#degradation rites

[preqvelle]

💀✨️

[buckybabesonly]

Can An Old Man Do This?

Summary: Watching Twilight with Bucky leads to to sex. Sounds about right.

Pairing: Bucky x Female!reader

Warnings: Degradation kink, dirty talk, facials

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 2k

Watching the Twilight movies with your boyfriend was surely a rite of passage. 16 year old you would be squealing if she knew that one day, you’d be dating someone as broody and stoic as your favorite fictional vampire, Edward Cullen.

You had managed to convince Bucky to curl up and bed and watch the first movie with you, telling him it was essential for his ever-growing knowledge of pop culture.

“Okay, this is too weird,” Bucky concluded as Edward and Bella danced on-screen at her prom. “This whole movie is flawed. Why would a vampire family feel the need to go to high school?”

“To blend in,” you said simply. You were sat with your back against the headboard with Bucky lying with his head resting against your bare thighs - you hadn't even bothered to change out of your pajama tank top and shorts. He was in a pair of gray sweatpants and an unbuttoned shirt, the epitome of a lazy Sunday as his fingernails grazed softly against the flesh of your leg.

He tilted his head back to look at you, rolling his eyes. “And going to high school is the way to do that? They could be doing literally anything else.”

“Don’t think too hard about the logic behind it,” you said, your fingers toying with locks of his hair.

“And Edward is over 100 years old? Going after a 17 year old? Something’s not right with that.”

You snorted, amused by Bucky’s dissection of the movie.

“How old are you again?”

“It’s not the same,” Bucky shot back.

“C’mon,” you teased, “what’s an old man doing going after a much younger woman?”

Bucky sat up then, the muscles in his abdomen rippling and flexing. He hit pause on the movie and knocked the laptop aside, rolling on top of you so that his knees were between yours, easing your legs apart.

“What did you just call me?” He challenged, hands reaching for your hips and tugging down sharply so that you slid down onto your back with a gasp.

You knew exactly what direction this was heading in as Bucky’s lips moved to your neck, his teeth softly scraping against the surface like he wanted to bite. The smell of his cologne was intoxicating, and you moaned softly as his teeth nibbled on your skin.

"Bucky..."

"Say it again," he murmured, his hands sliding up beneath your shirt to cup your breast. Your nipple hardened as he played with it, and he chuckled. "You like being felt up by this old man, huh?"

"Nuh-uh," you spluttered unconvincingly as Bucky's other hand reached down to palm your crotch, applying pressure to your clit. Arousal was flooding through every nerve ending, and you resisted the urge to grind up into his hand for more.

"I think you do," Bucky disagreed. "I think you like being used by me. Being fucked senseless by me."

He sat back and you mewled involuntarily at the loss of his touch against your body, but was quickly silenced when Bucky shrugged off his shirt and tossed it aside. You reached forward to tug at his sweatpants, but his hands shot out to pin your arms above your head.

"Not so fast, sweetheart," he said, though you could see how hard he was already. He just loved to see you squirm.

"Please, Bucky," you said, knowing exactly what he liked to hear. "Don't you think I deserve your cock? Don't you want to fuck my mouth?"

Bucky groaned then, placing his fingers inside your mouth for you to lick hungrily.

"You really think you deserve to suck my dick?" He grunted, though he was already peeling off his sweatpants like his life depended on it. He lay back and easily maneuvered you like a doll so that you were on top, gesturing to his groin.

"Show me what that pretty mouth can do, my love."

You complied eagerly, easing down his boxer briefs and releasing his cock in all its glory. It sprang to attention, red and stiff and oh-so-thick, waiting to be plunged into your mouth.

Giving Bucky blowjobs was one of your favorite things in the world. You loved looking up at his expression as you delivered pleasure with your tongue - it was thrilling knowing that you were the one to elicit such noises from his mouth.

You licked the length of his shaft slowly, teasingly, massaging his balls with one hand as you reached the tip of his dick. You flicked the head of it with your tongue before taking as much of it as you could into your mouth. You loved how heavy it felt, the weight of his cock on your tongue. It made you unbelievably wet, and you could feel yourself soaking through your panties as Bucky threaded his hands through your hair, gently helping you bob up and down.

You pulled off long enough to quickly gasp, "Use me, Bucky." It was more of a plea than an order, and it made his expression darken with arousal.

His fingers tightened - not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make you moan around his cock - as he pushed your head down so that you were forced to take it to the root, almost choking on it. He knew you loved it.

Bucky continued to pull you on and off his cock, throwing his head back with a guttural moan. If you continued on like this, he knew he could definitely cum without a problem. But right now, he needed to get inside you.

"I need your pussy," he grunted as you pulled his cock out of your mouth with a pop, gasping for air. Tears were coming out of the corners of your eyes, and he loved how disheveled you looked.

