and uncomfortable every day.

Feyd-Rautha had been agitated all morning. It was as if he had known something was about to happen, and he had spent his time barely containing himself as he paced and sharpened knives, attempting to keep to himself and leave you alone and doing a piss poor job of it. You had been ready to chase him out of the room—or at least attempt to—when you felt your waters go and the panic set in.

That had been three hours ago.

Now, you were in your bed, and a shockingly-diligent Harkonnen na-Baron had yet to leave your side. He had briefly stepped into the corridor to bellow at the nearest passerby and your midwife had arrived very quickly as a result, but after that, he had sat down next to you and refused to go anywhere else.

“Is it agony?” He asked as you stood.

You shot him a glare. “I would not wish this sensation on even you.”

He was taken aback by your tone, impressed, even, by the venom in it.

“A short walk about the room may help,” the midwife suggested. “I will assist—“

“No.” Feyd-Rautha was up and at your side in an instant, taking your elbow. “I will.”

You didn’t care who did what, you just wanted it to be over and done with. The labor was progressing quickly, the midwife assured after another check once you were back in bed, and soon, you were wailing and grunting, your face was sweaty, and the na-Baron was staring in awe. You were focused on the task set before you, one hand on Feyd’s arm as you pushed with all your might, and so you could not see the way your husband was looking at you.

When your son was born and crying at the top of his tiny lungs, Feyd-Rautha cut the umbilical cord with a hunting knife and then he stared. It seemed that the entire time, he was incapable of looking away, his eyes glued to either you or the new Harkonnen heir. You supposed he had been too enthralled to order the midwife out of the room, and the woman was smart enough not to push her luck—she did the necessary examinations as quickly as she could, then handed the baby off to you, busying herself with cleaning what looked like a murder scene and gathering the afterbirth when it came. Then, satisfied with her work and the health of the child, she left, and you were alone with your husband and son.

You cradled the infant, tucking him against your breast and pulling the edge of your robe over him in an attempt to keep him warm. He was born pale, like his father, but with a soft layer of hair that made you wonder how much he might grow to look like you. The midwife had said it before she slipped out, and you had to agree—he was beautiful, and you smiled down at him.

A thud startled you and you turned to see that Feyd-Rautha had fallen to his knees at your bedside, looking at you with a reverence you had never seen in anyone before.

“Feyd?” You asked.

He looked between you and your son, and you saw then that something had changed within him over those many months. Gone was the dismissive, uncaring husband you had wed; this Feyd-Rautha had grown to become a protector, one who would fight until his muscles tore from his bones, who would bleed himself dry for you.

“You are stronger than I knew,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your cheek much the way you had with him all those nights ago.

You felt a lump in your throat. “Come here. Join us.”

He did.

Feyd-Rautha sat with you there, in your bed, the very bed your first child was born in. He watched as your son woke from his peaceful, short nap, and he was privy to the private, intimate moment of his first feeding. He held the baby, staring at him in wonder and what may have been a touch of fear, supporting the both of you as he helped you to the bathing room when you were well enough to stand.

“A son,” he said, watching the baby sleep that night.

“Yes.” You mumbled, exhausted and nearly asleep as well. “Are you pleased, husband?”

“I would have been just as pleased with a daughter.”

That surprised you, and you glanced over your shoulder to see him propped up on an elbow, watching your son as he slept in his simple Harkonnen manger. “Really?”

“Yes,” he said, never once taking his eyes off the child. “I can teach a daughter to fight just as well.” Finally, he looked down at you. “Are you well?”

“As well as can be expected.” You sighed.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes, I am,” you answered him, sleep already dragging you down.

You barely felt his lips as he pressed a kiss to your temple, and you barely heard his voice as he said,

“I am as well.”

-0-

You had expected Feyd-Rautha to grow cold in the weeks following your son’s birth, but he never had. He was attentive, caring for you in a way that suggested he felt some primal urge to drag back great beasts for dinner every night but modern living prohibited that.

Now, you watched as he stood before one of the massive windows within the Harkonnen palace. It was evening on Giedi Prime, but the black sun casted no shadows over the landscape. Feyd-Rautha held your son, whispering to him, and as you watched, you wished the moment could stretch on forever.

“Husband,” you said, approaching him.

“Wife,” he greeted you, turning.

“On your evening walk together, I see.”

He chuckled. “I am showing him everything he will one day rule over.”

“I am surprised you haven’t taken him into battle with you yet,” you said sarcastically.

“I will strap him to my chest so that he might taste the blood of House Atreides,” he said with a grin.

“The youngest Harkonnen warrior the world has ever seen.” You smiled, leaning in to check on what appeared to be a perfectly happy, albeit possibile bloodthirsty, baby.

“What are you doing walking alone?” Feyd-Rautha asked.

“Looking for you.”

“And now that you have found me, what do you intend to do?”

You leaned into your husband, resting your head on his shoulder. “Drop the baby off with the wet nurse, seduce you, take you to bed and then have my way with you.”

“You have my attention.”

“I thought you might be interested in trying for a girl this time…”

In a blink, he had spun you around and was dragging you down the corridor, and once the baby was safely tucked in with a nursemaid watching over him, you did indeed have your way with your husband. And again. And again. And you realized, as you retired to bed that night, that you were truly glad to have been arranged to marry Feyd-Rautha, heir to the Harkonnen throne and father of your children.

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd x reader #TW pregnancy #TW labor and delivery #dune x reader

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eddiemunsons-missingnipple · 6 months

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You look lonely.

《 VirginRockstar!Eddie munson x GroupieFem!Reader

《 Summary: Eddie finally had it all, success, money, and fame. There was still one tiny problem he had.

《 Warnings: unprotected sex, Eddie is 25. Virgin!Eddie, multiple orgasms, over stimulation. Loss of virginity. Brief mention of birth control, subish eddie. A little spanking.

《 Word count: a little over 8k

A/n: Not proofread ignore any mistakes you come across. Please like, comment, and reblog to show support. Divider credit @cafekitsune

18+ minors dni

Year 1991

Eddie's life was at an all-time high. He had everything he only dreamt about back home in Hawkins, Indiana. He had money, fame, and adoring fans who loved him. Yet he still never had the opportunity to make a real connection with anyone. He still hasn't found the one.

Which was fine he didn't really need anyone right now. His life was too hectic for a partner. He was traveling all over the world meeting new people every night. He put all of his time and energy into music, and it paid off in the end.

He's surrounded by beautiful models and actresses, but never has he once been lucky enough to be intimate with any of them. He was a nervous and shy guy even after success. He never changed. He was still Eddie. Sweet, shy, and the same nerdy man who loved to play DnD and read Tolkien.

Eddie did have plenty of opportunities to lose his virginity in the past, but he was terrified. Most people would assume he was getting laid left and right. He's read the gossip magazines. He knows what people think of him. While he can talk up a big game, once it's time to get down to it, he just... doesn't.

He runs away. He gets too much in his own head. What if I'm terrible? What if everyone finds out I'm still a virgin at twenty-five? Those thoughts raced in his mind anytime he took a woman out on date, knowing they were expecting to hook up with this crazy rockstar.

His fear of rejection held him back, and now his fear of being a total disappointment was the new cause. He knows there's truly nothing wrong with still being a virgin. it's society who has a problem with it. Normally Eddie wouldn't give two fucks what people thought about him, but this was different. Most days, he actually doesn't care at all or even thinks about it. Until he's alone in bed with nothing but his overthinking brain.

All that would change once he saw you in the crowd. Not blinking. Then he saw you again when he snuck backstage to his dressing room. He managed to somehow sneak past a group of girls without much notice, hiding behind large security guards.

You were standing off to the side next to a crowd full of half-naked women. Eddie didn't mind all of you being there. As a matter of fact, he enjoyed the view after walking off stage. A crowd full of women willing to be his for the night. If only they knew.

Tonight was your first Corroded Coffin show. You've been waiting months to finally see them live. They have been on their world tour for almost a full year. Eddie Munson, their lead singer and guitarist, has had your eye since you first saw them being interviewed on Headbangers Ball.

The moment you saw those eyes and long hair, you were hooked. Once you found out they were coming to your hometown, you rushed to buy the tickets. You were already familiar with the security at the venue they were playing. So, getting backstage access wouldn't be a problem. One of the perks of making friends with the employees.

You didn't sleep with every band that came into town. Only the ones that peaked your interest. You'd never be caught dead in some glam metal band members' hotel room. You liked the thrasher types. The ones who looked like they hadn't slept in days. The bands who were loud and aggressive. Those were your types. The guys in that scene were generally more sweet and down to earth. Which is why you gravitated towards them. If you were good to them, they were good to you.

Corroded Coffin live at The Whiskey a go-go on October 31st, 1991.

You held the ticket in your hand, shaking with excitement. You were finally going to see them in person. You were actually going to meet Eddie Munson. Being a groupie wasn't something you ever intended on happening. It just did. You loved the music first and then got to love the people who created it second.

You weren't too fond being labeled a groupie. You genuinely enjoyed the company of these rockstars. It was never just about sex. You made a real connection and friendship with most of them. You always knew there would be no romantic feelings between yourself and whoever it was you got to know for the night. Or a few nights.

Only two days until Corroded Coffin would be in your city. You bought two tickets just in case your best friend wanted to tag along. She never really enjoyed this scene the same way you did. There was a thrill and rush you got that she never experienced or cared to. Still, you bought the extra ticket just to be on the safe side. Maybe she'd like to share Eddie with you. If she was down. You don't know why you were so sure he'd give you the time of day. But you were.

You were very sure of yourself that you could have him. Most bands had an after-party at their hotel when the show was over. They'd all gather on the bus with whatever groupie of their choosing and head off. That was your plan. Get backstage. Introduce yourself to Eddie and hope he takes you to the party....if they have one. Party or not, you were going to be his.

You've heard the rumors. You read the magazines and seen him out and about with some of the most famous women in Hollywood. The groupies that walked the sunset strip all had a little tale of how he was in bed. They would describe him as rough or very giving. Sometimes both. Some said he was gentle.

Others would say he was an asshole who kicked you out after he got what he wanted. You know, most of the time, you needed to take what they said with a grain of salt. From your past experiences with other bands. Their little stories were fabricated or over dramatized for the sake of attention.

Make no mistake that you didn't just want to sleep with him. You wanted to be his friend. Talk to him about his music. Have a connection with him. Listen to any crazy stories he might have. You wanted to have a life like Pamela Des Barres.

Where songs are written about you. Getting special treatment and tour the world with them. Have a rockstar fall for you even though that's a big no-no. You don't fall in love. You don't get romantic feelings. No matter how deep of a connection you get with one of them. It's hard not to. You idolize these men and women. But you knew it would only end in heartbreak for you.

The night of the concert you decided to go early and sweet talk the security so they'll let you backstage. You knew them pretty well by now. They know why you're there and have no problems with it. Your friend didn't tag along like you were hoping, but you're used to it. You'd figure you would chat it up with some of the other girls' backstage. They weren't your favorite to talk to. Too much jealousy and competition amongst them for your liking, but if gave you something to do in the meantime.

Eddie had been scrambling around all day long, getting ready for tonight's concert. He made sure his hair looked nice and his clothes were laid out on his hotel bed. He's been hitting the gym a lot more lately. So his clothing choice consisted of no shirt and just jeans half the time. He's got a lot more tattoos since the last tour he has done. A full chest piece and both arms down to his knuckles covered in ink. He looked a little different now compared to just three years ago.

He was nervous. Eddie was always nervous before a show. No matter if there was a crowd of five people or hundreds. He was scared. He puts too much pressure on himself. He compares himself to his idols too often. Something he knows he shouldn't do, but he can't help himself. He was going to the venue early and helping the roadies unpack and set up the equipment.

Eddie figured he'd meet up with the guys and do sound checks and then help his team get everything ready. They were playing at the Whiskey. A venue Eddie was very familiar with. He's spent most of his time in the crowd watching his favorite bands play up on that stage. Eddie never imagined there would come a point he'd be playing up there, too.

Back at the venue, you were talking it up with one girl you've grown pretty close to. You didn't know her personally, but she was at the same shows you always frequented. Her name was Lila, and she looked like she walked right out of a penthouse centerfold. Long bleached blonde hair, big breasts and legs for days. Most of the other girls hated her, but she was always very sweet. She didn't make up one night stand stories to get "popular." If she didn't hook up with a certain guy, then she'd tell you. She never lied. Which is why you've grown to respect her.

"I hope we get to meet Eddie after the show ." She bounced from one heeled foot to the next. A large smile plastered on her face.

"Me too." You chuckled, watching as she struggled to contain her excitement.

"Doesn't matter which one of us takes him home as long as it is not one of those Debbie downers over there." She leaned forward to whisper.

"Why not have us both?" You joked.

Her jaw dropped." Yes! He can have us both."

You shake your head and pull her to walk over out by the side stage. You always got the best view from there. No one shoves or pushes you out the way. Plus, you could be very close to the band. Which is exactly what you wanted. The sound tech guys were busy putting everything together as the roadies were bringing in the equipment.

That's when you noticed him. Hair pulled back in a low ponytail. His bangs are longer, and loose strands of hair fell beside his face. He wasn't wearing a shirt, just pants and a chain around his neck. The tattoos on his arms and chest on full display for you. Eddie was getting the amps on stage with the rest of the crew. You heard them make a joke about which girl in the back they'd pick out for him. But you didn't care about that. You couldn't take your eyes away. He was truly more beautiful in person than on TV.

Eddie glanced your way a few times when he noticed a couple of people off to the side watching. He felt a blush creep its way up to his cheeks when he saw you gawking at him. Eddie still wasn't the best around women if he didn't prep himself first. He was a good flirt, but the moment he noticed they were checking him out, he'd turn beet red. The little blonde standing next to you had her eyes on the road crew.

You saw him make eye contact with you a few times, and your mouth went dry. You've been with plenty of rockstars before, but none of them have ever given you butterflies the way Eddie did. His big brown eyes look straight into yours, and your breath hitches. You tried to elbow Lila and get her attention, but she was too busy checking out a roadie. She was like that.

It didn't matter if they were the ones playing onstage or working for the band. If she found them attractive, she went for it. You nudged and nudged desperately, trying to get her attention as Eddie's eyes never left yours. But all you heard was her giggle next to you as she eyed up and down the guitar tech. "Alright, Ed, time for sound check." You saw Jeff peek his head from around the corner.

You lost her now. Her focus was not on Eddie anymore but his roadie. You wouldn't be surprised if she even stayed to watch the show.

Only an hour until the show starts and you were getting antsy. Lila was gone. She left not too long after the stage was officially set up. You knew where she ventured off to. Didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out. You just wish you weren't alone. There was something so...exciting about tonight. You've been to plenty of rock concerts, but this one was different. You didn't want to experience it alone.

Corroded Coffin were still considered newcomers. Who got very big very fast. There wasn't a magazine on a stand that didn't have Eddie's face on it. From tabloids to Spin magazine. He was on it. The thrill of getting to experience him in person was coursing through your veins.

There was this lump of excitement in your throat. You wanted to scream. Get it all out. You made up your mind that you were going back to his tour bus or hotel room. He was going to be yours for the night. It didn't matter how many women were lined up for his picking. It was going to be you.

Finally, the lights dim, and the crowd has already gathered to their designated spots. You were still off to the side. Gazing up at the smokey harsh purple haze lighting up the stage. There is a backdrop with huge black lettering reading Corroded Coffin hanging up high. Gareth is already at his drum set, setting up for the rest of the guys to make their grand entrance.

Each member emerges from behind the curtain with a roar from this pretty large crowd. Jeff and Grant waved to the sea of people. The crowd is alive, and you can feel it. That electricity is pumping in your veins. The place was packed. Maximum compacity is five hundred, but you know there is way more than that here tonight.

The mic in the middle of the front stage stays empty. Eddie still has yet to come out and introduce his band. The crowd is getting more and more wild. The other members play some instrumental songs to help hold everyone over until he arrives.

The band picks up speed, and the lights switch from a purple haze to red. The entire stage was glowing. The smoke on the stage gets thicker. The crowd forms a mosh pit right off to the side from you. Some of them sneak on stage to dive back into the crowd.

Your eyes have not left the stage. Not once. You kept glancing back from the mic stand to the curtain. You wouldn't lie. You were getting impatient. Extremely impatient. You wish you still had Lila with you so you could have someone to talk to as time passed. Knowing her, you probably won't be seeing her around until the next band is in town.

You blinked, and there he was. A guitar slung over his chest. His hair hanging loose around his shoulders. The shirt he was wearing now tore and cut shows off all of his tattoos. He doesn't say anything. He makes his way to the mic with a cocky smirk on his face. Watching the sea of arms waving out for him. The band never slows. Eddie starts belting out lyrics to their newest single. His voice growling in the mic. You'll never understand how these guys can do this almost every night for months on end.

The veins in his neck buldging out with every passing lyric. The crowd here tonight has never been like this before. There was something so special about witnessing a group with so much energy and passion that it's passed off to the crowd. The floor beneath your feet vibrating. You can't tell if it's from the music or the stampede next to you. Whatever it was, it had you mesmerized.

Your eyes still never left, Eddie. He stopped playing for a short moment to address the crowd. "How is everybody doing tonight?!" The contrast bewildered you. Between his speaking voice and singing voice definitely would give anyone whiplash.

He scanned the crowd, looking at how chaotic it had been since he arrived. Eddie looks off the side and sees you there. Same spot at earlier. You must look utterly hypnotized, and truth be told you were. You couldn't look away. He's got some kind of hold on you. He smirks and looks back to the rest of the audience, but every so often would make eye contact with you.

Song after song, you noticed guitar picks landing by your feet. You hadn't seen the first three times it was done. Too busy watching him thrash away on his guitar. You're surprised it's still able to play after the beating he's given it. He's playing so fast his hand looks like a blur. A pick slapping you in the chest snaps you back to reality. You bend to retrieve it and notice there are now five picks total all by your feet. They're a crimson red with E.M. scratched in the back.

Eddie had been throwing his picks at you the whole time. You hadn't noticed until he plucked one so hard at your chest that you felt it through your t-shirt. He moves over to your side of the stage and crouches down so he's almost eye level with you. He's so close you can touch him if you wanted. Eddie plays the solo of their final song of the night right in front of you. It was like he was playing it for you. Time stood still. Just the two of you and the music. You didn't even realize you stopped breathing until he got up and walked away. Giving you one last look over his should.

Eddie goes back to stand at his microphone. His confidence is through the roof. His stance is proud. "Thank you so fucking much for coming out to see us tonight. We are Corroded Coffin!" He growls that last part out, and the crowd erupt so loud you know your ears will be ringing tomorrow. The vibration on the floor intensified. You were surprised that it hasn't collapsed in yet.

One by one, the members exit the stage. Leaving Eddie to be the last. He looked back at you one last time and gave a little wave. Did he really just wave at you? No must have been to someone else. Definitely not you. You kept telling yourself.

There is no way. He was giving you a lot of attention tonight. Maybe he was? You kept arguing back and forth in your mind as you headed out.

Before you can even try to find the backstage area again, there is a security guard handing you a pass. That was awfully quick, but you don't dwell on it. All you wanted was to find Lila and Eddie.

You rush to the back and see her sitting on a case that holds one of their bigger amps. Her hair is disheveled, and her makeup all smeared. "Where did you go?"

She jumps, "Oh hey!! I got preoccupied."

"How was the show?"

You snort. "It was amazing. They were amazing. He was amazing."

"Babe, that's great. Are you going to the after-party at their penthouse?" Lila goes to stand and smooths down her dress. "The roadie.. I forgot his name told me about it."

"Oh, I'm definitely going. The security guard gave me a pass. I'm sure Eddie told him to give it to me. He had been throwing these at me all night." You go into your pocket to show her one of his picks he had been hitting you with.

Her eyes widened, and a smile spreads across her face. "He wants youuu."

She looked over at the other girls, who were now ease dropping on your conversation. She rolled her eyes and went back to give you a big hug. A bright smile stretched across her face.

"Let's get going. There is another little roadie I got my eye on." She hooks an arm around yours, guiding you to the exit doors.

You don't see Eddie anywhere. He's not out mingling with any of the backstage crew or fans. You figured he was getting cleaned up after the show. He did look very sweaty. His shirt clung to his skin, and his bangs stuck to his forehead. You were positive you would see him at the after party.

The after-party was at this luxury hotel in the penthouse suite. Jeff, Grant, Gareth, and Eddie all had their own hotel rooms but used this one for mingling after their concert. There were tons of people here. Lila left you behind again the moment she walked through those double doors. She saw her roadie and planted herself in his lap and never got up.

You dabbled in conversation with their crew and had a pretty good talk with Jeff. He was the calm one of the band, and Grant was the funny one. When they got to bickering, it was like watching an old married couple. Grant would say some stupid joke, and Jeff would rub at his temple like he just came down with the worst migraine of his life.

While you were busy conversing with them, you kept scanning the room for Eddie. The sole reason you were even here to begin with. He wasn't here. At least not yet. You were wondering if maybe he found someone else to spend his night with. The thought of that riddled you with disappointment. Was he even the one who gave you the pass?

That didn't stop you from looking. The more you looked for him, the less engaged you were with the two men in front of you. The drink in your hand has become room temperature. More people have now rushed to join the party. The air was thick with smoke. The music was loud, and you started to feel suffocated. You excused yourself from the conversation to go to a less occupied area away from everyone.

As you're making your way past drunk person after drunk person, you see him. Eddie's standing off to the side with a glass in hand that contained a dark liquid. He looks freshly showered. His hair is still a little damp at the ends. You decided to muster up some courage and walk over to where he was tucked away all alone.

"You look lonely." You remark watching his face closely.

He swirls the brown liquid in the glass, causing the ice to clink. "Nah, jus' wanted a moment to cool down." He stared ahead watching the party.

"You know, just one pick would've been enough." You joked, hoping to lighten his mood a little. Eddie was coming off dismissive, but he's was just shy. He's never been good with small talk. As a matter of fact, he hated small talk it always felt forced more than anything.

He snorts, "Sorry bout that you weren't really noticing the first three I plucked your way, though."

"That's fair...."

You eye him and down, taking him all in. He looked good. Eddie notices you checking him out, too. His bites his inner cheek to keep calm. You're looking at him like you want to devour him whole.

"Wanna go somewhere more quiet?" You place a hand on his forearm and lean in a little close.

"It's pretty loud in here. I can't really hear you." You played innocent. You know what you were doing, and Eddie definitely knew what you were doing.

He gulps "Uhhh...sure". He straightens himself up, clearing his throat. He needs to keep his composure. But for how long? Would tonight be the night?

This alway happened he would invite a girl to his room or they would invite him somewhere. Things would get hot and heavy, and right when it was time to fuck he'd kick them out. Too embarrassed to be a disappointment for them. He'd rather be called an asshole than terrible at sex. Tonight? Tonight was going to be different.

He set his drink down by a near table and takes you by the hand leading you out a door you had no idea was there. Eddie walks you down an empty hallway until he's stopping at his room door. He takes his key out and looks back to see you behind him, staring at the fancy carpet. He was nervous but so were you. Just a little. Eddie had a bit of liquid courage in him tonight. He's usually a beer guy but decided to go for something harder to celebrate how great of a show tonight was.

There is a click, and soon he's pushing open the door. "You first." As he bows letting you enter.

You make your way in the room as he flicks on the lights behind you. It was large with a couch facing a king-sized bed. You take your jacket off, and he does the same. Eddies wearing a shirt that if it had anymore holes wouldn't even be considered wearable anymore. It does show off his arms and tattoos, so you're not complaining.

Throwing your jacket on the side of his couch, "You guys were really good tonight."

"Thanks the crowd was fucking insane." Eddie's making himself another drink at the mini bar. "Thought they were gonna go through the floor."

"Want one?" He offers calling over to you.

Shaking your head. "No, I had quit enough earlier, actually."

He nods respectfully at your decline.

Rounding the corner of his bar, he comes to plop down beside you, spilling a little of his drink on him. He's watching you closely, and you've never felt more nervous around anyone else before. You've done this plenty of times. Take a rockstar back to their room. Have some fun, and then stay a little while or leave. No one has ever made your heart skip a beat other than Eddie Munson. Who is now watching you intently. In this moment, you really wish Lila was here too.

You do it. You go right for it. This is why you're here. Why he took you to his room with no amount of hesitation. Leaning forward, you capture his lips with yours in a feverish kiss. You can taste brandy on his mouth as your tongue swips his bottom lip for access. Eddie still holding on to his drink, and the other is firmly planted beside him. You stop coming up for air. His chest is heaving, and his pupils are blown.

Eddies doesn't say anything. He was too caught up on from your kiss. He leans back in the cushions. Letting his legs spread wider apart. You take that as an opportunity to straddle his lap. Eddie stared up at you, and before you could say anything. His plump lips were already on yours. You grind down against him feeling his semi hard cock through his pants. He grunts in your mouth as your tongues fight for dominance.

You press down harder in his lap, desperately looking for any small amount of friction you could get. Wetness is already pooling between your legs. His hands move to grip on your ass hard as he helps you move against him.

You kept thinking to yourself that this wasn't real. You're actually not sitting in Eddie Munson's lap making out in his hotel room. He moans when he feels your hand dip down to rub his cock. Feeling how hard he was getting in his jeans.

Eddie breaks the kiss and stills your movements on him. "Wait, you don't wanna do this with me. He frowns.

"Why wouldn't I?" You're confused. Does he not like you? Does he not find you attractive and is only saying this to be nice so you'd leave? So many thoughts rush through your head in just a couple of seconds.

"I dunno. I just think you might be let down a little." His voice is small. He's not the big loud rockstar that was screaming just hours ago.

Eddie still won't dare look at you. Too afraid of rejection even to this day if he told you the truth.

Your brows furrow, and you laugh in disbelief, "Why would I be let...down? "

He rolls his eyes and lets out an exasperated groan. He moves to get up, and you go to sit back in your spot on the couch.

Pinching the bridge of his nose. His lips were in a thin line. He was annoyed and embarrassed. Mostly with himself.

".....fuck I guess now is the time." He muttered under his breath.

"Ive never done this before." Eddie waved from himself to you. Hoping you got what he was trying to say so he didn't have to blurt it all out.

"Huh, do what? You're still so confused, but you're trying to understand him.

Not only did his music mean so much to you, but he did as well. Corroded Coffin was the first band you truly clung on to. The first band that you actually bought a ticket to see instead of sneaking in and stealing a seat. Seeing him struggle to find his words was truly tough to watch. You have so much respect and admiration for him. The last thing you want is to see him upset over something.

"It's okay Eddie whatever it is, you can tell me. It won't make me think any less of you. You tried to reassure him.

He takes a deep breath, "Fucking hell I can't believe I'm about about tell you this...I'm a virgin."

You blinked back, thinking he was just messing around. He was known to pull little pranks on people. "Shut up, you're lying. I've heard the rumors."

"Yeah, that's what they are, rumors, all lies." He chews on his thumb nail out of nervousness. Would you laugh at him now? Is he still this amazing rockstar? "It won't make me think any less of you." Yours words ring in his head, but were they true?

