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pucksandpower · 21 days

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Legends Never Die

Carlos Sainz x Senna!Reader

Summary: sometimes the hole in your heart left behind by the passing of your father becomes almost too much to bear, but Carlos and his family never fail to ease the ache

Brazilian Grand Prix, 2023

The roar of the crowd is deafening as you step out onto the podium at Interlagos after winning your home race — the Brazilian Grand Prix — for McLaren.

You wave to the sea of fans, trying to keep your emotions in check. But it’s impossible. Everywhere you look there are reminders of your father.

Fans wave Brazilian flags emblazoned with his iconic yellow and green helmet. Others wear t-shirts bearing his name and race number. Signs reading “Senna Forever” make your chest tighten.

He’s everywhere … except where you need him most. In your memories.

You were just a baby when he died in that fateful accident at Imola in 1994. You only know the sound of his voice through crackling video footage, his infectious smile from yellowing photographs. But you don’t actually remember him. Your own father, the man whose immense legacy you carry on your shoulders each time you slide into the cockpit of a Formula 1 car.

By the time the national anthem plays and the champagne corks pop, you can barely see through the tears welling in your eyes. You blink them back rapidly, hoping the cameras don’t pick up on your emotional state. As soon as the ceremony ends, you practically run off the podium, heading straight for the sanctuary of your driver’s room.

You barely make it through the door before the sobs start wracking your body. You sink down onto the couch, drawing your knees up and burying your face in your hands as the tears flow freely.

How can you feel so alone when surrounded by so many who loved him?

A soft knock at the door cuts through your cries. You know immediately who it is without having to ask.

“Come in,” you manage to choke out, swiping at the dampness on your cheeks.

The door opens and there’s Carlos, looking concerned but unsurprised to find you in this state. Of course he knows. By now, he can likely sense when these waves of emotion are about to crash over you.

Carlos crosses the room and settles onto the couch, gathering you into his arms. You immediately curl against his chest, comforted by his familiar warmth and scent. One of his hands comes up to soothingly stroke your hair as the other rubs circles across your back.

“Let it out, mi amor,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m here.”

The gentleness in his voice is your undoing. You let out a gasping sob, tears soaking through the material of his firesuit as you finally allow yourself to unravel completely in his embrace.

“I-I don’t remember him,” you hiccup between harsh breaths. “I w-won my home race and all I could see out there were ghosts. He was everywhere b-but in my own mind!”

“Shh, I know,” Carlos soothes, rubbing your back. “I know it hurts, mi vida. But he’s here.” He places his palm over your heart. “Your dad lives in here, just like you live in his.”

You lift your head, seeking out his warm brown eyes through your tear-blurred vision. “How can you be so sure? I don’t have a single first-hand memory of him. I know Ayrton Senna the legend, but not my own father.”

A small, sad smile tugs at the corner of Carlos’s lips. “Because that’s how it is for all of us who didn’t get the chance to really know him.” His thumb brushes away a stray tear trailing down your cheek. “We keep him alive in our hearts through the way he inspired us, the lives he touched without ever realizing it. And for you ...” His expression turns amazed, eyes shining with an emotion you can’t quite place. “For you, he’s here.” He runs his hands over the sides of your body, splaying his fingers wide. “A part of him lives on, in you and through you each time you drive. You embody everything he represented behind the wheel — passion, adrenaline, an unquenchable desire to be the best. That’s your father’s legacy beating within you.”

You stare at him, trying to make sense of the jumbled tempest of feelings swirling inside you. Part of you wants to protest, to insist your longing for a tangible connection to your father can’t be satisfied by philosophical musing.

And yet … Carlos’ words reverberate within you, striking a chord. You think of the split-second decision making, the fearless way you attack corners, your refusal to ever give any less than your full effort.

Those are all traits you’ve been told time and time again you inherited from Ayrton. And maybe Carlos is right — maybe that is how you’ll know him best in this life.

Slowly, you reach up to cradle Carlos’ face in your palms, searching his caring gaze. “How did I get so lucky?” You whisper, a few rogue tears spilling over. “To have someone who understands me, understands this hole in my life, and loves me enough to fill it as best he can?”

The look of utter adoration on Carlos’ face steals your breath. Gently, he leans in to capture your lips in the softest, sweetest of kisses. The tenderness, the depth of emotion in that one simple gesture is enough to make your knees go weak.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours. “I’m the lucky one, mi amor,” he murmurs, the words ghosting across your lips. “To be loved by you ...” He shakes his head slowly in seeming awe of you. “You make me feel blessed every day just by letting me share in your existence.”

You let out a watery laugh, rolling your eyes but unable to fight the giddy smile blooming across your face. Trust Carlos to somehow make you feel like the luckiest, most special person in the world after you’ve just spent who knows how long crying on his shoulder.

“You big sap,” you tease, booping him on the nose. You search his expression, your chest filling with warmth at the laughter lines crinkling around his eyes. “I love you, you know that right?”

The words hang there, heavy and significant. You realize you’ve never actually said them before, not with such simple yet loaded sincerity.

From the look of surprise and unbridled joy that overtakes Carlos’ features, he realizes it too. His hands come up to cradle your face, fingers threading through your hair as he holds you tenderly.

“Mi alma ...” he breathes out reverently. “Te amo, mi vida. I love you with all my heart.”

The depth of emotion in his voice, the Spanish words of love and adoration tumbling from his lips, it’s all too much. You surge forward, claiming his mouth in a searing kiss as the last of your tears, these born of happiness and love rather than sorrow, streak down your cheeks.

Carlos kisses you back with an intensity that leaves you lightheaded. His fingers tighten almost possessively in your hair as the kiss deepens, growing more heated and passionate. You’re vaguely aware of him shifting until you’re nearly in his lap, bodies aligned and thrumming with a very different kind of electricity than you’re used to on the track.

Eventually, the need for air becomes too insistent to ignore. You break apart, both of you panting heavily. Carlos’ lips are red and swollen, his pupils blown wide. He looks like a man thoroughly ravished.

You can’t help the impish grin. “So I take it you feel the same way?”

His laugh is low and gravelly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Oh mi amor ...” he rumbles, nuzzling his nose against yours. “You have no idea.”

You bite your lip, about to suggest taking this celebration elsewhere more private. But a new thought suddenly occurs, giving you pause. Slowly, almost shyly, you meet his heated gaze.

“Carlos … do you really think he would be proud of me?” The uncertainty in your voice is painfully obvious. “My father, I mean. You think he’s ...” You swallow hard. “You think he’s watching over me and approving of the person I’ve become?”

The seriousness of your question douses some of the blazing desire in Carlos’ eyes. But it’s quickly replaced by a look of such fierce conviction, such affection for you, it makes your breath catch.

“Cariño,” he begins, voice thick with emotion as he tucks an errant strand of hair behind your ear. “Your father was the embodiment of passion and integrity in the pursuit of greatness. On the track, he gave everything. He put his heart and soul into being the best driver, the best competitor he could be. And that’s exactly what I see when I watch you race.”

Carlos leans in, resting his forehead against yours as his fingers tenderly trace the line of your jaw. “You drive with the same fire, the same refusal to let anything less than your full ability shine through. And off the track?” He lets out a soft huff of laughter, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, let’s just say the determination, the sheer force of will I see in you would make any parent proud.”

You bite your lip, struggling against the swell of emotion building in your chest at his words. “Really? You don’t think he’d be … disappointed? That I’m not living up to his legacy or-”

“Hey.” Carlos cuts you off firmly, holding your gaze. “Your father didn’t just leave a legacy of winning championships or setting records, mi amor. He left a legacy of spirit. Of personality. Of being a loving, passionate human being who inspired millions.” His thumb strokes along your cheekbone as his eyes shine with complete sincerity. “And let me tell you — in that way? You are so perfectly your father’s daughter it’s unreal.”

The tears that have been threatening finally spill over, but this time they are born of relief, of love and reassurance. You manage a watery smile, curling your hand around the back of Carlos’ neck to pull him close until your foreheads touch.

“Thank you,” you whisper fervently. “For understanding. For loving me through the shadows and the ghosts. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His arms tighten around you, holding you flush against his body in an embrace filled with devotion. “Well, you’ll never have to find out,” he murmurs lowly, lips brushing tantalizingly against the sensitive skin just below your ear. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”

A delighted shiver runs through you at his tone, at the deliciously possessive edge to his promise. Shifting in his lap, you capture his lips in a searing kiss filled with all the love, the passion, the longing you’ve been holding at bay.

Carlos responds with equal fervor, one hand burying in your hair while the other maps searing paths across your back, your sides, pulling you ever closer until there’s no space between your bodies. The room seems to simultaneously tilt and burn away until there is only the two of you, tangled together in a heated spiral of want and need.

At some point, you become vaguely aware of Carlos rising to his feet, your legs winding instinctively around his waist as he lifts you effortlessly. Your back presses against the nearest wall and you moan softly into his mouth at the delicious friction. His hands are everywhere, stoking the fire burning through your veins with every scorching caress.

Finally, and reluctantly, you pull your lips from his with a gasp. “Carlos … if we don’t get out of here soon, I can’t be held responsible for what might happen.”

He grins wolfishly at you, pupils blown wide with desire. “Is that a promise, mi amor?” His voice is low, gravelly, and sends sparks of pure hunger fluttering through your stomach.

Holding his heated gaze, you slowly drag your nails down the back of his neck in a deliberate tease, relishing the way his eyes darken even further. “Take me home, Carlos,” you purr, leaning in to brush your lips against his once more. “And I’ll show you just how promising I can be.”

His response is to capture your mouth in another bruising kiss, pressing you harder against the wall as a growl rumbles up from deep in his chest. Then, without warning, he’s turning and striding towards the door, carrying you easily as your legs remain locked around his waist.

Breathless with wanting, you finally pull away as he reaches for the doorknob, laughing softly. “I see someone’s eager.”

Carlos’s eyes gleam with pure, undisguised hunger as he looks at you over his shoulder. “For you, mi alma?” He leans in, lips hovering tantalizingly close as his beard brushes your tingling skin. “Always.”

With that, he’s swinging the door open and striding out into the hallway, completely uncaring of who might see. His focus, his entire world, is solely on you in this moment. Just as yours is on him.

As the adrenaline of victory fades and the ache of longing for your absent father eases into a dull, familiar ache, you’re reminded once more of the incredible gift you’ve been given.

Carlos’ love, his understanding and acceptance of every broken, yearning part of you is a blessing. One you vow never to take for granted.

Winding your arms securely around his neck, you let yourself get lost in the heat of his gaze, the depth of emotion shining there. And you realize — with him, you don’t feel so alone.

Even if your father isn’t here in person, some piece of him does live on. Not in memories or old recordings. But in the love you hold in your heart. The love you pour into everything you do, every dream you dare to chase. The love that connects you to Carlos so wholly.

Maybe, just maybe, your father is prouder than either of you can fathom as he watches the remarkable life you’ve created together unfold.

Smiling softly, you lean in to feather a kiss along the sharp line of Carlos’ jaw, breathing in his familiar scent.

“Take me home, meu amor.”

Australian Grand Prix, 2024

The podium ceremony is pure pandemonium. Carlos stands on the top step, beaming and cheering, having just claimed his first win of the new season. You’re on the second step beside him, arm raised in celebration of your own P2 finish. The energy from the crowd is electric, filling your veins with the same adrenaline rush as when you crossed the finish line.

You should be deliriously happy. Scoring such a strong result alongside your boyfriend at the third race is the dream start to your championship chase. And yet … something feels off. A strange melancholy tugs at the corner of your heart even as the champagne sprays and camera flashes bombard you from all angles.

Then you spot him — Carlos’ father, beaming at his son from the front of the crowd gathered below the podium. His chest is puffed out with undisguised pride, eyes crinkled at the corners behind his designer shades.

As you watch, father and son’s gazes meet and lock, and the sheer depth of emotion in that one look breaks something inside you.

Oh.

That’s what’s missing.

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut, stealing your breath. You barely register the Spanish national anthem playing as your eyes stay glued to the tender scene before you.

Carlos shooting his father a brilliant grin, chin dipping in acknowledgment of the pride shining through. Carlos Sr.’s face split by the biggest smile you’ve ever seen him wear. It’s such a simple gesture, but one utterly steeped in parental pride.

You should look away before it gets to be too much, but some masochistic part of you can’t tear your gaze from the heartwarming display. Seeing that effortless bond between father and son, witnessing their silent communication and affection laden with years of inside jokes and childhood memories … it awakens a hollow ache, one you’re terribly familiar with.

By the time the ceremony finally winds down, hot tears are stinging your eyes. You blink rapidly, ducking your head in hopes that the dark tint of your sunglasses conceals your fragile state. But of course, Carlos notices immediately.

He pauses mid-celebration, halfway through accepting some prize filled with the event sponsor’s product. Frowning, he leans in close under the pretense of thanking you for pushing him all the way. “Mi alma? What’s wrong?”

You nearly choke on your own breath at the naked concern in his voice. Trust Carlos to pick up on your inner turmoil even in the middle of what should be an incredibly joyous occasion. Steeling yourself, you manage a smile that you hope passes as genuine.

“Nothing, I’m just ...” Your excuse dies in your throat as you look past him towards the crowd once more.

Carlos Sr. is shouldering his way through the mass of staff and media, pushing towards his son. He’s waving and grinning from ear to ear as Carlos straightens up, delight overtaking his features. The second the older Sainz’s feet cross the barriers, Carlos drops everything and bounds over, hauling his father into a tight embrace.

They laugh and cheer as Carlos pumps a victorious fist in the air, the other arm wrapped securely around Carlos Sr. You can’t hear what they’re saying over the noise of the crowd, but it doesn’t matter. Their body language says it all.

Pride. Joy. Celebration. A bond forged in the fires of hardship and sacrifice, of a lifetime pursuing the most elite level of a deadly sport.

Father and son, reveling together in the sweetness of hard-earned success.

Your throat constricts painfully as you watch them, your own arms wrapping protectively around your middle. How many times had you dreamed of recreating this exact moment as a young girl? Crossing the chequered line in first place, only to be swept up in a boundless hug by a beaming, triumphant father?

You remember pretending with your childhood race cars, standing on an overturned bucket that served as your make-believe podium. You’d mimic the anthems and champagne sprays, then launch yourself off the “top step“ and into the arms of an imaginary Ayrton, dreaming about what it would feel like to bury your face in his shoulder as he swung you around, both of you dissolving into happy laughter as you celebrated together.

Of course, those were only childish fantasies even then. By the time you were old enough to understand racing, to grasp what your father did and meant to the world, he was already long gone. You never got the chance to make those podium daydreams a reality.

And you never would.

The harsh truth is like a bucket of ice water over your head. You’re vaguely aware of your sunglasses slipping down your nose as your eyes burn with unshed tears. Angrily, you blink them back, steeling your jaw.

Now is not the time.

You plaster on the brightest smile you can muster as Carlos and his father turn back towards you. Throwing propriety to the wind, Carlos Sr. comes up to engulf you in a tight hug, the scratch of barely-there stubble rasping against your cheek.

“Another stellar drive, mariposa,” he praises in his thick, warm accent as Carlos laughs in delight beside you. “Keeping this one on his toes, I see.”

Despite your fragile emotional state, you can’t help but grin at his spirit and affection. “Always,” you reply, squeezing him back firmly before pulling away to make room for Carlos.

Almost automatically, you take a step back to give them space. You have no wish to intrude on what should be their private moment together. And sure enough, no sooner have you retreated than Carlos is wrapping his arm around his father’s shoulders, guiding him towards the edge of the pit lane where Ferrari representatives are waiting.

You hang back, a sad smile playing across your lips as you watch them go. All the teasing and laughing, the play-fights and unbreakable bonds of family you wish you could have experienced for yourself play out in vivid detail before your eyes.

Off to the side, almost like an afterthought despite your place right beside him on the podium. Just … watching.

Slowly, you turn away, the roar of the fans and celebrations fading into the distance as you head up the ramp to the McLaren motorhome.

A thousand wistful memories drift through your mind. Muted footage of you as a newborn cradled in your father’s arms, grinning up at him in pure innocence and adoration. Photos of Ayrton gazing down at his infant daughter with a look of such unconditional love that it breaks you all over again.

No matter how many trophies you win or records you break, that will always be the one achievement he never had the chance to witness. You’ll never experience a father’s unadulterated pride at his child’s success.

Your breath hitches as you finally reach the solitude of your private room, sinking onto the plush sofa as the tears begin rolling in earnest. Who are you kidding? As much as Carlos and his family envelop you in their warmth, as much as you are unquestionably part of their clan now … there is always going to be an empty space in your heart where a father’s love should be.

You bury your face in your hands, ignoring the wet streaks smearing across your knuckles as you try in vain to compose yourself. You can’t be like this, falling apart every time. Carlos deserves to revel in one of the greatest wins of his career. He shouldn’t have to devote energy to consoling you, not after a spectacular drive like that.

A soft knock at the door startles you. Swiping hastily at your cheeks, you suck in a shuddering breath and call out. “Come in.”

The door opens, and of course, it’s Carlos. Because even in the midst of unbridled jubilation, he senses your inner turmoil. He steps inside, the happiness draining from his expression as he takes in your blotchy complexion and reddened eyes.

“Mi amor,” he breathes, crossing to you in two quick strides and gathering you into his arms. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his sweat-damp race suit as he rubs soothing circles across your back. “Talk to me, cariño. What’s got you so upset, hmm?”

You want to explain, but the words stick in your throat. Instead, you simply shake your head, a few errant tears slipping free to wet the material covering his shoulder. Carlos doesn’t push, just holds you close and lets you cry it out against him.

Eventually, you find your voice, thick with emotion. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your celebration like this. You should be out there enjoying your win, not consoling your mess of a girlfriend.”

“Hey now,” he chides gently, tipping your chin up to meet his concerned gaze. “None of that, mi alma. Your feelings are never something to apologize for.” His thumb brushes away a stray tear from your cheek. “I know today was … difficult. Seeing me with my dad, it brought up a lot of old hurts, didn’t it?”

You let out a watery chuckle, amazed as always by his intuition when it comes to your innermost struggles. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only to someone who knows and loves every facet of you,” he replies simply, stroking your hair back from your forehead. “Will you tell me? Let me in on what you’re feeling so I can try to understand?”

Taking a shuddering breath, you nod and disentangle yourself enough to sit beside him on the couch. You keep one of his hands linked with yours, anchoring you as you gather your thoughts. “It’s just … out there on the podium, when I saw you and your dad together ...” You pause, blinking rapidly against a fresh swell of tears. “It reminded me all over again of what I’m missing. What I’ll never get to have.”

Carlos’ expression softens with understanding and he gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, silently urging you to continue. You draw strength from his presence beside you.

“You two have this … bond. This connection, like you’re the only ones who truly understand each other’s perspectives. And I’m envious, Carlos. So envious of the lifetime of love and memories that exists just in the silent communication between you.” You let out a mirthless chuckle, swiping at the dampness on your cheeks. “God, that sounds so pathetic when I say it out loud.”

“No, mi vida.” Carlos is firm, his eyes shining with sincerity. “Not pathetic at all. You’re allowed to feel that longing, that sadness over being deprived of something so integral.” His free hand comes up to cradle your jaw, calloused thumb stroking along your cheekbone. “You miss your dad. You mourn not having that relationship in your life. Those are entirely valid feelings to have, especially on days like this when I got to share my joy with my own father.”

You lean into his touch, fresh tears spilling over at his words as your breath hitches. “It’s like … no matter what I accomplish, no matter how successful I become, there will always be this hole.” Your hand comes up to clasp his wrist, holding him close. “Because he never got to see it. He never got to be that person cheering me on, taking pride in my achievements. Instead, I’m left imagining what it would be like, watching you and your dad and aching for something I can’t have.”

