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of-house-atreides · 2 months

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Cushioned Affections

Gale x Astarion x F!Tav

Warnings: Poly relationship discussion; insecurity; mention of past relationship abuse

Synopsis: Tav is tired of waiting for Astarion to make his move, so she allows Gale to make his first. But will that put an end to her and her favorite vampire spawn?

Author's Note: I'm a day late, I know, but this fic is for the BG3 Holiday Fluffle 2023, hosted by @justporo with the prompt "Getting Cozy"!

The chill that had settled over many of your nights in the last few months was slowly creeping its way into your days, infiltrating you and your motley crew through brisk winds that could cut through any armor and lay clothes, chilling you all to your very bones. The campfire became the favorite place of every one of your traveling companions - even Astarion, who usually preferred to observe the group’s frivolities from the entrance of his tent. But this evening, the aloof vampire had firmly wedged himself between you and your resident wizard, Gale, on one of the logs in front of the roaring flames.

“There’s a perfectly clear spot next to Lae’zel, you know.” Gale mumbled, clearly unhappy with the current seating arrangements.

“That seat could get me decapitated and I personally prefer to keep such beauty soundly attached, thank you very much.” Astarion replied haughtily, turning his nose up at the wizard’s suggestion before scooting closer to you, affronted.

“Rightly assumed, spawn.” Lae’zel spat, not so much as glancing up from her soup bowl.

“Hah!” Astarion exclaimed triumphantly, sending a taunting expression Gale’s way as he wrapped his shawl tighter around his already cold body.

“Well, I’m very glad you’ve joined us tonight, Stari.” you said, opening your arm to him and allowing him to snuggle close, a relieved sigh escaping his lips as your warmth enveloped him. “And Gale, thank you so much for the wonderful meal. I always forget I'm sleeping on the ground when you fix your soup.”

The compliment settled in Gale’s cheeks as they tinged pink and a smile graced his lips for the first time since Astarion had forced the two of you apart. “Why thank you, Tav.” he sent a charming smile your way over the mess of white curls between you. “You flatter me too much.”

“Yes, she does.” Lae’zel replied curtly, although she made no effort to hide her empty bowl.

“Nah, this shit’s awesome, Gale.” Karlach piped up, already filling up her bowl for the third time. “Anybody need a warm-up?”

“Me, if you would, Karlach.” Shadowheart passed her bowl across the fire to the tiefling, who grabbed it enthusiastically and held it between her palms as the flames beneath her skin crackled and popped to life for a few seconds before simmering down again. The contents of the bowl were now steaming as Karlach passed it back over to Shadowheart, who let out a pleased groan when the warmth hit her fingertips.

“Thank you all.” Gale said, a pleased smile on his lips. “I’m glad I could deliver a measure of culinary satisfaction to our treacherously meager living accommodations.”

“Darling, just say “thank you for the dick-stroking” and be done with it.” Astarion drawled, his eyes having lazily fallen closed once your fingers had wound their way into his hair.

“I’ll have you know,” Gale’s voice rose as he spoke over Karlach and Shadowheart who had burst out laughing., “My honed verbosity is one of the most prevalent things that earned me a place as one of the most well-respected voices of wisdom in Waterdeep, and beyond.”

“Oh yes, it was your tongue; of that I’m certain.” Astarion murmured, half asleep, and you bit down on the inside of your lip to keep the giggle from escaping as Karlach and Shadowheart descended into fits of cackling once again, while Lae’zel allowed the ghost of a smile to cross her lips. You even noticed Wyll choking back a chuckle over his soup.

Gale shook his head disapprovingly, and you thought things may have gone too far until an amused smile crept across the wizard’s face and he shot you a quick glance with mirth dancing in his eyes. You smiled back at him, the chill of the evening all but melted away in the presence of your unlikely group of friends.

After the fire had long since died, and many of your companions had retired to their own bedrolls in the shelter of their tents, you helped Gale clean up around the campfire, stacking bowls in on each other - deciding to wait for the warmth of the sun before taking them to the river to wash them out - and gathering the extra blankets to hoard for personal use.

Astarion sat idly by, book in hand, while you both worked, only looking up from the pages and stretching languidly when you paused in front of him. “Well, darling, are you ready to hide away and curl up in our own little cocoon for the evening?” he cooed, batting his long eyelashes at you demurely.

“Come on, Astarion, just say you’re desperate for a cuddle and be done with it.” Gale appeared over your shoulder smiling, pleased to have been given the chance to throw the words back in the vampire’s face.

“Actually,” you stepped in front of Gale and swatted at him playfully. “Gale’s got a new volume of that Dark Elf tales I’ve been reading as of late, and he wanted to read a few chapters with me before we went our separate ways. Would you like to join us? I know how much you enjoy those stories.”

Astarion chortled dismissively, rolling his eyes. “I think I’d prefer freezing to death than getting anywhere near the “wizard of Waterdeep”’s personal stash.”

You sighed, shrugging your shoulders and turning away. “Your choice. I’ll see you back in my tent afterwards either way. Although,” you pause, flipping your hair over your shoulder to match his dramatics. “It will be much warmer in Gale’s tent because we currently have all of the extra blankets. I do hope you’ll reconsider.” you teased, mimicking the vampire’s tonal lilt as you hoisted a few of the remaining blankets over your shoulder and walked off. In a few long strides, you caught up with Gale, who was struggling with his own bundle of blankets.

“Do you think he’ll drop by?” his voice came out muffled, his face fully blocked from your vision by a mountain of fluff.

A giggle bubbled out of you, and you patted some of the blankets away from his eyes. A muffled “thank you” reached your ears. “I don’t know, but I hope so. I do wish he didn’t keep to himself so often; he shouldn’t be alone. But he has to choose to let in the warmth himself - and not just mine.” Gale nodded quietly - a rare occurrence - and led the way to his tent.

You were ceaselessly amazed by the sheer number of books Gale Dekarios was able to keep with him; shelves upon shelves lined with volumes - everything from A Comprehensive History of Waterdeep to The Practicality of Learning the Weave and more - just waiting to dazzle you with the wonders inside. However, the books that caught your eye were front and center, at a perfect height for you - done intentionally, you had no doubt - was the Dark Elf trilogy, finally completed with a stunning hardback edition of Sojourn with a beautifully crafted image of the drow himself gracing the book jacket.

“Gods, Gale, wherever did you find it?” you murmured softly, stroking the spine tenderly.

"Ah, a wizard never reveals his secrets. But let’s just say, I do still have some influence in some of the cities we’ve passed through thus far, and was able to get my hands on a nice copy, just for you."

You clutched the book to your chest, beaming up at him from where you stood. "Thank you, Gale. Shall we read?" His heart skipped a beat, he thought, as he nodded and sat down amidst his pile of pillows and blankets and you settled in between his legs, your back pressing warmly against his chest as his arms wrapped around your front before his mind could even catch up with him.

“Are- are you sure you and Astarion are just friends?” the words slipped from his lips and he cringed at himself, a large part of him fearing the question would bring you to your senses and he’d lose this intimate connection he’d found with you.

“No, I’m not.” you admitted softly and his heart dropped into his stomach, his arms wrapping tighter around you in anticipation of the loss. “But I’ve told him that I have feelings for you too, and I’ve told him that while I’m patient enough to wait for him, he needs to tell me to wait for him before I will. I’ve…” you paused, sniffling a little as the emotions welled up inside of you. “I’ve had my heart broken a lot by being led on, or by waiting for people who, in the end, chose someone else; someone more-”

“Hey, shhh don’t do that.” Gale whispered in your ear, planting a chaste kiss there and squeezing you tight. “You’re plenty enough as you are, alright?” You nodded, breathing deep before continuing.

“I told him how much I care for him, and how much I’d like to have more with him. But I was also honest and told him how much I care for you, so I’ll tell you what I told him. If you need time, tell me to wait for you. Hopefully you’ll listen.” you mumbled the last part so softly that Gale could have missed it if he hadn’t been paying attention. But your words, your touch, your presence was his whole world right now, and he couldn’t possibly miss the sadness and longing left hanging in the air once you fell quiet.

“Well… I hope he’ll come around soon. But in the meantime, I don’t need to wait. I know my answer right now.” he murmured against your ear, reveling in the shudder that traveled the length of your spine in his hold. You turned your head just enough to lock your penetrating gaze with his, waiting for him to say the words. You wouldn’t settle for interpretations; not any longer. “I care for you, greatly, Tav. And if you find it in that beautiful heart of yours to save a place for me, I’d gladly reside there for the rest of my days.”

“Gale,” you whispered, your eyes clouding over with unshed tears of relief that flooded you like a sudden storm. He caught the emotions with his lips on yours, alleviating some of the weight of the emotional burdens that you had carried with you for all too long, and a sob escaped into his mouth. He swallowed the pain and lapped it up with his eager tongue, desperate to comfort your aching soul as his hands explored your body. You moaned softly into the kiss before pulling away, a little giggle leaving your lips as you nuzzled into his neck. You bit your bottom lip, your smile threatening to overtake the rest of your face as Gale's hands ran the lengths of your arms and back. "We're supposed to be reading." You chuckled, and Gale’s own laughter rumbled through your body in response.