"B-but you've gone out with like very famous women." It's not that you didn't believe him or that this was a bad thing. He was a famous rockstar who could have anyone he wanted.

"Nothing ever happened, sure. I tried to get to know them and have a serious relationship, but most of them just used me to shed whatever good girl image they had going." Eddie confessed. There was a hint of sadness in his voice.

"So... You're telling the truth?"

"Yeah, I understand if you wanna leave." His tone was harsh, but he didn't mean for it to come off that way. He is getting defensive to protect himself from humiliation.

"I don't wanna go." You move to stand in front of him. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No," Eddie's voice is barely above a whisper. He finally looks at you, and his face softens when he sees no amount of judgment coming from you.

"Let's get on the bed." You push him so he flops back on the mattress. Standing between his legs hanging off the side, bare feet firmly planted on the floor. His shoes having long been discarded.

Slowly, you strip yourself of your top, pulling it above your head as he watched your tits bounce as you lift the shirt. You weren't wearing a bra, and you were thankful for that. One less article of clothing to getting in the way. Next was your jeans, and you carefully inched them down your legs along with your panties. Eddies eyes stayed glued to you as you became completely bare before him.

"You ever touched a girl before?" You crawl on top of him sitting just below his cock straining painfully against his zipper.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Yes, I've touched tits before."

"Not tits..here." You laugh, taking his hand and putting it between your legs. He lets out a shakey breath. Feeling the wetness between your legs as you feel his calloused fingers explore your entrance. Your slick coating his fingertips, getting them nice and sticky.

"Oh," he marveled, his eyes focusing on where his hand currently was.

"I'm gonna make you feel so good, Eddie." You purred.

You bite back a moan as he continued to explore at your opening. Your hand gripped at his wrist.

"Fuck." He cursed under his breath. Your pussy felt so inviting. Dripping wet like it was crying out for him. Begging and pleading to be fucked.

His finger glided up between your folds until they're grazing your aching clit. "Mmm, that feels so good." You praised and move both of your hands to place them on his chest.

Eddies watching and studying your face. His fingers rubbing sloppy slow circles on your throbbing clit. Your slick dripping down your inner thighs. You moan out his name and it takes everything in Eddie not to cum on the spot.

"Take your clothes off." You breathed heavy, feeling yourself already getting close.

He sat up quickly as you helped remove his shirt and pants. Leaving him in nothing but his blue checkered boxers. Tiny beads of sweat already forming on his face and tattooed chest. You take a moment to admire the dark inck, covering him almost up all the way up to his neck. You know It must have taken hours or even days to finish.

He lays there waiting. Watching and waiting for your next move or instructions. Whatever you were going to do, he was ready for it. Anything you wanted, he's all ears. Eddie was yours for the night as he wasn't going to chicken out this time. No running.

His cock forming a large tent in his underwear already. You can see a small wet patch from his pre cum. "Can I kiss you?"

He nods, moving forward to plant his lips to yours. You giggle, "Not on the mouth."

"Im talking about right there." You run your thumb over his leaking tip that's trapped in his boxers. A mischievous grin creeping up on your face.

Eddie looks a little dazed. Like he can't believe this actually happening to him right now. "Y-yeah."

You pull his boxers down letting his cock free. His tip was an angry shade of red, precum dripping down his cock. Your mouth salivating at his length. His cock was thick with prominent running down his shaft. It laid nicely against his belly button.

"You have such a pretty cock." You cooed taking his length in your hand. Eddie hisses from your touch. He's so sensitive that any amount of attention will send him just about over the edge.

His head falls back, and you can see his Adam's apple bounce when he swallows. He blows out a breath of air, trying to focus.

"Oh shit." He whispered to himself.

You take the opportunity to lick a strip up the side of his cock. He groans deep from his chest. He was going to cum he just knows it. With his cock still in your hand you slap the head of his cock on your tongue tasting the saltiness of his pre cum. Wrapping your lips around the head, you swirl and suck on him gently. Eddie throws an arm over to cover up face. His other hand clawing at the white duvet.

"I-if you don't stop, I'm not gonna last much longer." He managed to stammer out. Your mouth too busy working on his sensitive tip to even care.

You remove his cock to speak, "That's kinda the point."

Wrapping your soft lips back around him. You suck much harder this time, and his hips involuntarily buck. You smile, feeling a boost of confidence you are getting this type of reaction out of him. Felt like getting a little cocky. you decided to take him further in your mouth until he hit the back of your throat.

His abdomen flexing as his release builds. Your throat swallowing around his length. You pull him almost all the way out before taking him in your mouth fully again. Your head bobbing up and down his shaft. His hips bucking up again making his cock go deeper in your throat. You gag slightly as spit drips down your chin.

Eddies still hiding his face from you. His cheeks flushed. "Fuck....I'm gonna cum."

You bob your faster. You take absolutely no sympathy on him. You want him to finish. You want to taste and feel his cum sliding down the back of your throat. You say something in audible as your mouth is currently stuffed full. Your jaw is hurting and going slack. But you don't care.

Your main goal for right now is not only to make him cum, but make him do it as many times as he can handle. With no warning, Eddie grabs your hair and keeps your head in place while thrusting up in your mouth, making it difficult for you to catch your breath. Your nose brushes against the soft curls of his with each thrust he gave. His hips raising off the bed to push his cock in the back of your throat.

"Mmphf, ooh shit." He grunts, shooting ropes of cum down your throat. The saltiness of his cum is all you can taste. Eddies relentlessly fucking your mouth the way he wants to fuck your pussy as he rides out his orgasm.

Every low groan emitted deep from his chest causes your pussy to flutter, sending a shiver down your spine.

He lets go of you, and you remove him from your throat with a loud pop. His cum and your saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth.

"Christ, I'm sorry." Eddie apologized, He really tried not to cum so suddenly. He really really did.

You coughed a little, finally able to breathe normally again. "It's okay."

"Yeah, but... what about you?" He asked as guilt was starting to set in. He didn't want you leaving with ache between your legs that wasn't satisfied.

"Who said we were done?" You smile deviously at him. His cock still semi hard on his belly. You lay beside him, running your fingernails against his length. He gasps and lets out a whimper.

The difference between this Eddie and the one on stage is something you'll never forget. His cock twitches and you can feel him getting hard under your touch.

"Scoot up on the bed for me." You instructed, wanting him to get nice and comfortable before continuing.

Eddie listened and moved higher up on the bed until his head hit the pillows.

You move to straddle him. His cock sitting just above your pussy. He's looking at you in awe. Like you're the most beautiful woman he's ever seen, and he's completely at your mercy. And you are. And he is. As of right now, if you told him to run naked down the hallways, he'd do it. Eddie would do anything you told him to.

You rise and scoot forward some more so his cock is between your wet fold. You rock back and forth on him. He moan as you rubbed yourself on his cock. Your aching clit is finally getting some much needed attention. His chest is rising and falling rapidly.

Eddie moves his hands so they're holding on tight to your hips. You grind on him harder and faster. Your juices soaking his thick cock. That's it he was going to cum again. It was too much. What was left of his cum you didn't clean off was currently making a mess all over your pussy.

"F-fucking! hell." Eddie breathed, his fingers digging deep into your skin. He could feel another orgasm approaching him.

You felt yourself growing closer, too. The veins on his cock pulsating between your legs. Your pussy rubbing against him so deliciously. His tip nudging at your clit. Your legs tremble. Eddie bites down hard on his bottom lip almost drawing blood. His eyes glossed over. He was in pure extacy.

Eddie couldn't get enough. The feeling of his cock gliding between your slippery wet folds. It was driving him wild. If just by doing this felt incredible. Then he can't even comprehend what it must feel like to be buried in your pussy.

You had him drooling and unable to think straight. Nothing his own hand and a dirty magazine has ever been able to accomplished. Whatever his own imagination concocted was nothing compared to you. Nothing at all.

"You....this--fuck I can't even talk." Eddies whimpering and whining under you. He has a vice grip going from your ass and back to your hips. Moving them to hold on for dear life or smoothing over the softness of your skin.

"Oh my god!" he croaked. The bed rocking back and forth as you grinded on his cock. The pictures on the wall shake as you go faster. He watches as your breasts bounce, putting him in a trance.

Your climax quickly approaching, but you try to push it back. You wanted him to cum. You'll get yours later.

You feel him twitch again, and he curses under his breath. The grip he has on your hips starts to hurt. "I'm cuming...oh fuck I'm cuming." You haven't stopped moving as his cum shoots out onto his stomach and chest. Tears spring to his eyes and pour down his cheeks. Both of your minds are clouded. You stop grinding, letting him come down from his high.

He lays there limp arms out stretched after letting you go.

"I..youre so fucking amazing." Eddie finally spoke up.

You move back off him letting his cock rest up before you continued anymore. If only others could see him right now. Completely fucked out and you've only just begun. His skin is shiny with a sheen of sweat in the lighting of his hotel room. Eddie would never forget this moment or you for that matter. If he could take you on tour with him and never let you leave, he would.

"Hey, pretty boy, you okay?" You coaxed, running a hand down his cheek.

He doesn't speak, still trying to collect himself. "Mmhmm." Was all you managed to get out of him. His cock was surprisingly still hard.

"Are you ready to feel me now?" You leaned over to whisper in his ear. Licking a strip up his throat before biting down, leaving a tiny little bruise behind.

"Fuck yes." His husky voice as he replied. His eyes are closed, preparing himself for you.

Eddie was ready for this. More than ready. He made himself wait long enough out of fear and anxiety.

"Need your cock so bad." You playfully whine. Hearing that drove him crazy. He doesn't think he'll ever tire listening to someone beg for his cock from now on. Not after tonight.

You smile and move to lean up. Taking his length in your hand and aligning him up at your opening. His breath hitches as you take just his tip in you. Eddies mouth hangs open as he watches you slowly sink down on his length.

You take him inch by inch teasing him as you do. He's so thick it's going to take time adjusting to his size. You don't think you're ever going to feel as full as you will tonight. Somehow, you wonder if Eddie truly knows just how big he is. He has to have an idea? Right?

You continue sinking down on his cock while its spreading you open. It was pleasure and a little pain feeling him splitting you open like this. Your pussy dripping for him. "Ooh, Eddie."

He's biting hard on his closed fist. Fighting hard to contain whatever animalistic moan is threatening to escape. The tip of his cock is a shade of red that's almost purple. The veins in his neck protruding out.

"Please fuck me." He begged you.

Eddie Munson just begged you to fuck him. He's actually begging.

you most definitely are not forgetting tonight and will most certainly never tell anyone. Not even Lila. Sorry, she had a chance to be here and instead picked a roadie. The boost of confidence that just surged through your body after hearing him.

"I-i don't care what you do jus fuck me oh fff-god please!" Eddie whined as he rushed to feel your pussy hugging around his cock.

"Relax, I'm g'nna fuck you." You teased.

Finally you bury him deep inside you until his cock has fully disappeared. You both sigh in unison at the relief. You sit still, allowing yourself to get used to the intrusion. You roll your hips, taunting him a little.

"Sweetheart, dont tease me. I need you." He begs you some more.

"Mmf! god!, you're so big." You whimper. Eddie's cock stretched your sensitive walls the way no one else ever has.

You brace your hands on his abdomen. Eddie, out of nowhere, slaps your ass hard. He was growing extremely impatient all of a sudden. Grabbing your attention immediately. You nod, blowing out a breath of air. Rolling your hips some more before lifting them up and slamming yourself back down on him. His pubic hair tickling at your clit. Your both moaning together as his hips thrust up to meet yours. His tip hit that spongey spot on your walls.

"Fuck fuck... it hurts", Eddie cried with a strangled moan.

"Want me to stop?" You asked stopping yourself from gliding your pussy on his length.

"No! Don't stop!" He half shouts.

"I like it."

You quirk an eyebrow at him. His eyes look into yours, pleading for you to keep going. You lift yourself up and gingerly sink back down on his cock.

"Faster." Eddie demanded with a croak in his voice. You don't hesitate for a second. You lift up and start bouncing on his length at a frantic pace.

The springs in the mattress squeaked from how hard you rode him. Eddies face twisting up, and you know he's about to cum once more. He's blabbering nonsense beneath you. Mumbling to himself, "it hurts... so good," and "You're so tight."

He moves one of his hands to grip and spank your ass harshly. You know he is probably mimicking what he's seen in porn but you dont mind. You enjoyed it. Your pussy making a loud wet schlick noise as Eddie's cock stretched you open.

"Ahh! Eddie." You moan out for him.

"Keep fucking me.....dont stop. Dont f-fking stop." He grunts. His eyes half lidded as he watched you ride his cock. "Goddamn, you're wet!"

You feel your release building back up. You reach a hand between your legs as Eddie watched you. You rub tight circles on your sore bud.

He leans up on his elbows, looking on as you play with yourself. He was getting close again. Another orgasm threatening to spill out of him. Eddie is surprised he's about to give you another. he knows he's about to cum for the third time tonight.

"W-wanna cum again for you." Eddie lets out a small whimper. He sounded so needy.

"Oooh baby." You mewl. Your mouth creating an O shape. Your eyes are closed tight, and your thighs shake. You feel that coil in your belly tightening. "Spank me again." You begged him.

Eddie does as he's told and slaps your ass hard, causing it to ripple. The sound of skin slapping bouncing off the wallpapered room.

He feels your walls pulsing around his cock and he thrusts up repeatedly hitting that spongey spot inside you just right. Your hand moving faster circles on your clit as you struggle to keep riding him.

Eddie keeps thrusting his cock up in your pussy over and over again. It doesn't take much longer before your orgasm is ripping through your body. You let out moan that almost resembles a scream. He's watching you come undone before him. A hint of pride hits him, knowing it was him who did that to you. You won't be surprised if hotel security is called to check and see if any is hurt. The noises coming from this room would cause anyone to be concerned.

Your nails digging in his chest while his cock helps you ride out your orgasm. Your body spasms above him. You lean forward to bury your face in the crook of his neck. You stay like that while Eddies sweaty skin and leftover cologne invading your nose. Sitting back up your mind feeling foggy and your face tingles. White dots appearing in front of you.

"Sweetheart I-I can't cum inside you." Eddie rasped his face tear stained. His eyes look at you sadly.

"I'm on the pill it's okay." You reassured.

He nods and you move your hips to easily ride on his cock. Your pussy clenching up around his length was sending him over the edge. You were so tight. So wet. His balls are completely saturated in your creamy juices.

You feel his length twitch against your walls. Just a few more pumps of his cock and he's spilling his load for the third time. Eddie cums so deep and hard inside of you he forgets how to breathe for a moment.

His toes curling and eyes go crossed. His mouth hanging wide open. He shoots a hand up to press against the headboard, bracing himself. You're relentless on top of him. Bouncing on his cock the bed is smacking the wall with so much force.

"Fuking christ." He grunts, his head digging back into the pillow. His back arching. You don't stop bouncing up and down on him like a bunny until you've milked him dry. His cock growing more in pain by the minute.

"C-cant cum again" Eddie pleaded. His cock hurt and it was now unbearable. Not like how it felt before when the pain was enjoyable. He can feel himself, getting close again.

Eddie just can't do it. He wants to, but he can't. He wants to fill you up with his cum again. He wants to make a mess of you the same way you did for him. Unfortunately his cock is too worn out and and sensitive to give you another.

You listened and halted.

"No more." He breathed.

"Want me to stop this time?"

Eddie nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. Regretfully, he had to stop. He's drained in more ways than one.

His face all the way to his neck is beet red. If his chest wasn't covered in tattoos, you'd guess he was that color all over.

He lets out a shuddered breath, running a hand in his hair. You take the opportunity to carefully remove him from inside you. Wincing a little at the sudden loss. His cum dripping out of your pussy and down your trembling legs a little getting on him as well. Eddie is quivering beneath you. There is a trail of his cum left behind on his abdomen and chest from his previous orgasm.

You laid back down next to where he was. His cock sore and tired from the abuse you just gave it. You and Eddie lay there not speaking for a while. The only sounds are low hums coming from the A/C. Your breathing evening out.

"Ya okay?" You asked softly, breaking the silence.

"Yeah, I...I feel fan-fuckin-tastic, actually." Eddie laughed, recalling what just happened.

"Well, I should probably get ready to go now." You announce trying to hide the sadness in your voice.

"You're not gonna stay a little longer?" He moves to sit up.

"D-did you want me to stay?" You eyed him curiously.

"....well, yeah." His voice now very horse from grunting for so long. He shifts to look you in the eyes. Letting you know he's serious.

"You can sleep here if you want and leave in the morning. Check out isn't until 11:am."

"Oh okay..I'll stay." You smiled over to him.

"Cool! Hey, did you want to hear this new song I'm working on?" Eddie exclaimed, trying to stand on his wobbly legs.

He carefully walks over to his guitar, still completely naked, and his hair disheveled.

"Is that even a question?" You pick up his discarded grungy t-shirt throwing it over your head. You never realized how cold his room felt until now.

For the rest of the night, Eddie spent the majority of the time playing you little snippets of songs he's been writing. He'd ask you for honest feedback, which you gave.

"Ya know, I'm definitely gonna be writing a song about you." He stated, strumming lazily on his guitar.

Your eyes widened as you laughed at what you thought was a joke." You're serious?"

"As a heart attack." Eddie smiled before getting off the couch, tackling you back on the bed and attacking your neck. Having you both giggling like maniacs.

After this night, you became a legend in your own right. You swore you'd never tell a soul about this, but It didn't take long after the song was officially released for everyone to put two and together. Eddie kept his word about writing a song after you. He didn't mention you were his first, but that's okay. That can be your little secret together. The best kept secret.

Corroded Coffin would go off to win two grammys and headline stadium tours. You went to see them when they came into town, and Eddie gave you the VIP treatment. You promised yourself you wouldn't catch feelings. That was hard to do when he would serenade you in his hotel room.

Eddie was too charming and caring to avoid any of that. You knew better, and you curse yourself for even going against your own set of rules. You were sure Eddie didn't feel the same. He just had a special bond with you after you took his virginity. He definitely didn't possess any true feelings for you besides admiration and friendship. Or did he? Only time will tell.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #rockstar!eddiemunson #eddie munson smut #my writing #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #virgin!eddie munson #sub!eddie #virgin!eddie x reader

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obsessivevoidkitten · 27 days

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Lox the Fox

Male Yandere Fox Hybrid x Gender Neutral Reader CW: Noncon, somnophilia, implied cum in food, magic, drugging, biting, claiming bites, knotting, manipulation, chasing, kidnapping, general yandere behavior, references to an incident with a sweet potato Word Count: 5.6k (I am so sorry that this comm took so long, though I was dealing with a number of different issues. Hope you all enjoy it!)

You were but a humble trader. Once somewhat prominent in the medium sized town of Ridgespire, humiliating rumors began circulating about being caught in a compromising position with a sweet potato. The totally baseless story spread throughout the entire town. You were a laughing stock. When you could no longer handle it you left for a fresh start and new opportunities.

You decided to set up shop in the town of Westwend. It was a small village now, but you saw some serious potential. It was situated in the center of many newer villages and small towns and would serve as a good hub for you. But the best part about your new home was that it was too far for any pernicious lies about you and a sweet potato to have followed.

The locals were very accepting of you as a new traveling trader, though you hadn't had a chance to get close to any of them. Once you had moved in you immediately began planning your trip through the forest to reach a tiny village on the other side. You'd stop there to rest and see if there were any trade opportunities then head north to a larger town.

You stuffed a huge pack full of food, currency, and trade goods before putting it on and setting off on your journey. The village you were heading for was through several miles of forest and the forest itself was a mile or so away itself. You could be there by evening.

You were warned about an infamous fox-man named Lox that lived in the woods. Supposedly he helped or hindered travelers depending on what mood struck him at the time. The local villagers were always wary about crossing through the forest. That is part of what made this trade route so potentially lucrative. Not many were willing to cut straight through the forest.

The weather was cooperating and making your trip quite pleasant. The morning air was fresh and brought with it the scent of honeysuckle, and other prairie flowers. You took the unused and overgrown path and managed to make it to the woods just before the heat of the day, the dense canopy of leaves providing ample protection from the sun.

Though you didn't know it, you had rapidly crossed into the territory of the fox-man, Lox. And with his magic he knew exactly when any human neared the proximity of what he considered to be his land. He had nothing better to do, and delighted in meddling with humans, so with great grace and dexterity he weaved through the tree tops and quickly came upon you. He used his magic to stay silent and invisible so that he could observe you a while before deciding what to do.

It did not take long for Lox’s careful observation of you to lead him to the conclusion that he was intrigued. He used his magic to peep into some of your thoughts and memories to get just a glimpse of the type of person you were. He saw bits of your travels, vague impressions of your views, and something about a sweet potato. He couldn’t quite make it out to be honest. But it didn’t matter. He could tell from your aura that you were a lonely person with few friends and no current ties to anyone.

He decided that instead of hindering you he was going to help you more than he had ever helped anyone else before you. Not just for your sake, but for his as well. He thought maybe he could be your mate. Though he still needed to get to know you a little better though before he was totally sure. He could only get to know someone so well through his magic, so he really needed a more direct method.

Rather than simply introduce himself, which he was sure would fail, he devised a cunning plan to get you to see him as your hero. First impressions were immensely important, so if your first time seeing him was when he was saving you then that would make it a lot more likely that you would fall for him.

You continued through the forest, laughing to yourself about how easy a trip this was. You couldn’t believe how the small village dwellers had cut themselves off from such an easy trading route just because of some stories about some magic fox guy. You could believe that beast men existed, you had never seen one yourself, but their existence was never refuted, but magic? That was just too much for you.

Belief in the supernatural and heading the warnings of the villagers would have served you well, but instead the trap was laid and you bumbled right into it.

As you continued on the forest path, nearly gone due to disuse, you came across a clearing with a small cabin. It looked wildly out of place in the wilderness. Perhaps this was the home of the fox man all of the villagers had been so wary of. After gawking for a moment you resumed your journey. You had been traveling for hours and were probably halfway through the woods by now.

As you neared an old but sturdy bridge that marked the final leg of your travels through the forest, you heard a bone chilling growl and your path was suddenly blocked by three snarling wolves. You knew you couldn’t fight them, but the cabin that you had passed wasn’t too far. Maybe, just maybe, you could outrun them and take shelter.

Thinking fast you through your pack towards them, hoping the food in it would distract them enough for you to flee to safety. But no such luck. They weren’t distracted by it at all. At least without it you weren’t so weighed down though. But you were tired from all the walking and the wolves were at your heels. You imagined that you could feel their hot sour breath at your back, but you didn’t look back to confirm it.

Just when you were sure that you were going to find your end in the jaws of the ravenous beasts an orange flash came out of the trees from the direction of the house and stood between you and the feral wolves. There was no mistaking it, it was the fox man of local legend.

The hybrid man stood before the wolves with his back towards you, you could see that he was of a lean build and average height with two triangular ears on his head that were the same color as his wavy red hair. And he had a fox-like tail to match the ears.

As confident as he seemed you seriously doubted that he could take on so many enemies at once. And then you saw why he was so confident. A red tinged gust of magic left his hands and blew the wolves several feet away, making them smack into the trees. With a frightened yelp they scattered. You were in awe, magic was real after all!

When Lox turned to face you he could tell right away by the admiration and gratitude in your eyes that he had made the right decision in conjuring the convincing wolf illusions to scare you back towards him.

Normally seeing your first hybrid man may have at least startled you, but when you met his orange eyes and sharp-toothed smile you could only feel relief. You almost wanted to hug the guy.

“Thank you so much! I really thought I was a goner. I have no idea what I would have done had you not shown up when you had…”

Your stomach turned just thinking about it.

“No problem friend, I just happened to be gathering fruit up in the trees when I saw your predicament.”

Now Lox just had to convince you to stay the night with him. Get to know him better. Once you saw how good of a provider he was and how kind he was you would surely fall for him. He just knew it.

“Well uh… I better go and get my things. I dropped them to flee. And then I gotta keep traveling. Thanks again!”

No no no, that wouldn’t do for Lox at all!

“Don’t be silly! Those wolves could be lurking anywhere, you should just stay at my home while I collect your things. You can always set off tomorrow, I will even escort you through the forest!”

Your heart was still beating at an intense pace with adrenaline leaving you shaky. You didn’t really want to just set off alone so soon after such a scare. But you really should set out again, and you had doubts that the wolves would try anything again so soon.

“I really don’t think that I should, if I keep going I can make up for lost time and make the village well before sundown.”

He couldn’t reveal his true intentions yet, but no matter what happened, now that he had taken such a liking to you, he was never going to be far from you.

“Well, those wolves can be pretty persistent, they aren’t really normal. And it would be really nice to have a bit of company. It doesn’t come very often out here. I don’t think that humans like me all that much to tell the truth...”

Lox put on his best pouting face to elicit your sympathy. To be honest he didn’t mind his loner lifestyle one bit. Though he did want just one person in his life. A good partner. And whether or not you wanted it, that partner was going to be you.

His deception worked wonders on you. Instantly you felt immense sympathy for him. He was helping you so much so you should be happy to offer him your company, if just for a day. It wasn’t like it was a great imposition on you. You wouldn’t even be alive right now if not for Lox and all he wanted was a bit of companionship in return. Besides, you really didn’t want to come across as some sort of bigot…

“Well… if you’re sure it won’t be burdensome, I guess I can stay the night. Thanks for the hospitality, but I think I should go with you to get my pack. It would be pretty rude to make you go and get it for me.”

This also wouldn’t do for Lox, he wanted to enchant your belongings to be able to keep tabs on you even if you left his immediate vicinity. He did not want to run the risk of you ever escaping him, he doubted he would be unable to track you, but it was good to be prepared. The spell was rather loud and involved flashes of magic, he couldn’t take the risk that you could wake up and catch him in the act so having you at his house while he went off to do the enchantment on your stuff was his best solution.

“Don’t be silly, I can zip along through the trees much faster than you can walk! It will be much faster if I go alone.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true… Okay, if you really don’t mind getting it for me.” You felt bad that he had done so much for you already and was now doing more, but his logic made sense.

On the way there you introduced yourself and the two of you chatted a bit about how you both got to where you were currently. He explained the tragic tale of how he had been orphaned as a young teen and had to raise himself in the harsh wilds. The two of you were already pretty close to his humble home so it didn’t take long at all for him to lead you there.

The inside was about what you would expect from the home of someone living the lifestyle of a secluded forest hermit. Not messy, but cluttered in a cozy sort of way. Not a lot of open space, every inch utilized in some way. There were some shelves filled with books and various ornaments and objects of unknown purpose, there was a desk in the corner littered with arcane looking scrolls, a small dining area with dried aromatic herbs hanging from the ceiling, and there was a doorless bedroom attached with an equally well stuffed bedroom, you could see a large bed with red covers and more shelves.

Before he went off to get your pack for you he offered you some miniature sandwiches and some tea and set them on a small table for you.

You thanked him as he left and nibbled on the food he had provided you. You were hungrier than you had realized though and before you knew it, there wasn’t a crumb or sip left.