You were obedient, crawling up towards him and positioning yourself over his length. You could barely hold in your shivers of anticipation as he lined himself up with your entrance and moved his hands to your waist, guiding you as you slowly sank down onto him.

The moment the tip of his dick breached his entrance was one of your favorite feelings. There wasn't anything else quite like it. You loved how it felt when he stretched you open, making your mouth open into a silent scream.

He let you still for a moment as you settled down onto his cock, letting yourself get used to fullness of it. He studied your face carefully, eyes roving down to your breasts, your thighs.

"You okay, baby?" He asked gently, resisting the urge to thrust up inside you.

"I'm okay," you said breathlessly. You began to roll your hips, grinding on his cock whilst you watched Bucky's eyes practically roll back into their sockets.

"Oh fuck. Yes - that's it, you pretty little slut," he groaned. Those words were all it took to get you going, and you began bouncing on his cock like a bunny, wanting to drive him crazy.

"Oh God. You feel so good inside me," you moaned, somehow wanting Bucky to go deeper.

"You like it, hm? You're just my little cockslut, aren't you? Serving me so well, doing your duties," he grunted, his hands slapping your ass hard.

"Yes, yes, yes," you chanted, your brain unable to string together a coherent thought. "Bucky - be mean to me," you mewled, wanting him to be rougher, to make you scream.

"Be mean to you?" He repeated teasingly with a smirk on his lips. He pulled you off his cock, sitting up and motioning for you to get on your knees. He loved fucking you doggy-style, and you eagerly presented yourself to him as he knelt behind you.

You felt him slap his cock against your entrance a few times, covering himself with your slick.

"How hard do you want me to fuck your tight little cunt?" He asked.

"As hard as you can," you begged.

"Hmmm." He pretended to ponder, before suddenly sheathing himself inside you, making you grip the pillows hard with both your hands.

"Oh - Bucky!" Your voice was pitchy and weak as he thrust into you, his hand on the back of your neck to press you down. His other hand landed strike after strike on your ass cheeks, turning them red.

"Tell me, can an old man fuck you like this? Turn you into a trembling mess?"

"N-no," you spluttered as he moved his hands to your hips instead and began pulling you onto his cock, hard.

"God, you feel so good. Can't wait to cum inside you, mark you as mine," he grunted, throwing his head back at the pleasure of it.

"Want you - to cum - on my face," you gasped, your sentence faltering with each snap of Bucky's hips.

"Want me to cum on your face?" Bucky repeated mockingly, pulling out and ordering you to turn around to face him. You did so obediently, rolling over and barely able to prepare yourself before Bucky slid inside you again, eyes locked on yours.

"Are you sure you don't want me to cum inside your pussy? On your tits? In your ass?" He was toying with your frustrations, knowing how much you loved the feeling of him releasing on your face, the absolute debauchery of it.

"Please, Bucky. Want you on my face," you panted.

Bucky felt like he could go on fucking you for hours, but with the way you were behaving now, he knew he wouldn't last long. He latched onto your nipple with his mouth, sucking and flicking it with his tongue as you moaned at the over stimulation, his other hand reaching down to rub at your clit.

"I'm gonna cum, Bucky!" He knew exactly the right amount of pressure to apply as he continue to roll his thumb over the bundle of nerves. He released your breast to kiss your mouth inside, his tongue plunging into yours as he groaned.

"Cum for me, baby. Cum on my fat cock, you pretty little whore."

You felt yourself reach the climax all too suddenly, your body shuddering as it sparked through every inch of you like an electric shock, sending chills down your spine. You clamped a hand over your mouth to muffle your screams, Bucky continuing to thrust his cock inside you to carry you through the waves.

"Oh God - Bucky - too - too sensitive," you said, pushing his hand away from your pulsating clit as he continue to fuck you senselessly.

"Fuck, I'm going to cum," he grunted, gritting his teeth as he quickly pulled out of you. His hand stroked up and down his own cock as he knelt above you, sending thick ropes of his cum onto your face, into your open mouth. It was so warm and wet, splashing onto the pillow beneath your head and even onto the headboard.

He stroked his cock several more times, making sure to milk his dick of every last drop of cum, painting your skin with it. His knees eventually buckled and he fell on top of you, gasping.

"Oh God, that was fucking good," he said as he planted butterfly kissed all over your neck and collarbone. He looked at your face, covered in white ropes, making his softening cock twitch. "You look so pretty like that."

You were still trying to catch your breath even as Bucky gently rolled off you and quickly retrieved some tissues from the nightstand, wiping the evidence off your face as you blushed deeply. He was always so sweet after fucking you so roughly, looking after you and cleaning you up.

After you'd had a solid ten minutes to recover, he kissed your forehead sweetly, tendering stroking your cheek.

"Let's shower together, then I'll make you lunch?" He asked, making you pout.

“We haven’t finished the Twilight series yet,” you said.

“There’s more?”

“Four more.”

“I’m telling you, Nat. The Twilight movies are an aphrodisiac.”