Carlos’ eyes turn molten, brimming with empathy and sorrow for your pain. Slowly, he guides you forward until your foreheads are pressed together, his breath fanning across your lips.

“Mi amor … I can’t replace what you’ve lost, or take away that regret and heartache. All I can do is promise to spend every day showing you how proud I am of you.” His fingers thread through your hair, cradling your head tenderly. “You are the strongest, bravest, most amazing woman I have ever known. Watching you out on the track, giving everything you have with that same fire and spirit as your father … words can’t express how awestruck I am. How honored I feel to witness your brilliance and passion race after race.”

You suck in a sharp breath at the reverent tone in his voice, fresh tears streaking down your cheeks at the depth of feeling behind his words. Carlos tugs you even closer until there’s no space between your bodies, until you’re sharing the same air in an intimate embrace.

“I only wish he could see you the way I do,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours with each word. “I wish he was here to feel the immense pride and adoration I feel every single time you leave me breathless behind the wheel.” A tender, lingering kiss punctuates his words. “You are your father’s greatest legacy, mi alma. And I will spend every day showing you that, if you’ll let me.”

A choked whimper escapes your lips as you surge forward, capturing Carlos’ mouth in a searing, fevered kiss. You pour every ounce of overwhelmed emotion, every bit of ardor and heartache and gratitude into the heated glide of your lips against his. His arms band around you like steel cables, holding you impossibly close as the kiss turns bruising, desperate, all-consuming.

When you finally pull apart, you’re both panting harshly. Carlos’ pupils are blown wide, lips red and swollen and thoroughly kissed. He stares at you with such naked adoration, such devotion, that it steals what little breath you have left.

“Thank you,” you rasp, cradling his face in your trembling hands. “Thank you for loving me so completely. Despite all my broken pieces, you see me at my core and still chose me.”

He leans into your touch, lips brushing your palm. “There is nothing to thank me for, mi amor. You are the sun, I’m merely lucky enough to orbit you and bask in your warmth.” He places another soft, lingering kiss to your wrist, right over your thundering pulse. “I am yours, corazón. Every piece of me, for every piece of you. Never doubt that.”

A fresh wave of emotion rises up, this one filled with pure, dizzying love and affection for the incredible man kneeling before you. Pulling him up, you simply hold him for a long moment, relishing his solid strength surrounding you in the protective circle of his arms.

Here, in his embrace, the ache of your father’s absence dulls to a faded echo in the corners of your heart. Here, you can breathe easy, reassured and loved down to your very core.

Eventually, the sounds of celebration filter in through the door — your team must be getting restless waiting for their driver. Carlos seems to hear it too, huffing out a quiet chuckle against your hairline.

“We should get out there, hmm? Before both of our teams send a search party for their drivers.”

You nod, but make no move to disentangle yourself, soaking up his warmth and steady presence for a few more selfish moments.

When you do finally pull away, there are fresh tear tracks on your cheeks but also a peaceful smile gracing your lips. Reverently, you run your fingers through the sweat-damp curls at Carlos’ temples as his eyes flutter closed, savoring your touch.

“I love you,” you murmur, the words seeming impossibly inadequate to convey the depth of feeling they represent. “Endlessly, meu amado.”

Carlos’ gaze when he opens his eyes practically glows with emotion, pure elation and adoration radiating from his expression. “As I love you, mi alma,” he husks, stealing one more searingly tender kiss. “Always.”

With twin smiles and your hands linked tightly, you exit the room together into the raucous cheers and celebrations. Outside, you can see Carlos Sr. surrounded by a sea of red, laughing and beaming with incomparable pride and joy at his son’s success. Your breath catches when he spots the two of you emerging, arms flinging wide.

“There are my superstars! Vámonos, we have a victory to toast!”

As Carlos tugs you forward into the chaos, his father enveloping you both in a crushing embrace and peppering your cheeks with scratchy kisses, you feel a sense of peace settle over you.

Yes, there will always be an absence where your father should have been, a hollow space in your heart shaped perfectly to his memory. But you’ll never truly be alone.

Not with Carlos beside you every step of the way. Not with his family’s boundless love and affection enveloping you, treating you as their own daughter. They are the salve for when that empty ache becomes too much to bear.

So you let yourself sink into the celebration, into the warmth of the Sainz clan and the sheer euphoria of your personal success. As long as Carlos keeps chasing his passion with the same fanatical devotion as his father … as long as you chase your own with every ounce of vigor and spirit that your father passed down through shared blood … then Ayrton will never stop watching over you both with immeasurable pride and a heart overflowing with love.

And for now, for today, that will simply have to be enough.

Days Before the Miami Grand Prix, 2024

The Miami sun sinks lower in the sky, bathing the hotel balcony in a warm orange glow. You lean against the railing, staring unseeingly at the cruise ships dotting the horizon. Your eyes are glassy, your mind a million miles away.

It’s been thirty years to the day since your father’s life was snatched away. Thirty years of living in his immense shadow, constantly reminded of the racing legend you never truly knew.

Your phone buzzes incessantly in your pocket, a steady stream of texts and calls offering condolences. Old acquaintances you haven’t spoken to in years, suddenly reaching out on this morbid anniversary.

What can you possibly say that the world doesn’t already know? That they haven’t already dissected and analyzed a million times over?

The harsh truth is that so many strangers have more vivid memories of Ayrton Senna than his own daughter. It’s a sobering reality, one that reopens that wound all over again every May 1st.

You feel numb, gutted, emptied out.

“Amor?” The familiar voice pulls you from your reverie. You turn to find Carlos staring at you with soft concern in his warm brown eyes. “Are you alright?”

You try for a reassuring smile, but it feels stale on your lips. “I’m fine, just … thinking.”

He sees right through you, the way he always does. Crossing the balcony, he wraps his arms around you from behind, his chin resting atop your head. You lean back into his solid embrace, drawing comfort from his presence.

“You know you don’t have to put on a brave face for me, right?” He murmurs against your hair. “Not today.”

You let out a shuddering breath, blinking back the sting of tears. “I know. It’s just … it never gets any easier, you know? All these years later and the wound still feels fresh.”

His arms tighten around you. “I’m so sorry, mi amor. I wish I could take the pain away.”

“You help more than you know, just by being here,” you reply thickly. A tremulous smile curves your lips as you cover his hands with yours. “Thank you for putting up with my melancholy every year.”

“You never have to thank me for that,” he says fiercely. “I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

The sound of the balcony door opening draws your attention as Carlos Sr. steps out onto the balcony, his eyes kind but assessing as he takes in the two of you embracing.

“Ah, lo siento,” he says apologetically. “I did not mean to intrude on a private moment.”

“No, no, you’re not intruding,” you assure him, reluctantly extracting yourself from Carlos’ arms. You turn to face his father, subtly wiping at your damp eyes. “What’s going on?”

Carlos Sr. hesitates, shooting his son a questioning look. Carlos nods almost imperceptibly.

“Actually, hijo, do you mind if I borrow Y/N for a few minutes?” Carlos’ father asks. “Hombre a hombre, as they say.”

Your brows knit in confusion, but Carlos just smiles faintly and drops a kiss on your temple. “Of course. I’ll be inside whenever you’re ready, mi vida.”

With a final squeeze of your hand, he disappears back into the suite, leaving you alone with his father on the balcony. The older Sainz settles into one of the plush lounge chairs with a slight groan.

“Please, join an old man,” he says, patting the chair beside him. You hesitate briefly before sinking into the indicated seat. An awkward silence stretches between you both.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” Carlos’ father begins at last. “I am not usually at such a loss for words. But I find myself struggling to know what to say on a day like today.”

You manage a watery chuckle. “Trust me, you’re not the only one at a loss. I don’t even know what to say to myself half the time.”

He regards you with such tender understanding that it steals your breath away. “My dear girl, you have carried such a heavy burden on those young shoulders for far too long. No child should have to grow up in the shadow of tragedy the way you have.”

Tears well up anew in your eyes. “I just … I wish I could remember him, you know? Really remember him, not just what I’ve seen in videos or heard in interviews. It feels so unfair that the whole world has vibrant memories of who he was, but I’m just … left with echoes and fragments of a man I never truly knew.”

Carlos Sr.’s eyes glisten with empathy as he reaches over to take your hand, enveloping it in his calloused grip. “Listen to me, mija. While I cannot begin to understand the depth of your loss, I do know this — it is never strange to mourn someone you loved, even if you cannot recall the time you spent together.”

His words are like a soothing balm on the ragged wound of your heart. You squeeze his hand fiercely, struggling to keep your composure as he continues.

“Your father was ...” He pauses, seeming to carefully weigh his next words. “Your father was an incredible man, one who touched countless lives all over the world. But to you, he was simply your father. And that bond, that love between a parent and child, transcends memory. It lives on in here.” He taps his heart with his free hand. “In a way that no amount of biographies or documentaries could ever capture.”

The tears spill over, streaking down your cheeks. You make no effort to stop them this time. Carlos’ father merely watches you with infinite tenderness, his thumb brushing soothingly over your knuckles.

“I know I cannot replace the father you lost,” he continues softly. “Nor would I ever try. But I hope you know that our family … we love you as one of our own, mija. You will always have a home and a family with us, for as long as you desire it.”

A broken sound escapes your throat and Carlos Sr. immediately rises from his chair to gather you into his arms, his embrace warm and secure and achingly paternal. You bury your face in his shoulder, body shaking with muffled sobs as the floodgates finally burst open.

“That’s it, let it all out,” he murmurs, one broad hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Holding in such grief for so long, it’s a wonder you did not crumble beneath the weight of it long ago. You are stronger than you know, mija.”

You cry until you’re completely spent, until the front of Carlos Sr.’s shirt is damp and your eyes are swollen and puffy. When at last the tears subside, leaving you wrung out but strangely peaceful, he produces a handkerchief from his pocket and gently dabs at your cheeks.

“There now, that’s better isn’t it?” He asks, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles down at you. “I think my son may have plans to cheer you up, if you’re amenable?”

You let out a watery chuckle, feeling lighter than you have in days … weeks … months maybe. “That does sound nice.”

The elder Spaniard presses the handkerchief into your hand, then steers you back towards the balcony door with a gentle hand on your back. “Then what are we waiting for? That boy may look like me, but his sweet tooth is all his mother’s doing.”

You pause in the doorway, impulsively turning to throw your arms around the man who has, in many ways, become a second father to you. “Thank you,” you whisper shakily against his shoulder. “For everything.”

His arms tighten around you briefly. “De nada, mija. That’s what family is for.”

When at last you disentangle yourself, Carlos is waiting just inside, a bright smile lighting up his face at the sight of the two of you. On the counter, a cheerful array of pastries and confections beckons, the delicious aroma of fresh Brazilian baked goods enveloping you in a warm, sugary hug.

Carlos’ eyes are shining with love and relief as you cross the room to plant a lingering kiss of gratitude on his smiling lips.

“I love you,” you murmur when you finally pull back, cradling his face in your palms. “Thank you for being you.”

His forehead drops to rest against yours. “Always, mi alma. I’ll never stop loving you and being here for you, no matter what.”

You hold him tightly for a long moment, savoring his warmth and solidity. When you finally part, Carlos’ arm stays looped around your waist as he turns towards the dessert spread.

“So, I may have gone a little overboard at the bakery,” he admits with an unrepentant grin, waving his free hand at the sugary bounty. “But it’s been a rough day and you deserve to indulge a little.”

You can’t help but laugh, feeling some of the lingering heaviness dissipate at the pure, infectious joy on his face. Leave it to Carlos to try and solve everything with baked goods and affection.

“Well, when you put it that way,” you tease, leaning into his side, “I suppose I can’t say no to that face.”

“That’s the spirit!” Carlos crows, beaming at you with such adoration that it makes your heart squeeze. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he scoops up one of the frosted confections and holds it up to your lips. “Open wide, mi amor.”

You obediently take a bite of the sugary pastry, the rich flavors of doce de leite and buttery dough melting over your tongue. Carlos watches you with rapt attention, his eyes darkening slightly as you slowly lick a stray bit of frosting from the corner of your mouth.

His father clears his throat loudly behind you. “Ay dios mio, get a room you two!”

Carlos has the grace to look abashed, but you just grin unrepentantly at your future father-in-law as he shakes his head in mock exasperation.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Carlos says cheekily, surprising you by suddenly sweeping you up into his arms bridal-style.

You let out a squeak of surprise that quickly dissolves into delighted laughter as he starts carrying you toward the bedroom, peppering your face with noisy kisses. Over his shoulder, you catch Carlos Sr.’s indulgent smile and parting wink before the door swings shut behind you.

The rest of the evening passes in a sugary, affectionate haze. For the first time in as long as you can remember, the grief feels bearable, soothed by the love of your chosen family.

While the ache may never fully heal, you have a newfound sense of lightness in your heart.

As you lay tangled in the sheets later that night, Carlos’ arm a grounding weight around your waist, you send up a silent thank you to whatever cosmic forces brought this incredible man into your life.

And maybe, just maybe, your father can finally rest easy knowing his little girl found her way to happiness after all.

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aerynwrites · 8 months

Text

Longing

Halsin x Fem!Reader

A/N: I have been burning with an intense CRAVING for Halsin and there is such little fic about him (although there are some good ones out there 👀) so I had to do my part and add to the pool 😏 hope y’all enjoy!

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, reader is insecure about her virginity, talks of inexperience, love confessions, Halsin is a sweetheart, references to NSFW content. Very very minor spoilers for act 2.

Part 2

The fur of the rabbit is soft between your fingers as you prepare it. Yet, despite having a knife in your other hand and your task being a delicate one, you can’t seem to focus.

Your eyes keep drifting back to the druid across camp chopping wood for the fire. The axe is a large one, heavy - heavier than you’d be able to lift. Yet the large elf manages to bring it up above his head and swing it back down with a grace you never understood how he possessed.

The muscles in his shoulders ripple with each movement, accompanying the rythmic thump of the axe through wood. His soft grunts as he pulls it from the stump he’s using before placing the next log onto the surface and starting the process all over again.

“The rabbit is already dead, darling.”

The familiar voice rips you from your staring as your head whips around to see none other than your vampiric companion standing over you, a smirk tugging at his lips. You huff at him before looking down to the rabbit by your knees and heat rushes to your cheeks. What should have been a simple skinning job to get the meat ready for dinner has turned into a mess. Cuts in the wrong places, the hide nowhere near usable anymore.

You look back up just in time to see Astarions red eyes go from you, to Halsin, then back again. His smile grows. He shifts his feet, one arm resting across his chest as he gestures with his other to Halsin.

“You know, you could paint a portrait. It would last longer.”

Your cheeks somehow get even hotter, as you turn back to the rabbit in front of you, doing a much better job than earlier.

“Leave me alone, Astarion,” you mumble, cursing internally when the elf lowers himself to the ground beside you, arms resting on his knees.

“And why would I do that, when teasing you gives me so much joy?”

You can’t stop the small smile that tugs at your lips. “Okay, well you got me all flustered. So now that’s out of the way, did you need something or did you really interrupt your reading to bother me?”

The vampire sighs, leaning back on his hands as he looks over to you. “What I need is for you to finally jump that druids bones.”

You nearly choke as the words leave his lips, looking around to see if anyone heard and feeling heat creep up your neck once more as you see Shadowheart failing to hide a chuckle.

You turn to face your friend, eyes narrowed. “Could you be a little more quiet? I don’t need the whole camp hearing you.”

Astarion laughs this time, loudly, and it draws more glances than you’d like. You roughly shove the man next to you before he can speak.

“Your next words better be a whisper or I’m going to stab you ” you threaten, poking the knife in his direction.

Astarion places a hand over his heart, faux hurt in his eyes. “You wound me, darling. I’m just trying to help you. Plus,” he gestures to the camp, “it’s not like your attraction is a secret, nor Halsin’s.”

You shake your head turning back to grab another rabbit, embarrassment welling up in your chest. “He doesn’t…” you trail off, getting defensive. “Nothing’s there, Astarion. So can we please just drop it?”

Of course, he doesn’t.

“Look,” he starts, “all I’m trying to say is that neither of you are benefiting from holding back so…indulge, for once. Gods know we all deserve it.”

You ignore him. Curling in on yourself at the mention of…indulging. There nothing wrong with it of course. Everyone at camp has blown off steam along this adventure. Just…not you.

And the vampire must be able to tell too, because at your silence he straightens up, brows pinching in the rare way that shows he’s concerned.

“Wait, have you never…?” he gestures vaguely in the air.

His words, despite their genuine curiosity, strike a chord in you. You stand abruptly, tossing your work to the ground and stabbing your knife in the dirt.

“No I haven’t. Not that it’s any of your business.” Your words are louder than you intended and draw the eyes and ears of your other companions.

Astarion softens, obviously not expecting this reaction. “I didn’t mean to upset you-“

You clench your fists at your sides, interrupting him. “You never mean to Astarion but -“ You cut yourself off, taking a deep breath. “You’re such an ass sometimes.”

You turn on your heel and storm from camp before anyone can stop you, ignoring the concerned gaze of a certain druid.

———

The water is cool against your skin as you squat by the stream’s edge, rubbing at your hands as you try to get the blood off of them.

You feel foolish now, storming off like that. But Astarion pointing out your inexperience just struck you. It’s not something that’s ever bothered you before. Especially not in recent months since dealing with the tadpole. You all have more important things to worry about.

But the moment you rescued Halsin…it’s like something changed. You were instantly drawn to him. His kind smile and thoughtful words. His care for everyone and everything in nature.

And he flirted with you.

The memory is still fresh in your mind. The night of the tiefling party after you had stopped the ritual at the druid camp and saved Halsin. You were worried you were talking his ear off, but he was attentive the whole conversation. Answering your questions and asking some about you.

Then he said those honeyed words. Suggested celebrating by spending the night with someone special. Implied he would spend it with you if his mind wasn’t elsewhere.

You withdraw your hands from the water to drag them down your face as more memories surface.

More flirtatious banter and kind words. Thoughtful conversations and fighting side by side. The night sat by your bedside nursing you back to health after a particularly nasty fight. After Ketheric Thorm almost took you out.

Your side still aches with the memory. But the thought of his hands with their soothing healing glow, makes the ache subside.

You sigh, sitting back into the grass as your eyes lock onto the slowly gurgling stream, Astarion words playing over and over in your head.

Indulge, for once.

You want to. Gods do you want that.

You’ve spent many sleepless nights thinking about it. About his lips against yours, his hands on your skin, the sweet words he’d no doubt whisper against your ear.

You shudder at the thought before shoving it away. Because any time he hinted at that - showed any interest in you - you would be so elated before insecurity took over.

Halsin’s views on love and intimacy are no secret. You’d asked him once about current lovers and while he did confide no one currently held his affections back home he also expressed that there were others in the past.

Others. Plural.

And you’ve never been with anyone. Not physically or emotionally, you’ve never trusted anyone enough.

Not until now.

You sigh, frustration creeping back in as you press the heels of your palms into your eyes before quickly standing up. You need to apologize to Astarion and finally, maybe, talk to Halsin.

You turn on your heel to do just that when you run straight into a solid mass. You gasp, stumbling backwards just as two strong hands reach out to steady you, gripping your wrists firmly.

Once steady, you look up to see none other than the man haunting your thoughts smiling down at you.

“You must have been very deep in thought for someone like me to sneak up on you, little one.”

You have to suppress a shiver at the nickname. A moniker he’d given you since you teased him about his size at the beginning of your friendship.

You shake your head, moving to step away and only stopping when his hands let go only to slip down and take your own gently.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I was just…thinking.”

Halsin stares at you for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face before he steps away, gesturing down the first path, one hand still in your own.

“Walk with me?” he asks. “I know being in nature helps me clear my head of even the darkest thoughts.”

You give a hesitant nod and follow him as he turns towards the path, not able to stop the smile when he doesn’t drop your hand.

———

The walk is mostly silent, a comfortable silence, but silent nonetheless. And you are grateful for it, not sure what you would say if Halsin were to ask what has you so upset.