Meanwhile Lox had already located your belongings and busily casting his little spell on your things. He was hoping he could convince you to stay with him, but realistically it could take a few encounters. This would help ensure that those encounters kept happening. He considered it the “dating” phase of your “relationship.”

He also hoped that you would eat as much of that sandwich as possible. He had sprinkled in just a little something to help you be a bit more compliant with the “romance” he had planned for later that night. He could have relied on it to keep you from being too alarmed at him casting a spell on your belongings, but he couldn’t be sure how much you would ingest. Lox didn’t want to be pushy about you consuming the food either, that would be suspicious.

No, it was better if he just enchanted your things now and then he wouldn’t have to worry about if you had eaten enough magic flake powder that he had given you. And if you did happen to consume enough of it then he could have plenty of fun with you.

The fox-man briefly considered whipping up a love potion, but they were often temporary, wearing off at inconvenient times and requiring reapplication. And he really wanted you to actually be in love with him, not just be under the influence of all consuming magic.

When Lox entered the home it had startled you right off the couch and you fell to the floor. Lox quickly helped you up, relishing the chance to make physical contact with you. He was beyond thrilled to see that the plate your food had been on was now empty.

“Thanks! Sorry, you coming in so suddenly just startled me. You weren’t wrong about how fast you were, I hadn’t expected you back so soon.”

“Told ya I was fast.” He beamed proudly as he handed you your belongings.

Over the course of the next couple of hours the two of you chatted while you taught him a card game with a deck that you always traveled with, but you became fatigued much sooner than you usually did. Surely that was just from all the travel followed by the excitement of earlier though.

Lox offered you use of his bed while you used his couch, but you wouldn’t hear of it. He had already shown you such kindness you weren’t going to just kick him out of his own bed. Finally he relented and just let you use the couch.

Sleep came to you with unusual ease, something that Lox was greatly anticipating. Now you’d be at his mercy and even if you woke up, the mind altering effects of what he had fed you would make sure that you didn’t remember it or if you did you'd think it was only a dream.

Lox lubed you up carefully and slid into your sleeping form which he had tenderly stripped bare. He bred you slowly and lovingly, deep strokes into you so that he could edge and enjoy every possible second of making love with his partner for the first time.

It was difficult, but he managed to restrain his instinct to bite your neck all over and make his claim on you visible to the world. He also held his cock at the base to prevent his knot from slipping in and swelling within you. Lox didn’t want to leave you with any suspicious soreness.

But the hardest thing for the fox man was pulling out and not filling you up full of his seed, especially when your eyes fluttered open and you moaned and babbled incoherently while drooling in pleasure even if your mind couldn’t make sense of anything that was happening.

After that, he came in you quickly and meticulously cleaned you up so that no evidence was left behind.

When you woke up your head was a bit fuzzy, light filtered in through a little circular window and by the angle of the sun it seemed that you had slept all morning. You thought you probably had overstayed your welcome.

You yawned and began to get off the couch when suddenly Lox appeared as if from nowhere with a hot plate of food. Had he been watching and waiting for you to wake up? You didn’t entertain the thought long, you were just being paranoid. He was a fox-man; he clearly had enhanced senses and was just keeping the meal warm for you when you finally got up.

"Quail egg omelet before you leave?"

Lox seemed refreshed and energized, and though you couldn't quite place why something about him gave you just the slight twinge of anxiety in the back of your mind. It was easy to push away though.

"Thanks, you didn't have to make me breakfast. I have rations in my pack"

"Nonsense, you're my guest. And I was making one for myself anyway."

It did smell rather enticing and he had gone through the trouble of cooking it so you relented and ate it happily. It was among the best dishes you had ever eaten. You wondered if he used his magic to enhance it. He had, actually, added his own "special ingredient" to the food he made for you, but it wasn't something magical and you really didn't want to know what it was.

After you finished the meal Lox, true to his word, happily joined you on your trip out of the forest. You tried to insist that you didn’t need him, that the wolves probably went off in search of easier prey, and that you were prepared now, but the fox wasn’t having it.

The trip out of the forest was largely uneventful, filled only with Lox’s chatter and questions focused on you. You supposed most people would have been annoyed by it all, but you knew he didn’t get much company and you were still so touched by the kindness that he had shown you.

Overall it was going well.

Until it wasn't. As you crossed the old, but up until this point, very sturdy bridge, it suddenly collapsed beneath you. With a scream you flailed desperately, luckily Lox was able to reach you, hold onto you, and jump back up the side that you had come from. After you caught your breath and let your nerves settle in silence you looked at the damage. The bridge was beyond repair. It would add a couple hours to your journey to go around to the shallow part of the river, but you certainly couldn't go across here anymore.

"God damn! That was... scary! Thanks for... saving me. Again..."

You were still shaking a bit.

"It's no problem! I thought the bridge was a bit sturdier than that. Good thing I caught you... I guess we'll just have to go back for now..."

"No it's fine, I saw an old map of the area, there's a place I can cross if I follow the river. Will just take a few extra hours."

You looked up at him.

"Don't worry, you don't need to escort me the extra distance."

That was, of course, the exact opposite of what Lox planned. He would be at your side for eternity. Whether you said you wanted him there or not.

"No, no! It's not a bother. Really. I'm usually so bored I just sleep most of the day!"

"Well if it isn't a bother, I'm glad to have a traveling buddy for a bit longer."

The two of you sat down for a couple minutes before resuming your newly extended route out of the forest. It went about as well as it had been going before the incident with the bridge, though Lox kept shooting you nervous looks, like he was holding back from saying something to you. Poor guy, he was probably just sad that the two of you would be parting ways soon. You made a mental note to reassure him when you got to the end of the forest.

This wasn't the end at all, you'd see him a couple times a month if this trading exchange worked out. Maybe even once a week if things got really busy.

The fox hybrid was a bit more distant in conversation, focused more on his thoughts. He had been sure that after he collapsed the bridge with his magic and then saved you from the disaster that you would be head over heels in love with him. Clearly he had shown you he can keep you safe from any peril... even if he had to make the danger himself. At the very least you should have agreed to stay at his home a bit longer so that he could get you to like him more.

Sadly, Lox could not glean any notions of love emanating from you using his magical abilities. But he absolutely couldn't accept that you weren't at least somewhat attracted to him by this point. He had, as far as you were concerned, saved your life twice. Then he had been very amicable and hospitable towards you. You must have been in such strong denial that your true feelings were unknown even to you. But he wasn't going to give up on his beloved, he just knew the two of you were meant to be together. No matter what.

His first priority had to be making sure you never made it out of the forest. If you left and he wasn't with you then you could get hurt. Or maybe someone else would take you! But he didn't want to scare you or tip you off.

As the two of you continued on your way the amorous man couldn't help but stare at you and think of all the things he wanted to do to you. Seeing a lack of claiming bites on you almost sent his instincts into overdrive, he had to actively stop himself from fucking you into the dirt, biting all over you, and having his knot tie the two of you together.

The two of you crossed the river and with each step Lox grew more fidgety as his desire to claim you grew, as did his worry that you may escape him if he didn't think up another plot soon. Then he had a great idea. Quicksand! He'd save you from it and you'd be so frustrated, messy, and grateful that at the very least you'd want to go back to his house for another night to rest and clean up!

Lox used his magic to create a patch of quicksand on the path ahead and used his power of illusion to make sure it looked just like the surrounding terrain until disturbed, just like natural quicksand.

And sure enough it fooled you. With a loud scream you suddenly plummeted through what you had assumed was perfectly solid ground. You fell forward and struggled to orient yourself in the thick muck. Lox grabbed your pack from behind and plucked you easily from the quicksand. You gasped for breath and wiped the mud from your face.

"Holy fuck, I would have drowned if not for you! You're a real lifesaver, Lox."

This time you didn't waste more than a few seconds trying to catch your breath before getting up.

"I guess we should head back to my place, we can get you all cleaned up and try again tomorrow."

"Oh don't worry! We only just passed the river, we can go back and I can rinse off there!"

You started to head towards the water with Lox at your side.

"Are you sure? You must be tired after all the excitement we just had..."

You stopped and looked at Lox. He seemed almost panicked. The gears in your head finally started turning. The dots were connecting.

"Every time something happens you are very quick to suggest we head back... and it's pretty convenient that you are always right there to save me from these sudden disasters..."

"What are you saying?" The fox asked with a surprising darkness.

The question hung unanswered, heavy in the air, as the two of you stared at one another. Then you bolted into the dense foliage. But this was Lox's forest, he had years of experience tracking and keeping eyes on any humans who wandered through it, and he had never been so motivated.

Every time you made a turn Lox would appear in a puff of smoke in front of you, using his magic to teleport short distances. He grabbed you, but you struggled out of his grip.

"I love you babe, but I am getting tired of this little game. Let's go home now okay?"

He used a wave of magic to animated the vines near you, they snared you easily. You wriggled and writhed like a maniac as he slowly approached you with a creepy smile on his face.

"You must be tired after that little chase. You need a nap."

Then he pulled out a pouch of shimmering blue powder from his pocket and blew it over you. You fell asleep instantly.

When you woke up from your fitful sleep full of nightmares and fear in Lox's bed. You had no pants on and a thick sticky fluid leaking from your entrance. You realized those nightmares may not have been dreams at all, and you felt instantly nauseous.

Luckily, he wasn't in the room with you. The sick freak seemed to be in the kitchen, you could hear him humming faintly as he went about cooking. He probably thought he'd bring you a meal in bed and you'd be grateful and everything would be just peachy between the two of you. But you had other plans.

The window was large enough to leave through, you hoped you could do so quietly. You wiped yourself clean as best you could and put the clothing that Lox has removed back on. You raised the window slowly and it didn't make any noise at first, but you came to a point where it was stuck and more force had to be used. It squeaked like it was shrieking out your desire to escape to the four corners of the world.

Since your cover was clearly blown you gave up being quiet and forced it open with all due expediency. You quickly scrambled out the window, falling forward into the dirt. You wasted no time at all in getting up and darting away as fast as you possibly could. But the eyes of the fox were on you from the window, watching you speed further away. He wasn't worried though.

Lox was delusional and arguably even completely insane over you at this point, but he was no idiot. He knew your denial about how you felt over him may still be too strong and you may try to run away. He had taken extra precautions. Precautions you learned of in a very direct way when you slammed face first and at full force right into some sort of invisible barrier that Lox had erected a good distance around his dwelling.

You fell rather hard on your ass and cupped your face in pain. Then you heard a voice approach behind you.

"Are you okay darling? I didn't intend to hurt your pretty face." He waved a hand and green sparks from his fingertips healed up your injury.

"What the Hell, Lox!? You can't just keep me prisoner like this!"

"You're not a prisoner! You're my partner, and this is just to keep you close by. You're really fragile judging by how you handled all the dangers recently."

You stared at him for a moment, unable to think of a response to this complete lunatic, as he got closer and stared down at you with that freaky smile of his.

"I realize you are used to being really independent, but you really need to admit it already. I am the perfect mate for you. You have to know that deep down."

You started to object, but he sealed your words with a sudden rough kiss. He was deceptively strong, a fact you learned while trying unsuccessfully to push him off of you. He pinned you down on the ground with ease and smirked down at you.

"If showing off how good of a protector I am isn't enough to get rid of your denial, then I will just have to show you how good our union feels~"

Lox ignored your protests. His nails grew sharp and he sliced off your clothing as easily as if he was cutting through paper.

"I'm gonna make you feel soooo good."

He bit possessively at your neck. It hurt slightly but the unpleasantness was overridden by pleasure. For someone who was rarely around humans except to randomly help or hinder an occasional traveler he sure knew how to pleasure you. Then you remembered how he had violated you in your sleep. He had practiced. You redoubled your efforts to get free but the resistance only seemed to excite him more.

Lox's claws returned to being normal nails as he fingered your entrance, despite his increasingly feral state of mind he was still focused on making this as pleasurable as possible for his beloved little human. He used a small bit of magic to create an oil from his fingers to apply a generous amount of lubrication to you.

Shouts, screams, and the tears rolling down your face were all met with calming shushing noises and promises that you'd be moaning soon enough with fear replaced by delight.

His fingers wiggled within you, causing you to buck unwillingly in the throes of carnal stimulation. You gasped and whined at your body's betrayal. Lox pulled out his fingers and held your hips tight while aligning his cock with you and slamming into you with the perfect amount of force.

Your moan was captured by his lips as he kissed you again, biting your lower lip as he pulled away.

"I have wanted my knot in you for so long, you're gonna fit me like a glove~"

All you could manage was to grunt in defiance as you drooled dumbly. Lox began thrusting into you again and again. Each movement of his could only be described as perfection. He rolled his hips and plunged in deeply with slow strokes that steadily increased in pace.

It really didn't take long at all for Lox to feel your body throb around his large prick as you climaxed. If this had been a willing encounter, and if you also had not been fucked silly, you would have been embarrassed by how quickly Lox had made you orgasm.

The fox looked at you in awe, observing every detail of your face as you came. Your flushed face, the rise and fall of your chest as you panted, your eyes glazed and lost in sexual bliss.

"Wow, you finish even faster and more beautifully than you did while sleeping!"

Lox bit at your chest and up to your neck, delivering a harder bite there to mark you as his. You were so out of it that it didn't register in the way that it should have. What little pain there was Lox quickly dispersed with more magical healing and gentle kisses.

He continued pumping into you for well over an hour, eliciting enough moans, whimpers, shakes, and shudders from you until your voice was hoarse and your body limp.

And then, just when you thought you would die from all the overstimulation, Lox painted your walls white with a hot load of cum before his knot swelled and kept the two of you together.

"See? No one else can make you feel like this! And you take me just so well my beloved~"

When his knot finally went down he had to stop himself from diving back into you, the sight of you glistening with sweat and leaking his seed went straight to his cock. But he settled for just slipping it between your thighs and grinding into you while you sat on his lap in the bathtub.

Your comfort was the priority and you clearly needed special care after that mind shattering sex.

When you were all cleaned up, he carried you bridal style to his bed and bundled you up in soft blankets, he pressed a loving kiss to your cheek before going off to get you some food and water. Maybe something easy to get down. Perhaps some soup? Since you were still pretty dazed he wondered if you would let him feed you.

You were such a sweet fragile thing and would need to recover your energy for all the activities he had planned for the two of you.

#yandere terato #yandere x reader #yandere teratophilia #monster boyfriend #gender neutral reader #male yandere x gn reader #yandere boyfriend #yandere #My OCs #My OC Lox #Yandere Hybrid #Yandere fox-man #Yandere fox #yandere male #male yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere fic

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silkjade · 8 months

Text

MIRACLE ALIGNERS

Featuring— neuvillette x reader ⤀ warnings: none ! ⤀ summary: the melusines play matchmaker a/n: do they need an ideal mother

Your relationship with fontaine’s melusines started when you took on the menial task of helping menthe tailor the sleeves of her too long cuffs, and was solidified after your wholehearted support for aeval’s aquabus tour. In such a small community, word travels fast and your popularity skyrockets when mamere paints your portrait as her muse of choice.

It’s not like you mind, as they’re quite easy to get along with—very sweet, if not a little naive—and you do enjoy their company when they greet you on the streets or invite you to tea. Still, it comes as a bit of a surprise when a few approach you, absolutely convinced that you’d be a great companion to their ‘very lonely, very human friend.’

…Which is how you come to find yourself seated at cafe lucerne, impatiently tapping your fingers at this supposed ‘friend’ who would be so rude as to make you wait more than 30 minutes past the designated meeting time. You take a deep breath to keep your irritation at bay, convincing yourself that any friend of the melusines, especially one they speak so highly of, must be a good person.

As you continue to wait, one table away, something very blue crosses your line of sight, and you look up to discover that it’s none other than the esteemed iudex himself, the chief justice who radiates such an air of refined elegance that you cannot help but sit up a little straighter in his vicinity. Seems this day just got a little more interesting as it’s not everyday you run into the notoriously elusive monsieur neuvillette just out and about on the streets of fontaine.

You yourself have been to your share of trials at the opera epiclese, seen him from his seat up above, looming over the courtroom, high and mighty. Up close, he’s still all sharp lines and perfect etiquette, the very personification of grace, but you can’t deny the fact that he’s so much more handsome in person.

He casts a glance towards a nearby clock, and while his expression remains largely neutral, his violet eyes dance, perturbed. Perhaps he’s also meeting someone here? You deduce that it must be so, judging by the fact that he’s seated at a table clearly meant for more, and since you obviously have the time, you might as well play detective, which now begs the question: who could he be meeting?

You highly doubt it’s lady furina, so perhaps another official? Except an outdoor cafe is hardly the place to conduct such business. Besides, the average fontainian would be much too intimidated to dare keep someone of such high regard waiting. Maybe a friend, then?

Your head tilts as you think through your observations. At least outwardly, monsieur neuvillette is…cold. He presents himself the same way in and out of court: untouchable as the sun, but with none of its warmth. He’s private and stays out of the public eye, only ever seen interacting comfortably with the archon and…the melusines…

You lean back in disbelief at the way it all clicks. Impossible. The friend the melusines so adamantly wanted to introduce you to is…monsieur neuvillette? What a ridiculous notion to even entertain. Besides, it’s public knowledge that he’s much more of a father figure to them… although it does explain why they seemed so tongue-tied describing this so-called ‘friend.’

And…he does look quite forlorn sitting there, face blank and fingers laced together. You make a mental note to remind your little friends that as amiable as he may be with them, they cannot just blindside you with the chief justice of fontaine. Still, a meeting is a meeting, and it’d be terribly rude of you to just up and leave.

“Um, pardon me monsieur neuvillette but you wouldn’t happen to be meeting anyone here, would you?”

Neuvillette blinks. What a pleasant surprise; not many approach him of their own accord. “As it happens, I was supposed to meet a few melusines for tea.” He gestures to the evidently empty table, though his sharp ears catch the faint whispers amidst the rustle of leaves to his side.

“However, I suspect they may have forgotten to inform me of their change of plans.” He clears his throat, tilting his head towards a nearby bush where the tips of a few very colorful pairs of ears wiggle in excitement.

The corners of your lips quirk into the beginnings of a small smile. “That’s funny—a few melusines insisted that I meet a very human friend of theirs, though he’s yet to show up.” For obvious reasons, you decide to drop the fact they called him lonely behind his back.

Ah. So you were the kind individual his melusines often spoke so fondly of.

“Perhaps he attended the trial this morning. It did run longer than anticipated.” Yes, you knew there must have been a valid explanation to the tardiness.

“Well, maybe we can keep each other company while we wait?”

Neuvillette gestures at the empty chair across from him and you swear the sun seems to shine a little brighter. “I would very much like that.”

#— 𝓼𝓲𝓰𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓙. ༯ #neuvillette x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #neuvillette fluff #neuvillette x you #neuvillette x reader fluff #genshin impact drabbles #genshin drabbles #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin neuvillette #genshin impact #genshin impact fic #genshin fanfic #genshin impact scenarios #genshin imagines

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igotanidea · 4 months

Text

Too much : Anthony Bridgerton x reader

Request: yes! Anthony and his wife having an argument.

***

„My lord.”

One of Bridgertons’ most trusted servant knocked on the door of his office and was bold enough to enter inside without invitation.

„I specifically told everyone to not disturb me.” Anthony muttered, not giving his man more than a grunt of annoyance.

Viscount’s sudden change of attitude has been the talk of the whole house lately. After months of sweetness and caring and love between him and his beloved wife Lady Y/N Bridgerton of house Y/H/N something has switched.

For worse.

Man of the house has became distant (again), leaving his wife to tend to herself. Suddenly, his duties, his visits to the sibling’s, social activities (which was a synonim of spending hours at gentleman’s club) and travels to the other parts of the kingdom (seemingly to inspect the state of assets) took most of, if not whole of his time.

Everyone’s noticed.

And even without the viscount and his wife ending up on lady Whistledown’s latest brochure.

But truthfully with lord Bridgerton’s stubborn nature and finality there wasn’t much anyone could do, even considering all the sympathy for his young wife.

„I’m afraid you have a very important visit my lord.”

„Just tell whoever it is, that I’m not taking visits at the moment.”

„My lord -”

„Thomson, did you not hear what I said?” finally Anthony raised his gaze on the poor servant.

„It’s the viscountess, my lord.” the other man stuttered.

‘My mother?”

„Your wife, sir.”

„Oh, right....” of course, now Y/N was the viscountess, but somehow it was easy to forget she has been holding that title.

„Shall I - shall I tell the lady to come back another-?”

„No. No I’ll see my wife now.” Anthony sighed and since there was no other word from him the butler froze, unsure of how to behave „Well? Let her in, will you?” there was the annoyance again.

The door was opened and there she was.

Y/N. In all her glory, looking beautiful as always, wearing that dress that always took Anthony;s breath away since she nearly glowed while walking. Her smile did not even falter for a second as she nodded to the servant in a silent acknowledgement, but her eyes were cold and sad, uncovering she hasn’t in fact been well lately. Regardless of the rumours, allegations that the viscount stopped loving her after no more than a year since marriage and got himself a lover (please don’t let it be Sienna all over) she held her head high and kept the appearances. No one had to know that the cheerful, graceful viscountess Bridgerton were spending her nights alone in a cold marriage bed, tossing, turning, tormenting herself with thoughts and longing for the embrace of the man she loved with all her heart.

‘Husband.” she said calmly once the door closed behind her, leaving her just standing in front of him awkwardly.

„Wife.”

„I didn’t have the faintest idea I do need to announce my visit in advance. I shall correct that mistake in the future if that’s your wish my lord.”

„Is there any specific reason of why you’re here Y/N?”

„Is my presence here this disturbing to you my lord?”

The scribbling on the paper was the only answer she got and it finally broke all her inhibitions and pretences.

"Anthony!"

"What?" he snapped looking up at her from the pile of documents on his desk.

"Talk to me!"

"I'm busy!"

"And I'm lonely! You've been spending time with Benedict and Colin and Daphne and your siblings and god knows where else but not me!"

"They are my family, Y/N."

"I am your family! This is not what your mother-"

"Don’t you dare-" he stood up abruptly almost tripping the chair, throwing daggers at her. "Don't you dare say a word about my mother!"

Now that's a drama the whole household heard.

„Your mother-” she tried again, this time more sternly taking one step forward „showed me nothing but kindness. Your whole family showed me nothing but kindness. All of them. Except-”

„Don’t finish it.” he warned but it came much more like a spat.

„-you.”

„Well I didn’t force you to marry me!”

The silence that fell between them after that one sentence was deafening. Nothing has ever hurt Y/N this much in her entire life. Never before Anthony has let himself say such cruel words in the moment of weakness and anger. All because he felt too much, because he needed and loved her too much.

„No.” she said with a tiny voice, her face going as pale as the wall behind her. „no, you didn’t force me. Not sure if you didn't do it to yourself.”

‘Y/N....” Anthony took a step towards her reaching his hand in a poor attempt to form a word that would remedy the situation, help him explain himself and bring her some comfort. „I didn’t mean-”

„I’m sorry I’ve seemingly ruined your life, my lord.”

„That is not-”

„Please accept my deepest condolences and apologies for ruining your blooming love life with that actress you knew. Know. Shall you remind me her name?”

„Y/N!” he shouted in pure desperation.

„Her name, Anthony!” now she was using her noble voice, leaving no word for discussion even to the viscount.

„No.”

„Sienna.” Y/N hissed through clenched teeth, her behaviour far from lady-like. „That’s her name isn’t it? Sienna?”

„You can’t help but remind me of the past mistakes, don’t you, my lady?” her husband growled turning her back to her not wanting to see her face anymore. „You’re the one I vowed to.”

‘Forcefully, apparently. Maybe the only mistake you made was letting me walk the aisle and taking my hand while saying I do.”

„Maybe it was! Maybe I didn’t give enough thought to it! Perhaps I didn’t consider that seeing you every day, walking the rooms of my house, using the title of my wife, naming yourself viscountess Bridgerton will be too much to bare to my heart!”

What Anthony did not consider at that moment was that Y/N would take it way differently than he intended.

He was merely thinking that it was too much too handle cause he was not used to being so attached, so dependant, so - well,forgive me the word - needy. Of her, her touch, her words, her presence, her everything. Hence the distant he put between him and his wife. Perverse nature made him run away before loosing her.

Ironically, causing her to turn away, barely holding back tears, instead of falling into his arms. (such a surprise, right?)

„Forgive me my lord, for keeping your mind occupied with my humble person for too long. I am but nothing if not a modest woman, unworthy of the attention of the viscount.”

Oh god, what did he do...?

„You are -”

„Below you. Obviously. Perhaps I should have considered your coldness and self-isolation as well. I don’t -” she gulped „I don’t understand what happened to you, Anthony.”

„I-” as pathetic as that was her husband was trying to explain himself to her.

„Feelings overwhelm you Anthony.” that was something he could not disagree with „Now, my lord, if you’ll excuse me, I shall leave, since as you said - you’re busy and I clearly bring you this much displeasure. I shall not bother you again any time soon.”

Before he could stop her Y/N bowed to him in a way more formal and distant way Anthony would wish for, and simply walked away. Leaving him frozen, desperate and broken with the urge to run after her, apologise and reason with that fiery woman who always knew how to make his blood boil. He wanted to hold her, love her and whisper sweet nothings into her ear while feeling her in the most intimate way a man and a wife could ever be together.

But did nothing while she disappeared behind the door.

„Prepare my carriage” she commanded the first servant that came her way.

„Yes, my lady, may I ask to what destination?”

„I’m going to visit my sister-in-law.”

„Certainly lady Briderton. It’ll be ready for you.”

„And not a word of it to my husband.”

„But my lady -”

‘Not a single word. This is an order, not a request.”

She needed a word with the only person who could possibly understand.

part 2 possible... (I think ;) )

edit: not enough

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fic #bridgerton angst

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lokis-army-77 · 5 months

Text

In Thanks

Masc!Mizu x fem reader

Word Count: 1.8k

You have been traveling with Mizu for a little bit and you can't help the feelings that have developed. Maybe it's time for a thank you.

Warning: 18 +. oral sex, fingering, slight choking, scissoring. I think that's it...

A/N: Be forewarned, Mizu is referred to as "he" the whole fic except for one instance.

Masterlist

You had become his traveling companion in a series of fortunate and unfortunate events.

Unfortunately, your father had sold you to the flesh traders for money he could use to save the farm from disrepair.

While on the road to another town, the two traders had begun to fight, Mizu was haplessly brought into the scrap when he was seen by the two agitated men. They turned their sights on the lone man just trying to pass by.

Fortunately, he had killed your owners. At first, he was intent on escorting you to the nearest town and leaving you there in pursuit of his revenge, only that plan changed when you had proved to be useful when it came to medicine.

A few weeks later left you here, on the outskirts of a small remote seaside town.

Mizu's eyes watch you from the other side of the campfire. They flick so subtly, catching your every move, or lack thereof as you continue to stare.

It hadn't taken you long to learn the secret he was hiding or rather she was hiding. There were subtle tells, ones that no one would be able to notice or think back on or they were just passersby. But you had been at his side for nearly two months and it was so obvious to you.