[muntitled]

𝙄𝙍𝙍𝙀𝙋𝙇𝘼𝘾𝙀𝘼𝘽𝙇𝙀

Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

Summary: Toji is intent on ruining every other man for you

Warnings: Language, Toxic Relationship, fwb, Age Gap, Minor Gaslighting, Jealousy, Slight Angst, Coercion, Manipulation, Manhandling, Possessiveness, PDA, Threats, Smut (+18) Minors DNI, DUB/CON, Grinding, Forced Orgasm, Rough Sex, Toji Filming You, Video Sex?, Humiliation Kink, Exhibition Kink, Massive Degradation Kink, Neediness, Mutual Masturbation, Humping, Spitting, Breeding Kink, Daddy Kink, DDLG, Massive Praise Kink, Threats, Slight CNC, Extreme Humiliation, Forced Breeding

A/N: Please proceed with caution, I beg

Perhaps your first mistake is assuming you could open his message, glance over it with hooded, glossy eyes, and swipe out, with the blatant intention of ignoring him.

Toji is rarely someone who fancies wasting time. He types like the old man he is, with messages devoid of emoji's or textual abbreviations.

He had simply and succinctly written:

I miss your face.

His message is unambiguous with the expectation that you are now supposed to drop every commitment you might harbour on this thunderous Thursday night to accommodate him and his nighttime hard-on that probably hit him in a slump of boredom.

It irritated you to imagine how secondary you always seem to be in his mind's eye. It pissed you off to think that his words when he fucked you, his blatant degrdation, may hold a sliver of truth. Perhaps you really were just a sex toy he only makes use of when he wishes for a break from the rest of the world and its obligations. That piercing thought that he used you accommodate all his kinks, while he continuously failed to claim you amongst his associates... it broke you. It left you feeling cheap and ragged and worthless and-

another message peaks over your home screen:

I know you're seeing this. Tell him to fuck off.

"Everything okay?" Your head snaps up from your phone, immediately meeting the eyes of the man you had just kissed under the awning of your Townhouse patio. His warm eyes which had stayed warm throughout the duration of your date are now hooded in concern.

"Everything's perfectly fine," You attempt to reassure your coworker who had just taken you on a fantastic date. There is an inflection in your voice which you quickly attempt to clear, "Just a message from one of my students-"

You're interrupted by another incoming notification which you instinctively check.

I miss your cunt. Need to see you touch yourself.

Swiping out of that particular message had been significantly more difficult, and it took all your willpower to ignore the slew of notifications.

"My kids tend to send messages outside office hours too," your date soldiers on, bending his tall frame hoping to draw your attention once again. "It's like they don't understand the concept of school time and downtime. Teachers have lives too,"

Your eyes narrow infinitesimally at the strain in his voice when he says, "I like seeing you in academic work mode, though. It's hot." You immediately notice his words as a veneer to mask the irritation at having your date interrupted by your notifications. All that hangs between you two now is the rites of passage one is expected to complete at the end of every date.

'Ask me up' his eyes practically pleaded, as you noticed him send tiny glances at your front door, 'Ask me up and let's get this over with',

And perhaps, maybe you would have invited him up. Lord knows your own arousal had been building with the steady stream of Toji's messages, one more quick glance revealed the final message:

Do you honestly imagine yourself calling that puny little thing, Daddy?

A shuddering breath leaves your throat as a million questions bombard a million other statements racing through your mind. Questions of how the fuck Toji knew you were on a date were overshadowed by the realization that you are going to sleep with this stranger tonight. You are going to find a new anchor and a brand new distraction.

"Would you like to stay for a drink-" You asked, or would have asked, had it not been for the sheer shock at having your own door open behind you. You spin around, utterly speechless as you and your date both watch Toji answer your door.

"She doesn't drink," He says, leaning his bare, muscled shoulder against your doorframe, the rest of him is clad in his sweatpants, the drawstring left lazily to hang, "So finding any beverage alcoholic enough for her to negate the fact that you're not going to make her cum, will be quite the feat." Your coworker bristles at Toji's remark, but you're corralled into silence. It is as if your brain can not comprehend what your eyes are seeing in front of you. Your voice is dwindling as you attempt to ask,

"Where did you… How the hell did you get my keys?" But Toji disregards you as easily as he has been doing for the duration of your relationship. Arousal be damned, all you allow yourself to feel in this very moment is red, white, and hot, anger.

It is so easy for him to look past you, so easy for him to pretend you're not there when his cock isn't forcing you to take his cum. The anger pulsates through you, straining your tear ducts. If it weren't for his sudden, inexplicable movements you probably would have cursed him out with tears streaking your face.

With his eyes still on your date, Toji pulls your limp body against him. He dips his head to splay a calloused kiss at the side of your head before letting his hands drift over the curvy outlines of your body. He rubs you soothingly, in a way he knows would get you into a compliant, likely sated state as he pushes your head onto his bare chest.