But, silence can’t last forever it seems, because eventually the large Druid breaks through the sounds of nature surrounding you to speak.

“I overheard your conversation with Astarion,” he says, voice gentle. Probing, but not not forcing you to talk if you do not wish.

You stiffen, your pace slowing slightly, wanting to pull away from the man at your side. But his sure grip on your hand keeps you in place. The warmth of his skin on yours puts you slightly at ease.

“You…you heard that?” you ask, cringing internally. “You were across camp.”

The druid chuckles, gesturing to his ears with his free hand. “One of the curses of us elves. Impeccable hearing. Even when we don’t wish for it.”

You can feel your shoulders creeping up to your ears. Embarrassment settling in once more. “You were listening to us? To me?”

Halsin shrugs. “Not intentionally,” he admits, slowing his steps until you’re both stopped and he’s facing you. “But I find my attention turning towards you more often than not these days.”

His words tie your tongue and before you can gather enough sense to respond he continues.

“Nature works in mysterious ways, little one,” he tells you, eyes never leaving your face. “There is no one way to traverse it, and others journey do not define your own. Each one is unique, as it is intended.”

His words are beautifully woven, as always. And despite his cryptic deliverance, you know the meaning behind his words.

He’s comforting you. And once again, he speaks before you can detangle the jumble of thoughts in your head.

“And,” he reaches out, placing a curled finger beneath your chin to urge you to look up at him, “if it’s any encouragement, I seek you out as much as you do me. Possibly more so.”

Your eyes widen, heart stuttering in your chest at his words. He…does he feel the same way? Rationally you know he does. But that ever familiar self doubt, the tiny voice in your mind has always brushed away the flirting - the kind words and gentle touches as just part of his nature. None of it is reserved just for you.

Right?

Halsin smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners gently as he looks down at you. “Is that really such an outlandish thought? That I return your affections?” He pauses, “unless my heart has run ahead of itself and I have misread-“

You stop him then, reaching up to place a staying hand on his own beneath your chin.

“No! You haven’t…you haven’t misread,” you assure him, trying to still your racing heart.

His smile never falters, his other hand finally coming up to cradle the back of your head, teasing soft strands of hair between his fingers.

“That is good to hear,” he says, pulling you ever closer, his nose almost brushing yours, “it puts this old druid's mind at rest.”

Gods, you can’t breathe. The air in your lungs refusing to expel as he lean even closer, lips a hairbreadth away from your own. Your body sings with anticipation, your skin hot despite the cool air ushered in by the sun sinking below the horizon, the days last rays barely filtering through the trees.

“Can I kiss you, my heart?”

Halsins words are soft, barley a whisper and nearly drowned out by the sounds of nature around you and the roaring of blood in your ears.

You nod. “Please-“

The word barely passes your lips before he descends upon you, sealing his mouth with your own.

It’s both everything you expected and completely surprising at the same time. His hands are sure as he pulls you into him, one hand still cradling your head as the other slips down to your hip before wrapping around your waist. Yet his lips, the kiss itself is…soft. Gentle. Loving. The action speaks louder than any words either of you have said to one another. Louder than the words you never worked up the courage to speak.

Finally, your mind catches up with you, and your hands slide up his chest to clutch tentatively at his shoulders.

Halsins still hasn’t broken away from you, and when his tongue brushes against your lips you let him in. You tug him closer then, one of your hands sliding up to rest at the back of his neck eliminating any empty space between you as his tongue slides against your own.

He only pulls away when he must sense your need for air, but he doesn’t go far, lips pressing gently to the corner of your own, and then another to your jaw.

You’re breathless.

Chest heaving against him, as he pulls away just enough to look at you once more.

“As much as I’d love to continue…” his hand squeezes your hip gently, “we should make our way back to camp. I can imagine our absence as stirred gossip with our vampiric companion and..” he sighs, pressing another soft kiss to your lips. “I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

You can’t surprise the shiver that runs down your spine, or the smile that tugs at your lips.

“I’m…I’m okay being overwhelmed if it’s like that,” you tell him breathlessly.

Halsin laughs, a deep down genuine laugh that makes your heart sing even as he steps away from you.

“Then I will overwhelm you in all the ways I know how.” He promises, eyes trailing over you heatedly.

Your stomach does a flip at his words, and the effect they have on you must show on your face because Halsin chuckles again, leaning in to press one last kiss to your cheek before tugging you back in the direction towards camp.

“Another night, my heart,” he says, thumb brushing over your knuckles from where your hand remains in his own.

You let out a shaky breath, and nod, smiling as you walk closer to him. “I’m holding you to that.”

“I hope you would, though I doubt I will forget such a promise,” he assures before letting silence blanket you both one more.

You can’t stop the thrill that runs through you at his words.

Yes, I’ll hold you to that promise indeed.

#halsin x reader #bg3 x reader #bg3 Halsin #Halsin #baldurs gate Halsin #baldurs gate 3

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luveline · 8 months

Note

Hi Jade! I’ve been on my criminal minds rerun and it made me come up with this Spencer request if you’re taking them right now! Something along the lines of the reader and Spencer being together and she becomes pregnant but he pieces it together before she does!

tysm for requesting! hope this is ok♡ 1k

cw fem!reader has a positive attitude towards her pregnancy. vaguely adult theme

"I really don't think I can go," you say, flopping down on the bed.

Spencer laughs and shakes out the shirt in his hands, hoping the creases from the dryer will iron themselves before dinner tonight. "You always say that."

"I really mean it this time. I miss Hotch, I do, and I'm glad he's out of WITSEC, but thinking about the restaurant is making me queasy."

"Really? I looked it up, it's a nice place. They have their Grade A, it should be spotless in there. I'm pretty sure they almost got a Michelin star."

You groan, turning onto your side. "I looked too. The entire menu is seafood," you whine.

"What's wrong with that?" Spencer asks, giving you a quizzical look.

"The smell." You rub your nose against his pillow and sigh. "I don't feel good. Didn't rough me up in my sleep, did you?"

"I would never do that," he says, putting the last of the laundry aside to sit by your hip. His hand rests naturally against the slight curve of your side, fingertips pushing the hem of your shirt up enough to steal a glance at your back.

He wouldn't say this aloud and it doesn't matter, but you've gained a little weight recently. Actually, it does matter in that he thinks it's adorable, but he knows that telling your partner they've gained weight is a faux pas. He likes it, anyhow. It's happy weight.

Things are so serious now but they don't feel serious. There's no solemness in your relationship, just comfort. He's putting on weight in tandem.

"You really don't want to go?" Spencer asks. The earlier he lets Hotch know the better.

You wrap an arm around your stomach. "Sorry, Spence. I'm so sorry, I've felt sick all day and I think it'll just be a repeat of yesterday morning." You puked before breakfast, the smell of eggs too much to bear.

Spencer feels it click into place then and there. The weight, the puking, your changing taste. Your sore chest and lower back, your sensitivity.

He pushes you gently, a hand on your hip to encourage you down. Careful, he lays down next to you, propping his head on the pillow as he brings hand up to hold you. He can't know for sure… but if you're pregnant as he suspects, it fits. And more than that, it's insane. He doesn't know how to handle this besides wrapping you up in his arms. He'll keep you forever, if he can.

"Don't be sorry," he says, his voice faraway. You relax completely in his arms, sliding your leg over his to lock him in. "Does your back still hurt?"

"My chest, Spence," you lament, "it feels like I'm winded. I think I'm coming down with something. Maybe you shouldn't be near me."

"In that case, I'm staying right here."

You laugh softly, the warmth of it a circle on his shoulder. "I can call Hotch myself and say sorry. I'll feel better in a few days, and we'll reschedule, and I'll pay even if he tries to."

Spencer draws a line up your back. Now or never.

He steels his nerves, the beginning of a hypothesis hesitating on his tongue. Your symptoms in addition to your irregular period and your regular sex lives points toward pregnancy. How does he say that? How should he say it? Should he even bring it up? Perhaps he should wait until you discover it yourself. And you aren't definitely pregnant, it's just a possibility. Maybe you're simply sick—

"Hey, earth to handsome," you whisper, cupping his cheek in your soft palm. You smile as he snaps out of his thoughts. "Hey. I lost you for a few seconds, where'd you go?"

"Nowhere. I'm here."

Your smile gets impossibly fond. It's not dissimilar to how you usually look at him. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. I love you."

"I love you," you say.

There's something about you now, this gaussian blur to you. Sunlight seeps in lazily through the blinds thick as honey, a golden kiss to your skin where you lay face to face with him, and your I love you makes him want to cry. This is all ridiculous and amazing and he doesn't know what to do, doesn't know how to make his mouth move into the right words.

"What is it?" you ask. You know him better than anyone.

"I think you're pregnant." Spencer winces, though he can't beat his smile into submission. "I mean. You could be pregnant."

"Why do you think that?" you ask, visibly startled.

"Your sensitivity to strong smells, your soreness, your late period, to name the more obvious. That's not factoring in your worsening low iron lately, and your headaches." You make a strange sound he doesn't like. "What?" he asks worriedly.

"I'm late," you say into yourself, looking past him as you puzzle it over.

"It's a good thing, if you are. I mean, it's an amazing thing if you want it to be. I'm saying everything wrong. It's only amazing if you want it to be, I want it to be. But I'm on your side no matter what." He grimaces into his hands, rubbing his face with both palms.

You sit as he panics. He clicks his neck looking up, racing to follow you, alarmed as you shimmy down the bed toward the ensuite bathroom.

"What are you–"

"I'm gonna take a test."

"Wait a second." Spencer catches your hands before you can get too far, pulling you back to the end of the bed to sit down. "Wait. Is it– is it bad? If you are?"

You look down at your stomach briefly. Anyone else might miss it, but Spencer can't not follow your behaviour, and the way you're acting now makes him think he got it wrong. That you won't be happy.

You grab Spencer's hand. "You know, it's not funny. All our friends are gonna ask how I found out, and I'm gonna have to admit that you noticed it first." Your eyes track up his face almost shyly, and soon your smile is as blistering as his.

Spencer bends under your weight as you jump up, throwing your arms behind his neck, your lips smashed to his ear. "I love you," you whisper urgently, "so much. This is good, right? This is really good."

"Are you kidding?" he asks incredulously.

Spencer takes your face into two hands and kisses you as hard as he ever has. He realises a second in that he'd much rather be squeezing you, caging you into the circle of his arms unrepentant.

"We have a really good excuse to miss dinner," Spencer says.

He sounds close to tears. You're worse, laughing wetly as you pull him into the bathroom to take your test.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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k-hotchoisan · 13 days

Note

Hii Sunshine hope you doing well 🫶🏻💗If it’s convenient, can you write one where San is a black cat hybrid, in heat and needy but he is afraid to hurt y/n [my size kink is kicking in] but eventually he gets her ✨help✨??

pretty kitty 🐾

San is the prettiest kitty—even when he’s doing his best to hold back during his heat cycle when all he wants to do is to breed you over and over.

Genres/warnings: smut, pwp, kitty!san is in heat and he’s whiny 😫, size kink, breeding, cream pie, orgasms after orgasms, san just cannot get enough, oral (M receive), soft dom!san, biting, reader and san call each other kitty!

A/N: I’m back?????? and doing this as a little warm-up 😔 life has been overwhelming and my mental health has not been mental healthing unfortunately. I’m presenting this as my apology,, I hope everyone is doing well, and thank you for being patient with me, always <3

Word count: 2.8K

Tag list: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @interweab @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @ywtf @jeon-ify

Something is up with Choi San. Your hybrid feline partner has been exhibiting strange behaviours for the past week or so, at least, from what you noticed. Initially, it started with him snuggling against you, which was quite the common behaviour of him, but then you swore you heard him whimper softly from time to time. Then it escalated to him latching his blunt feline teeth against your skin, nibbling and licking you sometimes, leaving marks on your skin in his wake. It would have seemed like his usual behaviour, that is, until he suddenly started pulling away so suddenly, and he would spend most of his time locked away in his room. You wonder if you should interfere, but by then he would come out like nothing happened, wearing the pretty smile he always had before pressing kisses onto your forehead.

Well, you got your answer one night.

San is curled up against you as usual, his head on your chest, his arms wrapped around your waist, his tail swishing on the couch. His ears are perked up, as he tries to concentrate on the program running on the television.

But he can’t seem to. His eyes are gradually glazing out, his tail slowly pulling straight and his ears are slowly pointing to the front. San shuts his eyes when he feels your fingers brush against his dark locks, then scratching the back of his ears. He takes a shaky breath, biting his tongue in the process as his sensitivity climbs up in levels dangerously quick once more, evident by how much his pants are tightening at his crotch.

You feel your hybrid still and finally look down at San, wondering why he suddenly froze. Then you realise how pink his cheeks are getting.

“Sannie”, you call out. “Are you okay there?” Your hands press against his cheeks, and for a split second, you think he’s running a fever, which shoots panic right into your veins.

San only whimpers in reply, his ears are downcast, and he presses himself against you, rubbing slightly in any feeble attempt to relieve the discomfort, and his erection makes things slowly click in your head.

“I’m fine,” is all he’s able to mutter before he bites his bottom lip, drawing blood. He attempts to pull away before his dick starts to take over his brain, but your hands force him to stay seated beside you.

“Sannie”, you call out once more, trying to get the feline to focus. Your eyes dart to his pants, noticing the dark stain that’s beginning to pool on his pants.

“Are you in heat?”

San tries to blink away his tears, his hard cock starting to fucking hurt the more he’s just leaving it like that. He hates this funny feeling, like nothing can satisfy him no matter what he does. It’s not the first time he’s felt this way, and he hates how weird this all feels. San has always tried to be a considerate hybrid, showering you with so much love that he made it his life mission to suffocate you with it ever since you adopted him. He’s tried to suppress his ruts, deciding to take suppressants initially. It works, at least until the pharmacy had run out of stock for the month. Now, all that is flooding in his mind is how he wants you pinned under him, forced to take his cock deep in your pussy, and he’s driving him fucking nuts. He tells himself he can manage it, and he does his best, but fucking his fist can only hold him off for so long.

And now it’s his limit.

He knows you would say yes to help him and he detests the idea of hurting you, especially in a crazed frenzy that he’s unable to hold off and all he can think of is just holding you down and fucking you. Hard.

San breaks off eye contact, which is starting to tick you off. Your hands are now cupping his cheeks.

“I can take care of it myself”, San replies, trying to ignore the way his body feels like it’s ignited into flames whenever your touch lingers on him for a little too long.

“But it’s not working isn’t it?” You counter, which draws a frustrated expression from San. His body is tense, and it’s taking all of his strength to not pin you down and just take you on the couch right there and then. “You know it’s okay to ask me for help right?”

“I don’t wanna hurt you”, he mutters, his gaze dropping to the seat of the couch.

“And I know you won’t”, you reply, closing the distance between the both of you. San’s heartbeat quickens at the proximity and your words. He’s so enamored by the fact that you trust him that much, and it’s driving him fucking insane.

“It’s different when I’m not myself”, San attempts to counter once more, fighting with any remaining rational thought before it gets completely flushed out by his cock.

“What makes you think I can’t take it?” You ask rhetorically, and that makes San freeze in response. He parts his lips to say something but you cut him off-

“Come on, Sannie. You know I trust you with my body.”

He swallows hard, the remainder of his rationale dissipating when you’re already tugging the waistband of his pants, pulling the clothing off as his red and angry cock springs out, wet and thick with slick already.

It’s the not the first time you’re sucking him off, it’s not the first time San is gonna fuck you, but his cock just seems extra thick when he’s in heat.

Not that you were complaining.

Beads of perspiration trickle down San’s temples. He feels like his body is on fire right now—every area of skin your fingertips brush against is making him feel like he’s about to combust. He’s reminding himself to breathe and relax, but his heartbeat is doing otherwise.

And when he watches you taking his full length into his mouth, he barely holds himself together, the pleasure shooting up his veins when he feels your throat close and squeeze his cock. His hands reach out to the back of your head, and he’s doing his best not to just push you down and make you choke.

You hear his grunts slowly turn into whines, the way he gently squeezes his thighs against your head, and his toes are curled.

“T-that’s it. Fuck. Oh fuck! Deeper, deeper. Please”, San cries, unknowingly already pushing your head further down his cock, and he barely registers you gagging. But all you’re feeling is slick lubing your cunt and butterflies in your stomach from the way San is looking so desperate just to get off. It’s so fucking adorable.

You pull back, listening to the whines from San, watching the way the thick and white fluids bubble from his cock and leak down his shaft, while he watches you pull your shirt over your head, your tits bouncing slightly for his mouth to gape and for his eyes to fuck. You lower yourself back to his pretty dick, giving his shaft kitten licks from the bottom, San’s hands immediately tangling against your hair, pushing you impossibly close to his cock.

A few more teasing licks later, you finally take his cock in your mouth, your tongue running up and down the thick shaft while you bobbed your head, and San is grasping at any final ounce of sanity he has left. His moans are so desperate and pretty, and you’re soaking in the way he’s so tensed up as you’re pulling his orgasm closer to the surface. His tail is coiled tight against your arm.

“Cumming. Your mouth feels so fucking good—“, his words being cut off when his mind completely blanks out, washed in white as his cum seeps past your lips when his cock leaves your throat.

“You’re so fucking pretty when you cum, kitty”, you tease as you wipe your lips with a piece of tissue, not realising your partner is staring down at you with glazed eyes, that he’s barely satiated.

Before you could process anything, San’s thick arms wrap around your waist, then he fucking heaves you off the couch, and starts walking towards your shared bedroom.

You fall onto the bed, watching your feline partner’s pupils dilate, his tail now long straight, and his ears completely perked up.

San’s lips aim for yours, his kisses sloppy and desperate, his tongue going scavenging every corner of your mouth before he grazes his fangs against your lips and pulls back. You stare back at him with confusion hinted with a strange sense of eagerness. San doesn’t fuck you during his ruts often, mostly because he opts for the suppressants, but when he does…

He pulls the remainder of your clothes off you, swallowing hard while he fucks you with his eyes, especially at the way your pussy is just dripping for him, glistening with slick under the lights.

San leans in closer, his body weight pinning you underneath him as his cum stains your pelvic area, “No tapping out now, kitty.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer, because he lines his cock up with your cunt and pushes in, making you gasp at how fucking thick he is, even when he just cummed barely minutes before.

“You gotta relax for me, babe. Fuck. You’re so fucking tight”, he hisses, feeling your cunt stretching to accommodate him. You’re in awe—the switch between being desperate and domineering when San is in heat never ceases to amaze you. But you barely have time to let your thoughts manifest because San has your legs spread wide open for him, his thrusts pushing any wandering thoughts you have out of your head. He’s filling you up so good and full that you see a slight bulge pushing against your lower abdomen.

“S-San, you’re so fucking thick. Oh my fucking god”, you groan when you feel his cock drag against your plush walls before he plunges himself back in. It’s a tight squeeze for sure, but San isn’t relenting anytime soon, especially when the look of complete pleasure flooding his face is only making you even wetter. His eyes are growing wild. In between fucking, he’d lean in to leave pretty marks all over your neck and chest, uselessly reminding you who you really belonged to. He would whisper that you are so fucking pretty for him, covered in his pretty marks on top of completely ruining your pussy.

The more his cock hits your sensitive spots, the more your grip on reality slowly loosens, the only things you’re soaking in are the wet sounds of his cock making a pretty mess out of your pussy and the feeling of San so thick and heavy in you that stars start to flicker beneath your eyelids whenever you shut them.

San pulls back from your body momentarily—his cock still fitted into you—to get a better angle to fuck you in, pushing your knees closer to your chest, giving him the perfect view of your pussy completely drenched in cream and precum. And it gives him more access to hit even deeper parts of your poor cunt.