"Then let us read, my sweet." He pressed a kiss to your temple and plucked the book from your hands, opening it to the first page before conjuring a few mage hands to do the rest while he wound his arms tightly back around you and began to read aloud.

You had enjoyed several chapters of the book together when a shadow moving outside caught your attention. You silenced Gale with a hand held in the air, your body tensing as you reached for your sword.

"Uhm… hello?"

The soft, tentative voice coming through the flap had your muscles relaxing immediately. "Astarion," you exhaled in relief and pulled the tent flap open. He stood there in little more than his ruffled undershirt and pants, shivering ever so slightly from the cold; his eyes a catastrophic blend of hope, fear, and vulnerability as they locked onto you. "Oh gods, Stari, come in here, you're freezing!" You fussed worriedly, opening your arms to him like you so often did, and you didn't miss the sudden ease of his sharp facial features as he gave in to your embrace, pulled to it like a moth to a flame, and settled into your arms like he belonged there. He did belong there.

You walked backwards, enough to seal the tent flap behind the elf, before your fingers found his curls as they always did, and he sighed happily as you scratched his scalp. He nuzzled closer to you, his icy cold nose finding a home in the nape of your neck as you calmed him. "I'm so glad you came." You mumbled into his hair and he merely hummed in response, pulling you flush against him and trailing his hands up and down your spine. After several quiet moments of quiet repose in each other's arms, you pulled back enough to look Astarion in the eyes.

"I-" He spluttered, his gaze flicking to Gale then back to you. "I really wanted to get a look at this book of yours, Gale. As Tav said, I enjoy the dark drow stories myself." He brushed some wrinkles out of his white shirt awkwardly and you took the opportunity to shoot Gale a deadly glare. Play along, it said. Or else.

"Of course." Gale chirped, trying to sound as casual as possible. "Well, it truly is a beauty, isn't it Tav?"

"Definitely." You smiled in silent thanks and reached for Astarion's hand, pressing the pad of a finger into one of his and allowing him to do the rest. "Come on. We're on chapter 5, but I'll give you a summary of what's happened so far." You sat down beside Gale, and Astarion beside you, and you launched into the details of what Astarion had missed in the first five chapters, forgetting the world around you and all of its present dangers: the tadpoles, the mindflayers, the Absolute, all of it, and diving into the adventure yet again. Gale glanced over at the new visitor in his tent, initially with dubiosity; he'd had no intention of sharing you if that's what it came down to. However, his resolve wavered ever so slightly once he took in the vampire’s face as he looked at you. Gale didn't know Astarion could even look like that: his features softened, the harsh lines and wrinkles missing from his pale face, and his eyes wide with wonder and- Gale paused, realization slamming into him at full force as the vermillion glint of the vampire's eyes in the candlelight revealed his secrets. Gale recognized that look. It was the same look he had in his eyes when he looked at you.

Love.

And as he watched, Gale saw the same look in your eyes, no matter which man they were trained upon. "Godsdamn it." He thought. "What in the hells am I going to do?"

"That's all that's happened so far." You clapped your hands together as you finished catching Astarion up. "Shall we continue?" You turned your head to Gale who said nothing, only nodded and prepared to cast another set of Mage Hands.

"W-wait, for a moment." Astarion stopped him hesitantly. "I'd- well, I'd like to say something first, Tav."

"Oh, of course." You looked back at him, your eyes wide and curious.

"I've been thinking about this for awhile, but I never really knew how to put it into words. However, I- ugh this is so ridiculously awkward with the wizard here too." He buried his face in his hands.

"I can leave for a moment if you-"

"Gods. No, it involves you, sit down." Astarion huffed, waving his hand in Gale's direction.

"Very well." Gale remained as he was, perched precariously on a pillow, his full attention on the vampire spawn.

"I've realized lately that, that I've never had someone who cares for me before - not that I can remember, anyway. And no one that could possibly measure up to you." He said the words to your fingers, which he had wrapped up in his own and was fiddling with tenderly in his lap. "I don't want to lose you, but I didn’t know how to tell you so, even when you told me how. It didn't feel quite right, it didn't fit. But I can say it now." He tilted his head up and met your eyes steadily. "I care for you, Tav. I- I need time to process whatever this is between us. But I don't want you to think I don't want you, because I do. And, if that package comes with a certain pompous wizard," he leveled Gale with a humored smirk. "Then I believe I could be alright with that arrangement. As long as he plays by the same rules we do, that is."

Gale shot you a quizzical look. "You have to be patient and respect all of his boundaries." You explained, and Gale’s face fell into a sorrowful understanding.

"Of course I would respect your wishes, Astarion. I may be the victim of some over-active hubris, a wildly inconvenient condition, and an intellect much larger than my single head can contain, but I am not a man without respect and understanding."

"So… by all of that you mean yes." Astarion quipped and Gale chuckled.

"Yes, Astarion, I mean yes."

"Wait, hold on a moment." You sat up on your knees between them, looking back and forth at the two men you'd come to love so much, settling on the wizard. "Gale, are you saying you'd be alright with a 3 person relationship? I didn’t know that was something you'd ultimately agree to."

"No definite answers yet. I'm working on it. Much like Astarion, the thought of being without you is slowly proving too much to bear. And perhaps having you around won't be too bad in the end, Astarion."

"Oh thank you kindly for those inspiring compliments, Gale." Astarion rolled his eyes, but the growing smile on his lips told the truth of his thoughts on the matter, and you squeezed his hand with a sudden giddiness.

"Anytime." Gale made a mock bow before sitting back down in the mess of pillows. "Now, are we going to read or shall I kick you both back out into the cold?" His mage hands appeared and he handed them the book.

"You wouldn't!" You gasped playfully, scooting closer to him.

"Yes, yes, you're right, I wouldn't. Come here, both of you. If you're going to see the drawings you'd better get close." You resumed your place between Gale's legs and opened your arms to Astarion, who crawled in between yours and curled up against your chest like a cat, his head resting on your shoulder, glancing up at the book every now and again to admire the artwork, then planting tender kisses along your jawline before settling back into you.

After several chapters more and an hour had gone by, Astarion purred softly against your chest while Gale rubbed your arm with one hand and Astarion's back with the other. Your hands were where they often found purchase - amidst soft white curls that were as light as air to your touch - , massaging small circles on the elf's head as he dozed, and you didn’t know how you could possibly be happier. You sighed blissfully, allowing your eyes to finally fall closed.

"Goodnight Gale, goodnight Astarion." You mumbled, already halfway gone.

"Goodnight, Tav." Gale whispered in your ear as you faded into a euphoric sleep, curled up between the men you loved; the men who loved you; the men who could possibly one day learn to love each other.

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of-house-atreides · 2 months

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of-house-atreides · 2 months

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Please, stop... | Part 4

Pairing: Helion x reader (x Nessian)

Warnings: mentions of death - MINORS DNI

Prompt: you’re Nesta and Cassian’s mate and yet you are so different from them. From day 1 you tried to be a good mate and do as they wanted and liked but they like it rough and you just don’t. Not only is it not enjoyable for you, it is actually painful. And not just in bed. You always excused their behavior as being overprotective but recently you started calling it something else: controlling. And one night, all changed as you uttered the words you had tried so hard never to say, but always thinking if you ever did they would listen. But they didn’t. And that night, everything broke.

(A/N: Thank you for all of your support, this has been fun! I hope you enjoy this last part 🩷 PS: English isn't my first language)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Nesta and Cassian were lying in bed, facing each other, staring at the empty space in the middle, where you used to lie in between them. They did so every day, twice a day in fact. Once in the evening, when your absence kept them awake, and once in the morning, when it made them want to die.

They had no time for it this morning, however, as Rhys had called a meeting, and they were already late for it.

It had been a little over a year since you left and they had never recovered from your loss. And they never will. They didn't want to.

Their friends had gotten used to their empty eyes, to the bags under them, to the paleness of their skin. They had even started to forget the sound of their laughs or the way they smiled. It was an unspoken rule not to mention you in front of them, ever. And had they been paying attention, had they cared at all about anything anymore, they would have noticed their friends' nervous behavior. They had gotten used to the pity in their eyes, but this morning, there was something more than just pity. They sat on the couch across from where Rhys and Feyre waited for them. Amren in the armchair on their right, Mor on their left, Azriel standing behind her, his back against the wall. They had no idea what the meeting was about, they didn't care. They were utterly unprepared for what they were about to hear.

"We have news," Rhys started carefully." From the Day Court."

Nesta stilled. Cassian looked up at his brother, a hint of light in his hollow eyes.

"Y/N?" he asked, your name only a murmur on his lips, as if he could hurt you again just by speaking your name.

"Yes."

"Is she alright?"

"She's fine. She... Helion sent word to every court. They have married, and he's made her his High Lady."