"You're still standing here?" His head tilts as he stares down your date; a scarred lip curling at the end. "Would you like to watch?" By this point, you're so deep into detangling your own conflicting emotions that you're not even sure who Toji is speaking to. What you are aware of is his bulge rubbing against you from behind. His grip on your hips are concrete as he looks at the now utterly angered man, "I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to," Toji's lips graze your ear, "She does enjoy putting on a show,"

You're utterly horrified that his words and raucous display have your colleague lumbering away from your doorstep and racing to his car, never looking back.

"That is an utter shame. I think he would've liked to see how needy you get when you wanna cum-" But you've finally gained enough sensibility to push him away from you. Your heart is beating loud in your ear as you push past him and into your living room.

"Where is it,"

"My dick? It's in my pants and it wants your attention-"

"Your shirt!" Your voice thunders up into the rafters of your living room's ceiling, likely in vicious combat with the thunder groaning outside. "You're going to get your shirt and you're going to leave my house and you will then proceed to leave my fucking life!" You're pushing over cushions and decorative pillows as you search frantically for Toji's shirt, "Give me my fucking house keys and leave me the fuck alone, Toji, I'm serious!"

In the tempest of your movements, frizzy hair wild from your outburst and your manic movements, you are utterly seething to find him directly behind you. His head, dipping into the nape of your neck, deposits a row of kisses as he pushes himself up against you.

"I really need to fuck you." He says, completely reducing your earlier words into nothingness, "I need to hear you make those needy little whimpers of yours and I need you to call me Daddy, okay? I need you to tell Daddy you want him to make you a Mommy," He is utterly delirious as he fists your breasts over your buttoned shirt and thrust his hips into your backside. He is deluded by his own fantasies, guided by his own arousal with little to no thought for your own feelings. You hated that his desires flowed parallel to yours. You hated that you wanted exactly what he wanted. You hated that your panties were already steadily getting soaked at just the thought of him needing you so much he started humping lazily into your ass. "Daddy needs you to take care of him, hm? Can you do that, pretty girl?"

Your voice is barely above a whisper when you speak, afraid that it might bleed into a horrendous moan, "When have you ever taken care of me, Toji? You fucking humiliated me-" He spins you around until your chest is facing him. You fight to evade the sight of his cock straining against his grey sweatpants as you stare blankly up at him.

"You like it," Toji says, bringing a hand up to cup the side of your cheek, "And I like that you like it." And perhaps, maybe a sick, emotionally damaged part of you did enjoy it when he made you suffer a little. His words bring revelation, as you think back to seconds ago, how him touching you - disrespecting you in front of your coworker brought on a heightened state of arousal.

"Make yourself cum." He commands as he hurriedly undoes the buttons of your blouse. You quickly notice that his patience has finally cracked, and a vexed scowl now dances on Toji's face as he discards your blouse on the floor, "No more questions. Make yourself fucking cum-" He growls, as he forces you down onto your couch with a hand gripping your scalp and another, pulling a wayward pillow in front of you.

"Make yourself cum because when I touch you, your pleasure is going to be the least of my fucking concerns."

You eye the pillow with slight trepidation while Toji eyes you from above. His hand is still firmly placed on top of your head, lightly craning it backwards to see every emotion running through your face.

"Keep the skirt on," He orders, and watches with hungry eyes as you slowly take off your underwear and mount the cushion in front of you.

"Give me your phone," he is already grabbing at your device, fumbling for the camera.

"Toji, please-"

"It's Toji, now!?" He asks, laughing breathlessly as he presses record and pushes the camera into your face, "Who the fuck is Toji to you?"

Your eyes snap shut, hoping to get away from the invading insectile lense or fresh coat of arousal betweenyour thighs. Your mind is utterly fried by the stimulation you're getting from every output. Your hips have started languidly moving against the pillow, feeling pathetically satiated by the friction against your soaked little clit,

"Look at you- Fuck!" Toji removes his hand on your head to lightly paw at the bulge so deliriously close to your face, "Look at what a fucking slut you are! Do your little work friends know how stupid you get when you're on the verge of cumming-"

"Toji-"

"I said who the fuck is Toji to you!?" The sheer and utter cruelty in his tone has you humping the pillow faster, while you clumsily raise a hand to paw at your breasts. Unable to keep his composure any longer, Toji's hand descends into his sweatpants as he begins to stroke his aching dick in unison with your hips. You watch with hooded, fucked out eyes. Your pillowy lips pull in between your teeth as a pornographic moan bubbles from within your chest.