Your mind grows blank, mostly focus on trying to chase an orgasm that’s bubbling up to the surface. You watch the way San’s pretty ears are twitching, the way he clenched his teeth, his once blunt fangs now sharper the more he grows feral from fucking you. His cheeks that were once dusted pink now are flushed alongside his furrowed eyebrows. His eyes would roll back from the way your cunt squeezes him and it drives him to want to fuck you even more senseless.

“Sannie—“, you huff, trying to tell him, “I’m cumming. Don’t stop.” San stares down at you, his eyes reflecting adoration mixed with hunger. Your breath hitches when you feel it bubble at the surface—and it feels so fucking heavenly—you jerk slightly with a broken moan, your pussy fluttering while still full with San’s cock stuffed deep inside. Your hands fist the sheets, your thighs shaking, your toes curled from how mind-blowing it feels.

“So good. Gonna make a mess outta you”, the feline hybrid promises he presses himself against you, forcing you to hear him groan in bliss while warm cum spills and fills you up. He stills for a second or so, before he pulls out slowly, watching the way his cum slowly seeps out of your fluttering hole, and he swallows hard.

“Need more. Not enough”, San mutters, before he pushes his cock back in, forcing his cum to leak and spill onto your inner thighs. Your eyes are watering, fingernails clawing against San’s arm which he barely registers when he fits his full cock right into you one more time.

He grunts, voice so low right in your ears, and you can’t help but squeeze around him, on top of feeling overstimulated.

“W-wait—“, you jump, every nerve in your body still buzzing from your high. San meets your gaze, and you feel goosebumps on your skin when you feel his tail graze against your tummy.

“Like I said, no tapping out, not until I’ve bred you full”, San reminds you before he shifts positions—settling you on top of him. His hands shifting to squeeze your ass before he guides you to slowly sink onto his cock once more, the both you shakily exhaling, San’s cock twitching in you as he lets you adjust to him. Your cunt is wet and sticky, but he still fills you full all the same, now even deeper since you’re sitting on his dick.

“So full. Oh god. You’re so deep, Sannie”, you squeal when he presses the bulge on your lower abdomen once more, adding to the pleasure.

You lift yourself off and slowly bounce off his cock with San’s hands on your ass to guide you, although he is rather impatient with it. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a hug while he’s thrusting right into your cunt over and over, and it makes you tug against his hair and scratch the back of his ears, which pulls out a purr and another thrust up your cunt and a light nibble against your neck.

“You shouldn’t do that if you don’t want me to ruin your pussy”, San warns you along with a loud slap his palm impacts against your ass. You return his words with a cheeky smile before you bite against his ears gently, and he groans below you, his thrusts increasing in speed and as he fills you up with his cock every two seconds.

He pulls you down for a messy kiss, his breathing heavy. Then he pulls away, looking up at you, dripping with lust, entranced by how gorgeous his partner looks filled up with his cock. The feeling builds up dangerously in your stomach once more. You glance at San, his eyes are shut, soft grunts leaving his lips, his cock twitching in you once more, he’s at his limit too, it seems.

You tap his arm, and San’s eyes flutter open, staring back at you as his pupils dilate and his ears point forwards. The corner of his lips curl into a smile.

“Are you gonna cum for me again babe?”

You nod, biting the bottom of your lip, a broken cry leaving your lips when he pushes his hips upwards into you once more, ripping a moan out of you as white bursts and floods your veins, your cunt convulsing around his cock for the second time, making San hiss.

As you go down from your high, you interlock your fingers with San’s, keeping eye contact with him.

“You can let go, Sannie. You’ve been such a good kitty”, you hum, brushing his hair back, not forgetting to scratch the back of his ears, knowing that it drives him fucking nuts as San bares his fangs and bites onto your shoulder, his cock spurting even more white into your spent pussy. His eyes roll back when he pulls away from your shoulder, whines piling on whines when he seems like he’s spilling his cum into you endlessly.

As the snapped tension slowly dissipates, the both of you are left panting and catching your breaths. You giggle, breaking the short moment of silence, which San cocks an eyebrow, curious at your amusement.

“What are you laughing at, kitty?” He asks.

You stare at him for a couple of seconds, admiring his face. “Nothing. I was thinking of how pretty you look when you cum, kitty.”

San pouts at you, his face flushing from the shyness, and his retaliation comes in the form of biting your fingers. He gently lifts you off him, almost forgetting that his cock is still in you for second when he hears you whimper. But what definitely catches his attention is the amount of slick and thick white that trickles out of your pretty pussy, and San has to bite his inner cheek to hold his instincts from going a third round. He carries you to the bathroom, his tail swishing satisfied behind him, thinking about how baths aren’t so bad when you take them with him.

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez smut #smut #ateez fic #kpop smut #choi san smut #Choi san #choi san ateez #ateez choi san #choi san x reader

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catboyieejeno · 5 months

Text

sitting pretty : jaemin ꒰୨୧꒱

cw: jaemin x inexperienced (?) reader, pwp, established relationship, fem! reader, jaemin has a teeny bit of a corruption kink, explicit smut, size kink, mutual masturbation, unprotected sex, creampie, so many pet names, jaemin being so sweet wc: 2.6k

18+ minors do not interact!

you’re sitting at the foot of the bed in only the littlest shirt, snugly fit on your breasts, and a pair of soft, pink cotton panties. your feet are tucked under your bum and you’re slightly bouncing in anticipation. you’re being so good, despite the burning need that blossoms between your legs, and you know being good gets you rewarded. you haven’t checked, but from the way the material sticks to your center, it’s safe to assume you’ve pooled your underwear with your arousal.

jaemin, seemingly unphased, lies on his side facing you, head propped up straight on his hand so he can gawk at the way your nipples poke through your shirt. his eyes take in every bit of your skin, as they do every single time you’re on display for him, before his lips part slightly.

“you’re so stunning,” he murmurs, bringing your hand to his mouth so that he can press a kiss to your knuckles. a slight pout forms on your lips and your shoulders slouch slightly. this doesn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend, who blinks up at you in concern. “what’s wrong, doll?”

“why—” your eyes dart around as red spreads across your cheeks, “why won’t you… fuck me,”

“huh?”

“i mean…” you sigh, “if i’m so stunning, why don’t you ever fuck me…is it because you don’t want to?”

“oh, baby,” he coos, leaning up to hold your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “you have no idea how bad i want to. i was just getting you ready for me,” he gives you a soft kiss, which you return effortlessly, “don’t wanna hurt my pretty baby,”

“i can take it!” you assure him eagerly, sitting up straighter, “i want to take it, wanna make you feel good,”

he tuts as his dick jolts in his pants, your words riling him up more than you could begin to imagine; he doesn’t show it in his voice, though, which remains steady as he nods, “alright. let’s work up to it then, yeah?”

despite having made you come on his tongue and fingers a number of times before, he’s been adamant about not fucking you just yet. he’s been patient, caring, and gentle, in the bedroom and out of it, tending to your needs just how he knows you like it. truthfully, there’s nothing he wants more than to sink himself into the heaven that is your pussy, but he’s known from the first time he felt the grip of your walls around his fingers that his length simply would not fit in such a tight, little space.

he’s since had to resort to a form of size-training, something he didn't think he would enjoy nearly as much as he does. he takes great pleasure in the process of prepping you, though, sometimes even coming in his pants just from the sight of you all dazed and high off your fourth orgasm.

jaemin’s eyelids suddenly get oh so heavy, large hands trailing up your smooth thighs and finding solace on your hips when you crawl onto and settle down in his lap. your panties are pressed against your core, marking every curve of your folds. even if jaemin hadn’t seen your pretty pussy countless times before, he’s sure he could make out every detail just from the outline alone.

there’s a light blush on your cheeks when you wrap your entire hand around his index finger, drawing the digit up to your mouth to suck on it. a lazy smile falls on jaemin’s lips as he watches you—decidedly, if his little angel wasn’t so soft and fragile, he would’ve spun the two of you around and fucked you into the mattress from this action alone.

his focus is unfaltering as little mewls start leaving your puckered lips. your hips swivel, giving an experimental roll against his bulge, and you shudder at the feeling.

he watches eagerly as the material brushes against your cunt. when you repeat the action, it’s with a certain precision, and then you do it again, and again. at first, he thinks you’ve found the angle or spot that best stimulates your clit, but then, his eyes leave the area where your bodies meet and he notices in your curious expression that you are in reality, watching him. you’re trying to tease him, get him off… and god, is it working.

“jaemin…,”

“i know, sweetheart. let me help you,” he scoots you down his thighs just enough to pull his length free from his boxers, “we’re gonna try something first, to get you all nice and wet for me,”

“but i am wet for you,”

“patience, baby. i promise you’re gonna like this. said you wanted to make me feel good, right?” you nod, “so, give me your hand,” your obedience earns you a low hum of approval, and he molds your palm over the head of his dick. then, he gently moves aside your panties with his free hand to reveal your glistening folds. he brushes his thumb against it to collect some of the slick, all the while guiding your hand up and down his length. through tightened teeth, he instructs you, “I want you to match my pace, okay?”

“mhm,”

he releases your hand to hold your hip once more as his thumb begins slow, dragging circles on your clit. Instantly, he sees you shiver at his actions, and you pump his head slowly to fulfill his earlier request.

he takes care to spread your folds, listening intently for the sticky sound of your wetness squelching against his digit.

you do just as he asks, pumping quicker when his thumb speeds up, and slowing down as best as you can when he does the same. It’s torturous, the constant change in pace—the push and pull that brings you close to coming, then drags you away.

“such a good girl,” he praises, noticing your incessant pants. you’re writhing on his lap, grinding yourself into his hand in hopes of reaching your release. when he doesn’t make a move to go any faster, you take matters into your own hand, jacking him off. jaemin gasps, placing his hand over yours.

“those weren’t the rules, baby,”

“I don’t care,” you whine breathlessly, “just want your cum,”

he scoffs, peeling your hand off. his thumb continues to work you as he seethes, “you want my cum? think you can take it? then sit on it.”

“what?”

“you heard me. want my dick that bad? sit on it, angel.”

you consider his offer for a moment, then sigh out at the virtue of the pleasure he’s giving your bud right now. you need to come so bad, you have been so good—he’s teased you for so many days in a row and you haven’t complained once until now. despite the nerves bubbling in your stomach, you decide the prize of feeling him fill you up is much too tempting to pass up. If you could take three of his fingers, surely, you could take him, too.

with unsteady legs, you lift yourself up a bit, aligning yourself with his dick. the size of his length is much more intimidating all of a sudden, now that you know you’re moments away from sinking down on him. by the looks of it, it could easily reach your belly button. he notices your hesitation, but you bite back your concerns and gulp, refusing to cower now—jaemin would just torture you all over again. you’d never hear the end of it, taunts about how he knows what was best for you and how you should always listen to him. you had to do this, you wanted to.

you let out a shaky sigh slip past your lips as his tip pushes past your narrow entrance, squeezing your eyes shut at the burning stretch. your mouth forms an ‘o’, but no noise comes out. inch by inch, you sink lower, jaemin’s eyes trained fiercely on you to watch how far your stubborn tantrum will take you.

“how’s it feel, sweet girl?”

“good,” you reply through your teeth, even though in reality, it doesn’t feel good at all. It hurts, bad, and you keep your eyes shut so your boyfriend doesn’t see the way tears are welling up in them. but jaemin knows you too well, he notices your tenseness, your body rigid as you struggle to fit all of him. the hand rubbing your waist invites you to relax, but when your ass finally meets his thighs, his dick is so deep within you that it pushes against your cervix. you let out a shaky sob and his features soften.

“oh, angel.” he mumbles, sitting up gently. his hands fly up to hold your face, “look at me,”

“so—so big,” you hiccup.

“i know. i told you so, baby… it’s okay, you’re okay. d’you wanna stop?”

you quickly shake your head, gripping his shoulders, “no. i want you.”

“okay, okay,” he nods, “let me help you.” he practically cradles your shaking form and flips the two of you around slowly without pulling out, laying you on your back against the fluffed pillows of your bed.

“thought you wanted me to ride you,” you whimper, and he shushes you gently.

“i knew you wouldn’t be able to. just wanted to see how far you’d actually go, but i don’t want you to get hurt anymore, so we’re going to try it like this. if you need me to stop, you tell me and i will, okay?”

you nod clearly, and he sits back on his heels, keeping only his tip tucked within your walls. softly, he pushes in a bit, then draws back out, groaning at the feeling. when your face softens, he tries it again, until there’s no trace of discomfort on your features. this goes on for a bit, you taking two or three inches of him at most, until he pushes a bit further and you moan out.

“there we go. that wasn’t so bad, right?”

“feels so good now.”

with a kiss to the corner of your mouth, he pushes in again, though he doesn’t bottom out just yet. your pussy flutters around him and your muscles finally fully relax. then, and only then, when your features have become blissful, does he make a move to pick up speed.

you sigh out, gripping his arms “oh, my god,”

you’re so wet that his dick is glistening every time he pulls out, cunt gushing and squelching around him. he thrusts in deeper still, until finally, his balls hit your ass.

“you’re all the way in?”

“stuffing you full, baby.” he confirms.

“it feels so much better than when—” a moan interrupts you when he readjusts, “—than when i tried it,”

“i know. you wanna sit like this for a bit or do you—”

“no! I mean… move, please. i want you to move. It feels really good now, jaem, please fuck me,”

your sweet words make his balls tighten, and he happily obliges, staring to buck into you at his leisure.

this time, your whines are ones of certain pleasure, and you can’t help but wiggle your hips slightly to meet his thrusts. jaemin isn’t doing anything to hold back his sounds either, and every deep grunt and groan is going straight to your soaked core. there isn’t an ounce of pain left, besides the occasional stretch that at this point, feels delectable, rewarding even. the moment his thumb attaches to your clit again, the feeling in the pit of your stomach starts to grow.

“jaemin, baby—”

“taking me so well,” he mutters, “this pretty pussy is all mine, now. all for me to use as i please,”

the pleas that fall from your lips are borderline pathetic, humiliating even, but the way jaemin’s eyes take you in like you’re the most beautiful and delicate thing only encourage you to get louder. he fucks you faster and brings his hands up to lift your shirt up. your hand cups your own breasts over his and you cry out as he palms it, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

you undoubtedly enjoy his fingers and you fucking love his tongue, but this feeling is like nothing you’ve even felt before. you can feel every drag of his cock within your gummy insides, every time his tip kisses your cervix… the pressure continues building, so much so that your insides feel like they’re on fire.

“i’m–i–i think i’m gonna—” the quiver in your voice matches up with your shaking legs, ankles locking around your boyfriend’s waist.

“please come on my dick, sweetheart. shit—need to feel you coming around me,” his voice is tight, and you can tell he’s not far off from his own release. with the way your legs keep him close, it dawns on him that he can't pull out, “baby, loosen up,” he taps your leg, “i can’t hold off much longer with the way you’re milking me,”

“come inside me,”

his hips stutter and he blinks down at you, “what?”

your curled, tear-coated lashes flutter at him and his thumb wipes some drool from the corner of your lips as you plead him, “want your cum inside me, please,”

jaemin picks up his pace again, and his thumb rubs your puffy clit until you gasp, brows pinching and heat rushing to your cheeks. your pussy convulses around him as you come, gripping any bit of him. his wrist, his arms, his shoulders, his hair—all of them take turns being clutched in your fists as you slur his name, chanting ‘please’ and ‘don’t stop.”

“good girl. good fucking girl,”

it doesn’t take long for you to register his load filling you up just moments later, the warm seed coating his dick in a ring of white as his thrusts slow, the only sound left in the room being the pants from both of you. your legs go limb, unwrapping from around him, but he doesn’t move to pull away; instead, he collapses on top of you, but keeping his head up so he can press his lips to yours in a sweet kiss.

“was that okay?”

“more than okay,” you reply breathlessly.

his strokes your hair calmly, waiting until you’ve recovered before slipping out of you and crawling off the bed. A moment later, he’s returned with a glass of water which he hands you, and a towel. slowly, in case you were any kind of sore, he spreads your legs, the sight making him laugh.

“what’s wrong?” you ask after taking a long drink, leaning up on your elbows to look.

“nothing in the slightest. m’just admiring,”

“oh,” you hum.

aftercare from jaemin is always great, but there’s something different about today—about the way he dabs at you softly with the warm towel, leaving trails of kisses on the plush of your inner thighs, that causes your heart to leap in your chest. when you’re clean, and kissed to his satisfaction, he places the towel aside and grabs a clean pair of panties from your drawer to slide up your legs.

new boxers clothe him, too, and then he grabs your cup and places it on the bedside table before crawling under the sheets beside you. instantly, you nuzzle your face into his neck and he wraps his big arms around you, tucking you close.

“does anything hurt?” he whispers, lips pressed against your head.

“a little sore, i think.”

“1-10?”

“hmmm…” you turn to look up at him as you ponder, meeting his pretty eyes, “maybe a 4,”

“my poor baby,” he mumbles, “i’m sorry,”

“don’t be,” you kiss him, “i’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.”

his lips chase yours and he smiles, “yeah? round two?” your eyes widen like saucers and he laughs, “i’m only joking, doll.”

“after a little nap, i’ll be good as new.” you beam, “maybe then, i can try riding you,”

“patience, baby… we have to ease into that,”

with a roll of your eyes and a grumble of “you and easing into things, jaemin, i swear–” you lay your head on his chest once more and drift off as he plays with your hair.

‹𝟹

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astarionslittletreat · 8 months

Text

Sunrise

Astarion x female reader/Tav

Rating: Explicit

You must be 18 years or older to interact with this post in any way

Word Count: 5.7k

Tags: smut, slight end game spoilers, Astarion good ending spoilers, mentions of past abuse/abuser, sex, piv sex, oral sex, cuteness, fangs, biting, over-stimulation, bleeding, blood, blood drinking

Summary: Astarion and the reader share an intimate morning together as they contemplate their past, present, and future together.

Read on AO3

It's the early hours of dawn, just before sunrise. The sky was deep purple just an hour ago, but now it’s transforming into shades of indigo and blue. A faint glow threatens to spill over the city walls, to wash away the final vestiges of night. It's been a while since you've greeted the sun like this, not that you never see her at all anymore. After all, if something needs done during the daylight, you take care of it without issue. But that's all business. Just fleeting glances as you move through the crowded streets of Baldur's Gate. This right now, during the quiet hours of dawn, this is pleasure. This is you waking, nude, on the forest floor after your first night with Astarion. This is the sun’s rays warming your bodies before the two of you sneak back into camp. This is Astarion’s eyes glinting in the light, like that shared goblet of Arabella Dry at the Tiefling party.

Your heart yearns for the sun like you yearn for the past. You see your small smile reflected in the window as you continue to watch the sky change. A dozen-dozen heartbeats pass, and then the soft golden honey of the morning sun caresses the rooftops of the city, before spilling down onto the streets below. The heartache in your chest fades to nothing as the sun fully crests the horizon to kiss your face, a mere phantom in comparison to what you have now. The moment is over for you. You’ve had your fill and you begin to feel the fingers of sleep coaxing you to rest.

“Do you miss it, darling?" Astarion calls out to you from your bed, well out of view from the sun. "The daylight that is.”

Untying your silk robe, you let the soft fabric slip from your shoulders to pool at your feet. Both the sun and your lover lovingly gaze at your sun dappled curves. "It's strange," you muse, holding your hand up as if to catch the morning light. "I have so many memories of you in the sun, but no. You're the only thing I ever miss." You take a few moments, eyes squinting through the brightness to watch the people begin to fill the streets before pulling the heavy curtain firmly close. “And besides–” You turn to your love. He’s artfully draped himself, nude, across the plush pillows that adorn your bed. A deliberate attempt at making himself look all the more enticing. “How could the sun ever hope to compete with my dear Astarion’s beauty?”