Neither of them felt the watchful eyes of their friends as their High Lord told them the news. They had no idea what to expect from them. When it came to you, their behavior had been surprising ever since you had gone. They had given up so quickly. They had let you go. They hadn't even tried to go and see you in the Day Court. As if every day since your departure was self-inflicted torture, penance, for what they had done to you. They were miserable, and they knew they deserved it and worse.

"That's good," Cassian nodded, a small smile forming on his face, quickly fading away. "Helion makes her happy. I'm glad."

Nesta said nothing. She didn't react. She just stared at nothing, like she so often did now. Cassian placed a hand on hers and squeezed gently.

"That's good," he repeated.

And that had been that.

Your laugh echoed through the courtyard, like it so often did now. The servants and caretakers smiled as they watched you and their High Lord embrace in the sun.

You were brushing Thea's mane when your husband had come up behind you and pressed a kiss in your neck. His hands ran down your body as he enveloped you in his arms.

"Good morning, my love."

"'morning, sunshine," you smiled, leaning into him.

Thea had been his wedding gift to you. The most perfect pegasus, 'a steed fit for a High Lady', he had written on the note. Unfortunately, you had said, you would not be able to ride her for a few months. That had been your gift to him, and you swore the smile on his face, as you brought his hands to your swollen belly, had shone brighter than the sun.

You were only three months along, but already so big. You had complained about it to him, feeling somewhat insecure, but he had assured you you had never looked better. And the healer the next day had easily explained it. You were carrying twins. A boy and a girl. Both healthy. You were both overjoyed.

The past year had been absolute bliss for the both of you. There was really nothing that could ruin it.

It was the middle of the afternoon when it happened. Two months after your wedding. You were sitting comfortably on your canopy in your chambers, reading a book, when death came upon you.

The scream that came out of you was the scariest thing Helion had ever heard. He rushed into the room to find you shaking on the floor, bent over your knees. He knelt in front of you and seized your face in his hands, checking you for any injury. He found none.

"What is it?"

The look in his eyes was wild with worry but yours, yours were grieving.

"Cassian," you breathed. "He's dying."

Cassian's screams echoed in the Court of Nightmares as Madja and two other healers worked on him. They had managed to control the bleeding of his opened wounds but his wings... it was his wings that made his screams so horrible.

It took two more healers to save him from death's grip, but his wings... only time would tell if he would ever be able to fly again.

He slept for hours, only waking for a few minutes at a time. Nesta never left his side. She had already lost one mate, she wouldn't lose another. She had threatened and barked at the healers to save him. It was the most spirit she had shown in the past year and a half.

He was awake, however, when Rhys came in.

"How are you feeling, brother?"

"Half-dead," he coughed, "half-alive."

"There's someone who wants to see you, if you're feeling up to it?"

The Illyrian warrior frowned.

"Who?" Nesta demanded.

And if the bastards who had ambushed him that morning, about 20 men against one, hadn't managed to kill him, the sight of you standing behind his brother could have finished him right then and there.

"Y/N," Nesta breathed as she slowly stood from the bed.

Your eyes quickly moved from him to her then back to him again. He stared right back at you, at a lack for words. He wondered if he were imagining it, if he were hallucinating you. He wondered if you had come to spit on his dead corpse.

Helion stood behind you and remained close as you approached and came to a stop at the end of his bed.

"Hey," you said to him. You spoke to him.

"Hey," he murmured back, tears in his eyes, a knot in his throat.

"I felt you die."

He swallowed hard. "I couldn't die without seeing your pretty face again." He tried to smile. But ended up wincing. You didn't smile back. Tears fell on his cheeks. "You're pregnant."

You took a deep breath as you nodded, your hands coming to rest on your belly. You eyed Nesta quickly. Her cheeks were wet. You understood she never thought she would ever see you again.

"I'm glad you're not dead," you said, and this time, his smile was true. And this time, you smiled back.

You moved to sit on the edge of the bed, near where Nesta stood. You nodded at her. She nodded back.

You slowly brought a hand to Cassian's face and cupped his cheek, wiping tears away with your thumb.

"Will your wings heal?"

"'don't know."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't," he shook his head. "Don't ever apologize to me, to us," he said as he took your tiny hand in his large one. "I'm so sorry, Y/N," he sobbed. "I'm so fucking sorry."

You nodded, then looked up at Nesta. You didn't expect her to apologize. She didn't apologize to anyone, and you doubted she would to you.

"We fucked it up," he spat, angry and disgusted at himself. "We didn't take care of you like we should have. We didn't treat you right. We hurt you, and I'll never forgive myself for that. Ever."

You nodded again. It's not that you couldn't find the words. It's that you had absolutely nothing to say to that. To them.

"I will always love you," he continued. "As long as I'm alive."

"I know," you finally said. You had felt it that day you had tried to destroy the bond. That was that tiny thread left between you. Their love, however painful it had been to you.

He smiled again. A sad smile that should have broken your heart.

"Are you happy?"

"Yes."

"Then I will die a happy male."

"You won't die at all, even if I have to bring all the healers of the Day Court to save your life."

He chuckled, then winced.

"Spoken like a true High Lady," he said with a proud smile. "So," he cleared his throat. "Boy or girl?"

You smiled slightly. "Both. Twins."

"I'm so happy for you," he beamed at you. You felt Nesta boil from where she stood. You knew she was trying her very best not to say a thing. Not to ruin this moment. For Cassian. And for you.

"Be happy, Cassian," you told him, running your thumb once more on his cheek before letting go of his face.

You gestured for Helion to help you back up and he was with you in an instant. You looked up at Nesta as you stood on your feet. She wouldn't say a thing, but you saw enough in her eyes. She had lost any hope of happiness the day she lost you. And she would live with that for the rest of her life.

You smiled at your husband as he linked his arm to yours and walked you to the door. You were halfway across the room when a voice stopped you.

"Tell me what I have to do to have your forgiveness."

You turned to meet Nesta's eyes. Determined. Desperate.

You had thought about it. You had thought about it many times. What it would take for you to forgive them. You never could find the answer. And as you stood there with her you understood there was nothing either of them could do. Nothing they could say. But there was one thing you were dying to know.

"Why didn't you stop when I asked?"

Cassian's face turned grave. Nesta didn't even flinch.

"I didn't want to," she answered honestly. "I took what I wanted from you and I didn't stop to think how that made you feel. I didn't even consider the possibility that I was... that we were hurting you. Because you were my... our mate, and you were mine..." she paused, a knot forming in her throat as tears formed in her eyes. "And I was so wrong."

"So you didn't know you were hurting me?"

She shook her head. Cassian said nothing, he only lowered his eyes in shame.

"Would you have stopped, would you have changed, had you known?"

"Yes." It was Cassian who answered. "But we should have known."

"We should have known," Nesta nodded.

You paused to look at them both for a moment. Then, you squeezed Helion's hand before you turned your back to your mates once more.

"Yes. You should have."

The end!

I hope you liked it! I am curious though, do you think reader should have / could have forgiven them? Were you hoping for another ending? 🤔 Let me know!

Thank you all for the likes and reblogs, I really enjoyed writing this, I haven't written in so long! 🩷

Tags: @chessebookgirl @impossibelle @esposadomd @saltedcoffeescotch @sleepylunarwolf @63angel @azzydaddy @ghostbutaliveidk @queerqueenlynn @randomperson1234sblog @nyx-the-alien

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of-house-atreides · 2 months

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RUTHLESS

Stepdad Joel Miller x Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 5.1k+

Warnings: DDDNE, literally just a fucked up stepdad/mom's bf fantasy, could read "mom" as tess but I don't name her or assign physical features to her or reader, post-outbreak, reader is def over 18 but not by much so yeah age gap, NON-CONSENSUAL, power imbalance, unethical d/s dynamic, slapping, spanking, punishment, orgasm delay/denial, humiliation, degradation, face fucking, anal sex, little to no aftercare

A/N: Category is "That old man would fucking never... but if he did..." Please be mindful of the warnings and don't read if it might trigger you. Sorry, mom. Sorry, God.

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Within the secluded world of your big noise-canceling headphones, you scan through silence on the CB radio, pausing for a few seconds on each channel before moving on to the next.

Channel 11: Nothing.

Channel 12: Zilch.

Channel 13: Nada.

When you turn the dial to channel 14, though, you pick up chatter and start transcribing.

Channel 14 7/17/22 19:56

—got a bundle of carrots today. Budaydas, onions, too. Want me to come by tomorrow and make some stew? Over.

Got enough for the kids? Over.

And leftovers. Over.

I’ll be at Margie’s around supper time. Over and out.

The air goes silent.

After a minute goes by with no follow up transmissions, you glance at the clock. 7:58. Almost time for check-in.

You tune the radio to channel 32 and review your transcription.

Many people speak in code, encrypting their messages in seemingly benign conversations. To the untrained ear, they’re normal exchanges, people making small talk about jobs and rations and kids. Goodnight calls and check-ins that use predictable inquiries to convey messages.