You decide to give in. "P-Please Daddy, Please fuck me- I fucking need you to cum inside me- p-please-" You're unable to stop, feeling your wetness spread along the pillow, as you watch him stroke intently, "Fuck me- I need you to fuck me, fuck me please, Daddy-" You're utterly breathless, repeating your words like a wanton, desperate whore, "Please… Daddy," you continue to whisper, "Daddy,"

"Fuck-you look so fucking sexy, baby," He doesn't know whether to look at the video of your hips moving greedily against the pillow, or to watch the real thing: your hips making a web of sticky trails of arousal on the couch.

"Apologise to Daddy, like a good girl," He really wants to fuck you but his own pride, the curse of his averous stands in his way, "Tell Daddy you're sorry for being a foolish little whore. Tell him you'll never ignore a message from him ever again-" your shoulders flinch at the sound of your phone being discarded on the floor but still, your hips are unrelenting as you say, "I'm sorry, Daddy, I'm so sorry." Drool drips from the side of your mouth, falling along your exposed breasts, which Toji squeezes recklessly. "Never! I'll never ignore another message from you ever, ever, ever," you're operating on autopilot, as you watch him release his cock from inside his sweatpants, his fingers prod and twist at your nipple.

"I miss your mouth," He utters drunkenly as he bends down, "Kiss me," And you obey as you rise to meet his lips. The soft roughness of Toji's lips only has your hips humping desperately against the pillow once more, his tongue forcing its way inside until you're both kissing with lewdity and ferocity. "Fucking slut-" he says, pulling back to push you backwards,

"My horny humping girl is so ready for Daddy to fuck her isn't she?" You're completely flooded with anticipation, it flows through your arteries, alerting every part of your brain. You feel as though you're about to taste euphoria as Toji roughly pulls your hips to the edge of the couch, lifting it to meet his cock which he hurriedly slams into you.

He fucks you, hard and rough and as needy as you feel- hovering above you so every stroke has his pelvis pushing against your clit as you fucks you into your own couch.

"You thought you could just fucking get away from me, hm?" There's a heavy condescending tone in his voice, one that has you arching your back with your lips pulled between your teeth. You're striving to get away from his harsh thrusts because the pleasure is way too much . It's all bubbling inside you, threatening to spill out everywhere and anywhere.

"I fucking told you, didn't I!?" Droplets of water fall from his hair as he watches you so intensely. You think you might cum on the spot, "Daddy fucking told you that you can't ever say no to him- you can't ever tell him to stop- Stop fucking moving!" But your movements have him more turned on than you'd initially thought, allowing him to use the advantage of his brawn, to lock you down with his iron grip at your hips. You're trapped on the couch underneath him, as he continues to fuck you like you don't exist,

"If you keep moving like that- fuck! If you keeping fucking trying to get away Daddy will have no choice but to cum inside you," Your legs tingle with the nearness of your euphoria, it only expands as he brings his lips directly onto of yours as he mutters, "Daddy's going to cum inside you, okay? Maybe that's what you need to realise you can't talk to other men? Maybe getting you fucking pregant will make sure you'll stop being a fucking slut-"

His cock is shallow and relentless inside your soaked, gummy walls, it pushes against everything it can find and is utterly relentless on that one sensitive bundle of nerves that only he seems to be able to find.

"Are you going to cum!?" He asks, "Because I'm so fucking close baby- I want you to cum with Daddy, okay? Be a good girl for once in your fucking life-"

"FUCK-" You're a screaming, wet mess as you cum so violently, it disrupts the flow of your entire body, "Thats it… Gonna get you pregnant- oh fuck-" he exclaims, his white hot seed exploding inside of you, prolonging the overwhelming sensation of your own orgasm. It completely takes over your mind - feeling so completely full of him. Toji's hips lightly shudder as he attempts to milk as much of himself up inside of you, before pulling away. He is utterly mesmerised by the sticky, white cum oozing out of your puffy vagina. He watches, transfixed, as he brings his fingers up to slide as much of his cum inside you but it all comes sliding back.

"What are you," You're barely able to find your voice, "What are you doi-"

But he already has you upside down. His muscles flex he holds you carefully by your hips, with your head grazing the carpet. You recognize the movement as a relic of the old wives' tale. The second his cum is swimming inside you, you need to lay upside down to help it along.

No scientific evidence that this guarantees any sort of pregnancy, of course, but Toji strikes you as the superstitious type.

"Making sure the job's done." He says, "You think I was kidding about getting you pregnant?"

I can explain...

[tightjeansjavi]

The Rite of Movement | part eight

“you are the rite of movement”

A/N: wow so this is officially the longest chapter of TROM yet! I suggest you get your vibrators, dildos in check + tissues because baby love, you’re gonna need them! 😭 thank you to my sweet L @endlessthxxghts for betaing this chapter and screaming at me in Google docs over how much you love these characters! It seriously warms my heart 🥹

~word count: 11.8k~

Summary: After jokingly telling Joel that you think that Tommy may have him beat in the pussy eating department, you’re eating your words immediately. It’s a night filled with firsts and of course, lots of orgasms.