He beams at your compliment, practically preening at the attention. Reaching out, he proffers his hand for you to take. It fits neatly in his as you let him pull you, gently leading you back to bed, back to him. It's a gallant gesture as your eyes readjust to the darkness of the room. A yawn begins to creep its way up and you only just manage to stifle it as Astarion draws your back to his chest. His pale, strong arms wrap around you as he presses you close, holding you tight. There weren't any cuddles the first night, or in the weeks that followed as you let him feed on you, but back then there wasn't anything real between you at all. Just lies and illusions and unending uncertainty. But somehow, by some miraculous blessing, you were able to earn his trust, just as he earned yours.

“Now you know that’s not what I meant, darling.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek. “Though, please continue to remind me of how beautiful I am. Your words almost make up for how useless mirrors are to me.” You hear the smirk in his tone alongside the underlying truth. Uncertainty. As much as Astarion tries to hide his past pain, to pretend he’s fine and not hurting, you know the scars will never truly leave. Even after death, Cazador still manages to find a way to torture Astarion, and it drives you fucking insane with rage. It takes you a moment to collect your feelings. There’s no room for this in the bedchamber, or in your heart. Anger and sorrow will do nothing but more harm and that’s the last thing you wish to bestow upon Astarion. All he wants–all he needs is an answer to the question he left unasked. It's not difficult for you to understand. He wants to make sure you don’t regret your decision to stay with him–worried that he’s not enough. He’s worried if this is what you truly want. That he’s not trapped you, or worse, that you’re staying with him out of some fucked up feeling of guilt or pity. He won’t admit that he’s terrified of hearing your answer even if he knows in his heart what it’ll be. That’s why he doesn’t ask what he really wants to know. That’s why he wears his mask of smiles as he plays with your hair between his dexterous fingers. He’s content to pretend, but there’s no way you can leave him like this. Just floundering inside his heart while he holds you in his arms. For the briefest moment you’re almost tempted to fall asleep like this. Wrapped in Astarion’s embrace, snuggled peacefully in your bed together, but you know that after all this time, a part of Astarion still seeks your assurance.

“I miss it, the sun, the people, our friends–” Astarion freezes, as still as a statue, and suddenly the room feels cold. His muscles jerk in a way that alludes to him not knowing whether or not to pull away or hold you tighter. Reluctant to let you slip away from him, he’s afraid that this will be the last time he has to hold you. Silly elf. “But it’s not in the way you think, my love. It’s purely nostalgia. I was just reminiscing about our early days. When we first met, when we first had sex, traveling together, and unsure which day was going to be our last." Your mind drifts, gravitating to fonder memories. “The first time we made love. Your grave. I–,” The threat of tears begins to rise in your throat so you cut yourself off. Again, there is no sadness in you. Just the overwhelming feeling of love for Astarion. Of feeling like you’ve found the place you both belong.

"I wouldn’t stop you, darling. I won’t keep you here, all for myself, if that is something you no longer wished for. If you ever–do decide you've had enough of me. Or even if you could no longer stand to spend your waking hours in the cold night. I would understand."

"Astarion!" The incredulity in your tone is a good mockery of Astarion’s own frequent ostentatiousness. He’s gone too far. This line of teasing isn’t any fun and, truthfully, it hurts to imagine leaving after striving so hard to live your life together. After ensuring your love is real, and strong, and brighter than any sunrise you could imagine. You move to chastise him quickly, turning in his arms as best you can to face him. Pressing your palms to his chest, you glower, face set into an angry scowl before you realize. His red eyes are overflowing with sorrow and self-loathing. And all at once, your anger melts into nothing. “My love,” you whisper as you press chaste kisses to the shadows under his eyes, and even though you’re the one being held, you wrap your arms around Astarion’s neck to bring him close. Your bodies move instinctually, the embrace being frequent and familiar as Astarion rests his lips against your neck. You card your fingers through his silky curls. There’s no intention of feeding at the moment, though. It’s just the two of you basking in your gentle love, relaxing into the moment.

“Do you remember, before making it back to Baldur’s Gate together, that godforsaken shadow cursed land we had to traverse?”

“Shit, don’t remind me.” Astarion scoffs, pulling back to look at you. His eyes roll in mirth, fangs flashing from behind his lips. “I know our dear Shadowheart was right at home with all the doom and gloom, and while I too am a fan of darkness and the macabre–I prefer to be the only creature lurking in the night, hunting for their next meal. That entire place was far too crowded for my tastes.”

“Not to mention Raphael, or the horrors of the Cult of the Absolute,” you trivialize in jest.

Astarion leans in close. His soft lips brush over the sensitive skin of your neck as he speaks. “Or that vile drow who sought to use me because of what I am.” The venom in his voice is dampened by the reverence in the kiss he places on your neck. “There is only one person I feed on and I have her right–here.”His hand is in your hair, his breath is hot on your neck, and your heart is suddenly choking you, pounding in your throat. His fangs barely scrape your skin and you know that you only have to say the word–.

“Yes,” you breathe. There’s never any pain. Just a light pressure as Astarion’s fangs sink softly into your flesh, and then a swooping sensation as your blood is being pulled to his lips. The familiar feeling of lightheadedness begins to return. It’s nothing light that first night. No, this is controlled, worshipful even as he savors your blood on his lips and tongue. You don’t need to tell him to stop before your fingers go numb and your heart flutters in protest. He’ll stop long before there’s any danger, no matter how much he may tease otherwise. It’s easy to relax and go limp, trusting Astarion fully as he cradles your body reverently.

Far too soon Astarion stops feeding from you. “Delicious,” his moan makes you shiver. Blood begins to slowly trail from your twin puncture wounds, painting your neck crimson. Astarion isn’t one to waste a precious gift that you offer so freely to him, however. He makes quick work of the mess. Devouring it all until it’s just his tongue on your skin, traveling the length of your neck, chasing the way your body shivers. Overwhelmed from the unique mixture of pleasure and pain that makes your head spin and your body hot. Gods, you love this man. He’s so, he’s just so, so–

“W–wait. Astarion, wait,” you weakly plead for his attention, grabbing at his shoulder. You feel him smile before scraping his teeth on your skin, refusing to stop. The devious vampire did this on purpose and he knows he’s been caught red-handed, or well, rather red-lipped as he continues to playfully bite at you. Astarion just hums into the curve of your neck, refusing to acknowledge that he’s been found out. “Hey!” You laugh defeatedly as Astarion kisses the shell of your ear. “Stop trying to distract me!”

Astarion’s lips find your jaw before traveling over your cheekbones. You close your eyes and he places kisses there as well before finding your mouth. Trying his very best to lure you into parting your lips for him. “I rather think you’re the distracting one, my dear.”

“I’m trying to tell you something and I want you to listen, please.” Glaring, you hold his red gaze in yours and his perfect, bloodstained lips fall into a pout that’s just a little too perfect. Another ploy. Your head is still slightly spinning, but through sheer force of will you begin to collect your thoughts. The need to kiss away his frown, however sly it might be, is strong, but he needs to hear what you have to tell him. “As sad and as miserable as that entire place was–if for some reason that’s where you were, where Astarion decided to be, I would also–”

“You mustn't worry about that, darling. I wouldn’t be caught dead, or rather, undead in a place like that ever again.”

“Hush,” You try to quiet him by pressing your fingers to his lips. A poor decision in hindsight as Astarion instantly kisses them. Running his tongue along your fingertips, trying his hardest to distract you once more. “Stop! Listen–just wait a second. I’m trying to be sweet to you.”

“Oh, I know exactly just how sweet you are.” Astarion’s voice drops as he slips into seducing you. “So much so that I rather think I’d like another bite.”

“Yes, yes. I know. Your “little treat”.” Reclaiming your fingers from Astarion’s greedy mouth, you cup his too handsome face. Willing him to listen to you. “The only thing I wish for in life, in death, in whatever time I’m given, is to be with you. Wherever and however I can. I love you and never once have I regretted my love or wished it away.” You’ll tell him of your love every second of every day if that’s what it takes. If that’s what makes him smile like this, dazzling and warmer than anything the sun has ever graced you with. You stretch your head up and kiss him. You kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. You kiss him until the need for air demands your attention and you break free to refill your lungs.

Astarion rests his forehead to yours, curly locks obscuring his hungry gaze underneath, as he catches his breath. Your chests heave in unison, breathing life into the fiery tension blazing between your bodies. One moment you’re both still, wrapped in each other's embrace, and the next the room spins as Astarion wraps a leg around your hip, rolling you until you lay on your back. He’s straddled your hip, pinning you underneath. His eyes are hungry as he looms over you, his disheveled curls haloing him in the dim light. Astarion drags a hand down your collarbone, delicately tracing the veins under your skin before gently cupping your breast. A flick of his wrist has you gasping as he plays with your nipple. You can’t help but thrust your hips up, seeking the attention that Astarion is teasing. He ignores your silent plea, stilling his hand until you follow suit.

“You’re not playing fair.” You halfheartedly complain, willing your body to calm.

“I never promised that I would, my sweet.” You don’t know what god or goddess you should pray to to thank them for bringing you Astarion, but you’re a devout believer. “Now stay still, or I might bite.” He flashes his fangs at you. It’s not a real threat. He’d never actually bite you without your consent, but the tease still sends shivers down your spine. Coursing through your body until they land, pulsing deeply in your cunt. Astarion leans forward, an illusion of a predator cornering their prey. His soft cock begins to harden as he cups your face in both of his hands. Cradling you as if you’re something breakable, something precious. Astarion swipes his thumb across your cheek as he stares into your eyes–as if it’s the first time he’s seen the sunrise. “I love you.”

Astarion pounces, taking you down with a devastatingly deep kiss. If kisses were ambrosia you’d have been drunk ages ago. And still you want more. You need more of him. His heart, his touch, gods above, you need his cock that’s pressed between your thigh and his abdomen, but Astarion refuses to stop kissing you or to move into a more accessible position. He slides his tongue into your mouth, licking you open until you writhe and squirm with a need that burns so hot it overpowers your senses. But even still, Astarion doesn’t relent. He presses on, moving from your mouth back down to your throat where he begins to suck bruises to your sensitive skin. Out of pure desperation, you grasp at his back until your fingers graze his scars before moving to grip his shoulders. You clutch him to you just as passionately as he kisses you. It takes everything inside of you not to bust and fade away into the Weave as Astarion uses his weight to keep you pinned to the bed. His lips move from your throat and for one solitary second you think he might give you what you need, but no. Instead, he works his way along your jaw, tracing you with his mouth until he finds the place under your ear that drives you wild.

“Fuck–please! Astarion—” His cock, hard and weeping now, rests on your stomach. Pressed between your bodies as Astarion rolls his hips. Clenching, you feel your arousal dripping out to stain the sheets below. You’re wet, so unbearably wet and empty and aching for him to fill you. You’re pleading and your moans do nothing to sway the elf, though you know the bastard hears you. His pointed ears twitch as you cry out for him, but he continues to hold you down. Unwilling to pull back even an inch to separate himself from you. You manage to angle your arm just enough to get a solid handful of his hair, and begin to pull. Slowly but firmly enough that his head raises just enough to make eye contact, and as you do, you feel his cock throb with need. He likes this.

“Oh fu–ck!” Astarion’s shameless cry comes out sticky sweet from his throat, Adam’s apple quivering prominently. He sounds drunk. He looks it too. The expression on his face is close to ecstasy before you accidentally lose your hold on his hair. Too turned on and thoroughly debauched to be able to concentrate on keeping your grip. Not when he shifts his hips to create a delicious friction between your slick pussy and his engorged cock. You chase the feeling, grinding against him as best you can, but to no avail. You’re still pinned beneath him. Hips and thighs locked. Both you and Astarion are reduced to base instincts as his rigid cock slides over your clit once more before contact is lost. This isn’t fucking working. You’re only briefly aware of the pillows being pushed to the floor, shoved away by Astarion to make better room for your head, before his hand reaches down. He shifts and forces your leg over his hip. He’s a man consumed by desire. His need for you.

Astarion hovers over you, his crimson eyes piercing you through your heart as you reach for him, aiming to pull him back down for another taste of his ambrosia lips. Instead he captures your hand in his and pulls it to his bloodstained mouth. He sweeps gentle kisses over your knuckles before intertwining his fingers with yours and pins it to the mattress. His other hand finds your thigh, grasping tightly before guiding your knee to your chest. Opening and exposing your pussy for him to slide his cock against your entrance. “That’s it darling,” he encourages you. Praising you as he slides against you, slowly dragging his cock along your wet slit. The head of his cock catches, and without hesitation, Astarion presses in. It’s blissful and devastating as Astarion finally fucking fills you. Sliding in on one long stroke to fully seat you on his cock. He doesn’t pull out, just gently grinds against you. His smooth skin and throbbing cock caressing you until your breath leaves. Whisked away by your lover, leaving you with blurry vision and a spinning room. “Now, now. We can’t have that.” Astarion rolls his hips, wonderfully grinding against your folds and bringing friction that your clit so desperately desires. The sensation makes you gasp, forcing you to gulp down air, reminding you that you’re here–now. Very much alive and not in heaven, no matter how much it feels like you are.

“Astarion–”

You’re not sure if he’s listening. Flaming eyes and a silent snarl are all that he gives you besides a deep guttural moan as he continues to fuck you. It’s slow and brutal and entirely different from any performance he puts on. This isn’t Astarion trying to pretend to be anything other than the vampire–the man that he is. Desperate and extraordinarily dangerous as he claims you for himself. Your orgasm taunts you. Haunting you from the edges, and you want it so fucking bad, but you also couldn’t care any less. It’s now, it’s this moment, it’s Astarion who holds your attention in his iron grasp. Ruining you with his love. You hear the wet sounds of your pussy as he fucks into you. Pushing more of your arousal out of your cunt with his cock. He lets go of your hand and leans in close, snaking his arm under the small of your back. Using his vampiric strength, Astarion pulls on you, just enough that your hips shift to a new glorious angle. One that has him hitting a spot that makes you go feral underneath him as his pelvis grinds against your clit on every stroke. He keeps his other hand firmly under your knee, pushing your leg into a position that stretches your hips. It all feels so fucking good.

Astarion’s taut, muscular body moves over you. He’s graceful even now as he holds you, fucking you rhythmically. You clench around him, wordlessly asking him for more, and he raises his head. Fangs snapping in the air, muscles tensing in his neck as Astarion tries hopelessly to hold on to his senses. A half-baked idea forms in your dazed brain. You don’t stop to think it through, you can’t. You just act, throwing your arm around Astarion’s neck, pulling him close until you have him right where you want him. You sink your blunt teeth into the side of his neck. Your vampiric imitation pales in comparison to the true thing. Only biting hard enough to bruise his delicate moonlight skin. The moment you bite down on Astarion’s neck, you feel his cock throbbing inside of you. His breath hitches in your ear as you press your tongue against his skin and a soft moan escapes his lips.

“Fuck–” he growls through gritted fangs. Dropping your leg, Astarion moves his hands to the curve of your hips. Holding on tight, and pinning you down as you continue your mock feeding. “Fancy yourself a vampire now, darling?” You bite down harder in agreement and Astarion melts in your arms. Moaning as you claim him as yours in return. “I think not,” he protests, and for a second you think it’s an empty threat. It feels like he’s close, like he’s struggling to keep from falling over the edge. That is until he starts to move again, fucking your pussy like a goddamn promise. “I’m the only blood sucker you’ll find in this bed, darling, and I’m going to eat you right up.” Before you know what’s happened, Astarion has hold of both your legs, knees propped over his strong shoulders. He circles your aching clit with his thumb as he savagely fucks you. Tits bouncing from the force, sliding you up the bed on every thrust. You feel the spit that streaks your lips as you gasp out for him. It’s too intense–too much all at once. You try to hold on, to stop your orgasm from slamming into. Astarion gives you a saccharine smile. "You sound so adorable when you're trying not to come."

You beg.

You curse.

You come.

Gushing on his cock, your body is electrified, and you fall. Blood rushes in your ears so loudly you can’t hear anything. Your senses thrust you into a burning pit of pleasure as Astarion forces you down further. Spiraling until you find yourself caught, supported in Astarion’s arms. An uncomfortable wetness coats your legs and part or Astarion’s stomach but you can’t find the motivation to care because somehow, he’s still moving. He's held on long enough to fuck you through you orgasm. Giving your pussy long, even strokes as he chases his high. His ethereal face is close and so you take him with your lips. Kissing him, licking his fangs, until you feel his cock pulsing, overfilling you until his spend leaks out from around his cock. Adding to the mess.You feel like you’re floating. Exhausted, yes, but happy and ready to sleep. The mess will keep till nightfall when it’s time to wake, but Astarion shows no sign of slowing.

“No, my love. You're doing so well for me, but I’m not done with you yet.” Grabbing a pillow from the floor, Astarion cups your head, lifting it for you to place the cushion underneath before tenderly laying you back down. He slides down your body, lavishing you with attention. Forcing you to stay in the present with him by kissing your dips and curves. Any place he finds on your body he marks it for himself. Kneeling between your legs he softly coaxes you open. His spent cock rests half hard but bobs in excitement as he spreads the lips of your soaked pussy, licking his lips like he's being presented with a feast in his honor. The air from the room feels cold and uncomfortable on your wet entrance, covered in the sticky slick remnants of your lovemaking. It makes you clench involuntarily and more of Astarion leaks out of you. Astarion looks ruined at the sight of you. His perfect features contort into agonized lust before he leans in.

“Wait! No I’m too–” He doesn’t listen. Astarion leans down and wraps his lips around your mound. You can’t help the way your body jerks at the first swipe of his tongue on your oversensitive pussy. He’s cleaning the mess he's made of you. His sharp fangs are hot pinpricks on your skin that further blur the line of pleasure and pain you’re walking down. Another swipe of Astarion’s tongue has you twisting, kicking your legs to pull away. You move higher up on the bed, willing space for your body to recover. “Please, I need a minute. ”

Astarion reaches up, catches your ankle in his firm grasp, and pulls. His strength makes it look easy as he drags you, clutching at the traitorous bed sheets in desperation, to his parted lips. “I said I’d eat you up darling, and frankly, I’m still absolutely famished.” His voice is gravel but yours is fire as he begins to eat his fill of you. This time you’re unable to pull away. He’s wrapped his arms around your thighs, locking your cunt to his mouth so he can eat you like a piece of fruit that drips down his lips and chin. Saccharine sweet and delicious as Astarion consumes you. Fucking you with his tongue. Licking your nectar coated skin and sucking you between his teeth.

You lack any leverage to fight back, to twist away. Your entire lower half is being held up off the bed by the vampire feasting on your pussy. If you sincerely asked for him to let you go, to set you back down you know he would, but you can’t force yourself to say the words. You don’t want to. You want this. Astarion knows you want this as you gasp, muscles clenching while he sucks your clit between his lips. His breath is hot flames that lick along your scorched nerves. “That’s it, love. You can give me one more, can’t you darling.”

Yes, you think, or maybe you agree out loud because you hear Astarion chuckle before kissing his praise into cunt. For a second you’re confused as he pulls back again, wondering why he’s stopped. But then Astarion adjusts his grip on you, making sure your leg is solidly hooked over his shoulder, before he slides two fingers into your pussy. “Ah! P-please,” you’re not sure what you’re asking for, but Astarion gives it to you all the same. Scissoring his fingers, he strokes your cunt. Gently trying to coax out your pleasure, caressing your insides until you sing. his lips find your folds once more. His devastating accuracy brings you over the edge in moments. You’re left gasping, head spinning as the position Astarion holds you in makes it hard to breathe. It takes him a few moments, his lips busy kissing your pussy, his tongue lapping your mess, before he eases you back down into the ruined silk sheets. His mouth finds yours and you taste yourself on his lips, bitter in comparison to how thoroughly sweet he’s being.