—got a bundle of carrots today. Budaydas, onions, too. Want me to come by tomorrow and make some stew?

Most of it you can translate from memory. The drug traffickers that use channel 14 have frequented the same lingo for years. Likely because of the high turnover rate of personnel. There’s less confusion that way. Confusion in communication raises more alarm bells for eavesdroppers than using the same code words across the board.

You flip through your cipher for channel 14, searching for budaydas, but find nothing. Scrunching your nose up, you say the word out loud, “Budaydas. Buh-day-das.”

Carrots, onions, budaydas in a stew.

“Oh,” you nod in understanding, then jot down your translation, muttering under your breath, “Fucking Boston accents.”

(Someone) picked up tranquilizers, benzos (budaydas = potatoes), and opioids. The caller wants to meet up and trade as previously agreed.

The rest of it is easy enough to interpret without the use of a cipher. You probably don’t need to write down the translation, but do it in case your mom or Joel need to reference the notes at a later date.

There’s enough to distribute product across their network of dealers in Boston QZ, plus more to stockpile. They’ll meet at their hub in Area 1, Margaret St, at midnight.

You exhale through slack lips, glancing at the clock as it ticks over to 8:00, then pick up the microphone and hold down the speak button.

“Radio check.”

A few seconds go by before you hear a familiar gruff voice crackle over the radio waves into your ears, “Loud and clear. Over.”

Your nostrils flare when you hear him. Joel Miller. The bane of your existence. Your de facto stepfather, only because you don’t really remember life without him by your mom’s side.

This isn’t to say he’s a father figure to you by any means. The two of you never shared the kind of heartwarming paternal bonding moments you read about in books. That would require warmth and vulnerability, which he distinctly lacks.

Once, when you were maybe 11 or 12, you made the mistake of calling him Dad. The way he looked at you made you feel like dirt. Fire burning behind his dark eyes, he corrected you with one stern syllable that taught you your place: “Joel.”

You sit up straighter and take a moment to gather yourself before responding.

“Did you get your message from Uncle Paul? Over.”

“I did. Over.”

“How’s the weather in Kansas City? Over.”

“Cloudy. Over.”

Fuck.

You swallow around nothing, then clear your throat and ask, “And Grandma, how’s she? Over.”

“Fine, just busy is all.”

You exhale a sigh of relief that melts the tension between your shoulders. Joel continues.

“Anything new with you? Over.”

Tapping your fingers on your notes, you answer, “Rumor has it the market is gonna be busy tomorrow. Harvesting time, I guess. Other than that, same old same old. What about you? Staying out of trouble? Over.”

It feels strange, having a casual conversation with him like this. Even if it’s just a data exchange dressed up as a casual conversation.

There’s a long pause, then he says, “Fine, yeah. Well. See you soon. Over ‘n’ out.”

Stiff as a board. Cold as ice. Joel Miller, everyone. Round of applause.

You snort, rolling your eyes as you unplug the headphones and toss them on the table. It takes a moment for you to re-acclimate to your surroundings.

The dingy two-bedroom apartment is quiet and still. Outside, the setting sun casts the world in a dark golden haze. A FEDRA patrol vehicle roars down the street, broadcasting the curfew alert from a loudspeaker. Faint shouting from a few units down momentarily piques your curiosity before you decide it’s none of your business.

You stand from the chair and reach your hands above your head, lungs expanding in a powerful yawn, then take a lap around the apartment to stretch your legs.

Something catches your eye when you walk by the entry. A note slipped under the doorframe. On the outer fold, your name is written in a familiar scrawl.

Your heart skips a beat.

You pick it up and unfold the paper, revealing an invitation.

I miss you. Come over when you’re done surfing the airwaves. XO, Bert.

Warmth trickles down between your thighs. A smile spreads across your face. You glance up at the door, then to the CB radio and scanner on the desk.

Indecision churns in your belly.

You are explicitly forbidden from leaving the apartment while your mom and Joel are out on runs. A safety precaution you’ve protested dozens of times to no avail. They expect you to stay put and warn them if you notice any signs of potential danger. In return, you receive a cut of the profit and a roof over your head. Security, in short. Which is more than most could say.

That being said… You break this rule from time to time, when the circumstances allow.

Like when the Fireflies and FEDRA have been quiet for weeks and there are no smoke signals in sight. Like when you’re five nights into a seven day seclusion and think you might die of boredom if you don’t get the fuck out of here. Like when your boyfriend slips a note under the door and asks you to come over.

You look down at the paper in your hands, re-reading the words I miss you.

Fuck it, what’s the worst that could happen?

—

Just before midnight, you wander down the hallway to your unit, jelly knees wobbling with each step. As you absentmindedly trace your tingling lips, still puffy from kissing, you unlock the door and push it open, then frown.

The lights are on.

They were off when you left, you’re sure of it. When you step further into the apartment, your foot catches on something. A backpack. This faint buzzing starts behind your ears as you blink at it, wishing it would go away.

Motherfu—

“Where the fuck have you been?”

Your stomach plummets to the floor when you hear his voice. A thick knot of panic tightens around your windpipe as you look up to find Joel standing just a few paces away in the living room.

He stares you down, dark eyes glowing with fury, and questions you again, “Where were you?”

“N-nowhere.”

The blatant lie sits sour on your tongue. His lips purse, so you fumble out another, “I went for a walk.”

“A walk,” he repeats, tone disbelieving, “You went on a walk after curfew wearing that?”

You look down at your clothing. A short skirt and tank top. Your throat bobs in a guilty gulp, then you meet his eyes again and nod.

“And when did you leave on this ‘walk?’”

Your mind whirs as you try to come up with an answer. It feels like a trap. You try to calculate an answer that will provide minimal blowback.

“I don’t know, maybe twenty minutes ago?”

“Try again.”

The electricity humming through you takes on a red, frustrated edge, and you snip, “I don’t fucking know, dude. It was a while ago, I wasn’t paying attention. Where’s my mom?”

“Your mom sent me here to make sure you were alive,” he says pointedly, taking slow, deliberate steps towards you, “We’ve been tryin’a reach you for three hours. I got here an hour ago. That’s a helluva lot longer than twenty minutes, ain’t it?”

Shrinking into yourself, you search his face. Jaw set, eyes boring into yours. Waves of anger roll off him as he approaches, and you remember all those rumors you heard about him on the radio. The fear you heard in grown men’s voices when they recounted run-ins with that bitch and her guard dog.

You remember what Bert said about him: He’s fucking ruthless.

“You aren’t supposed to leave the apartment when we’re outside the QZ.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you?”

Your heart thuds against your ribcage.

Joel has never directed this kind of outright anger towards you. Sternness, sure. Contempt, maybe. But this is different. You’re in fucking trouble.

There has to be a way out of this conversation.

You drop your gaze to the floor and ask, “Is my mom ok? Did something happen to her?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

Righteous indignation straightens your spine and wills you to meet his eyes again, “I’m not saying shit until you tell me what happened to her.”

“She sprained her ankle, but she’s fine. She’s safe,” he tells you, then takes another step forward, “Why did you leave?”

You respond by rolling your eyes.

“Answer the question.”

With an irritated sigh, you search his face, then tell him, “You don’t know what it’s like to be here. Isolated for days or weeks at a time. I fucking hate it. It’s so lonely and boring, I feel like I’m losing my mind—”

“Oh, cry me a goddamn river.”

You scowl at him, staring him down, “Fuck you.”

“Watch your fucking mouth, you disrespectful little shit.”

Red flashes through your field of vision, hot and angry and defiant. You gather the moisture in your mouth on your tongue and spit at him. It splats on his cheek.

His face twists up with fury for one second before he charges, closing the distance between you. The impact pushes your back to the door with a thud.

He grabs your jaw, fingers digging hard into the soft flesh of your cheeks. His eyes are hot coals, burning into you. The muscles in his jaw twitch, nostrils flaring, breath shaky.

When he speaks, it’s through gritted teeth, “You don’t know what it’s like out there.”

“No, because you won’t let me fucking leave—”

“You should be fucking grateful, you know that? Being here is a fucking cake walk. Your mom ‘n’ I have seen things, done things—horrible things you couldn’t even imagine,” he husks, searching your face, grip tightening so hard it makes you whine. “We keep you safe, and all we ask is that you stay put and keep a lookout for us when we’re gone.”

Even if you wanted to respond, you can’t. The vice grip he has on your face renders your mouth immobile.

All you can do is stare back at him, studying his furrowed brow and clenched jaw. Full lips pinched thin as he glowers at you.

You notice how close his broad body is to yours. The heat radiating off his tightly-wound muscles onto your skin. His ragged breath scatters across your face and wafts into your open mouth. You taste the bootleg whiskey on his breath and your pulse jumps.

Warmth drips down your spine and pools at the center of you, a horrifying sensation that makes you squirm.

“Were you with your little boyfriend? Hmm?” he asks, eyes darting around your face, trailing down to your body for a moment before returning, “That boy downstairs? Figure you musta been, on account of how you’re dressed.”