"Would you quit staring- it's rude." Mizu quips before going back to cleaning his blade.

You don't listen. Keeping your eyes firmly glued on his movements, the flexing of muscles under his skin, and the touch of his slender fingers rubbing at the blood on his sword. All of it made your knees weak.

While you had been with Mizu on the road, you had begun to develop feelings for the stoic warrior. Feelings of love and lust. Only now did you feel brave enough to do something about it, and act on these feelings no matter the consequences.

Your thighs clenched as you continued to watch him. Now was as good a time as any.

Mizu only tilts his head in your direction when the sound of you standing reaches his ears. Twigs snap under your feet as you make your way closer to him. he turns fully to you now, analyzing whatever it is you could be doing, and why you were nearing him.

“What do you want?”

You didn’t want to come right out and say it, so you spoke coyly. “I never thanked you properly for saving me. I thought I could do that now.”

“You’ve thanked me enough.”

“But I haven’t done all that I could. Please, Mizu, allow me to thank you fully.” You’re right next to him now, slowly lowering yourself to your knees.

Sultry eyes lock on suspicious ones.

With gentle hands, you reach out for his glasses. he leans away only slightly, not far enough to be out of your reach.

You place them safely on the stool-sized rock beside you.

“Let me see your sword.”

She breathes your name heavily.

Your hand caresses over his shoulder, teasing and soft.

"I'm not what you think." Mizu murmurs just loud enough for you to hear.

You pause before you answer. "You think I don't know? That I do not see past the defense and deeper within? I know."

His words catch in his throat. "-how?"

"You aren't the first I've seen that have hidden their sex from the world, and you won't be the last." Your fingers loosen the string tying up his hair. The silky strands begin to fall, making his all the more stunning.

"I've learned to see what many do not and what others would like to keep hidden... call it a gift."

You let your lips fall to the shell of his ear and whisper, “Now, let me see your sword.”

Reaching into his lap, you grasp the hilt of the blade. Carefully you take the katana and sheth it before setting it near the rock.

She doesn’t stop you when you begin to untie his pants or the obi around his waist.

Clothes fall away leaving only warm, scarred skin bare to you. Mizu’s breathing deepens as the binds around his chest are removed.

Slowly you crawl over his body, forcing him to lie back on the cape he used as a blanket.

Your eyes scanned over his every curve, curves hidden away by the straight lines of men’s clothes. The cool night air had his nipples pebbling and his skin littered with goosebumps.

With lust-filled eyes, you descend on him. Lips making contact with his own. It wasn’t tender, no it was needy. You wanted him, all of him and he wanted you too. his hands reach your face, pulling you in deeper.

The kiss leaves you breathless but you continue to kiss him, pulling away from his lips to kiss down the column of his neck and to his chest. You wet your lips hungrily as you take his peeked nipple into your mouth, your other hand teasing the other.

Teeth nip and pull at the sensitive skin. Your tongue laves over him, pulling out a soft moan of your name. It has you smirking into the supple flesh.

You trail down further, peppering kisses over taut abs before you come to the place you have so desperately craved to be. The smell is sweet but you know the taste will be even sweeter.

“Thank you, Mizu.” You pull apart his strong, slender legs, inserting yourself between them.

“Thank you.” You kiss the inside of a thigh then move to the other. “Thank you.”

You lay there with his legs thrown over your shoulders, admiring the pussy before you. Your mouth is watering as you trail a single finger over the slit.

Mizu sucks in, body tensing, preparing.

You move your mouth in closer, tongue lapping at the wetness between his folds. The taste had you moaning, the sweet yet heady taste filled your mouth and you knew you'd never get enough of it now.

Pressing on, you began sucking Mizu's clit. Hands flew into your hair, tugging in pleasure. You could feel his nails scratching your scalp.

“Taste so good.” You hum against him.

Your left-hand strokes over his firm abdomen while two fingers of your left slowly insert themselves inside Mizu's entrance.

He's so warm and wet, clenching down around you, pulling you in with need. With lidded eyes, you look up, past the roaming landscape of his body, at his face. His brow is furrowed, pinched in pleasure as your fingers work into his walls. His mouth is open, jaw slacked as sweet gasp after sweet gasp erupts. It’s a wondrous sight to behold and all you’ve ever wanted to be privy to.

Those gasps turn into short whimpers once your rhythm steadies out and your mouth sucks slightly harder on his clit. His hips buck up, pushing against your mouth as need courses through him. You feel like you’re in a trance, your eyes still locked onto his face as he continues to breathe heavily, lost in a pleasure escalating with each passing second. You keep going, determined to make him feel as incredible as possible.

The sloppy noises of you eating Mizu out have your stomach turning, fluttering with want. You know for certain that your own cunt is dripping, making a mess. You need more than just the pressure of your legs squeezing together, no, you need to feel Mizu against you.

In the heat of the passion, you pull away. Mizu whines at the loss of your fingers and mouth. “What are-” He stops his question short. You’re throwing off the layers of your clothes, tossing them haphazardly around the forest floor.

With determination you crawl over one of his legs, slotting yourself against him. A breathy sigh leaves your lips when you lower yourself.

With slow subtle rotations of your hips, you begin to feel the want bubbling in your belly pouring forth. The feel of his cunt against your own is like heaven. Your clit rubbing against his sends a jolt through you.

“Fuck, I’ve never- ah- I’ve never done this.” He grunts. One hand holds you by the hip, guiding you as you grind down. Your own hands hold fast on his thigh in front of you.

“Neither have I,” You answer between choppy moans.

As you piston your hips, you can feel the wetness between the two of you growing. You both groan in pleasure, your hands moving to explore each other's bodies. His fingers trace circles around your breast and you shiver in delight. You heave when Mizu’s hand reaches for your throat and pulls you down into a kiss.

His tongue slips past your lips, pushing back against your own. You may be on top and in control at the moment, but there simmering below Mizu’s surface was a want to flip you both over and take the pleasure that had been so far from his mission of revenge, he had forgotten what it felt like to feel another persons touch in this manner.

Your back arches at the growing ecstasy within your body and Mizu’s hand tightens. The air is stolen from your lungs for only a moment before he lets go, moaning into your kiss.

“Thank you.” You repeat once more.

You can feel the ache in your abdomen as you move, you’re coming closer and closer to release, and by the way that Mizu is rutting his hips against you, strong and needy, you know he’s close too.

“Look at me.” You plead, “Wanna see your pretty eyes.”

A deep red blush rises across Mizu’s cheeks at your words, not used to the compliment. The blush makes the topaz color stand out. You could stare into those eyes forever, get lost, and never leave.

Your bodies move in unison, your ragged breaths become one as you both tip toward the edge. With one more thrust, with one more rub of your clits, your bodies tense. Your mouth opens in a silent scream of pleasure while Mizu lets out a wavering cry.

The movement of your hips slows to a stop and you fall in a heap over Mizu’s body. Tiredly you kiss the sweat-dampened skin of his chest, and he shivers. “Thank you.” You mummer one last time.

Mizu’s hands hold you close, one in your hair, the other flat across your back. “You don’t have to keep thanking me.”

“I know,” you look up into his eyes, “but I want to.”

He keeps eye contact as he wipes the hair from your face. “I appreciate this… I haven’t felt this way in a long while.”

It’s an intimate moment, one of understanding without having to speak. So, you rest your head and close your eyes, too warn out to redress and too tired to move. Mizu also doesn't move to push you away, you take that as a sign that whatever this is, it has a very good chance of happening again.

#mizu x reader #masc!mizu x fem!reader #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai smut #blue eye samurai mizu x reader #blue eye samurai #fem!reader

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angelltheninth · 5 months

Note

Hi! Can you write something about fem!reader, who sees Mizu naked for the first time at the hot springs, and absolutely DROOLS over her?

Pretty please??

That's a good one! Thank you for the ask.

Pairing: Mizu x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, hot springs, flirting, suggestive, kissing, sitting on Mizu's lap, finding out Mizu's secret

Word count: 0.9k

Ao3

A/N: I would drool over her any time of day.

There's been something brewing between you and Mizu since you started your journey together. You'd seen a lot of things in such a short amount of time, so much fight and bloodshed. But now finally time you relax, arriving at a hot springs, and having the time for yourself. And maybe for Mizu too.

You let out a long content sigh as you sunk into the warm water. All the tension in your body felt like it was melted away, enough for your mind to drift to the samurai who you've been traveling lately.

"Enjoying yourself?" The sound of her voice made you leap forward from your chosen spot.

"Mizu?! Why are you-" As soon you were about to yell your eyes fell on her naked body. "Wait... you..." You found yourself scanning down her body, then quickly back up to her eyes. She wasn't bothered by your staring, she simply tossed the towel she was still holding over her shoulder and sunk into the warm water, running her fingers over her hair to get it off her face.

A lot of things started to make sense now. How she never wanted you to inspect her injuries, how when she flirted she insisted on you not touching her, how you never felt anything when you cuddled up together. "You're staring at me. Is me being a woman that surprising for you?" Fuck, were you staring that much?

"Apologies. It was unexpected to hear our voice here. But..." You let your eyes have another pass up and down her body, "I think you look really good."

Somehow Mizu's smirk got more beautiful now. She scooted up closer to you, your shoulder touching her's, "That's good. Or else traveling together would become quite awkward. Also I shouldn't need to say this but you understand that this needs to stay between us correct?"

Mizu was hired because she was feared, they called her a demon, well they called him a demon, there was no doubt that this revelation would both put her in danger and potentially risk her reputation. "Understood. You can count on me to keep your secret. Besides we already have one, what's another?" What ever your relationship was right now it did stay as secretive as it could be, especially from your father who already warned Mizu about not touching you when he hired her to escort you across the country safely.

Those orders didn't even last a month. At least now you could rest easy knowing that even if things do go further you wouldn't end up pregnant.

"I can hear you thinking over there. Are you... changing your mind about us?" Mizu thought there was an 'us', it wasn't just your imagination, it wasn't just a fun thing to pass the lonely time on the road. At least it didn't seem so when you looked into her eyes.

"Not at all. Actually I think it benefits our relationship. If you told me earlier I wouldn't be on my guard as much when we slept in the same bedroll."

"That was you on your guard? You seemed very comfortable to be on top of me." You felt Mizu's hands take you by the wrist and pull you onto her lap. It was instinct that made you jerk away before you realized you could melt into her, "I remember it was a little like this. And you were doing something like," Her callused fingers dug into your thighs, moving you back and forth, "this, with a little frown on your face. Bet you thought you weren't getting me excited enough."

A sudden new tension flew up your spine and pooled between your legs, only better than the previous times because you knew that this was exactly how Mizu felt as well. "So when you... excused yourself after..."

"I might be called a heartless demon but I have needs too. It's especially hard to keep my mind off those kinds of thoughts when I travel with someone as gorgeous as you." Her touch was warmer than the water itself. Every featherlight touch of her fingers crossing path from your thigs to your arms to the small of your back left you trembling. "By the way... you're not nearly as quiet as you think you are."

Oh god. You weren't horny anymore, you wanted to sink into the water and never be seen again. You would become a spirit of the hot springs. That was the only way to get away from this embarrassment.

"How much did you hear?"

"Let me think." Oh god, no, why did you ask?! "There was something about you wanting me to hold you down, something about my fingers and then you asking for my co-" You rushed to shut her up before she could finish that word. Unfortunately you weren't thinking straight, from the heat around you, from the heat in your body, from the feeling of Mizu's naked body against yours and from your embarrassment. You didn't have to kiss her, but you did. Mizu was quick to kiss you back, to press you even closer. You could feel every inch of her. "I can still do two out of three for you."

"Please just shut up, I will never live this down." You leaned your head against her shoulder, hoping that this would just end already. Well not actually this was quite enjoyable.

Mizu dragged her finger from the bottom to the top of your spine, the tingling sensation making you shiver and whimper, "Your secret is safe with me." A secret for a secret.

#blue eye samurai #mizu #bes #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #bes x reader #blue eye samurai imagine #mizu imagine #bes imagine #blue eye samurai headcanons #mizu headcanons #bes headcanons #blue eye samurai fanfic #bes fanfic #mizu fanfic #blue eye samurai fluff #x reader #x female reader

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jelliedink · 5 months

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DILF!Boss Headcannons

Warnings: manipulative behaviour, huge age gap. If you squint, you'll see this is slightly suggestive, but nothing explicit happens here. Author's note: hi my loves! If you guys don't know @sweet-as-an-angel do yourself a favor and check them out. Their Yandere!DILF series has built a 3-store mansion in my head and is living there rent free, so I just HAD to create another manipulative hot older man to call mine. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Take care!

Dividers by @cafekitsune.

Brain melting thinking about an older boss that realizes you find him attractive the moment you start working for him. He's sure he's got at least 20 years on you, but he can't help but feel flattered.

A boss that finds it delightful to toy with you a little bit: getting his face way too close to yours when he's reviewing your work, a hand gently rubbing your shoulders when giving you feedback. He tells himself that it's just "harmless fun", you're so cute trying to hide how flustered you are!

A boss that watches with curiosity how you grow on him more each day seeing how hard you work and how eager you are to learn everything he teaches you.

A boss who acts as a mentor professionally and insists you can confide in him with your life problems too. He's already lived everything you're going through now, and he just wants to see you thrive.

A boss that starts to invite you to a lot of work related events once summer break starts. His ex-wife is travelling with the kids and the house just feels so lonely without them.

A boss that, upon the discovery that you're single, is sure that the gods gifted you for him to turn into his perfect little doll.

A boss that likes to give you little gifts "for your hard work" every now and then, and they get increasingly more expensive.

A boss who's so subtle when blurring the lines between professional and personal relationships that the word "date" doesn't even cross your mind when he starts to invite you to non work related events.

"Have you seen this artist is coming to town with their new exposition?" "The weather is nice today, how about we visit the japanese garden to freshen up after spending the whole week inside the office?"

A boss who never corrects anyone who refers to you as a couple during your outings, and instead laughs it off, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and giving you a playful wink every time this happens. He even turns it into a internal joke, and soon you get used to hear him calling you his darling, his dear, his precious.

A boss that makes sure to have you yearning for him before making his move. Sometimes he kisses your hands when you're out together, always saying how lucky he is to have such a beautiful company, his lips gently running along your fingers. Other times he caresses your face when you go to him for advice. His hugs are tight, so his scent will linger on your clothes. He might even kiss the top of your head every now and then.

A boss who loves to see you getting used to having him always present in your life, getting flustered when he touches you in ways that are intimate just enough to keep you guessing.

A boss that thinks you're so beautiful and so hard working that he'll take how much time he needs to mould you into a perfect wife and a perfect mother for his children. He'll guarantee that your life will be so enmeshed with his that you'll never be able to leave him, even if you want to. This time he'll create a family so perfect that nothing will tear it apart.

A boss who knows he doesn't need to rush things because he's sure you'll be his in the end. You're so young, so malleable, and he's been playing this game for so much longer than you. He knows just what he needs to do to wrap you around his fingers.

#yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #boss x employee #boss x reader #dilf x reader #oc x reader

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frantic-fiction · 3 months

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I'll Find My Way Back to You

(Can't find source of pic if it's yours let me know)

Astarion x GN!Reader

Prompt: A century after Tav passes Astarion comes across an artist who is oddly familiar and paints moments that seemed to be pulled straight from Astarion's life.

Thank you to @justporo for letting me use their idea. Go show them some love.

Warnings: Tav's death, brief mention of s*icide, angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 4.6k (Oops kinda went overboard)

Masterlist

“There’s no world I wish to live in without you,”

“My dear Astarion, we will find our way back to each other. This is not the end.”

Over a century has passed—a long, lonely century without Tav by his side. Astarion doesn’t understand how he’s endured, not with the void in his chest that appeared the moment he laid them to rest. The absence of his person, his love, his Tav, has left Astarion once again alone.

For nearly a decade, he found himself trapped in a state of near-catatonia, a prisoner of time within their empty home. He wasted away, the days blending into one another, each marked by a silent ache in his chest—the void left by Tav’s departure. Tears soaked into the earth of the carefully tended grave, adorned with vibrant flowers from Tav’s garden. He often contemplated surrendering to the sun’s embrace, letting its rays turn his existence to ash for a semblance of peace.

He yearned to end the pain, yet he refrained. He made a promise whispered with heavy hearts and painful sobs—a promise that forced them to confront the harsh reality that Tav would always leave first. Instead of embracing the end, Astarion wasted away, a ghost of his former self, yearning for the return of his love. Change arrived when Tav visited him in a dream; the details were blurry, but Tav’s beautiful smile was etched in memory. The sweet words in that dream eluded him, yet upon waking, a faint lightness settled within him. Astarion graced the night with a flicker of energy for the first time since Tav’s passing.

Tav would have wished for him to move on. They would have wanted him to live. The stagnant life he clung to wasn’t what Tav would want for him. So that day, Astarion gathered his essentials into a bag and set forth as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon. Only momentarily stopping to bid his love a final, tearful farewell. Since that moment, he hasn’t stopped moving.

Astarion believed Tav would take pride in the life he’s built—the good he’s accomplished over the many years. He traversed all over Faerun, from Waterdeep to Skull Crag, never lingering in one place for too long. He wasn’t the hero Tav was, but he aided towns against monsters, dispatched goblins, and took odd jobs to help however he could. Throughout his travels, he dedicated most of his time to sharing stories of Tav, ensuring their memory lived on. When he first heard the bards’ songs recounting the Hero of Baldur’s Gate, he knew he had succeeded. Now, you can’t sit in a tavern without hearing tales and melodies about Tav.

Every day, he longed for Tav to be by his side. He yearned to feel their soft skin, experience their tender kisses, and sense their warm arms encircling his waist—the echo of their laughter dancing in his ears. He missed every aspect of Tav and would do anything to see them again. Yet, the world ran out of miracles for him. Instead, he learned with time to cope, to come to terms with their absence, and keep them close to his heart.

***

Astarion traverses the dusty cobblestone of Wyrm’s Crossing and finds himself back in the heart of Baldur’s Gate—a city he’s consciously avoided for most of the century. It’s a place drenched in memories from his past life with Cazador, but mostly, the streets seem to be haunted by the presence of Tav.

His return to Baldur’s Gate remains shrouded in mystery. All he can discern is that he awoke one day in Daggerford, gripped by an inexplicable yearning to revisit the city. A compelling force tugging him down the Sword Coast, Astarion initially dismissed it as mere homesickness, scoffing at the notion. Yet, the persistent thought lingered, infesting his mind until he could no longer ignore the instinct to return.

The city remains strikingly unaltered despite the passage of time and the trials it endured. The same piss-stained cobblestone, alleyways cluttered with remnants of urban life, and a diverse array of inhabitants navigating the night. It’s an unsettling constant, especially juxtaposed against the transformation of Astarion’s existence.

Wandering through the back alleys and side streets, Astarion meanders aimlessly. Occasionally, a sight triggers memories, evoking a lump in his throat. The Elfsong Tavern, once familiar, now bears a different name and identity, a formal establishment concealing the echoes of nights spent in Tav’s comforting embrace. Bloomride Park, the graveyard, and the docks—all weave together, painting a vivid tapestry of Tav’s omnipresence.

Amidst the tumult of emotions, Astarion grapples with why he subjected himself to this emotional turmoil. The urge to retreat, to flee Baldur’s Gate before the dawn breaks, lingers within him. Yet, the itch persists, buried deep within his bones, propelling him forward. He silently promises himself the night to wander the city, and by this time tomorrow, he will be on his way to another town for another adventure.

Venturing into a dim, isolated street, Astarion observes a solitary lamplight spilling its soft glow from a store window. Peering through, he discovers a small art studio. Within, a graceful elf seems to dance with a paintbrush, each stroke deliberate yet flowing. Like a harpie song, Astarion is mesmerized and utterly captivated. He watches on silently, observing the elves happily consumed with their work. It gives him a wave of nostalgia, moments of watching Tav as they painted, unaware he was watching from the door. Astarion could almost hear the sweet hums that filled the room between brush strokes.

Then he freezes, gaze snapping to the paintings that adorn the studio, scattered reflections of his life. Images of Karlach, Shadowheart, and all the others grace the space. However, it’s the depictions of himself that seize his breath. Compelled by an unseen force, Astarion walks right into the studio. In a far corner, he sees an intimate portrayal—an embrace that resonates with familiarity.

The bell rings, and you break from your artistic trance. Startled, you look up, and there stands the pale elf in the doorway—the hero of Baldur’s Gate, Astarion—the man who has clouded your dreams for as long as memory serves. Startled, you look up, and there stands a pale elf in the doorway—the hero of Baldur’s Gate, Astarion—the man who has clouded your dreams for as long as memory serves.

The dreams began as mere fragments—white curls, sharp teeth, delicate hands. Gradually, they evolved into more vivid scenes—muffled conversations by a campfire, laughter and gentle shoves, and stolen kisses between bed sheets—private moments of a stranger, a byproduct of an active imagination intertwined with an elven crush. Or at least that was what your mother would say. Now, the subject of those dreams stands before you.

Astarion, surrounded by the art that mirrors his life, fixates on a miniature portrait. The details are hazy, yet he recalls the campfire, the desperation in his gaze, and a significant confession followed by an embrace.

You pick up a fallen brush with a trembling hand, placing it in a water cup. Asterion was just as breathtakingly beautiful as your dream portrayed, but to see him in person has your heart hammering in your chest and your breath quickening with nerves. Wiping paint-covered hands on your smock, you took a deep breath and gathered the courage to approach Astarion.

Staring at the portrait, you utter quietly, “This one’s my favorite. Though I wish I could have captured the others’ images better.”

“Tav.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The person you painted. My partner Tav, they used to paint too,” Astarion’s voice carries the weight of unspoken emotions.

“Oh, yes. They were the leader of your group, if I remember correctly. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Astarion remains silent, the canvas now a source of unbearable memories. He moves through the studio, examining the art up close. It’s weird to have your muse perusing around your gallery. It’s embarrassing to have Astarion see just how many pieces have been dedicated to him. What do you do at this point? Should you follow him, tell him about each piece and the dreams behind them? No, that seems pretentious, so you retreat to the canvas you’ve been working on for the better part of the week.

This piece was different—a symbol rather than a person or scene. Rings of unknown runes fan out in jagged edges, evoking a sense of beauty tinged with profound sadness. It disturbed you to your core, but you needed to paint it. It’s how it always goes. Once a dream pops into your head, whether it’s a scene, a person, or a symbol, it refuses to leave until you’ve laid it on a canvas. Picking up the brush, you dip it back into the red paint and continue to bolden the lines.

“Who are you?” Astarion’s voice is right behind you; you jump, knocking a pot of paint over. Cursing softly, you quickly right the pot, attempting to salvage the spilled paint. Paint isn’t cheap, and in your non-upper-class circumstances, every drop is precious.

“Oh, I’m sorry; I have been very rude,” you offer your name. “I, of course, already know you, Astarion. It’s hard not to come across the tales of the heroes of Baldur’s Gate, but I guess—” Your rambling trails off pathetically as something changes in Astarion. There’s tension in his shoulders, a coldness in his eyes. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you nervously play with a loose thread on the smock.

Astarion scrutinizes you with a piercing gaze, his eyes lingering on your face as if searching for hidden truths. The air becomes taut, charged with an almost palpable intensity. Then, as if propelled by an unseen force, he reacts like a tightly wound rubber band snapping. Reaching out, he harshly pulls you to him, bearing his teeth at you. Your stomach drops, shocked by the aggression.

“Have you been following me? Stalking me?” His voice carries a storm of anger, his grip on your shoulders unyielding, the coldness of his touch akin to ice piercing through the fabric of your being. “Don’t lie to me because I’ve shown one person that fucking scar, and I buried them.”

Your heart races, fear coursing through your veins as you whimper a response, tears welling up in your eyes. “I-I don’t know, I’m sorry,”

“Don’t lie!”

“Please, I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know; I have dreams; I don’t know why, b-but I dream of you,” your voice falters, and your vulnerability is laid bare. “I dream of you, your friends, and places I’ve never been. I’m sorry, I’ll stop, I promise.”

As abruptly as his hands seized you, they vanished, leaving you stumbling to your knees, unable to contain the torrent of tears streaming down your face. Curling in on yourself, you can’t stop the cries of apologies and promises of never picking up a brush again, of burning every last piece in the room.

Astarion looks down at you, his expression shifting from anger to a complex amalgamation of horror and something else—perhaps realization. Stepping away, he leaves you rooted to the spot. Your gaze fixed blankly out the window. Odd and conflicting emotions swirl within you—fear, confusion, longing?—all clashing fiercely. Amidst the tumult, one thought emerges with undeniable clarity—this won’t be the last time you see Astarion.

Astarion’s breaths come in ragged gasps as he runs through the barren streets, escaping the grasp of the haunting memories that threaten to consume him. His thoughts are a raging storm, and he pays no heed to the bewildered faces of those he rudely pushes past. The town of Rivington is a blur as he sprints through it, a desperate escape, picking a direction and refusing to stop until his body aches, halting only when the sun begins its ascent above the horizon.

In his frantic need to run, there was no consideration for shelter from the sun’s relentless rays. Mercifully, he stumbles upon an abandoned cave. Dry, dusty, and shrouded in darkness, it becomes his refuge. In a corner, he sinks slowly against the cool, rough wall to the ground, seeking solace in the obscurity.

Astarion pulls his knee to his chest, pressing his forehead against his crossed arms. Shaking and shivering, a stark contrast to the bitter summer heat enveloping the cave, he clings to his vulnerability. Eyes shut tight, jaw clenched, fingernails dig deep into his arms as if attempting to anchor himself in the reality that threatens to crumble around him.

Desperation claws at him, and he yearns for Tav. The desire to feel Tav’s warm embrace, hands crossing over his chest, pulling him close, torments him. He longs for the soft whispers of love and the gentle press of lips. Astarion can’t navigate this without Tav. He’s a mess, barely holding on, living each agonizing day, acutely aware that the best part of him is gone, and he can do nothing to reclaim it.

The cruelty of encountering such intimate moments from his past life with Tav wounds him deeply. These were moments meant for him and Tav alone. Realizing that a stranger could capture those cherished memories intended for one person alone turns his stomach.

Anger becomes a conduit for his overwhelming emotions, and the terrified look on the artist’s face is etched in his mind, an indelible scar on his conscience. Shame burns within him, a searing reminder of the boundaries he violated. Physically assaulting someone in their own space—what would Tav think of him now?

The artist adds another layer to Astarion’s confusion. The familiarity is uncanny—the excited calf raises, the almost-stumbles afterward, the nervous lip biting, puffed cheeks during deep concentration, and the mindless dancing when no one is watching. Every little thing the artist did mirrored Tav, and with all his memories physically displayed, Asterion finds himself lost in a sea of confusion. Why does this stranger resemble his love so deeply?

The bards’ tales of soulmates and reincarnation, once dismissed as mere children’s stories and fiction, now claw at the edges of Astarion’s consciousness. What if? What if Tav found their way back to him? Weirder things have happened in his long life, and the possibility plants a seed of hope within him.