You feel dazed–and elated. Your body floats somewhere between the heavens and the earth. Entwined together with Astarion who holds you close, refusing to let you go, but you don’t mind. His skin, though warm, is still much cooler than yours. It feels wonderful as your heartbeat begins to slow, your breathing returning to normal. Turning your head just so brings Astarion’s lips back to yours and the easy kisses you share almost bring tears to your eyes. Blinking them away is easy though as Astarion deepens the kiss, parting your lips so gently you don’t realize what’s happening at first. Not until you feel Astarion shifting his hips to slide his engorged cock along your entrance once more. You part easily for him, sending shivers of over-stimulation mixed with desire through every limb. There is no rush this time. Just a few languid strokes that have you gasping into Astarion’s mouth before he stills. Even while kissing you, you can see the smirk on his face as he allows you to adjust to holding him inside. Laying there together, connected in the deepest sense. Warming each other with limbs and lips entangled. “What the hell has gotten into you?” You don’t really expect an answer from Astarion as he seems to be preoccupied with lavishing attention across your collarbone.

“I’ve decided to reclaim the day for myself. It’s what I’m owed,” he sulks, looking up at you through his pretty eyelashes, but you can hear the sincerity behind his words. Yes. Yes, Astarion is owed the day. The sun. That and so much more, but not all of it is within your power to give. But this–this you can do. His ruby eyes sparkle in the candlelight as they dance along your face. Your answering smile stuns him into silence.

*************************

The sun has long since set as you stifle a yawn. Nostalgia returns once more. It’s been ages since the night meant it was time to rest, but the elf who’s at fault for keeping you up all day looks positively happy. So you let your complaints remain silent as you gaze at your lover. A heavy tomb rests in his lap and a gold chalice clutched in his delicate hand is filled with either wine or blood. You can’t tell from your position across the room. Reluctantly, you glance back down to the delicately looping script on the thick parchment in front of you. The letter is from Gale, back in his tower in Waterdeep. You’ve been trying to read it for the last half hour, but Astarion is just, so distracting. Honestly, anything could distract you from Gale going on about his Tressym, but Astarion seems to be especially good at it. That is until your eyes catch a few words that make you excited.

“Astarion.”

“Yes, darling?” He answers, eyes slow to leave the pages of his book.

“How would you feel about visiting with Gale for a bit?”

Astarion doesn’t try to hide the disinterest on his face at all as he turns his attention back to his reading. “No.”

“It’s just that–wait. No?” His answer takes you completely off guard. “What do you mean no?”

He heaves a sigh into his book. “I suppose if he were to come here that would be fine with me, but I’m far too busy this evening to travel all the way down to the Lower City just to visit with Gale.”

“Busy?” you laugh. “What do you have planned that makes you “too busy” to see a friend?”

“First of all,” he interjects. Head raising until he adopts a pose of self-importance. “‘Friend’ is much too strong of a descriptor for my relationship with that wizard. At most we are merely,” his graceful fingers swirl about until he finds the words he’s searching for, “–former work associates at best.”

“Oh is that so?” you say, smiling up at the hill you know Astarion is about to come down from.

“And besides, what if I get a bit peckish later tonight?” He pouts, coyly looking up at you through his eyelashes. “Neither one of us would like Gale around for that.”

“Well you’re being very greedy tonight, and I can’t say I don’t like it either,” you shoot him a look before unburying the lead. “But Gale isn’t in Baldur’s Gate, love. He’s invited us to his tower in Waterdeep.”

“Why would we travel all the way to Waterdeep just to see Gale fawn over his cat?”

You hold out the thick parchment letter with Gale’s elegant handwriting for him to look over. “Apparently, Gale and Tara have a lead on a cure for your sun sensitivity–” Astarion is out of his seat, book falling heavily to the floor, and by your side in an instant. He snatches the letter from your hand, reading Gale’s words for himself. You put on an air of indifference. “But if you really don’t want to go visit an old ‘work associate’, I understand.”

“Now now now, my love. Let’s not be hasty.” You roll your eyes. “Gale is a dear friend of ours! And I hear that Waterdeep is beautiful this time of year, not as beautiful as I am, of course, but that would be expecting far too much I suppose.” You let Astarion read on, absorbing the message for himself. “Well,” he says as he reaches the end, signed with your friend’s love. “It seems our wizard has been busy. Very busy, if he has a possible solution for you too.”

“I’m not worried about that just yet, but it’s nice to know I might be able to stick around longer than I thought possible.” Astarion caresses your cheek, allowing you space in the same way you provide for him. “I think I’m ready for another adventure though. It’s been a while since anyone’s tried to murder us. What do you think, love?”

He bends down, placing a soft kiss on your lips. “I’m ready to have some fun,” he smiles. Fangs and all.

#astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate astarion #baldur’s gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate #reader insert #fanfic #astarionslittletreat #astarion ancunin

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cocosummer · 7 months

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sum: you're getting double teamed by zhongli and neuvillette while they're in heat.. have fun :]

a/n: i tried something new with this one, please lmk if you liked it!

pairing: zhongli x gn!reader x neuvillette

cws: sub + bottom!reader, established polyamorous relationship, tongue fucking, creampie, major size difference (because dragons big), desperate dragons in heat, slight degrading at one point, possessiveness

<< minors and ageless blogs dni! >>

you sat in place, feeling the muscles of two serpentine tails tensing and relaxing as they coiled around you. the surrounding air of the nest was warm and dense with the longing breaths of dragons. dragons in heat.

your mates.

since the former archon, zhongli, had come to spend more time with you and neuvillette in fontaine, it seemed that his and neuvillette’s mating cycles had.. synced up? you weren’t exactly sure of the details. all you knew was that your two dragon partners were having to share the same nest and the same mate, while their heats made them increasingly territorial and needy. and it’d caused them to need to.. re-evaluate some terms in your group contract.

“um.. have you two decided on anything?” you watched the two dragons conversing in hushed tones, sometimes snarling, sometimes glancing over at you with a visible need, before continuing their discussion. surely they had reached some sort of conclusion as for what to do with you by now..?

zhongli turned from neuvillette to flash you a hazy smile, a quick departure from the zhongli of just a moment ago. “i believe so, my dear.”

though he would never willingly hurt you or neuvillette, he could be quite the unpredictable character during his heat; if his mere survival of and achievements during the archon war were anything to show for it, he was more than the kindly, strangely knowledgeable yet somewhat ditzy secretary of the wangsheng funeral parlor that many knew him as. he dipped down from where he had been looming aside neuvillette and muttered a short, “if you’d allow me,” before nudging his snout at your thighs. his jaw parted slightly to let his pink tongue flick over his mouth, giving you a glimpse of his long, yellowed fangs.

his rolling mane was soft and ticklish as he settled over you. “i allow you,” you parroted slowly, and the geo dragon spared you a brief, doting look with bleary golden eyes, before he dove in for more.

you immediately felt yourself clenching up as his warm tongue squeezed between your cheeks to lap at the rim of your hole, stretching it out for him to use as he pleased. you could feel his jaw working under you, the rough scales on his muzzle rubbing against your legs as you instinctively started grinding against him. he let out a deep, resounding groan that shook the air as you started to ride his face.

and you were not unaware of monsieur neuvillette’s eyes on you. the hydro dragon followed your movements with blown out, iridescent eyes as you bounced on zhongli’s snout. his glossy jaws were parted, with dribblets of saliva starting to dangle like ice crystals from his lip, and his jaw hung lower each time zhongli’s tongue slipped deeper into you. each time you snapped your hips, and rolled them back to draw zhongli in further. you figured they really must have agreed on something, because as much as neuvillette seemed to want to jump in and lap you up himself, he stayed put in his corner of the nest.

“neuvillette?”

your sweet voice had him bristling where he sat, as if it were a siren’s song, and he was the all too eager sailor about to rush into the throes of the ocean at your beckon call. though something seemed to have penetrated his heat-driven state of mind, giving him pause for a moment; he sank unceremoniously back into place. “um, we’ve agreed to.. take turns.”

“..oh..”

meanwhile, something in zhongli seemed to have snapped. overwhelmed with the scent of you, his tongue rasped more aggressively. he started fucking his tongue deeper and faster into your hole, as if it was him who needed to cum.

some part of you had to wonder if this was his way of guiding your attention back to him. though you couldn’t focus on much else besides the arousal building in your gut.

the forked tongue stirring in your insides, with plunging, circular motions that encouraged what felt like a tight coil in your gut to turn loose. the dogged look neuvillette was giving you as he waited, a voyeur watching his partner as you tensed and shook. zhongli’s name squeezed out of your pretty lips, and a sparse hovel of grey clouds formed over his crested head, though no water fell; with his jaw taut and his eyes bleary, his frilly ‘paws’ tucked under his chest, you decided morose longing was a beautiful look on him.

at some point you couldn’t hold back any more; trembling and tensed, you spurted cum down your legs, drenching the geo dragon’s beautiful, stone-coloured scales. though it wasn’t that way for long; you felt zhongli shift under your legs as he hurried to lick his chops dry of every drop of you. his pink tongue sometimes curled over your thigh, in his rush.

out of the corner of your eye, you notice a large blurr – neuvillette diving for some of your arousal that had escaped zhongli’s notice and dripped onto the floor. immediately zhongli’s muzzle curled with a low, guttural snarl he poised at the hydro dragon, his slender haunches rising. to your surprise, neuvillette scrambled backward; well, it was both surprising and almost unnatural to see both the grand iudex of fontaine and a dragon not designed for environments outside of the ocean to move in such a manner. his grand, leafy fins slapped on the floor like a seal’s flippers.

“zhongli,” you chided half-heartedly, sort of amused and still coming down from your high.

the geo dragon let out a long chuff in response; he bent to gently lower you off his nose, onto his coils that covered the ground below, and pressed the side of his head to the floor, to savor what was left of your cum with long, greedy licks.

you watch with a slight amused grin. he’s an old man, but he still acts like this.

you turn to beckon neuvillette over apologetically, though he doesn’t appear to hear you.

the statuesque hydro dragon was staring down his nose, fixated on the cum that was sparsely trickling from between your legs and creating a small wet spot on the floor. ah.

you felt blood starting to pool in your crotch once again, just from the yearning, desirous.. obvious way he was looking at you. his slit pupils blown wide, his scaly head drawn so low to the ground that his fluorescent blue antennae brushed against it. wordlessly pleading for you to let him in

perhaps he needed to hear your invitation again. he was distracted the last time

– –

“don’t let such high praises go to waste, my neuvillette. our mate clearly can’t focus, with how you’re stretching their soft, human hole to full capacity, getting it ready for me.” a rumbly, possessive growl emerged in the last of zhongli’s words, lending him an alluringly dangerous quality.

neuvillette slurred above you; his mind was far away. “nh.. so full for me, my love..” his tail wrapped attentively around the bulge in your stomach that his cock was causing. a broody trill escaped his throat, and you panted, enamored with his little noise.

“you look divine, when you’re at a loss for words~” zhongli’s smooth, sultry voice had somehow deepened to a point you’d seldom heard it reach before. you could tell he was deep in the sauce now

and you could only imagine the scene he was enjoying. merely picturing the sight of dragon cock splitting through your thighs was enough to have you tensing up, head reeling

your drool collected on the coil below you, as you forgot everything but what you felt. as your body worked hard to accommodate the tip of one of the hydro dragon’s heavy, shark-like cocks, and your mind honed in on his rhythmically plying out a ways and then nestling deeper inside you with each twist of his long, muscular body. the pressure of his cock weighing against the soft flesh of your opening, and the brush of his scales against your inner thighs stimulating you further

your body ached from anticipation, with your only thoughts crying for more, more more, though you weren’t exactly sure how much you could take. this was your first heat spent together; it’d usually be you visiting one dragon or the other during their respective nesting days.

neuvillette’s labored breaths fanned over the back of your head, like the gusts of an ocean wind. you sensed your vision growing bleary, and a tension accumulating within you; a strong wave of your own arousal sent you for a loop, and you felt neuvillette’s strong coils shudder around you in response, minutely tightening their grip. and you heard neuvillette let out a strangled whelp when he finally let himself go, when he allowed thick ropes of his cum to plunge into your insides, dousing you with sudden warmth.

a thick ring of neuvillette’s cum quickly formed around the base of his dick, but before he could overwhelm his small human partner with the sheer amount of cum dragons tended to produce, he carefully slid out, and let the rest of it flow under your stomach.

or, more accurately, he suddenly had the mind to slide out.. he was rather enjoying the sensation of being milked to the brim by you, and his mind, in its most relaxed and instinct-driven state, told him to hoard what he loved – what was his.

having taken his load, you were assumed in the scent of the hydro dragon; you were markedly his

and you could tell it was making zhongli antsy, because scarcely had neuvillette pulled out when you felt the geo dragon’s paw padding over your back. cum was still pouring out of you, and his talons curled around your trembling figure, securing you in his grasp so he could draw you towards him.

you wriggled weakly in his clutch, managing a strained, breathless, “it's too much,” when the geo dragon let out something akin to a warning hiss. “our contract agreement was to take turns, my dear.”

his whiskers brushed like soft mist against your cheeks as he hung his head low, to address you. his proximity to you punctuating his words.

“and you’ve agreed, to assist us until we’re satisfied.

shouldn’t we adhere to that?”

#[ my works ]#[ wfsn ]#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #gn!reader #zhongli x reader x neuvillette #zhongli x reader #neuvillette x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #dragon husbands hehe

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lightsoutletsgo · 2 months

Text

names the f1 drivers would call their partner ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

word count: 2k

warnings: cheesy cringy fluff I just thought this was a cute little idea so I decided to turn it into a whole post of it's own! I noticed that I've kind of started assigning names to specific drivers just because that's the vibe I get from them! as always this is entirely personal opinion. happy reading! mimi ₊˚❀.ೃ࿔*:･ it isn't all the drivers bc I don't write for the entire grid but if you wanted to see one driver in particular then pls send in a request and I'll see what I can do!

cl.16 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔ Ma belle (my beautiful or my lovely) Simple and sounds divine when it rolls off the tongue with the French accent! Charles can't remember when he first called you the name because it's all he ever calls you! He adores the way you smile when you hear it and knowing you like it just as much as he does makes him say it again and again and again.

"Ma belle" is the first thing you hear as your eyes slowly blink open in the morning light. You smile happily with a hum as Charles' lips press against your cheek slowly, "Good morning ma belle, how did you sleep hmm?" With a giggle you roll over to look at him properly, "You know I always sleep better when you're home, handsome." You poke his nose gently and it scrunches up before he's pulling you into his arms, hating that you're not as close as possible to him, "Well then ma belle, let's sleep a little longer..."

cs.55 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔ Princesa (princess) It's classic and sweet without being too cringy! Carlos originally started calling you princesa as a joke but found that he actually quite liked it. You're his princess and so giving you that title only made sense! Carlos swears his heart melts when you pout up at him and he realises all over again he's more than happy to keep calling you his princess.

"Carlooooos!" You whined, "My feet hurt..." You pouted as you squatted down on the pavement, unable to take another step. "Princesa..." Carlos sighed, "I told you those shoes would hurt your feet." You stared up at him, bottom lip jutting out, "I can't walk anymore..." Carlos chuckled and rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip gently, "Here, princesa," He guided you up and over to a nearby bench before kneeling in front of you. You sighed as his warm hands eased your shoes off of your feet, "Better?" You nodded, "I'm going to get the car, it's just around the corner okay?" You smiled at him, "Thank you." "Of course princesa... And when we get home I'll run you a bath and give you a foot rub, okay?"

ln.4 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔ Sunshine Cute and different. Lando has many names for you that all depend on both of your moods and the situation; jellybean, pretty girl, babe, mamas, peach, but sunshine is his favourite. He tells you it's because you're his little piece of Monaco sunshine when he's far away from home and missing you. He draws his inspiration from lazy mornings spent with you in the bed of your shared Monaco apartment, the sun dappling soft patterns on your skin as his lips chase the sunlight.

"Hi sunshine..." You giggle as Lando's scruff tickles your bare shoulder, relishing in the way his lips trace a line of soft kisses across your back as the sunlight pours in through the floaty net curtains. You roll over and loop your arms around his neck, "Good morning gorgeous..." You nuzzle your nose into his and he presses a kiss to your cheek, humming happily as the sun warms the room. "What are your plans for the day?" He asks, desperately hoping that they revolve around him, you contemplate for a moment before rolling over on top of him, "Nothing at all!" Lando finds himself breathless as he gazes at you, the morning light highlighting the colour of your eyes, the glow of your skin and making your lips look so damn kissable. He knows that when he's far away from home, this is what he'll remember. His own slice of heaven and his very own sunshine.

op.81 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔ Angel sweet and gives you butterflies! Is very nice to hear in all sorts of settings and moods... The first time he saw you, Oscar thought you looked like an angel and though it took him a while to pluck up the courage to call you angel for the first time, it's now the name he always uses for you! Even when you're not around he still refers to you as his angel (much to Lando's annoyance because he thinks you two are icky sometimes).

"Hey angel!" You gave a watery smile at your boyfriend through the call, hating that he was so far away, "have you been crying?" You nodded slowly, knowing how guilty Oscar felt leaving you behind. "I'm sorry angel... Hey," he said lowly, "I left one of my hoodies in your wardrobe, why don't you go grab it?" Following his instructions you grabbed the hoodie and cuddled into bed, holding it up to your nose and desperately trying to imagine he was there with you, "You look so cute angel..." You giggled, "Even when I'm all teary and snotty and sad?" "Especially then!" He beamed back at you, "Who you talking to Oscah?" You heard his teammate's voice drift through the phone, "Just talking to my angel." Oscar cooed, earning a groan from Lando that had you and Oscar bursting into giggles, "You're not even here in the same room and you're still being mushy!"

ls.2 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔ Baby Simple and understated Logan likes to keep things simple but sweet and so baby is his go-to name for you. He's worked out that it suits a variety of situations and moods whether you're feeling happy, down, excited, angry or... needy. 'Baby' is usually followed up with a quick smooch to the cheek or forehead.

"Babyyyy?" Logan dragged out the last syllable, sitting next to you on the couch, "Babe? You can't stay mad at me forever!" He whined, flopping down onto the pillows. "My last brownie Logan. The last one." You hmmphed, crossing your arms for emphasis, "Baby I'm sorry! I didn't realise it was the last one..." You looked at Logan who now sat up next to you looking very dejected. You sighed, "It's okay," "Thank you so much baby," he kissed your cheek, "I will never eat your brownies again no matter how many are there." You giggled as he gave a mock salute, "Now, go put your shoes on baby, we're going to go and get more brownies!"

gr.63 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔ My love Classic and to the point! It’s sweet without feeling like too much. With or without the ‘my’ it still feels intimate.George knew not long after you’d started dating there would never be any other name for you. He loves saying it even when you’re out and around other people, it’s not too much that it’s cringy or awkward but it lets people know just how important you are to him. Sometimes he’ll drop the ‘my’ and just call you love, but even that is enough to have your cheeks heating up and to make you bite your bottom lip through a smile.

“My love?” You heard George call out as the door to your shared apartment opened, “In the kitchen!” You called back, hurrying around to make sure everything was ready for dinner. “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” You whirled around to see George standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. You smiled fondly at him as he approached you, pulling you into his arms and settling his hands on your waist, “You look beautiful my love, is this the dress you bought with Lily the other day?” You nodded, looping your arms around his neck and leaning up to peck his lips, “It is, speaking of, is she here?” George nodded, “Yeah, they’re in the dining room.” You squealed with excitement and untangled yourself from George to run to Lily, after the squealing and hugging had died down, George poked his head out of the kitchen, “Do you want me to bring the plates in here love?” Alex laughed shaking is head at George, “You’re so whipped for her.” George nodded, not even phased at Alex’s teasing, “She’s my love, of course I am.”

lh.44 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔ Darling Iconic and timeless, this name has stood the test of time. Darling sounds so good falling off of his lips. Whether it’s tinged with that slight American accent from time to time or sounds completely British, Lewis loves the way your hand always searches for his or your head drops to his shoulder once he’s said it. Lewis isn’t one for big PDA but he will always use this name, especially if he wants to check in with you mid-event or at a large gathering. Using this name is just one of the many ways he takes care of you.