Pairing | pornstar!joel x pornstar!female reader x pornstar!tommy

Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, dom/sub vibes (heavy on the dom in this chapter) degradation kink, oral f! & male receiving, unprotected piv, denial of orgasm, edging, overstimulation, squirting, daddy kink, praise kink, aftercare, mentions of food, sexual trauma (not done by Joel), mentions of the porn industry, threesome (Joel and Tommy do not touch don’t make it weird pls) there’s a lot of vulnerable and intense sexual moments between Joel and baby love but there is immediate communication after and breaks in between, consent, intimacy, established relationship, Joel is in his 40’s, reader is in her 30’s, coming out, biphobia and aromantic phobia in the queer community, language, pet names, readers nickname is baby love, +18 minors dni!

series masterlist

The tension in the room immediately sparked back up from the words you so innocently and breathlessly uttered. The Miller brother’s briefly made eye contact at your admittance and they too could sense the fast rising tension.

Joel’s lips hovered above yours, just barely touching. He held fierce eye contact with you, brow cocked in an almost condescending fashion, “you didn’t mean that, right baby love? M’sure you didn’t, sweet girl.” He rasped, dragging his thumb against your plush, lower lip, pressing down on it gently, “cus’ we’d have a bit of a problem on our hands if ya meant it.”

“We certainly would.” Tommy chuckled.

“Mean what?” You feigned innocence, leaning in to kiss him, but he was playing hard to get.

“You know exactly what you said, baby love. You really think Tommy can eat your pussy better than I can?”

Oh fuck.

“He did a pretty good job, daddy. He might have you beat…”

He clicked his skillful tongue against the roof of his mouth, letting his hand dip from your face and settle around the base of your throat like a necklace, “baby love…” he warned you, “I’d be careful with what you’re sayin.’”

You giggled softly, “why, daddy? You gonna get jealous if I think Tommy is better?”

“Jus’ might.” He grumbled.

“Well, I see there being only one way to determine who’s the better pussy eater.” Tommy chimed in.

You tore your gaze from Joel’s face over to Tommy’s smirking one, “what way would that be exactly?”

“Oh, just a little friendly pussy eatin’ competition. Winner gets to fuck you first.”

Joel fought the urge to scoff at his brother's suggestion. “Yeah, well, you’re at an unfair advantage cus’ of my bad back and all that. Ain’t gonna be able to kick your ass if we’re doin’ this right here, right now.”

Now the attention was turned directly back to you. Two pairs of dark brown eyes locked on your face. “I like your thinking, Tommy. Why don’t you both take me upstairs? That way Joel has a fair advantage.”

“Aw, well ain’t that sweet! Babygirl wants to make sure you get a fair advantage with your old man back. Now, if that ain’t true love, I don’t know what is!”

“Shut up, Tommy. I ain’t that old.” Joel grumbled, leaning in to brush his nose right below your pulse point. “S’that what you want, baby love? Want me and Tommy to eat your sweet little pussy and you decide who’s better at it?”

You swallowed hard, taking a sharp inhale of breath when he pressed a kiss against your pulse point, nipping it gently with his teeth. “Yeah, daddy. I want that.”

“Good girl.” He murmured against your skin, blindly reaching down to tuck himself back into his shorts.

Your legs felt like jello when Joel and Tommy stood on either side of you, helping you up from the chair. Tommy pressed a kiss to your cheek, letting it linger for a moment before he headed up the stairs first. Joel stayed back with you, bending down to grab your discarded shorts and panties. “You won’t be needin’ these for the rest of the evening, unless you wanna take a little break?” He was studying your face intently, leaning over to kiss your forehead.

“I’m okay, baby. Thank you for checking in on me. Think I’m just gonna get a glass of water. Would you like one?” You draped your arms around his middle, hugging him loosely.

“Of course, baby love. Gotta make sure my girl is enjoying herself, after all. I’d love a glass of water. I’ll pack up the leftovers real quick and then we’ll head upstairs?”

“Oh, she’s enjoying herself plenty. Dream come true, honestly.” You kissed his cheek then, dropping your arms from around his middle. But before you could slip away, he was pulling you right back in and kissing you sweetly.

“Good, I’m glad to hear it.” He was, truly. With past partners, both in the industry and out, there was a level of acting that Joel would find himself partaking in. Sometimes it felt genuine and natural, other times he felt awkward, but not necessarily forced. With you, there was no second guessing, no nerves or apprehension. He was simply acting upon his feelings.

After Joel finished putting away the leftovers and you grabbed yourself and him a glass of water, he followed you up the stairs, fingers playfully tickling your sides, eliciting soft giggles to slip past your lips.

Tommy had made himself comfortable on the couch pushed up against the wall while he was scrolling through his socials. He sat up at the sound of yours and Joel’s voices echoing up the stairs. “Damn. S’about time! Thought y’all were gettin’ busy down there.” He tossed his phone to the side of the couch, hopping up enthusiastically.