Yet, he forcefully suppresses that hope. It won’t serve him, not now. Instead, he resolves to learn more. By nightfall, he returns to the city, catching the first boat to Waterdeep. After a day and some change, he stands outside the Wizards’ tower, resentment simmering as he contemplates turning to Gale, his best chance at answers.

A groan escapes Astarion as he hangs his head, and a series of knocks echo on the thick wooden door. “This better be worth it…”

The door swings open on its own into a dimly lit foyer. Astarion follows a familiar path, the cool air and faint scent of ancient tomes embracing him. He ascends the staircase with nostalgia and reluctance, each step echoing the countless times Tav and himself sought knowledge and assistance within these walls.

As he pushes open the study door, a scene unfolds before him. Gale is hunched over a worn scroll, graying hair ruffled, and a small pair of reading glasses set on the tip of his nose. The room is bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, creating an intimate ambiance. Notes adorn the margins, evidence of Gale’s ceaseless quest for understanding.

Gale looks up, a broad, warm smile gracing his features, and Astarion is momentarily transported back to the times when this sage was only a joke he poked fun at across camp. Removing his reading glasses, Gale pushes up from his desk, an air of welcoming familiarity enveloping the room.

“Well, look who the tressym dragged in. How are you, Astarion?”

Astarion stiffens as he is pulled into a spontaneous hug by Gale. The embrace is both unexpected and oddly comforting, a physical manifestation of the genuine camaraderie they’ve shared through the years. Astarion, unaccustomed to such displays of affection, awkwardly pats Gale’s back before gently pulling away.

“I’m afraid I’ve been better.”

Gale’s eyes convey concern and understanding as he gestures for Astarion to sit. The worn chair creaks under the weight of memories and the weightier burden of Astarion’s troubled soul.

“Then sit down, my friend, and tell me how I can help.”

***

Days of tireless research and a network of favors exchanged between magical acquaintances have led them to a glimmer of hope. Though not expansive, the discovery hints at the possibility that souls entwined so tightly may have a magnetic pull toward each other. A pull is so strong that souls can find each other in different lifetimes. Tales have described soulmates experiencing memories from previous lifetimes together, but they were vague at best. The specific remains elusive, shrouded in mystery, yet it’s enough to kindle a spark of hope within Astarion’s lonely heart.

Gale, ever the bore, offers a gentle reminder, “Now, just remember, if you try to force feelings before—”

“I would never!” Astarion’s retort carries a venomous edge, an unspoken warning to watch his following words carefully. Gale raises his hands in defense.

“My point is the brain is a prickly thing. It’s best not to rush anything it’s not ready for.”

“Yes, yes, you have said this five times already. Would you please activate the portal? I have an apology to make.”

Anticipation hums in the air, a palpable energy that courses through Astarion. A fleeting smile graces his lips, and for a moment, the weight of his grief is replaced by a glimmer of life.

Looking at Astarion with a fondness born of shared trials, Gale responds, “Of course, Astarion.”

With a confident shake of his wrist, he activates the magical circle, and the room is bathed in a radiant glow of bright runes, their purple luminescence dancing in the semi-darkness.

Astarion steps toward the portal, his heart pulsating with trepidation and newfound hope. However, before crossing the threshold, he turns around to face Gale, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Thank you, Gale. I will not forget this.”

“It was my pleasure. Now, I expect to meet this lovely artist sooner rather than later.” Gale’s parting words hang in the air, infused with the hope of rekindling a connection beyond the realms of understanding.

Back in the heart of Baldur’s Gate, Astarion swiftly navigated the bustling streets, an air of anticipation accompanying him. His purpose was clear—to reach your studio and beg for your forgiveness. A brief pause along the way allowed him to acquire a small bundle of daisies, a spontaneous choice fueled by the memory of Tav’s fondness for these delicate blooms.

As Astarion approached the studio, a surge of uncertainty clawed at him. Hesitation gripped his every step, the shadow of fear etched across his features. The fear in your eyes during the last encounter was seared into his memory. Had his previous outburst irreparably damaged any chance of reconciliation? The conflicting forces of his desire to see you again and the instinct to flee wrestled within him. Yet, he pressed forward, forcing himself down the street, and there you stood.

The scene that greeted him was a chaotic masterpiece of colors. Paint adorned your cheeks and arms, a testament to the artistic fervor that consumed you. Your hair, a cascade of untamed strands, framed a face that mirrored both exhaustion and creative passion. Astarion had a sudden urge to brush the strands away and press a soft kiss to your cheek, something he often did with Tav.

Your weariness was palpable—shoulders slumped, eyes half-lidded. Perhaps, he pondered, he should postpone this encounter, allowing you the reprieve of rest. The realization that he might be the last person you wanted to see compelled Astarion to take a step back, an unspoken retreat.

But just as he moved to leave, your eyes jumped up to meet his, you froze mid-stroke, and Astarion couldn’t read your expression. He should go. Why did he think this was a good idea? He’s just about to run when you nod for him to come in. Obliging, Astarion found himself standing awkwardly within the studio; you went back to painting. Your brush danced across the canvas, applying a vibrant shade of blue in deliberate strokes. Astarion’s attempts to break the silence faltered, his words dissolving into the room’s stillness.

“What are you doing here, Astarion?” The steadiness in your voice pierced the calm. You tried to hold on to your anger for the man all week. But upon seeing him standing so lost on the street had your resolve crumbling. You can’t deny the mild excitement that fluttered through your veins upon seeing him again.

His voice, momentarily lost, found its way back. “I-I came here to apologize for last week. My behavior was deplorable, and I wish to make things right.”

A wry amusement flickered in your eyes as you evaluated the bouquet, now slightly worse for wear under his tight grip. “And you believe a bundle of broken daisies would win you my forgiveness?”

Astarion, caught off guard, looked down at the bruised bouquet. “Um…well, I was hoping for roses, but they were fresh out.”

A snort escaped you as you put down your paintbrush and approached him. A tentative touch on his forearm transferred the flowers from his grasp to yours, eliciting a shiver down his spine. The longing to reach out is strong, but Astarion holds still as you retreat.

Intently studying the daisies, you began to divide the bundle into two piles. Astarion watched silently, recognizing echoes of Tav’s essence reflected in your actions. While understanding that you were not Tav, the profound sorrow gripping his heart seemed to ease in your presence.

“Half,” you declared suddenly.

“Pardon?”

“Half of the daisies survived.”

“And where does that leave us?”

With a theatrical flair, you pondered the question, pacing the room. “That, good sir, is the question. What is my forgiveness worth? I did luck out; daisies are my favorite, so you’re a step farther than roses would have gotten you.”

Astarion, grasping the playful undertone, decided to play along. With a hand on his hips and a wicked smirk, he responded, “Well, I am a pretty lucky man. Now, please, I beg, what more can I do to gain your forgiveness?”

You hummed softly, tapping your chin. You keep Astarion in suspense for a moment before you suddenly turn to the man. “How about…I get dressed, you take me out to dinner, and we’ll go from there?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” The agreement hung in the air, a hope for something more lingering.

***

The dinner evolved into an evening stroll, a seamless transition from pleasant chatter to playful banter. It was an unexpected evening, but the time spent with Astarion was so easy, so familiar you didn’t want it to end. Reading about the saviors of Baldur’s Gate was intriguing, and dreaming of a vampiric elf held its allure, but nothing compared to the tangible presence of the real Astarion.

Astarion embodied the epitome of perfection – handsome, intelligent, and endowed with a wit that had you giggling all night. He was the quintessential gentleman, the embodiment of every mother’s hopeful wish for their child.

What started as a single date quickly snowballed into a series of enchanting encounters – one date led to two, then five, until you found yourself drawn into his orbit every week. The pace was exhilarating, and being around Astarion felt like being charged with an electric current. It was not just addictive; it was a whirlwind of happiness, and you couldn’t help but revel in it.

If one indulged in whimsical tales, the idea that Astarion might be your soulmate would have crossed your mind. His ability to read you so intimately sometimes felt like he delved into the depths of your mind.

The dreams persisted, evolving into a kaleidoscope of memories that intertwined your moments with Astarion and a phantom era where someone else shared his company. Astarion, at times, would cast glances at you as you transferred another dream to canvas, an anticipation lingering in his eyes. Despite his attempts, he couldn’t veil the disappointment when the visions resulted in nothing more than another painting adorning the wall.

Then, it occurred on a serene spring day, three years since Astarion first entered your studio. The sun had yet to set, and you found solace curled up with Astarion. Limbs tangled, chests pressed together, hands intertwined – a tableau of intimate connection. His cold nose nestled against the crook of your neck, his white curls playfully tickling your nose.

Behind your closed eyelids, soft images of a forest clearing unfolded – Astarion shirtless, beckoning you towards him. Something clicked, and suddenly, the foreign memories that greeted you each night became a mosaic of your own experiences. The floodgates opened, overwhelming you with a lifetime of moments – kisses beneath the stars, laughter resonating around a campfire, and heart-stopping close calls with death.

Astarion often spoke of Tav, a robust and kind soul who played a pivotal role in shaping him. He wouldn’t be who he is today without them. You now knew a bit better; yes, you had nudged him along the way, but his growth was his own, and you couldn’t be more proud. To think of the years he spent without you, the grief he must have had to push through. If the roles were reversed, you don’t believe you would have been strong enough to keep going.

Startled from his slumber, Astarion found your body descending upon his, your hand meeting his chest with firm slaps. “Stop you, little gremlin.” Groggily, he attempted to restrain you in a tender embrace. He was met with your swift departure from his lap. He heard the patter of your feet retreating from the bed.

“You are a bastard, Astarion!”

Fully alert and by your side instantly, “What did I do, my sweet?”

Worry etched into every crease of his face as he cupped your jaw, looking frantically into your eyes. You intertwined your fingers with his, your other hand reaching out to caress the skin of his hip. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

Astarion scrutinized your face, his eyes delving deep into yours. The faintest furrow of his brows betrayed his thoughts. As if following an unspoken script, he pulled you in by the waist, foreheads gently meeting.

Glistening with unshed tears, Astarion whispered, “You remember?” His voice trembled.

“Yes… maybe it’s all still tangled. But yes, I remember Tav – well, I remember us.”

Astarion’s smile widened, his fangs peeking out, and his lips met yours in a heated kiss spinning the two of you around the room. It was a slow dance of lips as if Astarion had all the time in the cosmos to savor this moment. While you could quickly lose yourself in the embrace, you were privy to all his subtle tricks. You turned your face when he attempted to draw you back into the kiss.

“Gods, Astarion, for three years, you knew and never said anything. I’ve painted you for almost as long as I could wield a brush, and for three years, you knew why!” Another slap graced his chest, and tears trickled down your cheeks, eagerly wiped away by his thumbs.

“I wanted to, my love. The moment I realized I wanted to. But this couldn’t be rushed; you can’t rush the mind.”

“Star, I’m so sorry I took so long,”

“No, stop; you took as long as you needed to return to me.” His forehead rests against yours once more, and the room stands still for a moment. “What matters is you’re here, in my arms, and I’m not letting go anytime soon.”

A choked sob mingled with a chuckle, and you nuzzled closer into Astarion, hiding your face into his neck. “Gods, I love you, Astarion.”

“And I love you.”

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Okay loves, let me know what you think. I've been working on this for over a week and still find some sections I'm not all that happy with, but I want to move on to other pieces. Any and every interaction makes my day.

Taglist: heartfully10, ayselluna

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #reader insert #astarion imagine #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion #fanfic #writing #soulmates #soulmate au #reincarnation #frantic fiction

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 7 months

Text

Wreck My Plans - LN

Summary: After nearly a year of making long distance work, Lando has lost his patience and abruptly demands that y/n move in with him. Because he can't keep living most of the time without her.

Admittedly getting frustrated with someone like Lando Norris is easy.

It’s almost as if he really genuinely thinks nothing of his demands for y/n to fly off with him for a race weekend or have him just drop in out of nowhere when he decides he’s feeling lonely at night after insisting he wouldn’t be able to come over.

It’s not as if she doesn’t want him there.

But communication with him is a headache on the best of days.

“You can come!” Lando insists while following her out of the bedroom into her living room.

“Lando, I’m trying to make a life for myself. My boss has warned me, one more calling in sick for a weekend then being spotted on broadcast or another last minute holiday booking that interrupts other peoples schedule then I’m fired and I can’t lose my job.” Y/n frowns turning abruptly to look at him. “Flying to Monaco to spend a week with you is not on the cards.”

“Quit your job.” Lando demands and for a moment he almost wants to eat the words he just spoke because her expression of rage is not something he is enjoying being the victim of. It’s silent rage too which he knows says much more than if she was yelling at him, and yet he doesn’t shut up. Instead he continues speaking. “Quit your job. Move to Monaco and live with me. I’ll take care of you.”

“Lando…you’re being ridiculous.” Y/n laughs in disbelief of the fact they’re even having this conversation.

They’re both so young and while they’ve miraculously managed to keep a relationship going for 10 months while she lives in a guest house at her parents house. It’s still so early for her to be thinking about moving countries to live with him.

“No. You’re just being stubbornly independent. It’s annoying.” Lando states as if his words are fact, and annoyingly he’s not entirely wrong. But it doesn’t mean he gets to say it out loud with so much confidence. “What’s stopping you? Your job isn’t even your dream job, and what’s better than living with me? I’ll take care of you, we’ll get to travel, have every morning together and you’ll be a full-time girlfriend who doesn’t have to worry about a thing because we’ll not have to worry about the one threat to this relationship.” Aka living in different countries and sometimes going weeks not seeing each other in person.

At one point she was seeing the Quadrant team more than she was seeing Lando and he was seriously unimpressed about it.

“I-What about my family?”

“I see my family all the time and you can do exactly what you’ve been doing with me. Plus I think your dad is more than ready to pass over the responsibility of you onto someone else. We’ve had a chat and he agrees it’s time for you to accept that you have to just live with me and let me take care of you.”

“Sounds like something he’d say.” Y/n mumbles in defeat since she knows her dad constantly makes jokes about how she’s his most expensive child and it’s a good thing she managed to end up with someone who has a job with such a high income because they’d need it to meet her needs(wants). “If-and I mean if-I agree to move in. Is that really it? My plans to lead my own life are wrecked.”

“You will be leading your own life, you’ll just be doing it by my side with no concern for travel budget and you’ll get to have amazing sex more regularly.” Lando grins holding nothing back with his other intentions for as to why he wants her to life with him. It’s definitely not something that is putting her off, even if he is still annoying her with his nonchalant attitude about it.

“Amazing sex?” She scoffs, knowing he’s right but feeling like she needs to humble him somewhat right now.

“If you need me to prove that we have amazing sex then I’m happy to deliver.”

“Stop trying to distract me.”

“Stop trying to deny that we’re made to have a life together. When we met you told me that you wanted a man who would let you give up and live on their sofa.”

“I said that as a joke after a bad day at work and you know it.”

“So you don’t want that at all?”

“I-“

“I won’t force you, y/n.”

“Just give me some time to think about it.” Y/n mumbles before she groans. “No. I don’t need to think about it.”

“Ok.” Lando nods thinking that she’s just decided that it’s not happening.

“I’d love to move in with you…idiot. But next time you want to suggest something life changing, maybe give me more warning…and I still have to give in my two week notice.” Y/n states while he nods quickly really just excited that this is actually happening.

By the start of the next month, Lando had new enemies of y/n’s family as they weren’t thrilled that she’s moving out the country but she was too excited about it to care and assured him that they would get over it eventually.

Lando sighs waking up to see her sleeping soundly, her face nuzzled into the pillow while he admires her and sighs just smiling over the fact he got her.

So far she’s been there a few days and he’s already spoiled her by buying her anything she gives a second glance.

“I know you’re awake.” He whispers watching her mouth twitch into a smile. “You can sleep on the plane.”

“But I’m so tired now.”

Attending a race weekend so shortly after moving in isn’t ideal, but he wants her there and she wants to be there but right now she is exhausted.

Eventually she’s up and they’re out travelling to the next race.

Now their relationship has never been hidden but it has been the most questioned due to the fact they are seen together so little. At one point she was with Max so much more accusations of cheating were being thrown into the ring but Lando put those to rest quickly.

Before y/n knows it they’re in the paddock and Lando seems to be making extra effort to show off his new roommate.

Of course when he gets up on stage as part of the media for the race week, the first question is about his relationship.

“You made it public knowledge that you and y/n moved in together. How is that going?”

“Oh she hates me so much already. Apparently I suck.” Lando nods jokingly before shrugging. “No, it’s going really well. But she moved in like 3 days ago and we’re already travelling. Everyone should expect to see her glued to my side whenever I’m not doing this stuff.”

“Yeah, she hates him.” Oscar adds with a small sarcastic smile.

“You know she does. I bother her all the time and she hates it.” Lando admits with a proud grin. “But she is going to be around a lot more now and…everyone can expect to see me doing everything and anything to irritate her.”

#lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando #norris #lando norris x y/n #lando x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #f1 #formula 1 #f1 x reader #fanfic

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sluttywoozi · 2 days

Text

April Shower | jww x f!reader

Wonwoo meets a lot of people through his career as a travel photographer. Not one of them has ever made him want to stay in one place, until he met you.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~12.0k Pairing: jww x f!reader | Genre: romance, meet cute, smut, love at first sight

Story Warnings: alcohol and food mention

Smut Warnings: masturbation mention, dirty talk, dom!wonwoo, bigdick!wonwoo, wonwoo’s cold hands, size kink, light thigh slapping, fingering, oral reader rec., overstimulation, slight dumbification, squirting, sexual health/safety talk, unprotected sex (don’t do it), cumming on tits

Reader Notes: has breasts and a vagina, like half a foot shorter than wonwoo, wap, has a cycle to track

AN: written for my bestie @sluttywonwoo’s birthday! kaili, the light you bring to my life is immeasurable and i’m so lucky i’ve gotten to grow with you over the past 7 years 💖

Wonwoo draws in a deep, tremulous breath as he raises the camera to his bespectacled eye, wishing not for the first time that he was anywhere but the city of love.

This is the second proposal he’s photographed today, the fifth this week, and while he’s always thought himself to be someone who doesn’t mind love, he’s starting to grow a bit… weary.

His hotel room is obviously meant for two, as were many of the pastas and desserts he’s ordered so far. Everywhere he looks, there are people kissing or hugging or holding hands, their ages ranging from teens in puppy love to folks in their golden years shuffling down the street arm in arm, supporting each other as they have for decades.

He’s been working as a travel writer for five years, been single just as long, but this is the first time he’s ever found himself feeling lonely. He’s usually restless, never wanting to settle in one place, and he’s almost always solo, reluctant to give himself to someone who might want to keep him.

Lately, he’s felt a bit differently. Perhaps he’s getting old, outgrowing his bachelor lifestyle. He finds himself wanting to plant roots where before he was nearly offended by the notion of digging any deeper than surface level.

There’s just something about Verona that begs to be shared, to be experienced with someone else. Maybe it’s the romantic music flowing from the restaurants he passes, maybe it’s the fact that he seems to be the sole single person in this city. Regardless of the cause, he actually feels alone, for the first time in years.

It’s not a feeling he enjoys, or one he’s familiar with, and as he traverses the cobblestone streets, he almost wishes he was holding someone’s hand instead of the camera he’s carried for most of his life.

Wonwoo swears out loud when he feels the first drop of rain. He checked the forecast twice this morning, knowing he would be exploring an area a few miles from his hotel and that he wouldn’t be able to return to grab or drop anything off.

With the weather appearing to be clear and sunny all day, he left his umbrella in his room and headed out to catch his taxi.

He more than regrets that now, the rain starting to pour and his white button down beginning to soak through. He at least brought his water resistant backpack so for now, his camera is safe, but spending the rest of the day in sodden clothes sounds like actual hell.

He looks up and down the street frantically, finding only personal residences, not a single shop in sight.

Until he looks closer and realizes the building at the end of the row has a sign. He can’t read it from this far away, even with his glasses, but the hope is enough to propel him forward.

He darts down the street, splashing through puddles and swearing again as he feels water permeate his socks. The store comes into view, the sign becoming clearer and clearer the closer he gets.

Storie d’Amore, it reads. Love stories, of course. He shouldn’t have expected anything else from the city of love.

“It’s open, thank fuck,” Wonwoo murmurs as he wrenches the door open and steps inside, his clothes dripping all over the hardwood floors.

He feels terrible tracking rainwater into this store, but he had no other choice. His water resistant bag is only resistant for so long, and his camera is far too valuable to risk.

He glances around the small room, looking for the owner so he can apologize and instead finding shelves upon shelves of books. He walks slowly, squelches following each step, and reads over the spines.

He’s shocked to find novels in all kinds of languages, some he recognizes and speaks and some he doesn’t. He’s relatively fluent in five thanks to his years of language classes and traveling, and he has to resist picking up a book in each of the ones he knows.

He reaches the end of the first shelf, gasping at the large paned window he finds and gasping even louder at the black, tailless cat lounging on the ledge.

The cat pays him little to no mind, lazily peering at him over their shoulder before curling into a small ball. They blink their big peridot eyes a few times and let out a heavy sigh, settling into sleep faster than Wonwoo could ever hope to.

Enchanted, he swings his bag around to his front, digging through and pulling out his camera as quietly as possible.

Even with the mid-April shower, the light coming in through the window illuminates the subtle white notes in the cat’s fur, giving them a glow he begs his camera to capture.

He crouches until he’s eye level with the cat, holding his breath as he brings the viewfinder up to his eye and presses down the shutter button.

The cat doesn’t stir, too deep in slumber to register the quiet click. He takes a few more pictures, trying different angles and light settings until he feels he’s gotten every possible combination.

Maybe it’s stupid, but Wonwoo is more excited to share these photos than nearly any others he’s ever taken.

Which is why he balks and falls flat on his ass when he hears, “Anubis is a model, you’ll owe us royalties for those.”

Eyes wide, he looks around wildly to find the source of the words. There’s no one in sight, the store seemingly empty except for him and Anubis.

“Up here,” the voice calls out, drawing his eye and making his mouth drop open when he finally notices a spiral staircase leading up to a small loft.

He doesn’t know how he didn’t see it before. He must have been too busy staring at the cat to really take in the rest of the store, and as you slowly step down, he can’t tell if you’re amused or annoyed. What he can tell is that you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, and that he suddenly wants to ask if you believe in love at first sight.

“I can give you royalties! Please don’t make me delete them,” he pleads, far less embarrassed than he should be by the fact that he’s practically on his knees begging a pretty stranger to let him keep photos he took.

You reach the landing and make your way toward him, your face unreadable. He’s surprised when you break into a sweet smile and hold your hand out to him. He hugs the camera close to his chest in response, making you roll your eyes and grab his free hand.

The warmth of your touch is a shock to his system, but he holds back the shiver that wants to roll down his spine as you lean back and tug. Still confused, he lets you help him up, feeling self conscious in his damp clothes.

He stands a little straighter when he realizes he’s over half a foot taller than you, the height difference giving him back some of his confidence. He’s not sure it should, especially with the unimpressed look you level at him when you set eyes on the trail he tracked through your store.

“I’m so sorry, I can clean it up if you give me supplies,” he offers, fully serious and almost hoping you’ll say yes just so he can assuage his guilt.

“These floors have seen worse,” you shrug, leaning down to pet Anubis, and Wonwoo has no idea what that means but he’s not about to ask. He introduces himself instead, shaking the hand still held by yours and repeating your name when you offer it.

He’s only slightly jealous when you pull away and hook your hands under the cat’s body to draw him into your arms, though whom he’s jealous of, he doesn’t know.

He would love to be holding the cat, but he has a sneaking suspicion he’d also love to be held by you.

Your hand was so warm, and so soft, and the rest of you looks just as warm and soft, if not more.

Anubis snuggles into your arms, his legs stretching and his toes spreading before he tucks them up against your forearm. His eyes go heavy lidded when you start to scratch his head, and now Wonwoo knows who he’s jealous of.

He hates to admit it but it’s been years since he let someone touch him, and after just a minute or two of knowing you, he’s already hoping you’ll touch him more. He doesn’t know if it’s because you hold Anubis so lovingly, so gently, or if it’s because you have this aura about you that soothes him, or if it’s even because he feels this attraction, this draw to you. Maybe it’s all three.

All he knows is that something about you makes him want to stay until his clothes are dry and the sun is setting, and then stay a little longer after that. Like for months, or even years, perhaps.

He’s relieved when you ask if he’d like some tea, directing him over to the small fireplace in the back of the store and nodding to one of the chairs. When he sits, you lean down and plop Anubis in his lap, surprise painting your face when he doesn’t immediately jump down.

“He’s usually wary of new people,” you hum thoughtfully, watching as the cat gets comfortable on his thighs. He brings his hand up and runs it over his soft fur, beaming up at you when he feels Anubis’s little body start vibrating beneath his palm.

“I love him,” Wonwoo admits, his voice grave and his eyes open and true behind his glasses.

You just laugh and say, “Me too,” before disappearing behind a door, leaving him alone with your cat.

Rain is still barraging the building, the steady sound lulling him into a trance as he pets the sweet being in his lap. The fire warms him quickly, making him realize just how cold he was before, a small shiver attempting to wrack his body again. He keeps it contained to his shoulders, wanting to avoid disturbing Anubis if possible.

He tells himself it’s just because he wants him to stay, but if he’s being honest, he also hopes that if you see that your cat likes him, then you will too.

Before long, you return with a tray of steaming mugs, one for him and one for you. You set it carefully on the side table between the chairs, telling him, “I would let it steep for two more minutes. There’s also biscotti, and some crostini if you’re allergic to nuts.”

“Wow, thank you so much,” he breathes, his eyes wide. He’s run into some very nice people on his travels, but it’s been a while since he was met with such hospitality. Here he is, sitting in front of a blazing fire with tea and snacks waiting for him, after dirtying your shop and taking unapproved pictures of your model cat. Cat model?

“So, how much do you expect in royalties?” He asks with trepidation, knowing the magazine he works for is pretty big but maybe not big enough to pay residuals for pictures of a cat.

You stare at him for a few seconds, squinting your eyes and quirking your head before chuckling, “That was a joke. Bubby isn’t a model, I just think he’s handsome enough to be one.”

“Ohhhh.”

Wonwoo feels himself blush, his cheeks and ears flaring red before he forces out a laugh to try to cover his embarrassment. He’s not used to jokes, usually relying on sarcasm, puns, and situational humor, and he’s a bit ashamed he didn’t realize you weren’t being serious. He stares down at Anubis, petting him softly so he doesn’t have to meet your eyes.

“Tea should be ready,” you say brightly, picking up your mug with careful hands and kindly allowing him to recover without your gaze on him.

He follows suit, cupping his hands around the hot mug and bringing it to his lips so he can blow gently, huffing when steam fogs up his glasses. He pushes them up into his hair, thinking absentmindedly that he should get it cut soon as he takes his first sip.