“Darling,” You stopped mid-conversation with Toto and Susie as Lewis suddenly appeared behind you, his hand sliding down your arm before linking his fingers with yours and subtly pulling you to stand a little closer to him “are you feeling okay?” He knew you hated these big events, especially when he couldn’t stay by your side the whole time. You turned to look at him a sweet smile breaking across your face as you squeezed his hand, “I’m okay, I promise” He pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your head before noticing your glass was empty, “I’ll be right back darling,” He plucked your glass out of your hand and made his way to the bar, you staring after him lovingly, “The two of you are so sweet.” Your head snapped back to Susie who stood there watching you with a fond expression, you giggled, “He takes good care of me,” “You’re good for him too.” Toto acknowledged with a nod, “Here you are darling,” A hand appeared in front of you with a fresh drink, followed by Lewis. Taking the glass from him you pecked his cheek and linked your hand with his, “Thank you love.”

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azsazz · 2 months

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Hide (Part 3)

Eris x Rhysands!Sister Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Literally in love with every fic you write. I know your requests are closed but in the future, could you write something where Eris and the reader see each other and there’s a lot of tension and they’re secretly mates but no one knows? I’m curious to see how you’d end it!

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 2,447

Notes: A lil longer this time...enjoy 💙

[Part One] [Part 2]

_________________________________________

You don’t get the chance to call after Rhysand before he vanishes in a puff of darkness.

Your chest aches and tears prick your eyes. You’ve never fought with your brother like this before, not even when you argued over him coddling you long after you healed from the incident and wanted to have time alone without a guard Illyrian watching your every move.

This somehow hurts more than any of the injuries you sustained that dreadful night.

Eris stands from his chair and pulls you into his body, desperate for your touch as much as you are for his. He doesn’t care that Cassian and Azriel are watching his every move, how Azriel gets a hand on the hilt of his dagger as soon as he stands. He wouldn’t hurt you, couldn’t hurt you, but that burning in his chest that you let drift down the bond, he knows how much he has.

You swallow roughly, leaning into his chest. Eris strokes your hair softly, pressing his nose to your hair to take a deep inhale of your scent, one he hasn’t smelled for months this time, but it nearly brings him to his knees all the same.

Eris is incredibly happy to have you in his court but his happiness is stifled by both the fact that you and Rhysand are no longer on good terms, and that he’s bringing you to meet his family for the first time, and that alone is like walking into a den of wolves.

With you in his hold once again, none of that matters. Nothing matters besides you and your happiness, and he will try his damnedest to make that beautiful smile appear again. He has to squeeze his eyes shut and think of terrible, awful things so his cock doesn’t press into your stomach the way that it wants to.

Just being in his arms again helps calm you. Eris’ body is so warm and suddenly you feel so drained from the events that have happened here. All you want to do is burrow yourself against him and fade away for a few hours, but none of that is going to happen any time soon because your brother's words ring in your head.

Get out of my court.

Had he been serious when he said such a dreadful thing? His words are law in the Night Court but surely he couldn’t have meant that you needed to leave. Not while you’re fighting. Not like this.

You rest your chin on Eris’ chest when he draws up only slightly at the snort of disgust Cassian makes behind him. He doesn’t care that his back is turned to the two most powerful warriors in the Night Court, not when he has you in his arms.

Staring up at your mate, you blink slowly, looking deep into those russet eyes. They’re soft with worry, his fingers a gentle massage as he runs them down your back, needing to touch every inch of you possible. Eris restrains from kissing you, from claiming you in front of them, because you’re hurting more than you’re letting him feel, but he knows you better than that, even without the bonds help. The redness brimming your eyes, the tightness of your mouth, the way your fingers dig into his skin so harshly, like clinging to him is the only way you won’t break.

The kiss Eris places on your forehead is so gentle that a tear breaks free, rolling down your cheek. He wipes at it before he reaches down and twines your fingers together, letting you lean into his side as the both of you face your guards.

Your treachery is written clear as day across Cassian’s face. His thick eyebrows drawn taut, those hazel eyes flickering between you and your mate with contempt. The corners of his mouth are downturned in a disapproving frown, and you’ve never quite seen him like this before.

His hatred is palpable. You want so desperately to reach out to him, to explain all of this mess, but he will refuse to listen, no matter how much he loves you.

Azriel’s face is carefully blank. You’ve never mastered being able to read through it and it makes your heart clench in your chest.

“How could you?” Cassian blurts, as if any of this was your choice. You don’t choose when the mating bond makes itself known, and you certainly don’t choose who your mate is.

You’d been just as surprised as they were when the bond snapped into place in the middle of a meeting with the High Lord’s, sat right by your brother’s side. One look from the heir apparent of autumn has sent your bond striking, writhing in your chest at the sight of him. As soon as those russet eyes found yours, your breath caught in your chest, the bond snapping like a lance.

You’d gone pale and your brother had thought nothing of it, slipping into your mind to ask if you were okay while he kept his attention on the conversation at hand.

Ripping your gaze from Eris’, you had told him you suddenly felt ill, the first lie you’ve ever told your brother. It felt like shit in your mouth but the twisting of your lips had been misread as the sudden sickness you felt in your stomach.

Rhysand asked Azriel to escort you to your rooms in the Summer Courts castle, and even the shadow singer hadn’t deigned to read into the sudden rush of emotions running through your veins, the shared emotions of your mate.

You squeezed your eyes shut, leaning heavily on Azriel when you felt the desperate tugging in your chest as if Eris was begging you to stay, not to walk away from him despite the centuries long clashing of your courts.

“Do not speak to my mate like that,” Eris hisses, slithering from his seat to stand firmly in front of you, keeping you safe from the two males you’d grown up with, that had taken care of you, suddenly looking at you like you’re the enemy. “She has done nothing wrong.”

“She has done everything wrong!” Cassian’s shout bites. You flinch a little, tucking in closer to Eris’ side. His russet gaze sharpens, lighting with anger. You tighten your arms around him so that he doesn’t do anything irrational like light Cassian up right where he’s standing. Cassian’s siphons glow menacingly as he swings his gaze to you, the hurt he’s experiencing clear on display. “You should have come to us! We would’ve—” He seems at a loss, the words choking up in his throat. “We would’ve been able to help!”

“Help what, Cassian?” You answer, voice cracking as your emotions heighten again. “There was nothing any of you could do, nothing to fix!” You’re exasperated, shoving a few strands of hair back from your face. “I am in love with Eris Vanserra and there is nothing that anyone can do about it!”

The silence that follows your words is scorching.

Cassian opens his mouth and shuts it immediately. He’s looking down at you like he doesn’t even know you, like he hasn’t known you since you were no more than thirteen and had been harboring the biggest crush on him. You’d seen him as someone who you could always turn to, someone who could ease the pain of many. The male who could so easily lead an army with a little wit and a lot of confidence, sweet and cheeky and rational.

Cassian is one of the strongest males that you know, but right now, in Rhysand’s absence but in front of the Mother and yourself, your mate and Azriel, he’s acting like nothing more than a fussing babe.

When Cassian seems to find his words, they are not nice. “If you truly believe that there was nothing we could have done, I don’t know you.” He shakes his head, sheathing the knife at his thigh.

You’re done listening to his vitriol. Your voice is heated, as if the fires that burn beneath your lover's skin fuels your words. “If you truly believe that I don’t love my mate, I don’t know you either.”

Cassian pins you with one more glare, chuckling softly as he turns to leave the room. “You have one hour to leave this court. Night’s armies no longer march with Autumn’s.”

Your breath leaves you in a harsh gasp but he’s already out the door. This…this is the worst case scenario. You’d been worried about the impending war against the King of Hybern and the Queen of the Black Lands. It has taken an immense number of correspondence with the other courts to plan your defense, and now it’s all for naught.

“I’m sorry,” your voice cracks as the weight of the night rests heavily on your shoulders. You peer up at your mate, the urge to burst into tears an appealing one, especially when you hear your mate’s stern words.

“There is nothing for you to be sorry for, fawn. Nothing,” he glances over to the last standing Illyrian in your way of leaving. Eris swoops down, unable to keep himself from you, pressing a soft but reassuring kiss to your lips. “We will speak about this later. You should gather your things.”

You look at Azriel for permission to do just that. His hazel eyes flicker between you and Eris before he nods slightly, leading you from the room.

His shadows trail you from behind, crawling across the walls like spiders. Him walking in front of you is a sign of trust that makes your shoulders droop a little. At least one of the three brutish Illyrians you consider your brothers sees reason.

“I surely hope that you know what you’re doing,” Azriel murmurs, turning down the corridor leading to one of the staircases leading upstairs. It’s not the grand one in the center of the house for everyone to see, and you’re thankful that his spymaster tendencies will keep you from being the entertainment of the night.

You can’t help but to think about your brother.

You clear your throat a little before answering Azriel. “If you cannot accept my mate, then you cannot accept me, either. Rhysand has made that abundantly clear.” You squeeze Eris’ hand, following Azriel down the halls that you know so well. There is no need for an escort, and each step closer to your room tightens your throat.

You adore how Eris is following your lead, how he’s letting you speak for yourself and not for you, no matter how much you know he wants to burn this manor to the ground.

“He is outside of his mind right now,” Azriel answers, his steps silent even though his boots are thick-soled. He moves like a whisper of night, always an eerie aura to the cobalt siphon clad male. He glances over his shoulder with a look that tells you you should know this, that you should know your brother better than anyone. “He will come around.”

You hope.

You don’t speak again on the way to your room. No one does. Eris is following along, eyeing everything because he has never been this deep into the House of Wind. It’s intriguing to him, or you think your mate might be cataloging everything he’s seeing for ammunition later. You’re much too tired to question it right now.

Following his lead, you drink in everything that you can; the scones and art littering the walls, the intricately patterned runner on the end of your bed, a gift from your mother.

It doesn’t take long for you to grab your things. Dresses and clothes you can purchase when you arrive in Autumn. You will need to fit in. You carefully fold the runner, aware of both males eyes on you as you do so; one pair loving, the other calculating.

You pack a few more personal items, the ones that mean something to you: a necklace gifted to you from Rhysand on the coldest solstice you’ve ever experienced, a sweater, one of the only gifts you’ve actually received from your father. Your favorite knife is already strapped to your thigh beneath your dress—a gift from Azriel, and with a slight frown, you shove the book Cassian had picked out for you into your bag, clipping it shut.

“Are you sure that’s all you want to bring, my mate?” Eris asks tenderly. You nod firmly. Looking around your room one last time, you wonder if you will ever see it again. Azriel seems so sure that Rhysand will come around, but you’re not so sure. You may be fighting on the same sides of the war, but you are no longer allies.

“Yes. I’m ready.” You say it with a fake finality that you don’t mean. You peek at Azriel one last time and catch the remorse in that dark gaze of his.

He doesn’t like this anymore than you do.

Eris takes your bag and then your hand, winnowing you to your new home.

When you appear in the Autumn Court, his rooms greet you. The lights are buttery and soft, an immediate comfort that reminds you so much of the caring male mated to you. The walls are painted a deep olive with the most luxurious curtains draped all the way to the floors, which are a warm wood.

A fire roars loudly in the hearth, its flame burning brighter with your sudden appearance, like the flames are trying to crawl from the firebox to hold you in their warm embrace.

Eris frames your face with his hands, sweeping his thumbs beneath your cheeks, drinking you in intently. He’s nervous, you realize, because you’ve never been to autumn, never seen his rooms nor met his family. You bond thrums in your chest as you send all of the love and thanks you’re feeling through to him. His shoulders drop immediately, the tension leaking from them because no matter who gets in your way, from your family or his, you will always have each other.

The kiss is searing. You step further into your mate, reveling in the feeling of being alone with him again. Nothing else matters outside of this. Outside of his smokey scent, outside of the hands on your body, creeping up your back to split the collar of your dress, outside of his lips on yours—

Eris breaks the kiss almost abruptly, his lips the same red dusting as his cheeks. You can’t help but to lick your lips, your core melting when his eyes track the motion.

“Welcome to the Autumn Court, fawn. Let me show you my bed.”

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#eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #hide #eris angst

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unholybacon355 · 4 months

Text

All Mine

Momo x Reader

Words Count: 1.7k

A/N: I just wanted to write this to get rid of the idea. And also yes, I should be writing other things like the chapter of the stories i still didn't update. But here I'm, writing obscenities.

As always, I hope you have fun reading this.

You were sure that you were the luckiest person in the world, there couldn't be anyone luckier. Right in front of you you had your girlfriend with her chest pressed against the bed, her back arched at an angle that only someone with her flexibility could reach; and her ass up. Her knees were well planted on the mattress, wide apart from each other. Which was why her plump buttocks parted naturally as well, letting you clearly see her sodden vagina and her tight rear entrance. The full sight of having Momo in that position was a wonder, a delight you dare say.

"Are you going to fuck my ass, or am I going to have to go out and find someone else who does?" Momo moved her butt impatiently from side to side trying to get your attention.

"You'd love that, right?" You gave her a spank that resounded throughout the room. Despite having a very athletic body and well-toned musculature, her butt was still very soft, so the hit made her buttock tremble as if it were made of jelly. A delicious peach flavored jelly. "You'd like to go hunting and fuck as many people as you can."

"Yeah." Momo replied with a mischievous smile on his lips. "But it's still more fun when you fuck me."

“I love so much that you are a hopeless slut.” You leaned in to put your face inches from your girlfriend's crotch, from where you could smell the delicious scent of her holes. You two had been fucking for a while now, and even though she had come a couple of times, you knew that when she was in the mood for anal it wasn't over until you filled her ass. The very thought of fucking that wonderful tight asshole again was enough to make your cock throb, and when you were in front of Momo it seemed to have a life of its own.

You spread her cheeks with both hands for better access before taking a long lick from her clit, past her soaking vagina, to the puckered opening of her ass. The taste of her juices was quite a delight, nothing that even the best dessert in the world could match. You could spend hours eating her pussy, to the point that your girlfriend came so many times that she ended up with cramped legs due to spasms. But now the cavity that interested you was not that.

Your tongue swirled around her anus, licking and salivating as much as you could. Savoring even the most remote confines of her, as if you hadn't eaten for a week. If you loved the taste of her vagina, then you had to invent a new word for what you felt for the taste of her ass. It was without a doubt your favorite, and Momo loved how obsessed you were with it.

Now the tip of your tongue was entering her anus, doing all the work to dilate it as much as possible. You could hear loud moans from her, indicating that you were doing a wonderful job. But unfortunately you were aware that your saliva was not enough to lubricate such a perfect ass, if you did not want to hurt your girlfriend you had to use real lubricant. Which is why you reluctantly parted from her anus and grabbed the bottle of lube you had next to you. Then you let a thick stream fall on Momo's anus.

"Be careful, it's cold." She complained when the viscous liquid touched her skin. Without giving importance to her words, you began to spread the lubricant where you had been leaving your saliva before. Using your middle and ring fingers you made sure to drench and massage her anus, drawing circles over her wrinkled entrance. When you decided that your care, added to what your tongue did before, was enough, you put both fingers inside it. The sudden intrusion made Momo moan in surprise, and in the wave of pleasure that ran through her body.

Knowing that she could take it perfectly, you began to put your fingers in and out, fucking her ass at a steady pace. For her part, she let herself be loved and only her moans told you that you were doing well, that she was enjoying it a lot. You even dared to separate your digits a bit, wanting to maximize the pleasure she felt and dilating her entrance even more.

"I love having your fingers inside me, but that's not what I want right now." Your impatient girlfriend said between moans, urging you to fuck her in a different way.

"Always so impatient my love." You took out your fingers out making a fart noise when all that was left inside was the lube you left behind. You took a few seconds to watch her anus slowly close in the absence of your fingers, before positioning yourself to penetrate her. "Spread those buttocks for me."

"If I do, are you going to hurry?" Despite always bothering you, you know that her impatience is due to the fact that she loves you very much, and of course you couldn't love her less than she loves you. How else could you have done so many dirty things together?

You watch in delight as she uses both hands to spread her cheeks apart, causing her anus and vagina to open up a bit in a rather obscene way. Knowing that this is your cue, you smear some lube on your cock and rub the tip against her anus. The touch is so pleasant that you have to force yourself not to cum before even penetrating her. But after having spent so much time fucking the truth is that you were already close to your limit.

Using pressure you work your way into her anal cavity slowly, stretching her walls an inch at a time. You feel as though you had lubricated it well, the pressure on your penis is overwhelming, you moan yourself as you enter it. “I love fucking your ass so much.”

"I know, I'm irresistible." You were going to laugh at your girlfriend's words, but just at that moment she squeezes her anus to maximize the pleasure of both of you. You let the air out of your lungs in a loud moan, causing Momo to laugh. “Are you about to cum yet?”

You spank her again before responding. "You know yes." You begin to move slowly, fucking her ass at a pace that was obviously not enough for both of you. “I never last too long fucking you from behind”

Momo lets go of one of her buttocks and uses his right hand to rub her clit as she slowly picks up the pace of your thrusts. I know, it's my ass you fill when you cum.” So knowing what she's doing she's squeezing and releasing her anus with a random rhythm that drives you crazy. You can hear her laugh as you speed up the pace with which you fuck her in revenge for the wonderful things she was doing with her body.

Now all that can be heard in the room is the slapping of your hips against her ass, and the moans from both of you. Sweat soaks your forehead, and you can see how also covers your girlfriend's back with a thin layer. That well-toned back that you loved to kiss and massage, but now was not the time to think about those things. It was time to focus on other things just as loving, like fucking your girlfriend's ass as fast as possible.

Her anus was swallowing your cock completely and then you would pull it out until you almost withdrew from it, to put it back all the way to the base. And despite clenching and releasing her ass muscle she never stopped massaging her clit. Even now she had inserted two of her fingers and was fucking herself trying to match the pace of your thrusts.

"Babe... I'm close." You heard her say it in the most loving way she could, which made it all the obscene. "Fill my ass with your hot milk please."

"Is that what my bitch wants?"

“Yesssss… Please cum inside my ass.”

"Your wishes are orders my Queen." After those words you increase the pace of your thrusts to the point where your hips ached, but that didn't matter when it came to pleasuring your beloved. You knew she was close, and certainly you were about to cum too. You weren't going to last much longer and you both were aware of that.

Already with erratic thrusts, while she continued using her fingers to fuck her vagina, you continued penetrating her ass. But you knew that this was already your limit. With one last strong thrust you left your cock inside Momo and came inside her tight ass. You held on to her hips to keep from falling as the orgasm clouded your vision and sent spasms through your entire body. Between your moans you could hear how she was also enjoying her own orgasm, and you could also feel it because her anus was tighter than ever. Smothering your cock as her juices trickled down her thighs.

When all your milk had spilled inside your beloved's rectum, you carefully withdrew. Her anus took a few seconds to close completely, during which time some of your semen squirted out.

Then they both collapsed on the bed, covered in sweat and gasping for breath. Thus, all tired and sticky, you hugged her from behind and covered her shoulders with kisses.

"That was incredible. My last orgasm was the strongest of all.”

"I know, you almost squeezed my dick."

"Exaggerated." Between giggles Momo rubs her butt against your now flaccid penis, just to annoy you.

"Do you want me to clean your ass?" You ask her while you continue kissing her shoulders. She interweaves her fingers with yours before responding.

"No, thanks. I love how feels your semen inside me." She lifts your hand to kiss it before placing it back on her lap. "We better go to sleep."

"Honey, it's three in the afternoon."

"Do you have something better to do?" You burst out laughing at her question, and before you know it you snuggle up to her and settle in for a nap you certainly needed to pull yourself together. God, how you love this woman.