You don’t say anything. You can’t. But it doesn’t matter, because it’s not really a question.

“Abandoning your post to go out and get fucked, is that it?”

A whimper slips from your throat as heat swells beneath your skin.

He wouldn’t be treating you like this if your mom was here. He wouldn’t say these things or be this close to you. Knowing this, you understand that whatever is happening right now is wrong.

You also understand that you like it.

You hate that you like it, and hate him for making you like it, but you like it all the same.

Letting go of your face, he demands, “Answer me.”

“Fuck you.”

Before you even realize what’s happening, you feel a sharp, hot sting on your cheek and yelp.

He fucking slapped you.

“Wrong answer.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you retort, bringing your hand to the welt forming on your cheek, “I’m gonna tell her.”

“Yeah? You gonna tell her I found you sneaking in at midnight, too? That you compromised our safety to go out ‘n’ get dicked down?”

You harden your gaze on him, lips pressing together with disdain.

“She wouldn’t like that, would she?” he asks, the smallest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “She’d probably kick you out on your ass.”

“She wouldn’t. You guys need me.”

“And you need us,” he counters, searching your face, “So what do we do to make sure this doesn’t happen again? Hmm?”

A dozen inappropriate images flash through your head, each more lurid than the last. An electric, tingling feeling shoots out from the base of your spine and works through your extremities.

You swallow hard and shake your head, “I won’t do it again.”

“If I don’t punish you, you will. You’re fucking disrespectful. Selfish. You need discipline.”

Again, a flash of frustration taints the world red. Crossing your arms over your chest, you scoff, “Just because you’re fucking my mom doesn’t mean you’re my dad. I am an adult and you are not the boss of me.”

He sighs and takes a step back, planting his hands on his hips. His gaze drifts around the empty apartment, jaw gnashing back and forth for a moment before he returns to twist the deadbolt closed and grab your arm.

“What the f—” you swat at him and dig your heels into the floor, but it does nothing as he drags you by his steel grip, pulling you stumbling along behind him into the living room.

He sits on the couch and forces you to lay over his bent knees, one big hand securing your wrists behind your back while the other flattens against the swell of your ass cheek. As soon his touch leaves, it returns, a sharp snap tingling across your skin.

Shocked doesn’t even begin to describe the chaos throbbing through you.

“You’re right, you’re an adult. And I’m not your dad,” he asserts, lifting his hand. Your whole body clenches in anticipation. “But as long as you live here, I am the fucking boss of you,” he slaps your ass again, “Do you understand me?”

It surprises you when you hear yourself sob, “I’m sorry—”

He does it again and again, hissing, “Yeah, you’re fucking sorry now, aren’t you?”

Each firm slap he lays down is firm, unflinching. Ruthless.

It overwhelms your senses and becomes the only thing you feel. The universe world narrows down to just his palm on your skin. The reliable and exquisite pain ringing through you. Smack. Smack. Smack.

Every time he draws his hand back, you don’t think you can handle it again. But you do.

Soon, you start to crave the impact. His skin on your skin. You can’t feel the start or end of it. It’s just him and you. Pain and pleasure. Sobs and moans, all blended together.

Far away, you hear him chide you for not wearing underwear beneath your skirt. Then he asks, “Are you fucking enjoying this?”

Too ashamed to admit it, all you do is whimper in response.

Smack.

He sucks in breath through his teeth, then grabs the meat of your ass and rumbles, “You do, don’t you?”

When his grasp on your wrists releases, you pull your elbows beneath you and look over your shoulder at him, watching as he spreads your cheeks apart and stares down between your legs. You’re probably shiny and wet with the evidence of your desire.

His lips form an ‘o’ when he kneads you back together and spreads you apart again. The motion teases all your hungry nerves and makes you moan. It feels so fucking good.

You realize then that he’s grown stiff against your belly, hard cock leaving no mistake.

“You fucking like it, too, don’t you?” you ask him, your voice breathy and amused, “I can feel how turned on you are.”

Slipping a hand between your bodies, you press against his strained zipper. His cock jumps at the contact, and he groans, dragging his fingers through your slick lips.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, eyes fluttering closed as you nod in approval. He works your clit in steady, firm circles while you smooth your hand along the big bulge in his pants, letting out a string of whines at the bubbling pleasure inside you.

You lose yourselves here, both of you squirming and panting and petting the other. So wrapped up with how fucking good it feels that you forget to feel ashamed.

When he smacks your ass now, you croak through clenched teeth, “Fuck yes.”

He likes that you like it. You can tell by the way he groans and throbs beneath you. This knowledge inspires your pulse to pound and your muscles to tense.

“Joel,“ you whimper, opening your eyes to meet his heavy-lidded gaze, “I’m gonna fucking come, don’t stop—”

“Did I give you permission to do that?” he asks, slowing his touch to a torturous rhythm, “Did I say you could come?”

You shake your head and whine, “Please, Joel, please—”

“Are you sorry for what you did?”

“I’m sorry—”

“Are you gonna do it again?”

“No no no, I won’t, I promise, I’ll be a good girl—”

He groans, tossing his head back as you frantically rub at the bulge in his pants. Your palm chafes against the stiff denim, but you don’t stop. You would do this for eternity if it meant he’d let you find your release.

“Oh yeah, you’ll be a good fucking girl for me?” he asks, touching you just soft and slow enough to twist your nerves ragged, but keep your orgasm out of reach.

“I will, I promise. Please, Joel,” you whisper, holding his gaze as your face gets all hot, “Please make me come, please please—”

“Show me you mean it.”

He doesn’t need to explain what he means. While he takes off his jeans, you scramble off his lap and kneel between his spread knees. His eyes stay glued to yours as you slide your hands up his thighs.

Batting your lashes at him, you wrap your lips around his swollen cock. He fills your mouth. He feels smooth but hard against your tongue. He tastes salty and heady and when you inhale the musk of him, you moan around his girth.

Nodding, he anchors his grip behind your head and bucks his hips, forcing his dick down your throat. When you gag, he doesn’t let up, but thrusts into the sensation, grunting, “Fuck. Yes,” before letting you pull off, gasping for air.

You wrap your hands around him, all shiny and slick with drool, and pump his length for a moment while you catch your breath, then take him in your mouth again.

This time, you sit up taller. You relish the stretch of your lips as you bob up and down. Savor the tug of his fingers curled tight in your hair. Memorize the sound of his huffs and grunts as he fucks your face. The wet squelching gurgle of his cock squeezing down your windpipe.

“Look at me,” he orders, so you do.

He’s all blurred from your watering eyes, but you can make out the dark irises and stay locked onto them while relaxing the muscles of your throat to take him easier. When you make an enthusiastic humming noise, he groans. It’s wanton and lusty and lights a fire in your belly.

Joel has never treated you this hard or soft. His regard for you has always been callous. Closed-off. Indifferent. With your assistance on the radio, he treated you like a tool for survival. Before that, or even in-between smuggling runs, he treated you like some kind of a household pet he had little regard for. Your mom’s responsibility, never his.

For years and years, you ached for more.

When you were younger, you used to sit up nights and wonder if he’d ever consider you his daughter. He wouldn’t, though. He won’t.

But this is something.

Distinctly, you want to please him. Be the best he ever had. You want to sink your claws into his brain and leave your mark for years to come. You want him to look at you after this and feel a flicker of desire and self-loathing. You want him to think of you when he fucks your mom. You want him to hate how you made him feel.

When you pull off him and start to work his soaked length with your hands, you pant, “Does that feel good? Am I doing a good job sucking your cock?”

“It’s good,” he nods, lets out a groan that pinches his eyes shut, then meets your gaze again, “So fucking good, Jesus Christ. Is this what you were out doing tonight? Sucking cock?”

“Not tonight.”

“But he fucked you, didn’t he? That boy?”

You nod, stroking him slower. His eyelids flutter.

“Did he fuck your pussy or your ass?”

The question sends a jolt through your middle. You recall the sex you had with Bert. Barely an hour has gone by since he pulled out of your cunt to shoot his load on the mattress, but it feels like a lifetime ago.

“My pussy,” you answer, then gather a thick, hot wad of saliva on your tongue and spit on his cock. You spread it with a slow churning motion, watching Joel’s face twist up with pleasure.

“Were you bein’ smart about it at least?” he asks, studying you, “We don’t need you getting knocked up.”

“He pulled out,” you shrug.

He grunts in acknowledgment, then sits up and pulls on your arm to join him on the couch, “C’mere.”

You follow his guidance, lying back on the cushions as he strips off his shirt.

The only times you’ve seen him shirtless were accidental and slightly embarrassing for both of you. But now, you notice how his smooth chest glows in the dim light. Now, when you drink in the sight of his big arms and broad shoulders, heat bubbles up your spine.

While you pull your tank top off over your head, he tugs your skirt down your thighs, asking, “You ever taken it up the ass?”

You shake your head.