The flavors bloom on his tongue, mint, orange, cinnamon, honey, and something else he can’t put his finger on. It’s the most comforting tea he’s ever had, and he blinks over at you with misty, blurry eyes, sighing, “What is this? I need to buy four tons of it.”

“It’s called Evening Sorrento, it’s one of my favorites,” you smile indulgently, bringing your mug to your lips and drinking slowly before setting it down and reaching for the biscotti.

He follows your lead, taking a biscuit and dipping it in his tea like you do. The first bite has him groaning in appreciation, dark chocolate, citrus, and almond blending together flawlessly, the taste only enhanced by the tea.

“What’s the spiciness from?” He asks curiously, taking another sip to try to figure it out himself.

“Ginger,” you whisper like it’s a secret. “I candied some and put it in the biscotti, too.”

“You made these?” He sounds astonished, he knows, but he almost can’t wrap his head around someone being able to create something so delicious when all he can do is fry an egg. He still burns it half the time, more scared of undercooking than he is of overcooking.

“Yeah, my best friend taught me how, she loves to bake,” you smile sweetly, seemingly pleased to see him enjoying the food you made.

Anubis stirs, stretching out on Wonwoo’s lap before leaping onto the floor and up into your chair. You murmur, “Hi, baby,” and Wonwoo can’t help but grin as he watches your cat use your arm to pet himself.

He asks how long you’ve had him, then for pictures when he learns you rescued him as a kitten, gasping softly at the tiny version of the cat as you swipe through photos. The conversation shifts to Wonwoo’s desire to adopt a cat before he explains why he can’t, and the way you look genuinely sad for him makes his heart swell.

You ask more about his job, about the places he’s been and the things he’s seen, and in turn, he asks how you acquired all of the books in this store. It turns out you have contacts all over the world, friends who send you romance books when they come across them in exchange for a free one when they next come to visit. It seems like the perfect system, allowing you to collect novels in different languages and share them with the people you love.

Talking to you is so easy that he doesn’t even notice how late it’s grown until you check your phone, a startled expression on your face as you say, “I should have closed half an hour ago.”

He glances at his watch, blanching at the clock staring back at him. It’s been four hours since he burst into your shop looking for refuge from the downpour, and he doesn’t even know if it’s still raining. The sun has long since set, going down around six PM this time of year, which was over two and a half hours ago.

He rises swiftly, nervously smoothing out the wrinkles in his slacks and thanking you for your generosity. You stand with him, hugging Anubis to your chest before offering the cat for one last snuggle. Wonwoo takes him carefully, bundling him up against his now dry shirt and smoothing a hand from his head all the way down to the nub at the end of his body.

He starts purring immediately, the sound audible even over the crackling of the embers, making you smile softly and tell him, “Bubby likes you.”

“I like him,” Wonwoo beams, reluctantly handing the cat over when you stretch your arms out.

“You love him,” you correct with mirth dancing in your eyes as you walk him to the door.

He peeks out, sighing in relief when he finds that the rain has stopped before turning to you. He almost doesn’t know what to say, goodbye feeling too final, too formal. He thanks you again instead, dragging his feet now that it’s time to leave.

But he doesn’t want to be rude, or keep you any longer than he already has, so with one last wave and a scritch under Anubis’s chin, he leaves.

You call out, “Come back soon!” and while he’s sure you say that to all your customers, he can’t help but feel like you mean it.

Wonwoo has a plan for the day: take the train to Venice, splurge on a gondola ride, and capture as many of the historical buildings as he can while the boat is guided through the canals.

So why he finds himself standing outside of Storie d’Amore again, he doesn’t know.

He managed to stay away for two days, hiking all over Verona and taking enough pictures to fill an SD card. He would have made it three if he asked the cab driver to take him to the train station instead of your place of business, but here he is.

Some part of him wants to rationalize it. He didn’t get any photos of the area because of the rain, just of your (not) model cat, so he’s simply making up for lost time. That still doesn’t explain why he’s staring through the paned glass window at the end of your shop, hoping for a glimpse of you or Anubis.

Obviously, you’re both here, but he doesn’t see either of you, and he also wants to buy a few books to take home, so it only makes sense that he goes into your store.

He’s dry this time, thankfully, though he wonders if that means you won’t offer him tea and biscotti again. He can see a few people milling about, pulling books off the shelves to read the summaries and either placing them into mismatched baskets or putting them back.

He does the same, searching for novels in the languages he knows with the intent of buying one of each. He’s gathered Italian, French, and English when he feels something rub against his leg, looking down to find a black cat staring up at him.

“Anubis!” Wonwoo grins, leaning down to set the basket to the side so he can pick up his little friend. Holding him to his chest, he feels his heart warm as the purring starts, not even a little mad about the black fur accumulating on his shirt.

“Oh!”

He hears you gasp and glances up, smiling shyly at you and shifting to hold Anubis with one arm so he can send you a wave that only feels a little awkward.

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” you say, stepping closer to him and taking in the basket at his feet and backpack slung over his shoulder.

“You told me to,” he shrugs sheepishly, suddenly fearing that, “Come back soon,” is something you just say to everyone.

“I didn’t think you actually would. I thought you’d be gone by now, on to the next destination.”

He can’t tell if you’re happy to see him or not, but you haven’t kicked him out yet so he doesn’t plan on going anywhere.

“The next destination can wait. I needed something to read on the plane anyway.”

“Looks like you found more than just something,” you chuckle, peering closer to check out the titles he’s gathered so far. “All good choices,” you smile up at him, and he feels something unlock in his chest to make space for you.

“Can I take you out on a date?” He blurts out, his eyes widening and his free hand flying up to cover his mouth. The words escaped without his permission, but he can’t say he wants to take them back.

You tilt your head and look at him for a little while, like you’re searching for something, and you must find it because your smile grows before you nod and say, “I can close early tonight. Does seven work for you?”

“It works perfectly,” he breathes after lowering his hand, his heart racing and his body feeling warm for once.

A customer calls out your name, making you glance over before you turn back and say, “Leave your books at the register and meet me here later?”

He can only nod, grinning too wide to manage any words.

“Don’t take my cat, I love that little guy,” you warn him playfully (he thinks) and spin to find the source of the voice. He can hear you speaking in rapid French, easily translating it in his head without even meaning to. They’re asking for your help in choosing between two books, one a tragedy and one a comedy.

You go over the pros and cons of each genre and offer your own personal opinions on the specific books, making Wonwoo wonder if you’ve read every novel in here. You seemed to recognize the books in his basket and you apparently know the ones this customer is talking about; maybe you read them as you receive them?

But there are so many, there’s just no way, he thinks, letting Anubis wriggle out of his arms to follow you. He supposes that’s something he can ask you at dinner, the thought bringing a pleased little smile to his face.

He selects his last two books and wanders over to the checkout counter, stashing his basket on the stool behind it before heading out to get pictures of the neighborhood while he can.

He’ll be busy tonight, after all.

Wonwoo returns to your shop five minutes before the clock strikes seven.

He slips in without your notice, making his way to his favorite window and sitting down on the ledge next to Anubis to scroll through the pictures he took while he was out. The cat just sprawls a bit more so his feet are touching Wonwoo’s thigh, the tiny points of connection warming him from the inside out.

He captured another proposal today, but this one didn’t leave a hollow feeling in his chest like the others. Now that he’s thinking about it, neither did any of the couples he passed. He was able to truly appreciate all of them without that sense of bitter loneliness, and he can only attribute that to meeting you.

An unbidden smile stretches his lips as he thinks about the time he spent sitting by that fire with you, talking about anything that came to mind. It’s been months since he spent four straight hours with someone, just talking. It’s been years since he wanted to.

A tiny part of him fears he only feels this way because he’s been so lonely, but the rest of him knows he’d be enamored with you no matter what state he was in.

This is only confirmed when you round the bookshelf and come to a stop in front of him, an emerald green dress swishing over your thighs and a smile brightening your face. You cleared the store in the time he spent reminiscing, leaving the room empty but for you, Wonwoo, and Anubis.

The air feels tense, heavy with something Wonwoo can’t quite identify. It’s only when he rises to his feet and finds himself closer to you than he meant to be that he realizes that something is potential.

It’s the same rush of anticipation that fills his chest when he lines up a shot he knows will be incredible, when he finishes climbing a hill and sees the perfect sunset waiting for him, when he finally finds the words to describe the indescribably beautiful. The fact that he’s feeling it now, with you, tells him everything he needs to know.

His previous fear of meeting someone who would want to keep him has become a dream, a wish that he can only hope will come true, because now Wonwoo knows he wants you to take hold of him and never let go.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, his voice so full of longing, it’s almost embarrassing.

“Before the first date? The scandal!” You say dramatically, feigning offense and lightly tapping him on the chest. He gasps at the contact and covers your hand with his, pressing it flat to his pec so you can feel his speeding heart.

You must realize how serious he is, how desperate, because the playful smile falls from your face, your gaze darting between his eyes and his lips. He feels himself flush under your attention, his ears and the back of his neck hot as you stare up at him.

“Yes, Wonwoo. You can kiss me,” you breathe softly, your face tilting up and your eyelashes fluttering as he begins to lean down. This moment feels monumental for some reason, like something he’ll remember for the rest of his life, and as he cups your face and carefully presses his lips to yours, he figures out why.

Everything about kissing you feels right, as if all of his jagged pieces have fallen into place, as if this is what he was destined for, as if the fates connected him to you with an invisible, unbreakable string.

He wasn’t restless, he wasn’t a bachelor, he was just waiting for you.

Suddenly his smile is too broad for him to keep kissing you, giddiness flowing through his veins as he pulls back and rests his forehead against yours. He leaves his hands on your face, brushing his thumb over the curve of your cheekbone before biting back his grin and kissing you one, two, three more times.

He feels shy when he takes a step back, letting one hand fall to catch yours and squeezing like it’s a lifeline.

“Was that… life-changing for you too?” Wonwoo asks quietly, scared to pop the bubble he’s found himself in with you.

“Maybe,” you whisper, vulnerability evident in your voice though your face gives nothing away. “We should get going.”

“Yeah, yes, we should,” he lets you pull away even though it physically pains him, following when you tug him to the door with the hand he’s still holding.

He doesn’t know what just happened, why you closed yourself off, but he’ll give you the space you seem to need, sure that if he pushes it will only make you freeze up more. For now, he’ll take you to that romantic riverfront restaurant he passed earlier and encourage you to order any and everything you like.

You ease up a bit after a glass of wine and some shared appetizers, the smile on your face genuine again though your light still seems dimmer than it was before. You ask him a lot of questions but don’t offer up much information in return, keeping your responses short and to the point.

It doesn’t disrupt the flow of conversation at all, thankfully; Wonwoo and you are compatible enough that it’s easy to bounce from one topic to another. There’s never a pause, never a moment where he doesn’t know what to say, and even with you being more withdrawn than expected, he still laughs himself to tears more than once.

It’s late by the time he pays the bill and walks you home, which he’s learned is the building right above your shop. There aren’t many people out, and though he startled you when he took your hand in his, he continues to hold it the whole way back. You’ve gone quiet again, pensive, making him wonder if he’s done something wrong, or, worse, if you regret kissing him.

You only started acting like this after he pressed his lips to yours, after he asked if it was life-changing for you like it was for him.

He doesn’t know what else it could be, unless you figured out you just don’t feel the same way about him as he does about you. His heart drops into his stomach at the thought, his fingers subconsciously clenching around yours, making you glance up at him in concern.

He stares forward resolutely, not ready to see confirmation of his fears in your gaze.

By the time that big window and Anubis’s sleeping body come into view, Wonwoo has convinced himself that you feel nothing but friendship for him and simply don’t know how to say it.

Still, he can’t help but try, one last time.

“Do you think I could see you again before I go? I’ve got plenty of pictures and I fly out tomorrow night, so my day is clear.”

You take a second to think about it, your eyes shuttering as if you don’t want him to see the thoughts behind them, before you answer solemnly, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh,” he breathes out, feeling like all the air has been pulled out of his lungs. “You don’t… think it’s a good idea. Okay, I’ll, um, I’ll just go, then.”

He can’t even make himself look at you, knowing that his mouth is pinched in the way it does when he’s trying not to cry. He squeezes your hand once more before disentangling his fingers from yours, taking a step back, and turning to walk away so you can’t see him lift up his glasses and rub at his burning eyes.

He doesn’t get far before you call out his name.

“Wonwoo! I… It’s because you’re leaving,” you sound as close to tears as he feels, your voice plaintive and fragile.

He stops short and chews on his lip, swiping at his face with rough hands as your footsteps sound on the cobblestones. You let him stay where he is but he feels your fingers clench in the back of his shirt, like you’re afraid he’ll still walk away.

That touch is enough for him to turn around, his hand catching yours as it falls and his heart stuttering at the sheen of tear tracks on your face. He brings his other hand up to brush his thumb under your eye, sweeping away a freshly fallen drop.

“Is that why you said maybe, after I kissed you?” He asks in a gentle, low tone, less fearful of the answer now.

“Yes. This has an expiration date, I don’t get to keep you. I couldn’t admit that just one kiss had me ready to sell my shop, buy a new cat carrier, and join you on the road,” you laugh softly in a self-deprecating way, avoiding his gaze again like you’re embarrassed.

“Y/n, when I said it was life-changing for me, I meant it. As in, I would change my life for you. I can transfer to the Italian branch, go on shorter assignments, find a place here. You can keep me.”

“Wonwoo, I can’t ask you to do all that for me. I mean, we only met a few days ago, how do you know you won’t regret this?” You sound reluctant to accept his offer, but it seems to be coming from a place of worry for him instead of a lack of feeling, and he can work with that.

“I’ve been thinking about settling down anyway, I just needed a sign. Meeting you was that sign, and getting to know you like this has only made me more and more sure. Please, all you have to do is believe in me.”

Finally, you meet his eyes, searching them like you did when he asked you out, and once again, you find what you’re looking for. A watery smile stretches your lips as you step closer to him and up onto your tiptoes, wrapping your free arm around his neck and pulling him into a hug.

His eyelids flutter shut, his arm vining around your waist and hauling you up against his body so you can feel his galloping heart. He presses his lips to the top of your head and breathes you in, finding your scent absolutely intoxicating.

It’s fruity like pomegranate but sweet and floral too, reminding him of the lotus flowers he stumbled across in the southern Himalayas. There’s an underlying warmth, a natural musk that makes him wonder if you’re wearing perfume or if you just smell like this on your own.

He doesn’t really care either way, not now that he has you so close, your joined hands coming up to rest against his shoulder and your body relaxing into his. You stay like that until his heart returns to a somewhat normal pace, before he pulls away just far enough to look down at you. He tugs his hand free so he can cup your face, whispering, “I’m gonna kiss you again, okay?”

“Please do,” you whisper back, taking in a shuddering breath just before he locks his lips with yours. You sigh it out into his mouth and he swallows it like it’s a benediction, your tongue dragging against his as he kisses you and kisses you and kisses you.

He’s about to let out a groan when a wooden shutter bangs against the stone building above, a loud voice shouting, “Prendi una stanza!”

“É la città dell'amore, Stefano, dacci una pausa!” You break away to shout back, grinning at Wonwoo’s flaming cheeks.

“Y/n? Vai avanti, caro!” The shutter snaps closed again and Wonwoo bends over in a full body laugh, clutching his stomach as his abs flex with mirth. You’re not laughing like he is, but you are watching with affection and only the slightest bit of embarrassment.

When he’s finally regained his composure, he straightens and wipes at his cheeks again, crying for a completely different reason than before. You smile up at him fondly, reaching out to fix his hair and asking, “Since you’re free tomorrow, do you want to come up for some coffee?”

Wonwoo doesn’t know if you’re really offering refreshments or if the coffee is a euphemism for something else, but either way, it’s an easy answer.

“Of course I do.”

Anubis starts meowing as soon as you unlock the door to your shop, loping over on graceful paws and weaving between your feet.

“You had your dinner, why are you shouting at me?” You ask as you crouch to pick him up, holding him like a baby and scratching at his stomach gently.

“Maybe he missed you?”

You mull it over for a little bit, nodding your head in acceptance and admitting, “I don’t usually go out at night, so maybe he did.”

“Is that why your neighbor was fine with us making out as soon as he figured out it was you?”

You lightly jab him in the stomach with your elbow and he pretends to be mortally wounded, stumbling and groaning dramatically as if he’d been hit with an arrow instead.

He supposes he has been, but it was one of Cupid’s, not one of yours.

Anubis twists out of your arms and you let him, locking the entrance to your store and leading Wonwoo to the back. You unlock one of the doors with a huff of exertion and a jiggle of the handle, turning to say, “Old building,” before pushing the door open and letting Anubis dart up the staircase in front of you. Wonwoo jerks the door closed and locks it with the key you hand him, following you up the stairs in near darkness.

The room you lead him into is a bit smaller than your store, containing a compact kitchen and warm living room flanked by a wall with two doors. “Bathroom is on the right, if you need it.”

He slips off his shoes and excuses himself to freshen up, taking care of his business and washing his hands quickly. Chancing a look in the mirror, Wonwoo finds that he’s flushed, aglow with infatuation, his smile irrepressible and wider than ever. He almost can’t look himself in the eye, knowing that all he’d find is adoration for you, and perhaps a bit of nervousness.

He doesn’t know what to expect now, doesn’t know if this is leading where he thinks it is or how to act in whatever case. But, not wanting to keep you waiting, he opens the door and shuts off the light, finding you sitting at your dining table with a full french press and two mugs in front of you.

He wants to speed over but he strolls instead, trying to appear at least a little unaffected. That facade is broken when he stops a few feet from the table, suddenly unsure of whether he should sit next to you or opposite from you.

Blessedly, you make the choice for him, sliding one mug across the table before smoothly depressing the plunger of the french press.

The rich smell of coffee permeates the air as you gracefully pour, filling his cup with the steaming, dark liquid before filling yours. “Is black okay? I have sugar and oat milk, if you need them.”

“Black is great, thank you.”

He’s acclimated to the bitterness enough to appreciate the deeper notes, though it’s only because he was once too shy to ask for sugar. He sips carefully, wondering with a satisfied hum if this really is the best coffee he’s ever had or if he just thinks that because you made it for him.

You fall into an easy chat, discussing pictures he took and customers you had while he was out and about, before you bite your lip and stare down into your coffee like it’ll give you strength.

“Wonwoo, can I ask you something… personal?”

Your eyes slowly return to his, and the heat in your gaze makes him want to pop open a few buttons on his shirt and fan himself.

“Sure,” he says, with only a little trepidation.

“What are you like in bed?”

Oh.

Oh. You want to know what he’s like in bed.

Have you thought about what he’s like in bed? Have you thought about being in bed with him? Have you thought about him and touched yours-

He should answer you before he lets himself get carried away.

“Um, I’m a little different, I suppose. I like to be more… dominant. Maybe a bit rougher than I may seem,” his voice is hushed, and he wants to look away from the intensity of your stare, but he finds he can’t. It’s like you’ve hypnotized him, entranced him with a single question.

“Is there anything specific that you like?”

This conversation, he likes this conversation. A lot. He can feel his slacks tightening with it, his heart thumping far too hard to be healthy and his mind starting to offer up ideas so fast he can barely make sense of them.

They’re mostly images, sensations, feelings, all modeled after you.

“I like,” he begins slowly. “I like being in control. I think I’d like holding you down, making you take what I’m giving you. I like talking,” he chuckles wryly, before continuing.

“I like listening too. I wouldn’t want you to hold back, I’d want to hear every little noise I could pull out of you. And I think I’d really like using my hands first, making you cum until you cry. Or until you beg for my cock.”

You suck in a ragged breath and glance away before looking back at him. Finally, he can read you, desire obvious on your face and in the tight knuckled grip you have on your mug.

You set it down cautiously, aware of the still scalding coffee inside, and push away from the table to stand. Wonwoo watches you walk around to his side, his gaze fighting to stay on your face and not on the way your dress moves over your thighs as you get closer and closer to him.

You stop just a foot away, holding your hand out and waiting for him to take it with a slight air of impassioned impatience. He places his hand in yours and rises to his feet, valiantly ignoring the view of your breasts from this angle and following you when you turn and begin tugging him to the door on the left.

“Are we done talking?” Wonwoo asks, exhilarated and aroused, his dick hardening so quickly it leaves him feeling dizzy.

“Not even a little bit,” you breathe, pushing the door open and facing him again as you walk backwards towards your bed.

He crosses the few steps between you, crowds you up to the edge of the bed and pushes you to lay down with a gentle hand on your shoulder. His hands won’t stay gentle for long, and he hopes you understand what you’ve gotten yourself into.

“If you don’t like something I do, tell me,” he whispers before leaning down and taking hold of your legs, pulling them apart and filling the space in between with his hips.

“I will,” you gasp as he grinds against you, your dress pooled at the top of your thighs, just barely exposing your black panties. “But I don’t think I’ll need to.”

I like everything you do.

You don’t say it but he hears it anyway, the corner of his mouth lifting in a soft smirk before he braces his hands on either side of your head and moves in close. He doesn’t kiss you yet, just watches the way your eyelids flutter shut and your lips pout in preparation. You peek an eye open when he continues to hold himself away from you, your hand rising to cup his neck and attempt to tug him down to you.

The second your fingers come into contact with him, he shifts his weight to one hand and grips your wrist with the other, pushing it down to the bed and holding it there. You bite back a smile, wriggle beneath him to get more comfortable, and drape your other hand above your head.

That, he likes, and he rewards you by releasing your wrist and dragging his fingers up your inner thigh instead, digging them into the warm, soft flesh and groaning when he comes into contact with your panties. They’re soaking, so much wetter than he expected, and when he cups his big, cold hand over the seat of them, you shiver and buck up into his touch.

“How long has it been for you?” Wonwoo asks, as if it hasn’t been literal years for him.

“Um, a while, it’s been… a while,” you admit, seemingly shy for the first time. He should reassure you, but he likes the way you shrink beneath him, likes even more the thought of being your first in however long. He plans on being your last for the foreseeable future, so it’s only right he’s the one to break your dry spell.

“Good,” he grins wickedly down at you, pulling your panties to the side and letting his fingers glide through your arousal. You’re soft, and sopping wet, and hot, so fucking hot, just for him, and already he’s wondering if he’ll be able to make good on his words.

If he’ll be able to hold himself back from you long enough to make you beg for it.

He’ll do his best though, for you, and that starts with not grinding himself into your thigh. He needs to forget about his own pleasure, focus solely on yours, or he’ll be balls deep inside you before he’s even made you cum once.

That won’t do, not when he wants you writhing on his fingers and pleading for his cock.

So he pulls his hips away from you and tucks the tip of one digit into your entrance, sliding it in slowly enough that your face crumples in impatience, a low whine escaping you when he just leaves it there and drags his thumb over your clit.

He wants to take his time, wants to learn you with his hands and his teeth and his tongue, wants to catalog your reactions and be able to take you apart diligently, passionately, like you deserve.

This teaches him that you don’t like to be teased, and he decides to shelve the idea of edging for another day. He’ll go with overstimulation instead, he thinks, working another finger inside and rubbing more firmly with his thumb. Your face relaxes, your mouth opening on a sigh, and Wonwoo can’t resist leaning down to suck at your plump bottom lip as he curls his fingers inside of you, not yet searching for the spot that will make you gush for him.

He’ll find it when he’s ready, when he feels like he’s built you up enough, and then he’ll use it to push you over the edge as many times as you can take. For now, he’ll savor the taste of your noises and start stretching out your perfect cunt.

He pulls away from your mouth, fully aware that he could get lost in your kiss and intent on talking to you more before he lets that happen.

“You feel so fucking good wrapped around my fingers like this. You know that, don’t you? You know how your cunt hugs them, sucks them in deeper and deeper, because you touch yourself, right?”

You nod and Wonwoo allows it, won’t make you follow all of his rules until next time, until he’s sure you can handle it.

“Did you touch yourself for me that night? After we met?” He asks softly, rewarding you with a tap right into your sweet spot when you cry out, “Yes!”

“Did you say my name when you came?” His fingers pick up speed inside of you, fucking in and out to the beat of his own pounding heart.

“Yes, Wonwoo,” you whimper, your hands twisting in the sheets above your head and your eyes squeezing shut before he pulls his fingers out and lands a wet smack on your inner thigh. You gasp and try to close your legs but Wonwoo is stronger than you, holds them open with both hands before leaning in close to kiss the stinging skin and say, “Keep your eyes on me.”

You nod tearily, holding his gaze as he sinks his fingers back inside of you and hovers close enough to your pussy that he’s sure you can feel his breath. He quirks his fingers up just as his tongue makes contact with your clit, and the way your lashes flutter but don’t fall brings a proud smirk to his face.

“You’re a good listener, aren’t you?” He murmurs into your cunt. You start to answer but then he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, and you shudder out a moan instead. The sound sends electricity zipping down his spine and straight into his cock, making it throb for you in his slacks.

He ignores it, shifting to rest on his knees and sucking harder, grinding his fingertips up into your front wall so he can draw that same sound out of you again. He told you before that he wanted to hear every little noise he could pull from you, and he meant it, including noises that don’t come from your mouth.

You’re getting so wet, he can hear it, his fingers squelching inside of you with every thrust, every curl. He doesn’t remember his past partners being so aroused, and he’s already obsessed, already dead set on making you fucking drench him.

He knows all he needs to do is make you cum and you’ll give him exactly what he wants, so he taps into your g-spot with more force, fucking his fingers into you hard and fast until your cries reach a fever pitch and your back arches. He doesn’t stop, dragging you through your orgasm and pushing you further even as your cunt ripples and squeezes around his fingers, the sensation so intense he almost feels the phantom pulse of you around his dick, too.

It makes him groan, a deep, dark sound muffled by your pussy, and that seems to be what sends you careening over the edge again, your thighs attempting to clamp shut around him. He lightly smacks one with his free hand, gripping the soft fat and pushing it up and out so he has enough room to work. The other settles on his shoulder but he doesn’t mind that, likes the weight of it, wants you to feel stable and secure as he takes you apart piece by piece.

You’re writhing on his hand, just like he wanted, your gaze teary and nearly empty, like your beautiful brain is focused on him and him alone, and ohhhh, he likes that, he likes that a lot. He wants to wreck you, wants to leave you with nothing in your head but thoughts of him and when he’ll make you break again.

He doesn’t know if you can, but he’s desperate to see you flood him, to make you squirt all over him, regardless of the fact that this shirt is dry clean only. He’ll scrub it out in the sink if he has to, doesn’t care what happens to the fibers if it means he can make you cum hard enough to ruin them.

You’re getting close again, he thinks with lurid satisfaction, his hand a blur between your thighs. He pulls away to murmur, “Hold your leg for me,” waiting for understanding to spark in your eyes. You wrap your hand beneath your knee and manage a wobbly smile, and Wonwoo feels affection burst in his chest like a firework, his lips curving in response as he brings his now free hand to your cunt.

His fingers push at the crest of your pussy, exposing your swollen clit for his thumb to cover, the pad of it pressing down and rubbing harsh circles. Your eyebrows furrow and your eyes water, your mouth stuck open on a needy moan that grows louder with every tap of your g-spot. It’s a whine soon enough, one that hitches in your throat as he fucks you with his fingers, and when he grinds his fingertips deep into you, he sees alarm grow in your eyes.