You made your way over to the bed, flopping down on your back, wasting no time to rid yourself of your flimsy tank top and tossed it to the side. Now you were completely naked, thighs spreading open, knees bending at a relaxed angle while your hand slowly dipped down between your parted thighs, dragging your fingers through your slick folds, gathering up the pearlescent fluid from your prior orgasm and spread it languidly around your clit with a soft, content hum. “So, which one of you boys wants to have a taste first?”

Tommy was already making his way towards the bed before Joel stopped him, giving him a firm shove with his shoulder. “You’ve had your fill.” He nearly growled, eyes set in a challenging stare, “move the fuck outta my way.”

Tommy retreated very much like a submissive dog with its tails between his legs. He held his hands up, taking a few steps back from the bed. “Someone is a little antsy.” He muttered under his breath.

Joel didn’t even hear Tommy muttering, he was zoned in on you completely as he peeled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the side with yours. One big hand dropped between your thighs and lightly slapped your hand away, eyes narrowing on your surprised face. “Did I fuckin’ say that you could touch yourself, baby love? Actin’ like such a needy little slut for daddy, ain’t ya?” He pressed his thumb directly against your clit, rubbing the little nub in slow circles.

“I’m sorry—daddy.” You squeaked out, leaning back on your elbows for support. “Are you angry with me?”

“No, baby, course not. Jus’ think you’re a bad girl for sayin’ that Tommy can eat your pussy better than I can. Think m’gonna have you eatin’ those words right up in a few minutes.” He exudes confidence, making it very clear who is in charge here. And god, does that make you drip along the sheets with want.

“Are you sure you’re not upset with me, daddy? Because if you are…I think you should punish me, and Tommy films it.”

“Bet your slutty little pussy would love a good punishing, huh baby love? S’that what she wants?” He didn’t wait for you to respond as he leaned down, spitting a glob of saliva right over your clit, smearing it in with his thumb. “Bad girls don’t get what they fuckin’ want, baby.”

You mewled softly, thighs falling open further till you felt his calloused palms halt your movements entirely, he grasped the outside of your thighs, pushing them towards your chest. “Grab onto those for me and don’t let ‘em go.” He rasped.

You did as you were told, grabbing onto the underside of your thighs and kept your knees pressed against your chest.

“Good girl.” He preened, “how do you feel about us filmin’ this, baby love? You want that?”

“Fuck, yes, please daddy.” You didn’t even take a second to think through your answer. It was an immediate and eager yes.

He snapped his fingers, glancing over his shoulder at his brother. “Make yourself useful and grab my camera off the charger, Tommy.”

Tommy muttered something unintelligible under his breath, fighting the urge to flick his brother off as he went to grab the camera. He situated himself alongside Joel, turning the camera on and wasted no time to zoom in between your thighs just as a drool of slick dripped down from your hole.

“See that? She’s drippin’ for me. That ain’t for you.” Joel snarked.

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see how long that lasts.” Tommy quipped back.

The rules to the competition were simple, whoever made you cum first with just their mouths alone, would get to fuck you first. No hands, no toys, just some good ole fashion pussy eating. Joel did already have an advantage considering he knew your body like it was the back of his hand, but that didn’t rule Tommy out completely.

The prospect of the two Miller brothers beefing over you had you giggling at their competitive nature, but when you felt Joel drag his tongue from your hole and up your slit to your clit, your giggles quickly turned to soft moans. Unlike Tommy, Joel liked to take his time savoring you on his tongue. He suckled your clit between his lips, dark brown eyes peering up at you between thick lashes. He gently rolled the nub between his teeth, the sensation sent your eyes rolling back into your skull, a broken cry breaching your parted lips.

“Those are the sounds I fuckin’ love to hear from ya, baby love.” He murmured against your mound, pulling his face back to spit on your clit again, “can’t wait to fuck your sweet little needy pussy when I’m finished with ya.”

You clenched from his words, lips moving, but no coherent words left your mouth. Of course once he was really getting into it, Tommy got impatient, pushing Joel out of the way in a similar fashion that was done to him.

“My turn.” He nearly snapped as he placed the camera in Joel’s hands. “Drop your thighs for me babygirl, and spread ‘em nice and wide.” He wrapped his arms around your middle, big hands splayed across your stomach to keep you pinned down in his hold. He shot you a wink between your thighs before he got to work, using his tongue to fuck your little hole before dragging it up to your clit, flicking it at a faster pace than his brother.

When Joel felt like Tommy had enough, he forced his way right back in, pushing his brother out of the way and this time the camera ended up in your hands where you shakily filmed from your own POV while Joel brought one of your thighs over his shoulder for easier access. His mouth was becoming more aggressive, your sharp cries alerting him that you were close and he could nearly taste his victory on the horizon. This time, Tommy had nearly shoved Joel off the bed completely resulting in the two men to snap at one another between your thighs like two feral dogs fighting over a piece of meat.