His eyebrows jump a little like he’s surprised. A sadistic kind of smirk plays across his lips as he pushes your knees up to your chest, then spreads you apart, the head of him nudging at your backdoor.

He doesn’t ask for permission. He doesn’t ask if you want it this way, or if you want him to be the first. He doesn’t even warn you about the initial shock and pain you experience when he rocks his hips forward and breaches the tight hole.

You yelp and try to lurch away from the sharp pain, but he grabs you and holds you there.

Sitting up on your elbows, you cry, “That fucking hurts, Joel.”

“Wouldn’t be much of a punishment if it didn’t hurt a little, would it?” he murmurs, disinterested, watching your asshole stretch to accommodate the head of his cock.

The sensation is overwhelming. Like being stabbed or split open. At first, you hate it. You sputter and gasp and shake your head as he pushes himself in further and further.

Then he pauses the invasion, releasing his steel grip on you to tilt your chin up and meet his gaze, “Just relax.”

His eyes burn into yours, making your pulse jump. You bear witness to his heaving chest and parted lips and feel him twitch inside you. Sparks sizzle across your body, but you still scowl at him.

“It hurts, I don’t like it.“

“It’ll get better, you just gotta relax,” he coaches.

“Why can’t we just have normal sex?”

He grunts, thinks about it for a moment, then tells you, “First off, this is not normal sex,” he points between your chest and his, “This will not be a normal thing, you understand?”

It stings a little, if you’re being honest. But you nod, “I understand.”

Nodding, he licks his lips. He throbs inside you, hips jerking a little in reaction. This time, the friction feels good enough to make you whimper.

“Second, we don’t need another mouth to feed around here,” he says, searching your face, “We’re stretched thin enough as is. You know what I mean?”

“But if you—”

“Pulling out can still stick. This way’s tried and true, trust me.”

“Trust you,” you scoff under your breath and roll your eyes.

“What’s that?”

You meet his hardened gaze, feeling emboldened enough to ask, “Do you fuck my mom in the ass?”

“That’s none of your business,” he warns.

“So, what, you can interrogate me about my sex life, but I can’t do the same?”

“That’s right,” he barks, “Know why?”

In response, you glare at him.

He takes this moment of bitter silence to drag his knuckles up your slick, swollen lips. The light touch branches out beneath your skin and makes your heart pound. You gasp a little, but try to hide it. He clocks it immediately.

“There we go,” he murmurs under his breath, almost as an aside, smoothing the pad of his thumb in soft circles on your clit. Pleasure churns beneath the touch, hot and hungry for more. When you whimper, Joel’s eyes go wild for a second, then he says, “I am the fucking boss of you, understand?”

You swallow a moan as he arches forward and starts to roll his hips. It feels better now. Good. Fucking amazing, almost. Electric and gooey. He fills you so completely with each thrust, you wonder how you can even breathe.

“So if I tell you to be home, that’s where you’ll be. If I ask you where you’ve been, who you were with, what you were doing—you tell me the truth. Understand?”

Nodding, you gasp, “I understand.”

“You don’t get to ask me about your mom. You don’t tell your mom. You don’t sneak out to go get fucked by some boy who doesn’t even know what to do with you—”

“Holy shit, Joel I’m gonna—” you gasp at the pressure building at the base of your spine, spreading thick and hot and delicious across your body.

“And you don’t come without my fucking permission. Understand?”

“I understand I understand,” you cry, literal tears burning behind your eyes at the ache of trying to keep the ecstasy at bay, “Please can I come, please please please—”

“Are you sorry?”

“I’m sorry, I’ll never do it again—”

“That’s right, you’ll never fucking do it again. Why’s that?”

“You’re the boss,” you beg, your voice so raw and pleading it sounds foreign. He pounds into you now, a wet slap that echoes off the apartment walls. It takes all your concentration to keep your pleasure contained, to not spill over the edges, but you hear yourself babble somewhere far away.

“You’re the fucking boss. I’m sorry I’m sorry I won’t disobey you again I’ll be a good girl I’ll do anything just please give me permission to come daddy please please please—”

When he moans, loud and depraved, it just about breaks you, but you manage to keep your resolve long enough for him to pant, “Go ahead, let it go.”

With a choked sob, you untether your pleasure and allow it to expand, growing hot and wide and unlike anything you’ve ever felt. Every muscle in your body tenses up as the sensation swallows you whole, then spits you back up, sending wave after wave across your body.

“That’s it, that’s a good girl,” he grunts, taking his hand from your clit to hold your knees down and fuck your ass hard and fast and ruthless.

It surprises you when heat starts stretching out from the middle of you again. Your heart starts to race as the feeling grows.

“Ffffuuuuck,” you whimper, “That feels so fucking good—”

“I told you, didn’t I?”

“You did you did holy shit,” you meet his eyes and nod frantically, “I love it I love it—please can you come in my ass?”

“Is that what you want? Want me to come in your tight little asshole?”

A feral noise escapes you, and you sob, “Yes—”

“Do you wanna come too?”

“Yes—oh my god, yes, please please please daddy—”

“Come with me, baby.”

You let the feeling overtake you again, gasping out, “thank you thank you thank you,” as it takes you strong and fast. Pleasure pulses through your body, causing you to convulse and strain against Joel’s grip spreading you open. He releases a moan from his belly and gives you a hard, deep thrust that he holds for a shuddering moment. After emptying himself inside you, he pulls out, falling back to his seat on the couch.

Chest heaving, you prop yourself up on your elbows and study him. He pinches his eyes shut and catches his breath before meeting your gaze again.

His expression goes soft long enough for something dangerous to flicker between you.

Then he turns away and starts getting dressed.

“Get yourself together, I’m gonna go get your mom.”

As you sit up, you fold your legs into your body and watch him button his shirt.

“Joel—”

He looks at you, searching your face expectantly, but your brain goes static and you’re not even sure what you were going to say.

“This stays between us, understand?”

His tone is firm but gentle. You swallow hard and nod, “I understand.”

Nodding, he glances down at your lips, then back to your eyes. He rises to his feet to leave, but before he does, he leans down to press a kiss into your forehead.

“Good girl.”

2K notes · View notes

of-house-atreides · 2 months

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#I need him to cosplay as Meryl next 😭

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of-house-atreides · 2 months

Text

Please, stop... | Part 3

Pairing: Helion x reader (x Nessian)

Warnings: smut - mentions of abusive relationship and SA - MINORS DNI

(A/N: English isn't my first language)

Part 1 Part 2

Helion had promised himself three things:

He'd make Cassian and Nesta pay for ever hurting you.

He'd tell Rhys exactly what he thought of his 'court of dreams'.

He would make you happy again.

And he would stop at nothing to make the latter happen sooner rather than later.

He hadn't left your side ever since you woke up. He had looked after you and seen you through the withering until he was satisfied you weren't going to die from it. He had wiped away all of your tears. He had held you as you cried. Had comforted you when your thoughts took you in deep and dark places.

To his relief, you didn't show anymore sign of withering after the first day. He hadn't asked but you knew he knew. He knew you hadn't destroyed the bond completely.

That one thin thread remained. Neither of you spoke of it. You didn't even want to think about it. But you couldn't bring yourself to shut your mates off completely. To say goodbye to them forever. Perhaps that made you an idiot, or weak, but you just couldn't do it. And Helion never made you feel bad about it.

You had lost track of time. Helion had made it so easy. He had food brought to his chambers and he ate every single meal with you in his bed. He had made everything available to you. You were never alone, if only for one hour every day to allow you to bathe and for him to see to his duties. But when you got out of the bathroom, he was there, waiting for you. Every time.

That was when you had first smiled at him. Your first smile since...

You had found him on his bed, waiting for you with a plate of sweets. The sight had filled you with a warm joy. It had made you feel like the luckiest female in Prythian. The smile he gave you in return had healed a small part of you. You had felt it in your chest.

You laid in his bed, feeling content and at peace. He was lying on his side next to you, one arm propped on his elbow, his fingers gently caressing your cheek. The first time he had done so, you had burst into tears after a few minutes. You had never shared such a moment with Cassian and Nesta. They had never showed you such gentleness and patience. You had apologized to Helion for it, but he only kissed the tears away and made you promise never to apologize for crying again.

The feeling of his lips on your skin had sparked something in you. Something you had never felt before. A craving. You craved his touch and presence. You had never craved for anyone in this way. Not even your mates. No. You had feared and avoided them. And deep down you knew you would never fear or avoid him.

Slowly, you brought a hand to his cheek. He closed his eyes and hummed as you touched him.

"Thank you, Helion."

"Mmh, do not thank me, my moonshine. I am a selfish male."

"Why?"

"Because I wished for this. I've been wishing for this since the first time I met you."

His confession startled you. But only for a moment.

"I wished they were more like you. When I went back to them after our days here together. I wished they would be as nice and gentle as you. But they never ever asked me about my day. You asked. You wanted to know everything. You cared."

"I care," he nodded, taking your hand in his and bringing your knuckles to his lips. "I've always cared and I always will."

Tears filled your eyes as you inhaled deeply.