You try to warn him but you can’t seem to speak, only blubbers of his name gracing his ears, making him grin ferally and say, “Don’t worry, baby, I want it to happen. I want you to fucking soak me, now.”

He honestly didn’t expect that to work but apparently, you can cum on command, or, as he tells himself, on his command, because you suck in a deep breath and keen for him. Your cunt flutters wildly around his fingers, clenching down on them and sucking them in before tightening to the point that he can’t move them, his fingertips locked into your sweet spot as you fucking gush.

He can feel it spraying out onto his face and dampening his button down, arousal flowing out of you like a rushing river, making him groan out, “Fuck yes, just like that.”

His voice is gravelly and low, desire deepening its pitch, and you shiver above him, though that may have more to do with the thumb still strumming your clit and the fingers still plugging you up.

He could go again but he doesn’t want to push you too far this first night, doesn’t know where your limits lay or if you’re ready for him to find out for himself, so when your walls finally release his fingers, he slowly pulls them out and gently cups your pussy to help you calm down.

He’s surprised when you speak, and even more shocked that it’s enough to make him laugh out loud.

“All that and you didn’t even take my dress off,” you mumble, letting go of your thigh and reaching down to drift a hand over his hair, petting him like he’s an animal you’ve domesticated.

Maybe he is, and maybe you have. You’re the only one that’s ever made him want to stay, to plant roots, to be domestic.

Fondly, he says, “I did that on purpose. Now whenever you wear it, you’ll think about me.”

“I don’t need the dress to think about you, Wonwoo, I promise you that,” you hum, letting your eyes slip closed and missing the way his gaze fills with infatuation as he rests his cheek on your thigh and wraps his hands around your ankles.

His glasses are splattered with you and so is the rest of him, his cock is hard and aching and leaky, and his knees are all but decimated from kneeling on your wood floor for so long, but Wonwoo has never been happier in his life.

“Will you fuck me now?”

His brows raise in disbelief, his fingers twitching on your legs, and he stands as quickly as he can manage, bracing one hand beside your head and taking hold of your chin with the other. You blink open your eyes to look at him, the haze in them just a bit clearer, though he’s sure your thoughts are still clouded with pleasure.

“You still want me?” He asks in full seriousness, his dick pulsing at the thought of feeling your flawless cunt wrapped around it.

“Yeah, you gonna make me beg?” You murmur, your gaze just a touch defiant.

He wants to fuck that rebelliousness out of you.

“I said I’d like to, didn’t I?” He responds slowly, greed simmering in his veins and surely obvious on his face.

Your eyes narrow before you visibly collect yourself, finding that submissive side you seemed to lean into before. He watches as you let it take over, shrinking beneath him somehow, the expression on your face needy and compliant.

“Please Wonwoo, please give me your cock. I’ve thought about it since we met, since I noticed how built you were under that soaking white shirt. Your shoulders are so broad and your hands are so big and you’re so much taller than me. All I wanted was for you to pin me down and fuck me however you liked, and that’s still all I want.”

He sucks in a deep breath through his nose, carefully concealing how fucking wild your words make him feel. He needs to maintain this illusion of control or you’ll gain the upper hand, and he can’t let that happen. He’s already going to give you exactly what you want, he’ll die before he lets you be smug about it too.

It takes everything in him but he manages to pull away, releasing your chin and standing at his full height, a smirk rising at the way your hands leave their place above your head to cling to him.

“Get up. Take your dress off,” he commands stoically, backing up and giving you space to push off the bed onto your feet. Your hands tremble as you reach for the hem, and in a brief moment of tenderness, he covers them with his and lifts it with you, laughing and helping you wrench it off when it gets stuck at the elbows.

He stops laughing when you fling the dress onto the chair in the corner of your room and stare up at him, clad in just your skewed panties and a little bitten off grin. His eyes fall to your breasts, the shape and weight of them immaculate, just begging for his mouth. He fully plans on worshiping them at the next possible opportunity, but he’s got a different goal in mind now. His hands gravitate to your hips, fingertips tucking in the waistband of your underwear and pulling them down before returning to push you gently toward the bed.

“Lay down for me.”

Wonwoo doesn’t know why he’s being soft on you now. He’s still hard enough to cut glass but something in him just can’t be harsh when he feels like he does about you, especially after you already took what he gave you so well. Maybe it’s the vulnerable look in your eyes, maybe it’s the way his heart feels three sizes too big for his chest.

But maybe it’s because when he looks back on your first time together, he doesn’t want it to look like his previous encounters. He wants it to look like a couple that loves each other, that knows they want to be together, that will make sacrifices for each other.

Obviously, dominating you can still look like that, but right now his soul aches to be gentle with you. Emotionally, at least.

He’s still going to fuck you into your mattress, he’ll just be kinder about it.

You can tell that something has shifted in him and somehow it makes you even more pliant, your face open as you patiently wait for his next instruction. He doesn’t give one yet, reaching up to take his glasses off and wipe away the drying release with the edge of his button down before setting them on your night stand.

He works on getting naked, swiftly unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off, carelessly letting it float down to the floor as he undoes his pants. He removes his socks next, pairing them up and dropping them to the side before pushing down his boxer briefs.

It occurs to him that you haven’t talked about safety at all, and as he climbs over you, his thick, leaking dick dragging against your skin, he asks, “Do we need a condom?”

You swear under your breath and look down, biting your lip before whispering, “I’m not on birth control, and I have condoms but I honestly don’t think they’ll fit you. Do you have any?”

He swears too, remembering the expired one in his wallet and sighing, “Not one that we could use. I get tested regularly and I’m negative for everything, but what do you wanna do?”

“Um, well… I haven’t had sex since I last got tested and everything was clear, so what if you pull out? I track my cycle and I’m not ovulating right now.”

It’s risky, and sex without a condom isn’t something Wonwoo’s ever had, but he wants you more than anything, and he believes in his ability to honor your wishes and pull out when he needs to.

“Let’s do that this one time, and I’ll get condoms for the future,” he agrees, smiling at the way your eyes get brighter when he says ‘future’.

He settles back into his role seamlessly, though this time, he’s less domineering and more caring, to be sure. Your legs are already spread for him, but he slips his hands under your knees and tucks them up to your chest, resting your calves on his shoulders and setting one hand on the bed to hold himself up.

The other reaches for his dick, and he fights back a shiver at the chill of his own touch, his perpetually cold hands freezing compared to his searing hot cock. He can’t help but lay it over your pussy, feeling his ears and the back of his neck tingle with a blush when he estimates where he’ll end inside of you.

You squirm beneath him and he brings his hands back to your thighs, pulling his hips back enough to notch the head of his dick in your entrance before starting to push inside. You’re tight like this, all folded up, but your walls part to welcome him like he’s a missing piece of you, like he’s always been meant to fill you up when you’re empty.

He moves slowly, not to tease you but to savor you, luxuriating in the feeling of your velvet heat, your perfect cunt as it forms around him. It could be minutes or hours before he bottoms out, but when he does, he almost can’t think, he’s so consumed by sensation.

He closed his eyes without realizing it, and now he forces them open, only to find you already staring up at him, your gaze unwavering and your hands coming up to hold his where they push at your thighs.

You seem breathless, and it’s probably partly due to the position but Wonwoo prefers to think it’s because you’re as overwhelmed as he is, so wrought with pleasure that it toes the line of pain.

You’re still shorter than him, even like this, so he has to curve down to kiss you but it’s worth it because you bloom for him, moaning into his mouth and clenching around his cock when he glides his tongue against yours. With your lips still pressed to his, he draws his hips back a few inches, enough to feel air cling to the wetness on his cock, before thrusting inside sharply. His hips meet your ass with a loud smack, the only other noise in the room being your muffled whimpers and the wet sound of his lips moving against yours.

Again, he pulls out, almost to the tip this time, and sends his hips forward, grunting at the feeling of your cunt embracing him. It’s perfection, you’re perfection, and he resolves to be nothing but perfect for you too.

He swallows your sounds and categorizes them; you whimper when he pulls out far and thrusts in deep, moan when he just grinds himself into you, yelp when he fucks you with sharp, fast bucks of his hips. He follows their lead like he’s untying a knot or working through a maze, methodically dismantling you down to your nuts and bolts.

You’re barely kissing him back when he finally derives the best combination of pace and depth, your lips quivering against his as you whine continuously, the pitch rising every time he reaches the end of you. Your eyes are open but they’re glazed over, and he can’t tell if he’s fucked you dumb or fucked you to tears but either way, it makes his lips stretch in a vicious grin.

He loves kissing you but that’s not what’s happening anymore, so he pulls away and puts more of his weight on your thighs, using the leverage to fuck into you harder. He doesn’t go faster, knowing that if he does, this will end far sooner than he wants it to.

He’d like to draw at least one more orgasm from you before he cums, and he can’t do that if he’s got even more friction on his cock. He’s a little surprised there is any with how wet you are, but you’re perfectly matched to his size so your walls grasp him tight every time he pulls back, the drag of them flawless on his sensitive skin.

Your sounds are louder now that he’s not muffling them with his mouth, melodic in his ears and something he knows he’ll reproduce in his mind again and again, whenever he’s away from you and feeling particularly lonely.

He’ll have to cut down on his traveling now that he’s got you, but that doesn’t scare him like it used to. Instead, he’s excited to have someone who makes him want to stay and build a home, build a life. He kind of feels like this is the first step, making you his and giving himself to you in return, and it’s enough to make his cock twitch and leak just a little bit of precum inside of you.

He takes that for the warning it is, consciously veering away from thoughts of domesticity and belonging before dedicating the whole of his body to making you cum. He pushes away from you to sit up on his knees and haul your ass into his lap, your calves still resting on his shoulders and his dick just barely inside of you.

He angles his hips and thrusts back in shallowly, no longer hitting as deep but aiming the head of his cock at that innervated patch inside of you. Your eyes grow wide and you suck in a deep gasp, your fingers clenching around his where they hold your legs, your reaction letting him know he’s got you.

He fucks into that spot relentlessly, wondering if he can make you cum with just his cock. He stimulated your clit before too but you feel like you’re getting close, and he doesn’t want to change something trying to help only to hinder you instead.

He doesn’t have much time to think before you’re crying out his name urgently, your tone plaintive and your voice thin. It sounds like you’re right on the edge, looks like it too, your brows screwed up in pleasure and your eyes bright with bliss. He’s almost as close as you are, his orgasm spooled up at the base of his spine and ticking like a time bomb, just waiting for him to let himself go.

“Cum, baby,” he pants, hoping beyond hope that you’ll listen and obey just one more time. He doesn’t know how much longer he can hold on, prays that he’ll be able to endure the euphoria your climax will bring, that he won’t have to ruin it by pulling out while you’re deep in its thrall.

But you do listen, thank fuck, you do, your eyes rolling back and your cunt clamping down on him in a vise grip, the sheer heat and wetness of you enough to pull a strangled groan from deep in his throat. It takes everything in him not to cum with you, the feeling incredible and the sight just as glorious, the impact of both beyond the realm of imagination.

He lasts just long enough to get you through your aftershocks, his chest heaving for air as he makes himself pull out of the eden of your cunt. Blood rushes in his ears and fluffy cotton candy fills his head, his thoughts no more than paper airplanes gliding on a warm breeze. He watches his cum cover your perfect tits in white stripes, feeling as if he’s out of his body and out of his mind.

Your hands squeeze his and you breathe his name, slowly pulling him back to you, like he’s a balloon that’s floated away and you’ve miraculously caught his string. You’re blurry in his vision and he can’t tell if it’s because he doesn’t have his glasses on or if he’s just crying, but either way he releases your legs and leans in close to see you better.

You cup his cheeks and pull him into a soft kiss, the soothing, reassuring pressure bringing him back down to earth, back to you. He should be the one taking care of you right now, but he feels like he’s been cracked open, his soul and his heart bare, unprotected.

“You’re okay,” you whisper, petting his cheekbones with your thumbs, and that’s what restarts him.

He presses his lips to yours ardently, gathering up all of his feelings and pouring them into you, the intensity drawing a gentle sigh that travels from your mouth to his. He breathes it in before pulling away and focusing on you.

Lying down next to you, he pulls you into his arms, uncaring of the sticky cum that smears on his chest when your breasts press against him. He holds you for a while, until his heartbeat feels close to normal and his head feels close to clear. He’s about to drift off when he remembers how dirty you both still are.

“Do you want to shower?” He asks in a low voice, grinning at the way your face scrunches in displeasure at the thought before you look up at him and respond, “Are we going to fuck again tonight?”

He thinks on it for a moment, weighing options and offering his opinion, “I don’t want to tempt fate too many times, so I think we should just go to sleep for now and go out for condoms and Plan B tomorrow morning. Then I’ll fuck you all day, if you want.”

You smile serenely and nod, your eyes already half lidded with exhaustion.

“Does that mean you do want to shower, then?” He confirms, his fingers drumming on your bare back.

“Yeah,” you pout, obviously reluctant to get up and get clean.

“I’ll go start it and come get you when it’s warm. Don’t worry, baby, I’ll do all the work,” he promises you, grinning when your pout stretches into a pleased little smile.

He climbs out from under you and off the bed, walking on shaky knees to the bathroom, his soft cock hanging between his legs. He wonders if you have a washer, his shirt and boxers are not usable in their current state, but he can just use the sink if he needs to. He’ll have to go back to his hotel sometime tomorrow, to change and gather his things for his flight back home, and he’s already dreading the idea of it.

It would be nice if he could get his film camera, maybe take a few pictures of you to tide him over until his transfer is finalized and he can find an apartment here. He feels like you’d be up for that, imagines photographing you in all kinds of positions and varying states of undress, safe in the knowledge that he can rent a darkroom and develop them himself.

He struggles for a minute but figures out your shower eventually, turning it on and standing by until steam gathers on the mirror. He catches a glance at himself just before it fogs over, blushing at the image staring back at him.

His lips are swollen and red, his cheeks flushed with exertion and joy, his eyes luminous for what feels like the first time in years. You’ve made your mark on him, tattooed him in gold, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be the same.

That’s not something he minds. He even finds himself smiling at the idea of rearranging his pieces to fit with yours, of making space in his life for you and Anubis to fill.

When he leaves the bathroom to get you, the cat is laying on the dining table, sprawled out with his eyes closed, and Wonwoo breathes a sigh of relief. If he’s being honest, he forgot entirely that there was another being in this apartment, and he’s glad your activities didn’t seem to disturb him.

He wants to smooth a hand down Anubis’s side but doesn’t want to wake him, so he stares at the cat for just a second longer before turning to your bedroom and poking his head through the door frame.

You’re starfishing on the bed, his cum mostly dry on your tits and your eyes gently shut, and he can’t contain the laugh that bubbles out of his chest.

Like mother, like son.

Wonwoo draws in a deep, centering breath as he raises the camera to his bespectacled eye, grateful not for the first time that he’s in the city of love.

This will be the first proposal he’s photographed today, the third this week, and for someone who’s always thought he didn’t mind love, he finds himself unbelievably excited.

He calls your name, watches dust motes float through a shining sunbeam as you stir in the bed you share, your tired gaze finding him before it lands on the book beside you. Or, more accurately, on the ring sitting on the book beside you.

You draw in a sharp gasp, your eyes flying to his, and he depresses the shutter button just as your face breaks into a beam bright enough to rival a supernova.

He thinks this will be his favorite photograph yet.

AN: And the book was titled April Shower and it contains your love story as written by your best friend, the end 💖

“Prendi una stanza!” - "Get a room!"

“É la città dell'amore, Stefano, dacci una pausa!” - "It's the city of love, Stefano, give us a break!"

“Y/n? Vai avanti, caro!” - "Y/n? Carry on, dear!"

My Masterlist

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florencemtrash · 1 month

Text

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Eighteen

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Nothing super specific, but things get pretty dark (at least in my opinion). Mentions of torture.

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Azriel grabbed Rhys by the front of his jacket, hands shaking horribly despite all his efforts to stop. It had started this morning, when another disastrous attempt to talk to Andrian had left Azriel with his mind in shambles, knife pressed against his own throat. It had been going on for weeks now. Someway, somehow, Andrian would find a way to break through Azriel’s defenses and force him to relieve his worst memories. Sometimes he dreamt of his burning hands. Mostly he thought of you, and the day he’d nearly killed you.

“Tell me you didn’t,” Azriel growled desperately. “Tell me!”

It was too easy for him to pick out when his brother was speaking with Feyre, and something about the way Rhysand had been looking at him— like he was a fraction of a second away from splintering into a million pieces — told Azriel enough about who had been sent for. You were the only one who could calm him. The only one who could do what he and Rhys had failed to do.

Violet eyes shone from a perfectly handsome face. A face he knew too well. A face that he wanted to punch right now.

“I’m afraid I can’t, brother,” Rhysand responded gravely.

Azriel slammed his fist against the wall instead, taking out a chunk of granite that spit grey dust into the air. He swore beneath his breath, pacing the hallway and trying to steady his racing heart. He’d never wanted you to see this place. He’d never even wanted you to step foot on the island above, its rolling peaks a stark contrast to the tunnels below where Azriel conducted his business. Business that stained his hands a thousand shades of red.

“You’ve been working yourself ragged, Az, and Andrian still hasn’t said anything. Not to you. Not to me. We need to know all we can about Koschei. Vassa’s on the brink of madness. Henna’s dead. I can’t even get past Andrian’s mental wards. What the fuck are we meant to do?”

“So you thought to go behind my back and bring Y/n into this?! She’s not something for you to use, Rhys.”

“She’s already in this mess.” Rhys reminded him, as he often did. His eyes softened as he looked to the locked door at the end of the hall with its small, rectangular window. Bars breaking up the lamplight glowing from within. “And you know she’d agree this is the best course of action. She’ll be able to do it.”

Azriel’s hands shook. “Give me another week and I’ll get us the information we need. Tell Feyre to turn around. Don’t bring Y/n here.” Don’t let her see this part of me.

“The boy doesn’t have another week. He doesn’t even have a day.”

The shaking traveled throughout Azriel’s entire body. His eyes darkened and he began the process of hiding his heart away within the void that curled inside of him. That wicked beast that was always on the verge of swallowing him whole.

Feyre winnowed you both to the outskirts of the northern territories and you went from sweating in your fur-lined leathers to shivering in the knee deep snow. The Illyrian Mountains rose behind you like predatorial rows of shark teeth and the endless sea stretched in front, slate grey and empty except for lonely ripples of sea foam. Through the frosty haze you could make out a smattering of islands, each with their own tooth-like tips capped with snow and ice. Feyre looked at you, her eyes leaning more towards blue now that she’d tapped into the Winter Court’s power to stave off the cold.

The Warren was protected by wards that made winnowing impossible, so you let Feyre scoop you up in her powerful arms, wings growing from her back like unfurling shadows before the ground dropped away from her feet and she took off into the sky.

You clung to her shoulders, eyes slamming shut so you wouldn’t have to look down at the churning black waters and the rocks they crashed against. If you were to fall now, you could only hope you drown before the waves ripped your body to pieces against the rocks like meat torn between a pair of canines.

You stayed frozen and tight as a coil until the rush of wind stopped and you no longer felt your stomach creeping up into your throat. You could have dropped to your knees and kissed the ground if you weren’t sure your lips would freeze there. You did shove your hands into the gritty sand though, breathing slowly through your nose until you finally had the strength to stand.

Feyre led you down the long stretch of beach, waves whistling in the wind — a haunting, beautiful melody, like a woman crying.

Azriel had discovered The Warren centuries ago. After a particularly brutal brawl that had left him with a broken arm and cracked ribs, he’d taken to the skies, desperate to escape the hard packed floors and burning scent of sex mixed with alcohol that seemed to invade every corner of the Windhaven barracks. He’d been fighting over a woman, a woman that had been dragged into the rowdy common room trembling with the telltale sign of a whisky haze over her burnt umber eyes, dress ripped and muddy.

Did it even matter that he’d brought her back untouched to that leaning house with its wooden slabs frosted over and the chimney coughing up black smoke like a diseased lung? Azriel had wondered as he flew without a destination in mind. And when he’d finally collapsed on the island, frozen ground beneath his hands and knees and spitting out blood from his cut up gums, his shadows had tugged him towards the gaping mouth of The Warren, urging him to explore a darkness that was his and his alone. It had been his escape. A safe place in the world that had so few. But when Rhysand became High Lord and he the Spymaster, Azriel hadn’t hesitated to give up The Warren in the service of the Night Court, adding it to the long list of sacrifices he made so that he might actually start to feel like he deserved his place with his family.

You stilled in front of The Warren’s entrance, black walls glittering and damp from sea spray. Jagged, cracked bone rocks hovered overhead like axes ready to fall, jutting out of a cliffside and curling over the beach in the shape of a hunched back or an unhinged jaw. Wind whistled from within like asthma — high-pitched and keening.

“This is where you keep all your prisoners.” You weren’t asking a question, merely stating a fact.

Feyre had had little time for explanations back at the House. She’d focused on defending your body against the frigid cold to come, her mind split between you and Rhysand as he worried over Azriel from miles away.

“Not all of them. Only the ones Azriel finds useful.”

“The ones he plans to torture for information.”

From somewhere deep within the earth you swore you heard the clanging of chains, a growl, and a desperate groan that had the hair on your neck rising.

Feyre’s usual warmth was gone, replaced by something with more tact and less care. “This isn’t a place for the faint of heart, Y/n. And neither is Azriel. He’s tried to hide this from you, but it’s as much a part of him as anything else and if you care for him as much as I believe you do, you’re going to need to get used to this.”

There was the faintest flicker of doubt in your heart. “Andrian… he’s just a boy… you haven’t—Az hasn’t—”

“No,” Feyre said quickly. Horrified. “Azriel found him weeks ago trying to slip back into Day Court. We brought him here because it’s the most heavily warded place in Prythian and because the world needs to be protected from him as much as he needs to be protected from the world.” She grabbed your hands. They felt cold as ice. “Y/n. I swear to you, we haven’t hurt that boy. We won’t hurt him.”

“I know. I just… I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.” Already you felt sick to your stomach just for asking. Azriel was many things — dangerous, cruel to those he felt were deserving of it, maybe even murderous at times — but he was still Az… and you weren’t afraid. Not even as you let Feyre lead you into The Warren, and you were swallowed whole.

The mouth of the cave quickly narrowed into a tunnel before turning at a severe angle and twisting like a corkscrew downward. If it weren’t for you and Feyre’s glowing bodies, you might have missed one of The Warren’s slick steps and tumbled down forever.

You passed by two offshoots, each branching out into their own secret tunnels that whispered and echoed and smelled faintly of blood. Coppery and sour.

One of the rooms you walked through smelled like metal and limestone. The rust-colored ground and drain in the center of the floor told you all you needed to know about its purpose and before you could stop yourself, before you could even think about whether this was truly a good idea, you found yourself pressing a hand against one of the chains hanging from the ceiling.

If Feyre was right and this was truly a part of Azriel — something horrible that needed to come with all of the good that he was — then you wanted to know. You felt that you had some right to know, and if it was the power the Mother had granted you, then you would use it when you saw fit.

Feyre froze when your power flooded the room without warning, feeling the energy and fury radiating off your skin without even turning to look at you. You kept the memories a safe distance away, but drank in the knowledge of every horrible hand that had hung from that ceiling like you were reading a list of names from a book. You read their crimes. You read every drop of blood that Azriel had spilled on the ground.

“Y/n?” Feyre asked tentatively, fearfully, when you blinked and released the chain.

She had every hope the bond would snap in place for you soon and that you’d help end Azriel’s centuries of loneliness. That you might be the one to finally show him he was deserving of kindness. But to love Azriel as he was, with all his rough edges and the pain he could inflict as much as he carried… it was not for the faint of heart.

“I understand why Azriel wanted to hide this place from me. This part of him,” you said quietly and to no one in particular. Not even to Feyre. “But he shouldn’t have.” Your eyes turned harder than stone. “They deserved it. Each and every one of them.”

Feyre stood, shocked into silence, and it wasn’t until you gripped her arm and nudged her into the next room that she found she was able to walk again.

You passed by more hallways and more rooms, some disturbingly clean and empty, others with chains hanging from the ceiling or littered on the floor. But the strangest part was, you could smell Azriel within these cramped walls, and that alone made you quicken your steps.

You chased that familiar scent, walking confidently through the dark and passing Feyre until you were spit out in a long, neat tunnel with one metal door at the end. Tendrils of shadow flickered from around the corner.

“Azriel?”

Your heart pounded in your chest when you saw him leaning against the wall, hands folded behind his back. Rhys’s eyes flickered to you, then to his mate as she followed closely behind. Azriel stiffened, his eyes locked and heavy. Shadows tugged at his eyes and accentuated the sharpness of his cheeks. He looked like he hadn’t slept since the day he left you… which wasn’t so far from the truth. Because the whole time he’d been here, he’d been thinking of you, and the ways you might hate him for what he did and the sick corners of his soul. For—

You sailed into his arms, wrapping yourself around his torso and pressing your face into the hollow of his neck. Part of your mind chastised you, calling you silly and desperate as it reminded you it had only been ten days since you’d last seen him. But you didn’t care. It felt far longer than that. Too long.

You needed this almost as much as he did.

You disappeared behind his wings, cocooned safely in membranous folds and shadows that kissed your skin. Azriel himself buried his face in your hair, feeling some of his worst worries dissipate. You hadn’t run away. You hadn’t been so disgusted as to leave just yet.

“Y/n,” he murmured your name before kissing your temple. “Gods, I missed you.”

“I would hope so.” You murmured into the curve of his jaw, “I might be a boring bookworm but I’m better company than this place.”

Azriel winced. “You have no idea.”

You missed the pointed look that Rhys and Feyre threw your way, but Azriel didn’t. He was tall enough to see over your head as Feyre pointed to the door at the end of the hallway, eyes glistening. They had come here for a purpose, and the sooner it was over with, the sooner they could all go home.

Azriel’s arms tightened around you. “I didn’t want you to come here. I didn’t want… I didn’t want you to see the things I do.”

“I know.” You traced the curve of his jaw, thumb smoothing over his cheek. “But I’m not afraid, Azriel.”

His eyes flickered from fear to relief to love, like one of those picture books you had to flip through to see the scene play out.

“You’re not?”

You shook your head no. Then you kissed him on the lips and whispered the words for him and him alone. “I trust you. You’re the most terrifying thing here anyway, and you’re mine.”

Yours.

Azriel quitel liked the sound of that.

Even here in the dungeons burrowed beneath empty frozen lands, Azriel found it within him to hope. Horrid creatures might be hidden elsewhere, creeping like slugs under the earth that he’d have to crush beneath his boot or tear treasured secrets from, but for now you were still by his side. For now you were still his and he would always be yours.

You looped your arm through his and moved towards that door at the end of the hallway, steeling yourself for what you already knew was behind it.