#twice #twice smut #twice x reader #momo smut #momo #momo x male reader #fanfic

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jamespotterismydaddy · 3 months

Text

Five Long Years (Chapter 1)

aemond x niece!reader

A/N: i've been wanting to do age gap aemond with his niece for a while so when someone requested it, i was going to do a smut oneshot but it turned into this so weee new miniseries

WARNINGS: angsty, there will be incest and future smut

WORD COUNT: 1,059 words

next chapter series masterlist

Five years since you saw him last. Two years since the death of his wife, Cassandra Baratheron and he is now finally coming home. He has travelled much, or at least that is what he says in his letters. Aemond Targaryen is a man of few words in everything but his letters to you, his dear niece who has spent the majority of her life doing no less than adoring him. Seeing him has been the thing you have spent the last month looking forward to and the day has finally come as you make your way to the courtyard.

“Ñuha rūs mandianna, look at how you’ve grown.” (my baby niece)

You hear the voice from behind you, whipping around to meet his eye. Oh, and grown you have, into your name and into your body.

You hold in your squeal of delight as you walk up to him. “I have missed you, Kepus. I didn’t think you had already arrived.” You breathe out as he takes both your hands in his and brings them up to his mouth for a kiss. You feel your cheeks flush.

“I missed you more.” He murmurs, brushing a strand of your hair out of your face. He must have noticed your blush by now.

“Tell me everything. I want to hear all about Pentos and Naarth and Lys.” You take his arm, leading him forward for a walk so you don’t have to look him in the eyes.

He smiles at how flustered you are. “You would have loved it, darling. There was so much to learn, so much history in every city.”

You listen to him with such interest as he goes on about each city, their people, their clothes. He’s pleased about how you want to hear it all. You’ve walked through the gardens twice by the time he had gotten through the bulk of it but even so, you can feel that he hasn’t told you everything.

“Tell me more, Kepus.” You beg him, never wanting to leave his side again.

“Not all things are for your ears, sweetling.”

You pout. “What do you mean?”

“You are still just a little girl in many ways.” He holds your hand, his thumb drawing small circles on your knuckles.

“I will be married soon. I won’t be a little girl after that.” A hint of emotion flashes through his eyes as you speak the words.

“I’m not so sure you’re ready for that.” He murmurs, looking at your soft hands before you yank them from his grasp.

“How should you know what i’m ready for?” He’s surprised by your sharp response. He never would have expected you to use such a tone with him.

“Because I know you.”

“You knew me. We have not seen one another for years.” There’s hurt in your voice, in your eyes.

“I had a wife to attend to… a child.”

Both who are now dead.

“A woman grown would be able to understand that.” He says, patronizing you.

“I do understand that.” There’s such jealousy in your voice. You just want to be seen by him, in a way that is different from a little girl who is only now slightly less little.

“You have flowered, yes and you have gotten so beautiful but your petulance has yet to escape you.” He speaks so tenderly as he lifts your chin to force you to look in his eye, but you find his words cruel.

“I’m not petulant.” You protest, pulling your face from his hand. You hate his gentle touches when he’s being mean.

“A well-mannered girl wouldn’t speak to her uncle the way you do.”

“I am well-mannered, just not a pushover.” You say back to him.

“If that were true, you wouldn’t have looked at a man on his wedding day the way you looked at me.” It stings when he says it. You didn’t even realize he noticed the way you gazed at him when he said his vows, all your longing wrapped up in a single look.

“Will you truly hold me to a look I gave you five years ago?” You want to scoff or say something mean but you hold your tongue instead.

“I was too old for you then.” He sympathizes. You didn’t even realize he knew. Men aren’t unusually so perceptive, especially ones who are barely twenty years old.

“Eight years isn’t so long. Daemon and my mother are sixteen years apart.” You murmur, knowing there’s no point in pretending.

“Her Grace wasn’t twelve when she married him.”

“Lots of girls get married at twelve.” You think of your grandmother who married even younger.

“Yes, lots of girls do get married at twelve… and then they die in childbirth at thirteen.” He states seriously. Aemond has little interest in fucking children, whether they have bled or not. “It was not because I did not like you, mandianna.” He reaches for you again to bring you demeaning comfort that you do not want.

“Stop touching me.”

“I didn’t know it would hurt you so. I had assumed it would pass.” He knows you still yearn for him.

“You think I still desire you? I want a man who will treat me like a woman, not a babe!” You’re angry and humiliated and you lash out, wanting that childhood crush to finally die, because that’s all it could have possibly been, frivolous and childish.

“I apologize. I should not have assumed.” You know he’s saying it just to calm you because a man like him is not so stupid, just arrogant enough to think he could never be wrong.

“I don’t want your purportless apologies.” You say with venom.

He sighs. “Then allow me to give you the gifts I brought for you-”

“You wish to distract me with trinkets?”

He isn’t too sure of what to say. You were much meeker as a girl, easily won over with pretty things and kind words. You’re more confident now… more Targaryen.

“I just do not wish to argue when it’s been so long since I saw you last.”

“And whose fault is that? You’ve had two years to see me… I’m starting to think it’s now too late.”

And with that, you stomp off, leaving Aemond dazed and confused… and slightly impressed. Maybe you aren’t just a little girl anymore.

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#aemond targaryen #hotd #aemond #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond angst

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bunniesanddeer · 2 months

Text

Heat: Part Two

Part One

Pairing: Alastor x Reader (AFAB) Lamb/Sheep Reader

Warnings: MINORS DNI, Smut, fingering, fluff, very gentle touches, heat, female anatomy

Word Count: 3,128

It’s barely dawn when he wakes. At first, Alastor isn’t sure what had woken him. Although he was often an early riser, he had figured the long night keeping watch over his soul-bonded would have made him sleep later than usual. He flicks his eyes around the room he had moved them to for a moment. It is after he has taken stock of the room, and the dim, red light filtering through the curtains, that he hears it. His little lamb is whimpering.

Alastor sits all the way up so he can look down at them. His first instinct, had, of course, been to make sure that they weren’t hurt. With the way their brows are scrunched tight, and the soft sounds leaving them, he still wasn’t sure.

“Ma bichette, you should wake.” He settles his hands on their shoulders, going to shake them, but their eyes pop open.

Their eyes, which are normally blue with black sclera, have become black voids. Alastor felt as if he was staring into empty space. It was oddly hypnotizing. As they move, incomprehensible noises escaping them, their scent drifts up to him. It is almost overpowering, and stronger than it had been in the last two days. His head feels heavy, and the itching beneath his skin returns.

“Oh, my dearest, I do believe it has begun.” He kicks back the blanket, to help them untangle their legs. His soul-bonded moves around the bed, their eyes scarcely leaving him for even a moment.

“Alastor,” They whisper. Oh, their voice! It was heavenly, and it only drew him in further. “Alastor, please.”

Their pleading, in their breathy whisper, sends heat down his abdomen. The fiery heat growing within him feels very much like how they had described their symptoms. Every bit of his body felt too confining. But oh! He mustn’t get distracted with his own feelings. His little lamb needed him.

“Come here, ma moitié,” he calls. He opens his arms, legs swinging over the edge of the bed. He watches as they hesitate, nose twitching as some instinct calls for them to do. With a tilt of their head, something in them decides he is safe, and they crawl to his lap. His arms immediately wrap around them, pressing them as close to his chest as he can get them. Their heat is the comfort of a roaring fireplace in winter, and it makes him shiver. He drags his nose into the wool atop their head, breathing in deeply. They smell so wonderful; there is something heady, but also something comforting and familiar.

“Mon trésor, can you understand me?” He rubs a claw against their soft cheek, trying to draw their attention. Their ears twitch, and their tail moves at the sound of his voice. “Dearest,” he tries again. “I need you to answer me, if you can. I want to make sure you still want me to help you.”

“Alastor, please. It hurts.” They wiggle back, trying to look him in the eyes. Their pupils are visible again, but only just; they are tiny pinpricks in the void of their eyes. “Please help me.”

Alastor closes his eyes at their request, and his smile loosens. Their request made him feel incredibly strange, as if some ball of energy was bouncing about in his body, begging to be freed. The heat their scent caused, still hadn’t abated. He opens his eyes again, and nods.

“Of course, mon cœur. Do you wish to remove any of this clothing? You are getting quite warm.” Alastor tugs at the thin tee they wear, and they nod. Without any help from him, they pull the shirt over their head, and their chest is revealed.

Alastor’s breath hitches. He had been expecting some sort of undergarment, but it is their bare flesh he sees. He was aware that their chest was rather small, compared to the bodies of other female demons, but it didn’t matter to him. His hands almost immediately cup their breasts, rubbing against their already pert nipples.

His little lamb gasps, their breath stopping for a moment. “Oh,” they start, their voice pitched higher than normal. “That feels nice.”

Alastor takes it as his cue to continue exploring everything they’ve laid bare for him. One hand continues to rub at their, so very soft, chest, and his other hand travels downwards. The skin of their belly is also very soft, a slight give beneath it.

“You are so very soft, little one,” he coos to them. He ducks his face into the junction of their neck, nuzzling against them. He squeezes one of their hips, and they shiver. “What would you like to do? I know it must be getting quite uncomfortable.”

His soul-bonded wiggles, making him pull back so they can move easier. Their eyes seem to scan his form for a moment, before settling on his legs.

“Can-” their voice cuts off, their already flushed face darkening further. “Can I ride your thigh?” They start shivering, as if their little body couldn’t handle the anticipation. “It’s probably the easiest, for now. I think, uh, that you can use your hands later, if you would like.”

Alastor lets his smile soften. They are so nervous, and it makes his chest ache. How sweet and wonderful they were. He nods, gesturing for them to find a comfortable position. Although the idea of them riding his leg, whatever that meant specifically, was new to him, he knew it must be helpful. They seemed so eager, and he wanted them to feel good.

Alastor realizes, as they prop themselves on one of his thighs, closer to his knee than his groin, what exactly they mean. He also notices that they are, in fact, only wearing underwear now. It is a thin, soft, red pair, cut high enough to see where their thighs and pelvis meet. His eyes are glued to the soft skin at the point where they meet. Something, deep inside of him, wants him to bite there, and he couldn’t tell where it came from.

His little lamb settle their hands in front of them, grasping at his thigh for dear life. He watches with fascination as they shift their hips forward. Their entire body seems to light up, breath stuttering.

“Oh,” they shakily exhale. “That’s- that’s good.” Their eyes flutter closed, and their claws scratch his thigh lightly. Alastor nearly falls forward with the shock of such a feeling. No one had ever touched him like that, without meaning harm.

He grasps their hips, as if to steady the both of them, and he leans forward just slightly.

“Come on, ma chérie, do what you must.” His voice drops, the static often accompanying it, gone. “Let me see you ‘ride’ me, dearest.”

His voice spurs them into action, and he watches, as if enchanted. The front of their underwear is darkening, and he can feel something damp soaking through his trousers. (He winces, realizing he had slept in his clothes. It was too late to worry about that, he needed to focus). Alastor lets his thumb sweep up their navel, the other hand cupping their face as they rock their body back and forth.

“Oh, little one, you are so good for me,” he murmurs. They moan, the sound sending his body ablaze. His skin tingles where he touches them, and his groin feels hot and tight. Oh, the things his little soul-bond did to him. Oh, how wondrous! “Yes, ma moitié. Give yourself pleasure, for me.”

“Alastor,” they mewl as their back bows backward. Their heaving breaths draw his attention back to their pert breasts. Unable to stop the strange desire, Alastor catches one of their nipples in his mouth, tongue immediately exploring the surface. They cry out, and their hands clutch at his shoulders. “Oh, please!”

Alastor feels their muscles tighten beneath his hands. He feels each shuddering breath they take, and the way they moan makes his ears twitch. He places one of his hands between their shoulder blades, pressing them closer to his mouth, and he put the other on their hip, guiding them in their rocking.

“Please what, dearest,” he asks. He lets their nipple free from his mouth, and replaces his head back against their neck. His tongue laps against their neck, prompting a groan from them. Their skin tasted of salt, and their unique taste, (one he had not experienced since they had made their deal). “Oh, you taste wonderful, my dear.”

“Alastor, please,” they beg, again. Their hips are still grinding down against his thigh, which is growing noticeably damp from the slick coating their underwear and the junction of their thighs. “Please.”

Alastor breathes in deeply, scratching his teeth along their throat. His hands tighten in his hold of them, and he grinds their hips down into his leg, harder. The ache in his chest growing too hard to ignore, and the heat in the pit of his abdomen, his lightly bites down on their shoulder. And then they’re keening, a high and breathy thing, that makes his ears limp. He bites down harder, licking at their skin roughly. Alastor can’t get enough of every little noise they make, and he wants more.

Alastor lets his voice dip to inhuman levels, and makes his made-for-radio accent drop, he growls,

“Ma Moitie.”

His little lamb gasps, and their hips stutter in their pace. They convulse strangely, all their muscles bunching up tight. He feels their muscles beneath their navel twitch sporadically, and their breath stop. Alastor thankfully has a good grip on them, because they go limp in his arms a moment later.

“Oh, mon cœur, look at you.” He pulls them into his arms so he can settle them back onto the bed. Their eyes are dazed, pupils visible again and blown wide. Alastor feels almost as if they are a little doll, so easily moved and adjusted. When they are finally settled back onto the bed, he lies beside them, searching their face.

“How do you feel, my dear?” He rubs their cheek gently, focusing entirely on their reaction. He can hear the light thumb of their tail against the mattress, (and it makes him thankful that his own is too small to make such a noise. Alastor could feel it twitching the entire time they sat upon his leg).

“Alastor,” they breathe. One of their hands pulls at his suit jacket. “That felt so good.” Their eyes flutter close, and he watches their whole body jerk. “Unfortunately, I don’t think once is enough.”

A grimace crosses their features. Alastor smiles wider, and he rubs their frown lines with his thumb. “Worry not, dear. I am up to the task.” He lets his voice fill with a confidence he does not feel, but he wants this. He wants to make them feel good again, and to end this ‘heat’ that had been forced on them. “You mentioned, that I could use my hands earlier.”

You can still feel your body twitching, the muscles of your pussy clenching around nothing, as you come down from your orgasm. It is while you are still processing the fact that you had ridden Alastor’s thigh like a saddle, that you feel that painful heat in your belly return. It makes your chest seize, and your head feel fuzzy. When you inform Alastor, he almost immediately mentions making use of his hands. Your brain nearly melts.

Although the two of you had been together for some time now, this was your first, even remotely, intimate experience. You had had a handful of kisses, but nothing more than that. He hadn’t even said anything remotely risqué to you! Now here he was, offering to touch you with his hands.

His hands… the thought sent delightful shivers down your spine. His hands were very large, and they were so warm right now. You wanted him to use them to explore every inch of you, to touch you until his every desire was met. Unfortunately, you couldn’t voice more than a, “Yes, please.”

You felt a tiny bit pathetic, at first, but the soft smile on his face stopped that. He almost looked like he actually wanted to. Not just for you, but for him too. The thought made your chest ache, and you wanted nothing more than to curl up against him and tell him everything you felt about him. You could not, however; there were more pressing matters.

Alastor sits up, and presses his back against the backboard of the bed. He curls a claw at you, wanting you to move closer to him.

“Come, my dear. Let’s remove these. They will be very useless in a moment,” he says, pulling at the hem of your underwear. Your face flushes with heat. It was the last scrap covering your skin, and it caused anxiety to grow within you. He hadn’t seen you in such a state before. Would he find this part of you attractive? Did he find you attractive at all? Did he actually want you? Your mind spirals with dreaded questions you couldn’t voice.

“Ma bichette. Come back to me,” he coos, his hands rubbing your chest and one of your hips. “Do you still want me to touch you?”

The soft way he asks nearly makes you cry. How sweet and kind he could be, despite everything. Tears nearly spring to your eyes at how safe he makes you feel. You can do nothing but nods in response, lest you sob as you try to answer.

Alastor holds the back of your head as he leans you back. He pulls your underwear down your legs as he maneuvers them to his liking. Once the cloth is removed and dropped over the side of the bed, he cradles you in his arms, letting your legs go across his lap. “Mwen renmen ou.” His voice is deep and comforting. You have no clue as to what he whispers against your hair, but you let his voice soothe you.

Alastor keeps whispering to you, even as he trails a hand down your navel and around your mound. With a control over his form, that you haven’t yet mastered, he blunts his claws, and trails his fingers over your newly exposed skin. His lips caress your forehead as he shifts a finger to press between the lips of your slit. A ragged breath escapes you, and your eyes fall on his face.

There is this look that you can’t describe, on his face. His eyes are softer than they have ever been, their radiant glow further softening his whole expression. His smile is small, but more genuine than you had seen it in weeks. Then, he starts whispering again, just as one of his fingers catches against your clit.

Your whole body lurches at the sensation. The hand holding your head tightens, and you’re forced to remain prone as he continues exploring you.

“J’adore ton sourire, mon cœur,” he purrs, finger pressing harder against your clit. It sends tingles up your body, and a moan escapes you. “Tu es ma joie de vivre.”

Alastor leans down, and finally presses his lips against yours. Your whole body trembles, and for a moment you see stars. His middle finger is pressing against your entrance as his thumb presses your clit firmly. Combined with his soft, warm lips, you feel overwhelmed. He pulls back, eyes hooded, as he presses his finger into you. Your legs clench, and your eyes flutter. Every worry that you had about the experience fades away as he slowly slides his finger in. Despite how slick you are, there is a lot of friction, making his entrance slower.

“Te me rends fou. Tu ma fait me sentir tout chose,” Alastor coos as he finally presses his finger in, all the way to his knuckle. His thumb rubs at the side of your neck as he grunts. “Si serré.”

“Alastor,” you whisper, your brows furrowing as you try to calm yourself. Your whole body is shaking now, chest and throat tight. You feel like a live wire, electricity coursing through you like a river.

“Yes, my little lamb?” Alastor asks, finally rubbing your clit again. Despite his inexperience, his touches are deft, and gentle. It feels unfair that he be so good at things he hasn’t done before.

“Please. I need it,” you beg, softly. Your back arches as he slowly pulls his finger out, and thrusts back in. You need him to just keep touching you. Anything. It feels better than you could have imagined this feeling.

“Of course, little one.” His forehead touches yours, eyes lidded as he gazes at you. “Does this feel right, my dear?”

You nod, trying to kiss him, but the hand on the back of your head keeps you from turning it too far. A breathy chuckle leaves him, and he kisses you.

As your lips connect again, he sets a pace with his fingers. Sparks flare out from beneath your navel, and it just feels so good. Your hands finally give up trying to find purchase with each other, and you grab at the arm reaching across your belly. Your fingers dig in as he curls his finger.

Alastor leans back from you, watching you closely. “Oh, look at you. Ma bichette. So good for me, aren’t you?”

His words turn up the heat in your belly, and you feel like you’re going to implode. Noises keep escaping you, and your eyes close tightly. You grasp at his hand, and then he twists it. The move sends you crashing over the edge, one you weren’t aware of being on.

Your body is white-hot for a brief moment, and then it all fades to static. Not quite like Alastor’s, but more like the fuzzy TV static. It blankets over you as your muscles spasm. Your lungs stutter and heave, muscles failing to find the rhythm you need. You vaguely hear your own voice muttering, and you can feel Alastor’s hand still.

“Ma moitié. You were so good for me,” Alastor mumbles, his hands cupping your face. “So good.”

“L’ve you, Al,” you whisper, feeling exhaustion crash over you. Your body gives in, and your eyes slide shut. You can feel Alastor stiffen, for just a moment, before he starts whispering words you don’t understand again.

“Que ferais-je sans vous, mon cœur?” Alastor’s voice is still that deep tone that he rarely lets you hear, and it soothes you. Within a few moments, you succumb to the need to sleep.

Alastor would stay vigilant, by your side, for the whole night. Even his own eventual need for rest couldn’t prevent him from whispering sweet words to you, and keeping you safe.

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