"I know," you smiled sadly, a tear finding its way onto your cheek. "I felt so horrible when I went back. Because I didn't feel safe there, but I felt safe here, with you."

"My love," he smiled back, resting his forehead against yours. "I will always keep you safe."

"Show me," you said and he blinked. "Show me, Helion. Show me how gentle you are. Show me how you'll always care for me."

"Are... are you sure?"

"Yes, Helion, yes. Please. I want to be yours. Only yours."

He growled. "Mine? As you wish, my love."

He wasted no more time as he claimed your lips and it was like being kissed for the first time. His hands and fingers traveled on your body, worshipping your skin, his tongue brushed yours and you moaned as you opened your mouth to him. There was no fear when he touched you. No tear when he undressed you. Slowly, gently, whispering sweet nothings, and it was everything.

"Are you certain?" he asked again and you nodded. "Words, my love."

"Yes," you breathed and he rewarded you by pushing two fingers inside of you. The feeling amazed you. The lack of pain surprised you.

You moaned as he moved his fingers deeper, searching, not for his pleasure, but for yours. You had never known it could be like this. His lips never left your skin. He kissed your forehead, your nose, you chin, then both of your cheeks before moving down to your throat, your neck, your breasts. You called his name as you felt your climax approach.

"Please," you begged.

"Please, what, my love?"

"May I... come, please..."

You felt him freeze but only for a second. You forgot about it the second he started moving his fingers again.

"You can come whenever you're ready, my moonshine," he encouraged you, running a thumb over your clit, "my beautiful love," he whispered before pressing a kiss on your shoulder.

Your orgasm came mercifully. And you actually enjoyed it, for once. He kissed you through it, didn't stop kissing you afterwards.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright," you smiled shyly at him. "I'm really good."

"Good," he grinned as he leaned to capture your lips once more.

He brought his fingers to his mouth and you turned red as he hummed and he licked them clean.

"You taste absolutely divine, my love. Will you allow me to taste you some more?"

"Wh- what about you?"

"What about me?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Isn't it... your turn?"

"My turn? No, moonshine, this is all about you," he said, leaning over to kiss your face once more. "I won't if you don't want me to, I won't be mad, I promise," he added as he felt your hesitation.

"Okay."

"Okay? Should we stop?"

"No, I mean, yes, we can keep going."

"Are you sure?"

You gave him a small smile then took his face in your hands and kissed him.

"I'm sure," you assured him.

He smirked. "Then open your legs for me, my love."

And for the first in your life, you happily obeyed that command.

Tags: @chessebookgirl @impossibelle @esposadomd @saltedcoffeescotch

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of-house-atreides · 2 months

Text

Please, stop... | Part 2

Pairing: Helion x reader (x Nessian)

Warnings: abusive relationship and descriptions of SA - MINORS DNI

(A/N: thank you to everyone who left comments on the first part, I haven't written in a long while and it was very encouraging 🩷 - English isn't my first language)

Azriel waited for dawn.

And he hated himself for it. He hated himself for a lot of things.

But he waited. For the day to come.

Memories haunted him as he stood on Rhys and Feyre's rooftop, his back leaning against the chimney, his eyes towards the starry sky. Memories of you. Of the first time he saw your bruised skin, when you were still trying to hide it. Of the first time he saw you flinch as Cassian raised his hand to cup your cheek and leave a kiss on your temple. Of the first time he saw you cry in the kitchen at night.

Of the first time he had run into you in that same kitchen one evening, barely clothed, tears and spit and cum staining your face. And you hadn't bothered to hide or feel embarrassed. You were too busy trying to be a good mate. For them, you would take it. And for his brother, he wouldn't say a thing. He walked away that night. He walked away from you, as they all had.

They had failed you.

So when dawn broke and chased the night away, Azriel entered the townhouse and woke his High Lord.

The sun shone bright high in the sky when you awoke.

You felt sore and heavy. Like you had been crying all night before finally falling asleep. The aches were familiar, from your neck to your wrists to the headache pulsing through your skull. And yet... relief. Relief that you weren't in their bed. Relief that you weren't in that house. Relief that you were alone.

Slowly, you rose from the bed. You knew these chambers. Large, gold, warm, homely and bright. You had spent several evenings there with Helion, having dinner, chatting, gossiping, laughing, talking about spells and books... Some of the best memories of the recent months.

It all came crashing back into you, the memories of hours ago. What you had done. A painful ache in your chest shook you to your core and you lied back down with a whine.

You had left your mates.

As painful as a physical blow, your heart twisted inside of you. The bond cracked in a billion pieces. You cried out as you felt it shatter. It left you shaking on the mattress.

A warm hand gently came to cup your wet cheek. You opened your eyes to find Helion kneeling before you, the worry on his face brought a foreign feeling to your chest.

"You're withering," he said in a whisper, wiping the tears off your skin with his thumb. You frowned for only answer. "You broke the bond."

The sound that came out of you broke his heart. More tears found their way onto your cheeks as you shut your eyes.

"They hurt you, didn't they? The bruises..." he clenched his jaw, trying to tame his anger, "they did that."

You grabbed his hand, his gentle, soft hand that had never caused you any pain, clinging onto him, onto the promise of safety. You tried to take a deep breath, then another, and another... But failed each time. He couldn't take it. Seeing you like this. You were usually so full of life and light. He had always said you didn't belong in that dark court. But they had done that to you. Let you waste away. They had taken that light from you.

He sat on the edge of the bed and took you in his arms. He held you as you sobbed, and cried and wailed. He didn't have the words to comfort you. There were no spells to fix this for this was the most unnatural thing. A broken bond could be deadly. But he wouldn't let you wither away.

"Tell me what happened."

He had to know. Had to know what had been done to you. Had to know what he would say to Rhys and your mates when they undoubtedly came for you. Had to know how to make it better.

"They hurt me, Helion," you whined. "I tried... I tried to be a good mate, I did, I tried... but they don't care," you hiccuped. "I was a good mate, Helion. I was, I tried, I swear!"

"I know, I believe you," he soothed. "I believe you."

"I really tried," you whimpered. "But it hurt too much. I thought they would... I wanted... but they didn't..."

"It's okay," he whispered, placing a kiss on your forehead, a hand running through your hair, another resting on your lower back.

"I asked them to stop." He froze, your words barely a whisper, like a spell to stop time. "I asked them to stop... Please stop. Please stop. Please stop," you repeated over and over again, like you had the night before, "I swear, I asked them to stop, I did, I swear!"

"I believe you," he said, tightening his hold on you. "I believe you."

"She called me a brat," you wailed, and he swore to himself he would make them pay for each broken sob and each tear, for everything they had done to you. "I did everything they wanted, I gave them everything, and they called me a bad girl."

Helion had to hold back a growl. He would make them pay for all of it.

"I was a good mate, Helion, I was."

"I know. I know."

"I asked them to stop and they didn't."

"I know."

"I... asked them... to stop... and they didn't."

You couldn't help the cry that escaped you, the echo of your broken heart as it exploded inside of your chest and left you in pieces. Helion lifted you off the mattress and brought you onto his lap. You buried your face in his neck as the words lingered in the room. The truth, a spell to break an unbreakable bond, cutting your ties to your mates, as painful as cutting off a limb.

They deserved death for what they had done to you. But perhaps the broken bond would be punishment enough. If they even cared.

He would tell Rhys. Tell him what a hypocrite he was. Promising a court of dreams, a better court, a better future, and yet here you were. Mistreated by his own brother, by your own mates. He had expected better of them all. What a fool he had been for believing in the Night Court.

What a fool they had been for letting you go. For not protecting you and your light, your joy and smile. He hated them all for destroying it, for destroying you.

He made a vow then to one day make them pay for all of it. And he promised himself he would one day see you smile again. He would bring joy back to your life. He would bring that light back into your eyes.

Nesta fell to her knees on the kitchen floor with a gasp. She felt a blow in her chest, her lungs, her heart. She heard Cassian beg from where he sat at the dinner table where Rhys, Feyre and Azriel had gathered them.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

It wasn't possible. It couldn't be. You had left them and broken the bond without even talking to them first. Were they really so horrible? Was she really so unlovable you would risk death to break your bond to them? She couldn't believe it. Would not believe it. All she knew was that her mate was gone, and the person who had taken her away was sitting right there.

"How could you?" she growled at Azriel, silver fire burning in her eyes. "How could you leave her there?"

"How could I?" he echoed, nothing but outrage in his eyes and in his tone.

"She formally asked Helion for refuge and he granted it, Azriel had no choice but to leave her there."

"He had a choice to bring her there in the first place!" Cassian shouted at his brothers, a hand resting on his broken chest.

"She asked me to take her."

"You should have come to us!"

"She wanted to get away from you!"

"Enough!" Rhys ordered as he stood up. "She left this court and broke the bond, I think her intentions are pretty clear. If you want to write to her I will send the letters to Helion but under no circumstances are you to try and get her back from the Day Court, am I clear?"