The light from the barred window flashed warm and cool then warm again. Light warped and pranced. The scent of rot hung in the air, humid and choking. You touched the door handle, feeling the magic fall away like it recognized you and opened up into a makeshift, but quaint bedroom. There were no windows here for there was nothing to see below ground, but some of Feyre’s landscape paintings hung on the wall. Faelights bloomed overhead, throwing light and heat on a child’s bed with green sheets, a table, and a bookcase overflowing with an assortment of puzzles and novels and toys. You felt your blood turn cold. They’d once belonged to Nyx before being repurposed for the little boy trembling on the floor.

You stared at him in horror.

The little boy who’d been so violently bright that morning in the marketplace was dull. Although he was wearing fresh clothes, his skin had turned a stone gray, black marks dotting his once silken, silver skin like a disease. He was aware of his condition, weeping on the plush rug cut in the shape of a flower as he batted at his arms, willing them to turn healthy again.

“No no no no no no,” he sobbed. He grabbed at his pillowy hair in frustration and tugged. A cloud of fragile strands came away and he cried harder, trying to stick them back to his scalp.

Rhysand’s face was broken and pale. He tried not to look at Andrian. He was too young. Reminded him too much of his own son.

“You were right.” Rhysand’s voice was hollow, laced with a pain that grabbed your throat and squeezed. “Koschei did kill him. He’s been dead this whole time.”

“NO!” Andrian screamed. “HE DIDN’T! HE PROTECTED ME!”

Fat tears rolled out of filmy eyes, dusty and brown as pond water. Rage filled him with new energy and he tried to attack your mind as he’d already done with Azriel. But there was something altogether different about your magic, something flexible that morphed and rearranged your mental walls until it felt like he was trying to attack himself.

He gave up when your walls didn’t fall, and chose the physical route instead. You recoiled as he took a swipe, bony arms reaching out in an awkward lunge. But his legs were too weak and crumpled beneath him. He looked like a fish laid out to rot on a summer day — bloated and slick.

“Koschei brought him back to life for his powers—”

“HE LOVES ME! PAPA LOVES ME!”

“To use as he saw fit when the time was right.”

“But he can’t survive being separated for so long from Koschei’s power, can he?”

Just like Vassa. Left on their own without their maker they couldn’t handle the curses that had been placed on them. They’d bend until they broke… unless they found another way…

“The killings,” You murmured as the pieces slowly fell into place, “He killed those Librarians and the tailor and the florist…” You didn’t want to be right about this. You prayed to the Mother that you were wrong.

But Azriel read the thoughts in your eyes and nodded. Feyre could only stand still and Rhysand couldn’t do more than speak out in that dead voice of his.

Andrian had killed those fae, not just to send a message, but because that was the price for going against nature, for being brought back from the dead. Power demanded balance. To stay alive, Andrian had needed others to take his place. Those Librarians and the Velarians hadn’t been murdered. They’d been sacrificed.

What Koschei had done to this boy — what he’d turned him into — made you want to crawl into a dark corner and stay there forever.

Andrian’s sobs died out. A crack of lightning followed by unnerving silence that had Azriel’s blood freezing in his veins. Andrian wasn’t much older than he’d been when he’d first been tossed into that dark cellar. When his brothers had set his hands aflame.

“He loves me,” he declared, as if saying it would make it true. He stayed curled up in a ball on the floor, rocking back and forth on his heels. “He stayed when Henna left me. He wasn’t afraid of me like the others. He took care of me.”

But Koschei hadn’t taken care of him. He’d taught Andrian to love him. To worship him, because that’s what he craved above all else. He’d helped the boy control his powers and had allowed him to live so he could send him off to die when it was most convenient. You’d thought Henna was Koschei’s perfect soldier, but you were wrong. Andrian was. He’d been broken and molded into something that should never have existed. He’d been sent to Prythian after his sister’s death to take her place. A boy who would have no choice but to return to the lake or die trying.

And he was dying. You could see it clear as day. Two teeth clinked onto the floor and Andrian’s hands flew up to his mouth. He whimpered, eyes locking on you like you might be able to fix this.

You wanted to beg Rhys and Feyre to do something, to fix him, but it was a useless endeavor. They wouldn’t have brought you here if they could just reach into Andrian’s mind and end it all peacefully. Andrian was too powerful for that. But you could use another way.

You approached him like a wild, injured animal, grimacing when he tried to run at you only for his ankle to twist and then snap. He fell to the floor in a pathetic sprawl.

“Hey there, little feather.”

Andrian paused at that familiar nickname, watery eyes looking up. You said it just like Henna had once upon a time. The same inflection in a differently pitched voice. His lips trembled.

“She left me.”

You shook your head before kneeling on the ground in front of him. He smelled of death. It clung to his linen shirt and trousers. It clung to the few strands of hair still woven into his scalp, skin so thin you could make out his skull.

“She didn’t leave you, Andrian.” You poured your voice out over him, as soothing as you could make it, forcing the tears down. “She thought you’d died and that you’d stayed dead. She had a little ceremony for you out near the willow tree and buried your favorite toy beneath it with a handful of water lilies. Do you remember it? The little wooden doll you dressed up like a soldier with the red cap and the silver shoes?”

He clamped his hands over his ears, shaking his head while his weak neck teetered dangerously atop his shoulders.

“Andrian—” You pulled his hands away and in a bold, dangerous move brought them to your temple and slowly lowered your mental wards. You didn’t give him free reign, but rather guided him through snippets of memories you’d taken from Henna before her death. They all revolved around him. Before, and even after Koschei had poisoned their minds, Andrian had remained her true priority.

The boy’s eyes flashed from anger to confusion then, finally, to despair.

“She didn’t leave you.”

Andrian waited a few moments that had your heart seizing, then rushed into your arms, tightening them like a vice around your shoulders and burying his face in your hair. You held your breath, but tightened your grip. You weren’t his sister, but you were the closest thing he had.

Slowly, like sand falling through an hourglass, you felt his arms weaken and fall from your shoulders. He stared at you, wide and terrified as his hand snapped off at the wrist and fell to your side in a grey heap.

“Make it stop. Please make it stop.”

You smoothed back his hair, shoving down the tears that threatened to fall. His eyes were white now and unseeing. “It’s ok, little feather. It’s ok.”

“I don’t—” Even his voice was crumbling apart. Raspy and broken like cracked glass. He had little time left. The fight in him gone. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go to that dark place. Please don’t make me go.”

Azriel had been watching the entire time, trying not to picture the little boy with dark hair, weak wings, and bandaged hands. He went so, so still.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok. It’s going to be ok.” You promised. You forced your trembling lips into a smile.

He took in a rasping breath. “Will you go with me this time, Henna? Please.”

You gritted your teeth, brows furrowed in an effort to stay here instead of turning and sprinting back to the surface.

“I will. That’s why I came” You brushed his hair away from his forehead, saying nothing when the wispy white strands were torn away from his scalp like silk… just like the memories of Koschei’s lake you plucked from his mind without him knowing. You swallowed the pain of what you knew was coming. “I won’t let you be alone.”

He went quiet after that. Maybe his voice had deteriorated beyond saving, maybe he finally felt at peace. All you knew is that you needed to keep brushing his hair and holding onto his hand when he laid down and placed his head in your lap. He was like a little windup doll that had run out of string. He kept breathing until he finally stopped.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

So... this was a rather sad one, bit of a tonal shift if you ask me, but I wanted to wrap up the stuff with Henna and Andrian before we continue on to other things.

BUT, you have to appreciate when Y/n walks into what's effectively a torture chamber and goes "yeah, nope, still in love with Azriel." It's just one of those things that gets brushed under the rug but like... this guy's WHOLE JOB is inflicting pain upon people.... and you know what, it's a fantasy book, so who the hell cares. We stan Y/n being supportive of Azriel's career lol

#the shadowsinger and the inkbird #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel shadowsinger

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sunflowersteves · 1 year

Text

come and get your love || j.m.

chapter one of ain’t no sunshine

pairing || joel miller x f!sunshine!reader

summary || someone across the Tipsy Bison had their hand on you all night. how long will Joel Miller take to do something about it?

author's note || first part of the series! all of the chapters can be read as a stand alone, but they do go in order of a time line. hope you all enjoy <3 4.1k words

warnings || jealousy, insecurities, angst, toxic people, possessiveness, fluff, 10 year age gap (joel is 51), SMUT, praise kink, oral sex (f rec), cunnilingus, fingering, squirting, [18+ only]

series masterlist || masterlist

Hail, with it, baby, 'cause you're fine And you're mine, and you look so divine

Joel’s eyes lingered on your form from across the bustling bar. It was in the middle of a Wyoming summer, so you wore a pretty light blue sundress. You could feel the cool breeze brush up against your thighs and the sun beating down on your skin just from the dusty windows.

You came home one day, telling Joel and Ellie that you traded some old tactical pants for the frilly dress. Joel choked on his morning coffee when he caught a glimpse—Ellie just laughed and laughed. And now, you looked unbelievably perfect, all while you fluttered around the chairs and tables in the Tipsy Bison, talking with friends and newcomers.

Although, his soft, love-sick eyes started to harden as they continued to follow you.

The mere sight of someone flirting with you—a shoulder leaning on a support pole with sparkling eyes—was going to send his old bones into a coma. He was sure of it. Joel's chest started to burn from a sizzling rage that crept up to his cheeks.

You were as friendly as you could be with a beer in your hand and a laugh escaping your lips. He knew you were oblivious to the flirting. You always have been.

A couple of years ago, along the endless roads of traveling to get Ellie where she needed to go, Joel had been trying to get your attention for weeks, despite his damn self-sabotage that forced himself to avoid you in the previous months before. Ellie saw through it, though. Tommy saw it too. Hell, even Tess saw through it. The one person who had not seen just how much Joel was infatuated and hopelessly in love with you was, well, you.

He thought that it was because he was rough and unrestrained. Joel was a jagged edge of a rock that cut deep into anyone that came near him. He thought you might not want to be with him and all of his baggage.

You were the exact polar opposite of him. You were a ray of sunshine—a burst of fresh air that knocked the breath out of his lungs. You could handle yourself out there in the depths of survival. He did not doubt that, but you were still warmhearted and sweet. You were what the rest of the world seemed to have forgotten.

Turns out, though, he couldn't have been more wrong.

Your mind and body were washed over with every essence of Joel. When his hand was on your back to gently guide you through rugged terrain or when you instinctively grabbed onto his upper arm when a lone stranger bumped into your third-person party—your mind becomes blank.

The only thing, you said when you finally confessed, you could think about was Joel. Your body would freeze, and time would slow, your heart the only exception as it beats so rapidly you thought it might burst. So, in the end, Joel finds himself elated with pride and pure adoration that he was able to make you feel so free—so full of love.

“Are you gonna do something? Or are you just going to sit here and be ‘old-man’ sad?”

Joel snapped out of his daze, turning his head toward Ellie. She had her eyebrow raised, with a hand on a freshly opened beer bottle.

“Gimme that.” He muttered under his breath and swiped the bottle away from her. She let out a small, “Hey! You dick!” before huffing in frustration. “You ain’t even eighteen yet.” He slid the bottle over to Maria, who nodded back to Joel. “I’m almost eighteen!”

He huffed, ignoring Ellie’s comment. “And no. She’s got it handled.”

You were probably the friendliest, kindest person that Ellie had ever met—especially in this shitty, fucked up world. Along the dusty gravel roads of travel, you would hold her hand and swing back and forth as Joel trailed not far behind. At night, you would shuffle your sleeping bag closer to hers, so you could laugh and giggle at her pun book until falling into a distant slumber. In the mornings, when you and Joel were keeping watch, and a lone stranger would interrupt your three-person party, you jumped in front of Ellie and pointed your shotgun at the intruder. You turned quickly, if not instantly, into a mother figure for her.

So, Ellie knows that you have got it far from handled. She knows you are completely unsuspecting of the person that was practically throwing himself on top of you.

“Yeah, you are so full of shit.”

Now, in your defense of the flirting, everyone in Jackson knew not to make a move on you. It has been established from the very beginning that you and Joel are made for each other. All you could ever see was each other. Always.

So, at the end of things, when someone walked up to you with a bright smile and a gleam in their eyes that screamed “please fuck me,” you didn’t think anything of it. Your mind was no doubt in a Joel Miller trance—thoughts rolling over one another about the plains of his skin and the gruff feeling of his patchy beard on your fingertips. But when a newcomer comes along in the commune and gets introduced to everybody, that’s when they try to make their mark on you.

“She’s fine—”

“You sure, Joel?” His eyes flickered back towards you and saw the newcomer squeeze your forearm. You think nothing of it and crack another joke at who you thought was a new friend, causing them to throw their head back in very exaggerated laughter.

And now, Joel wasn’t sure at all—not with the bubbled-up feeling that wrapped around his chest and sunk down into his stomach. He grunted out in response to Ellie, who rolled her eyes at his demeanor. Yeah, he was far from sure.

“Go say something, Grandpa—”

He raised his eyebrow, “hey—”

“Ellie’s right, you know.” Joel’s head whipped around at Tommy’s voice. “She doesn’t even know the guy’s flirting. She’s too trustin’ of people.”

He gave his older brother a little smile—an all too knowing teasing smile. Joel didn’t say anything, just downing the rest of his whiskey. The ice clunked against the glass, and the two next to him just watched with anticipation.

“Your brooding is scaring the customers away. Go say somethin’, Joel.”

He ponders for just a moment—mind circling around all of the different thoughts in his brain. He knows you are just fine. He knows you wouldn’t ever do anything of the sort.

If you actually knew that the man was flirting with you, you would stop it immediately. You’re just kind. You just wanted to make friends. He wanted you to make friends in this little town you had learned to love.

Before Joel even knows it, though, he's getting up from the stool. His own heart had taken over his body and ran home with it. He could just barely hear Ellie cheer for the old man to do something.

His boots were heavy as he walked across the bar, his wrinkled eyes hardening with every step. His heart squeezed at the pure sight of you—a smile almost turning his frown up. That is until the squeezing of his other thoughts from the man right in front of you suffocated his chest.

“Joel!”

God, you sounded so sweet. Your eyes lit up so bright he thought he might be blinded. Whatever you were talking about with your new friend, it completely went out the window when you heard the stomps of his boots.

“Hi, darlin’.”

His hand ghosted the small of your back, and it almost caused you to shiver. You looked up at him with a pretty smile, opening your mouth to let him in on the conversation. “We were just talking about patrols. I was saying how we saw that bear with the three cubs the other day! and—”

“Can we help you?” The man, you knew as Brad, scowled right up at Joel for interrupting the conversation the two of you were having earlier. Oh, Joel did not like Brad. The scrunch of his nose as he tried to challenge Joel—as if you were a possession—was kicking up a deep rage in his chest.

Joel opened his mouth to respond but was met with a very enthusiastic smile from you. You looked so excited. “This is Joel! He’s my—”

Brad rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s great. Could he leave now?”

Joel’s back stretched at the complete disrespect. He could handle people being mean to him just fine. When it comes to you, however, he wouldn’t tolerate anything of the sort. You were the thread that kept Ellie and Joel sane with your homemade gifts and fluttering smile. No one was going to ruin that on his watch.

Joel watched as your bright, smiling face fell.

“Oh.”

You felt your heart deflate from being interrupted again. It took a lot for someone to build you down, and Brad had managed to do it in no time. You thought you had made a new friend to hang out with. You thought you were finally getting along with someone in Jackson.

Watching your face fall made something click in Joel’s head. His burning glare never left Brad’s face as he continued to run his mouth about Joel ‘needing to leave’ or something like that. This is why he hated newcomers. They think they could take advantage of your kind gestures and bring you down with them.

Brad looked at you and then Joel—as if something finally fits in his head. He clicked his tongue, “I have been trying to get you home all night. Don’t tell me you were with him the whole time?”

“What?”

You looked bewildered at the insinuation of ever getting with Brad—let alone anyone that isn’t Joel. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

If Joel wasn’t preoccupied with watching Bradley’s every move, he would’ve snorted at your change in demeanor. You could be the biggest angel there is, but there is no doubt a fire lit right inside of you.

“I have been here with you all fucking night. You think I’d waste my time talking about shitty flowers with you?” His lips curled into a sniveling smirk.

Your hand clenched by your side but was caught as Brad’s hand went to tighten itself around your wrist. You tried to wriggle your way out of his grip, but it felt too firm. “Why don’t you ditch the old man and come with me, sunshine.”

Joel saw the hand on your wrist—the bruising grip he had on you. He saw the sickly, lust-filled eyes that the man was giving you. He knew you could handle yourself. You could throw this random man over your shoulder like he was nothing.

But something struck him even deeper.

Sunshine.

That was what Joel called you in the secret comfort of whispered feelings. It was what Joel called you when you were badly injured, and he needed to disinfect the wound. The first time it popped into his head was when you were dancing around with Ellie underneath the morning sun. The cute nickname just stuck, and it was his.

Only his.

Joel snapped in an instant. The long years of survival worked quickly in his brain. He bunched up Brad’s collar and shoved him hard against the wooden pole—jolting his hand from your wrist. “Get your fucking hands off of her.”

You gasped at the lightning speed of Joel’s hand on Brad’s chest, but you weren’t too phased. Adrenaline shot through your chest and spread down to your toes—eyes locking on Joel’s crinkled brows and hard-set glare.

“Yeah? The fuck you gonna do?” Brad spat.

The bar went silent at the altercation, eyes darting to watch the scene play out. You didn’t pay any attention, though. Your eyes were on Joel. Just Joel.

Brad squirms a bit underneath Joel’s stare, but he seems to be trying to remain tough. Joel’s grip never wavered and almost shoved him further into the pole.

“If you ever touch her again, I’ll break your fuckin’ arms.” His accent slurred together with each click of his tongue.

You could feel the fire pulsating through his lips; you could feel it radiate off of his clenched fist. Joel squeezed even tighter against his neck, almost suffocating some of the air in Brad’s throat. He then let out a wheeze, eyes widening at just how serious Joel Miller can be.

“You got it?” Brad’s eyes squinted at Joel before looking into the crowd around him. Terrified of all the stares and the overwhelming frown on people’s faces—and quite frankly, Joel—Brad finally backs off.

“Got it.” He said under his breath with a slight cough. Joel very slowly let go of his collar in caution of the man. Brad just nodded, now refusing to make eye contact with the two of you, before sauntering off out of the bar.

Not far behind, Tommy and Maria were alert and watched Brad’s every movement. They had both of your backs as soon as they saw Joel shove him into the pole. Even Ellie was on high alert, which almost caused her to grab the knife in her pocket.

Joel turned to you in an instant. His eyes glossed over your entire form, grasping every single detail to make sure you were okay. His eyes stopped at the slight tear in your favorite dress. He pursed his lips in annoyance, but then his eyes locked onto your wrist.

“C’mon. I need to see your wrist.”

═ ∘◦❦◦∘ ═

He took you into the back where the aging room was—old barrels full of whiskey and rum stacked high along the walls. He sat you down on a wooden table and went to go find some supplies.

You sat there, feeling like you were in trouble. Joel hadn’t said a word, and your mind was starting to race at the possibilities of what he was thinking. While it wasn’t abnormal for Joel to act like this, you knew something wasn’t right.

You could see it in his calculating eyes and furrowed eyebrows—the harsh smile lines on his cheeks almost seemed deeper. You could see it in the way that his hand trembled when he moved some papers to the other end of the table.

You felt stupid for not seeing that Brad was flirting with you. God, you felt so dumb. You really thought that you were making a new friend. You felt even dumber that you couldn’t see the hostility in his eyes, either.

What was Joel thinking? Did he hate you? You knew you mistake people’s flirty gestures for friendly acts way too often.

Did it hurt him? Tears started to form on your lash line, and that sunken feeling in your chest only deepened.

Joel finally came back with a pack of ice and a little box of first aid. He wrapped a rag around the ice so it wouldn’t burn your skin.

“Here.” He gently placed it onto your skin, and you went to hold it down. You feel your eyebrow twitch in a cringe at the already bruised surface. You hear Joel digging through the kit in haste—no doubt trying to find some kind of ointment.

You closed your eyes. Your chest was heaving up and down at the thought that Joel had to sit here and take care of you, all while you fucked everything up.

“I’m sorry.”

Joel’s rummaging through the first aid abruptly stopped. He turned to you with confused furrowed brows, but then his eyes widened. He saw your glossy eyes as you tried to avoid his stare. He saw the way your lip slightly wobbled while you tried to hide your emotions.

“It’s all my fault.”

You said barely under a whisper, but you were on the side of his good ear. He heard you, and damn, his heart couldn’t have been more crushed. You didn’t do a single thing wrong, and yet you blamed yourself.

“It ain’t your fault. None of it was your fault.” He could tell, though, by the look in your eye that you weren’t convinced. He goes to open his mouth, but you beat him to the punch.

“But I should have known!” You flexed out your hand to emphasize the situation. “I should have said something or got the fucking hint!”

You let out a fast breath, eyes darting across the wood floor. His eyes flickered to the ice pack you set back on the table. “I should—I shouldn’t have been so nice! Maybe I could be less—”

Joel snapped back at the realization of what you were going to say. “Don’t you dare.” His hand instinctively lays on top of your thigh. “Don’t you ever change for people like him.”

“But I–” His hand rested so soft on your cheek, and whatever you were going to say died on your tongue. He was inches away from you now, your chests almost touching together.

“I know my words are shit, but you are everything, darlin’. You are the kindest and brightest person that I’ve ever known.” He finally rested his forehead against yours. “Don’t you even change for me, darlin’.”

You nodded against his forehead with a small smile on your face. You knew he was right. Of course, he was right. Brad was the shithole, not you.

He leaned in to brush his lips against yours—feverish and light as you felt the scruff of his beard against your cheeks. He licks into your mouth, and you find yourself pulling him in closer from his flannel collar.

His tongue swirled through your mouth from desperation starting to lock inside his chest. You have made him feel all kinds of things over the years, but pure love was something he still couldn’t get used to. He needed to feel you—needed to touch you. After the searing memory of Brad’s hand on your wrist, he needed to be inside of you.

“Sweet girl,” he almost purred into your mouth, “need you.”

You nodded into his lips. A whine escaping them seemed to be the only thing that your brain could come up with. In a mere matter of seconds, Joel was able to turn you into a puddle.

“Need to hear it, darlin’.”

You don’t miss a beat. “Need you, Joel. Please—”

He bunches up the silky dress, and his eyes shine bright as he sees your pretty laced panties. They were dark—a black onyx—that made Joel want to drool. They rested so well on your hips—so tight. He knew there was a wet patch near your core, too.

His nimble fingers shoved your panties aside to dig—just a little—into your dripping folds. He groaned, rough and bold against the plains of your ear. “J-Joel—”

You knew by the slow, agonizing pace that his hands seemed to feel you in, Joel was going to fuck you stupid. He always got slow and steady when he knew he was going to take his sweet, sweet time.

“Oh! Oh fuck,” the pads of his fingers move to the nub of your clit. They swirled in small circles, and your hands gripped his shoulders so tightly. Your jaw hangs slack as you feel the pleasure blossom through your stomach to your chest.

“That’s it. Yeah. Does that feel good, pretty girl?”

He was smirking, just a little. You could tell by the sound of his voice, but you see the way his lips slightly curled when your eyes flickered up to his.

“Feels so good, Joel—so—so good.” His other hand spread your legs a little wider for him, relishing in the soft pillows of your skin and curves. He gave your thigh a small squeeze before sinking onto his knees.

Your eyes were about to pop out of your head. “Joel—” You warned, honestly concerned about his knees, but the thought quickly left when his other hand shuffled your underwear down to your ankles. He dragged your hips forward so that your ass was hanging just barely off of the wobbly table.

“Fuck. Look at you drippin’ for me.”

His eyes shined underneath the yellow-hazed lights. His head goes to dip into your folds, and he moans—sending a rough vibration to your folds. You tasted just the same—earthy and sour and so so sweet.

His hand dug into your thigh—the pad of his thumb was pressing deep into your skin. His tongue flicked and swirled to gather up that slick that dripped from your folds. He felt addicted to you—you tasted, felt, looked, and sounded so ethereal.

“Oh, Joel—” He could have you on his tongue for the rest of his fucking life. The way you call out his name—hands desperately grabbing at his salt and peppered hair and whimpers leaving your lips. “F-Fuck, I–”

Your brain became even mushier with each flick and whirl of his tongue around your folds. “Can’t get enough of this pussy.” He gruffed.

His mouth moved to your swollen clit, and your hips involuntarily jumped—slightly closing around his head. He pried your thighs open with his rough, used hands before shoving them over his shoulders.

You didn’t have time to react, though. Not when he was moving a finger to tease your folds. “Joel! Oh my god—” You could only whimper and shout his name. You moan, you gasp, and you whimpered even more.

It’s all you could think about. Joel Joel Joel. He was all you ever seem to think about.

His finger slid easily into your sopping cunt, and you moaned into the air. His tongue lapped and sucked against your swollen nub—finger simultaneously curling into you.

“Oh, Joel, I-I can’t—”

His mouth left you, only for a moment, but a whine escaped your lips.

“Gonna cum already, darlin’? Hmm?” He inserted another finger without warning, giving that even longer stretch of your walls.

You gasped, nonsense mumbling from your tongue. He was sure you said his name in there somewhere. He felt his cock twitch at the sparkle in your eyes and the essence of ecstasy that stretched across your glistening, sweaty skin. His long, thick fingers fucked into over and over—tongue swirling across your pretty little clit.

“C’mon, cum for me. That’s it. You’re such a good girl—my good girl.” You hiccuped, head slung back as your walls continued to clench around his fingers. “You can do it, hmm? Cum on my mouth, sunshine.”

You gasped loudly—body short-circuiting and spasming as the orgasm washed over your entire body. Joel’s name was like a mantra stuck on your tongue. Your body felt white-hot and sticky as your juices flushed against Joel’s chin and your inner thighs.

Sunshine. Sunshine. You heard that over and over again. He watched with those thick eyes as you came undone. And wow, you looked so pretty. Your gasps and moans, your body shuddering from the shattering pleasure that spreads up and down your body. He wants to remember moments like this instead of the dark ones.

As you came down from your high, you looked down at Joel. Your strong legs pulled him in a bit closer, and you leaned down to press a kiss to his nose. He just looked up at you—no doubt he had the biggest heart eyes on you that anyone had ever seen.

You started to laugh from the enormous high—cum running down your legs and the fact that not even fifteen minutes ago, you were hassled by another man. The whole situation seemed funny to you now.

Joel cracked his own smile, just for you. He caressed your cheek and rubbed his thumb back and forth. “Let’s go home, sunshine.”

You weren’t even sure he caught himself the second time when he called you that. It just flowed off of his tongue so easily.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn’t help but smile as wide as you could. You knew what that meant—what he was insinuating. A fire lit inside of your chest. Damn, you could never get used to the way Joel would make you feel.

He grumbled under his breath. “Shut up. I got it.”

Yeah, he definitely didn’t. He needed your help not two seconds later, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You were Joel’s. Joel was yours.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #smut #the last of us hbo #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us smut #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou show #joel miller x f!reader

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