Cassian and Nesta looked at the High Lord like he had two heads, like they couldn't believe what they were hearing.

"She's our mate, she's ours," Nesta reminded him.

"Not anymore," Feyre said softly to her sister. "And it's our fault too," she murmured to her husband. "We should have said something, we should have done something. But we didn't. We let you hurt our friend because she was your mate and you were supposed to know best."

Cassian growled.

"What are you saying," Nesta demanded as she rose to her feet. "We would never hurt her."

Azriel's eyes narrowed. He knew they were oblivious, but they had to start fucking realizing what they had done.

"She's had bruises ever since she joined your bed over a year ago."

"We all have bruises," Nesta spat back.

"Not like this! How could you not see it? We did! And maybe that makes us worse for it," the shadowsinger muttered. "We saw how miserable she was and we did nothing. She was your mate and you didn't even know!"

Another blow to their chest had them lean over the table. Nesta rested a hand on the surface and sat near Cassian. The bond. It had shattered. Now only a thin thread remained. Fragile. And quiet.

"What happened last night?" Rhys asked softly as he sat back down in his chair.

"Nothing," Nesta said, finding it painful to breathe.

"Something must have happened," Azriel accused.

"We just... nothing unusual," Cassian shrugged, searching his memory for anything that could explain your sudden departure.

"She was trying really hard to make you happy, all this time, ever since that first night you left bruises on her. She took it for over a year and never complained, never said anything about it. She let you control every aspect of her life, she let you lock her up in this house, she did everything for you, she gave you everything," Azriel told them, every single word laced with disgust and shame. "And last night she came into my room and begged me to take her to the Day Court. Something must have happened."

"Well... maybe we were a little rough, but she never said anything," Nesta shook her head.

"She shouldn't have had too!"

"She asked us to stop," Cassian said in a whisper, his face pale with realization.

The silence in the room condemned him. He had a mind to let that one last thread go. He didn't deserve you. He had no right to hold onto it, onto you, after what he had done.

"No, she didn't."

"Yes, she did," he looked up at her with teary eyes. "Yes, she did."

"She never asked us to stop, never."

"But last night, she did. She fucking did, Nesta!"

And he could see it on her face. She had heard it too. And she had chosen to ignore it, just like he did. They hadn't even thought twice about it.

"She didn't mean it."

Azriel slammed his hand on the table and Nesta jumped on her chair. His form was surrounded by dark shadows, nothing but ice in his eyes and his voice as he said:

"Apparently, she did."

"Your mate asks you to stop and you don't?"

The look of shock and disgust on her sister's face had the last thread of your bond shake in Nesta's chest.

"She never asked us to stop before, I didn't know!"

"Nesta!"

"I'm sorry!" the female cried out. "I should have known, I should have," she admitted as tears fell down her cheeks. "I never meant to hurt her."

"Fuck," Cassian breathed, his eyes hollow as he looked up at his brother. "I fucked up, Rhys."

The High Lord stared at him in silence for a moment before he nodded.

"Yes, you did."

"We have to tell her we're sorry."

"It's too late for that, I think," Azriel muttered.

"She has to know we didn't mean it," Nesta begged.

"She believed that, for over a year. Last night proved her wrong."

"Fuck you!"

"Don't take it out on Azriel, Nesta," Feyre scolded. "We all failed her. This is on all of us. But you failed her most of all."

In five centuries, neither of his brother had seen Cassian broke down in tears. Ever. He ran a hand over his face, as if he could hide, as if he could disappear. The shame alone could have killed him but the look in his friends' eyes finished him.

They had lucked out, the both of them, with you. A second mate. A family of three. You were kind and caring, gentle and loving. They couldn't have asked for a better mate. And they had ruined it. They deserved worse than death for it. And he would live the rest of his life with that shame and regret. He deserved to spend the rest of forever with Nesta and the look of disgust in their friends' eyes.

"I didn't mean it," Cassian whispered.

Nesta shook her head.

"We didn't mean it."

Tags: @chessebookgirl @impossibelle

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of-house-atreides · 2 months

Text

Please, stop... | Part 1

Pairing: Helion x reader (x Nessian)

Warnings: abusive relationship and descriptions of SA - MINORS DNI

Prompt: you’re Nesta and Cassian’s mate and yet you are so different from them. From day 1 you tried to be a good mate and do as they wanted and liked but they like it rough and you just don’t. Not only is it not enjoyable for you it is actually painful. And not just in bed. You always excused their behavior as being overprotective but recently you started calling it something else: controlling. And one night, all changed as you uttered the words you had tried so hard never to say, but always thinking if you ever did they would listen. But they didn’t. And that night, everything broke.

(A/N: it's my first time writing for ACOTAR - English isn't my first language)

Please, stop.

You couldn't remember exactly how many times you had said it. It hadn't mattered. You weren't sure if they just didn't hear you or didn't care. You couldn't bring yourself to think they had just ignored it, ignored you. But you didn't know if the alternative was better. Maybe they just didn't care.

You cried and Nesta called you a brat. You asked them to stop the first time and Cassian shoved his large cock down your throat to shut you up.

You had almost passed out then. Not because of the way you were choking on his hard length but because you had asked them to stop and they hadn't listened. They had ignored you. They had kept going.

You were crying and begging and it just didn't register. Like it didn't matter. Like you didn't matter. All that mattered was them and their pleasure.

They had gone to bed after they were done, leaving you to care for yourself. And it was then, when you were sitting in that cold bath alone, that you realized. Your mates didn't love you. They loved each other, but you were nothing more than a sex toy to them. You who had tried so hard to be a good mate. Nesta had called you a brat and a bad girl. You who had tried so hard to please them and give them whatever they wanted. It hadn't mattered. They would have taken it anyway, no matter what you wanted.

Your heart broke. You wondered if they felt it through the bond. They didn't stir from their sleep.

You silently exited the bath and put on clean clothes. You packed lightly and quietly and didn't look back at your mates before stepping out of the bedroom.

You went to Azriel, because you really didn't have any other choice. Azriel never asked too many questions. It was as much a quality as it was a flaw. That first time he saw your bruised neck for example, he didn't say a thing. Nor did he mention it the second time, or inquire after your well being the third time. He never asked. Because it wasn't his business. But Mor never mentioned it either. Neither did Feyre or Rhys. Your friends, your family. They all had seen it at one point or another. The bruises. The look in your eyes. The flinching when either of your mate raised their voices or got anywhere close to you.

Nesta and Cassian like it rough. That was the end of it.

Azriel brought a dagger to your throat as you approached him. That didn't surprise you. You apologized for waking him up and asked him if he could do you a favor, no questions asked. You weren't sure he would. His loyalties would remain with Cassian. But, maybe it was the look in your eyes, maybe it was the tears, maybe it was the bruises, or the sound of your broken and desperate voice, but when you asked him to bring you to the Day Court in the middle of the night, he had just looked at you and your packed bag for a few seconds, then silently nodded.

Helion wasn't mad you had his guards wake him up at 2AM. No, Helion was concerned. Even more so when he saw you. You knew you probably looked exactly like you felt. Like complete and utter shit.

Helion had always been nice to you. What was there not to like? You were smart, gentle, caring and beautiful. You had similar interests and powers and had become good friends while doing some research with his healers when you were looking for a way to help Feyre when she was pregnant with Nyx.

Helion had become a true friend. The only one you had left after Nesta and Cassian had restricted your outings so much your old friends had more or less forgotten about you.

Helion made you feel safe. You had nowhere else to go.

He opened his mouth, but you spoke first.

"I request asylum."

Both males stilled. Your small and weak voice broke as you said the words but they had heard you loud and clear. You had never seen Azriel so surprise. You wondered if he would try and take you back to the Night Court by force.

"What?" was all Helion managed to say.

"I ask for refuge in your court, please," you said, voice trembling, tears filling your eyes.

"What happened?" he asked, hurrying towards you, checking you for any injury, eyeing you from head to toe, noticing the bruises on your face and neck.

"Please," you begged, falling apart, your knees giving up on you as you collapsed at his feet.

He knelt before you, taking you in his arms.

"What happened?" he asked again, but not to you.

Azriel's face was grave. He knew exactly what had happened. You'd had enough. You'd reached your breaking point. Like he knew this would happen. And yet he had done nothing.

You were sobbing in the High Lord's arms and he embraced you gently, running a hand up and down your back.

"Please," your voice nothing but a whisper. "I request asylum."

Helion's eyes landed on Azriel once more and the High Lord's silence had you panic.

"Please!"

"Granted," he said and you fell apart once more.

You buried your face in his lap, letting your cries and tears flow out of you. Helion looked at Azriel like he would tear him apart, as if he were the one who had hurt you.

"Y/N is now under the protection of my court. Inform your High Lord as soon as possible."

Azriel paused, as if considering not leaving you here, no doubt thinking about his brother, your mate. But, eventually, he nodded.

"Take care of her," was all he said before he disappeared.

And as the spymaster disappeared, leaving you behind, your broken cries filled the halls of the Day Court.

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