The sight alone had you seeing stars behind your eyes. You let out a surprised yelp when Joel had manhandled you onto your stomach, causing you to nearly drop the camera when he pried your thighs apart with his thick fingers and buried his face between them. The slurping sounds his mouth was making was nothing short of obscene as he shook his head back and forth, his beard scraped against your inner thighs as you arched your back and ass into his face.

“O—oh fuck! Joel! FUCK!” You cried out, thighs beginning to tremble and quiver, the coil in your stomach was pulled impossibly tight and threatening to snap at any given moment.

“That’s it, baby love. Good fuckin’ girl. Want you to come all over daddy’s face. You know who the winner is, sweet girl. It’s your fuckin’ daddy.” He growled possessively against your pussy as you rocked your hips back against his face.

He pulled back from between your thighs with a triumphant smirk plastered on his face at the sight of your release slowly dripping from your hole and down the inside of your thigh. He reached around for the camera, gently removing it from your hands and brought it up close to your leaking pussy, “fuckin’ look at that. Drippin’ all over the goddamn sheets, baby love.” He preened.

“Guess I shoulda thought about eating her out from behind before you did, huh brother?” Tommy snorted alongside him, leaning over to grab both of your cheeks and spread them open so they both could see your pussy slowly pulse and push out another trail of slick.

“I—I need a minute.” You breathed out and slowly let your stomach come to rest along the comforter as you caught your breath, letting your eyes flutter shut.

Joel flipped the camera off, setting it off to the side of the bed before he crawled up alongside you, Tommy settled in behind you while Joel gently lifted your face from the comforter to rest it along his lap. He stroked your cheek with the back of his knuckles while Tommy was nuzzling his face against the nape of your neck, pressing a few kisses to your skin while his hand curved around your ass, gently massaging the plump flesh between his fingers.

“That—that was something.” You finally spoke again, glancing up at Joel while his fingers were now giving your head a gentle massage, blunt nails scratching at your scalp in a soothing motion.

“We know, baby love. You did so good for us.” Joel cooed, “We don’t have to do anything else tonight if you just wanna rest.”

“No—no. I want you both to fuck me.” You shook your head, curling your fingers around his bare knee, “and the rules were that whoever makes me cum first gets to fuck me first. So, daddy. What are you waiting for?”

“Mmm.” He hummed, “baby love, you’re truly jus’ the sweetest thing. Ain’t she, Tommy?”

“Mhm” Tommy rumbled behind you, his fingers had slipped down between your cheeks, gently gliding his fingers through your slick folds to keep you stimulated. “She sure is a sweet thing.”

“How about you give him a little bit of sugar while daddy goes and sets up the cameras. How’s that sound, baby love? I bet he would love it if you sucked his cock. Give him a little bit of lovin.’”

You lazily grinned up at him before slowly sitting up and glanced over your shoulder at Tommy. “You were a close second.” You reassured him and reached behind you to palm him through his shorts, “Joel’s right, you deserve a little bit of sugar, too.”

“Thanks, babygirl, but Joel had me beat from the start.” He chuckled, “M’never one to turn down receiving a bit of sugar.” He grinned, shooting you a playful wink as he slipped his hand out from between your thighs and rolled over onto his back to shimmy his shorts down over his hips.

You stayed resting on your stomach, ankles crossed behind your head, as you scooted southwards along the bed. His cock sprung free, gently slapping against his stomach. His pubes, including his balls, were shaved completely compared to Joel. A small detail that you didn’t notice the first time you and Tommy fucked. You wrapped your fist around the base of his cock, giving the soft, velvety skin a few slow tugs before you leaned over and left a few kitten licks across his tip. He let out a soft grunt of approval, tilting his head back as you slipped the crown of his cock past your lips, sucking sweetly on it.

Joel was preoccupied with maneuvering himself around the room, setting up multiple cameras and messing with the lighting and such.

“Christ, brother.” Tommy sharply inhaled. “Your girl sure has a sweet mouth on her, fuck.”

“Mhm. She sure does. Best head I’ve ever fuckin’ had.” Joel mused, setting up the final camera to face the bed on the side that you were laying on. Once the camera was set, he leaned over the side of the bed, thumb gently brushing across your cheekbone. Even with your mouth stuffed with Tommy’s cock, he could tell you were smiling.

“Bein’ such a good sweet lil’ cockslut for Tommy. Ain’t ya, baby love? Probably s’a nice break for your pretty throat.” He snickered.

All you could do was dumbly nod at his question, taking Tommy’s cock deeper down your throat as he let out a deep grunt, thick fingers curling around the crown of your head. “Fuck, yeah. Such a pretty sight gettin’ to watch your girl suck on my cock like this.” He gently pressed down on your head, silently encouraging you to take more of him down your throat till your nose was pressing against his pubic bone, “seriously, could just lay here for fuckin’ hours.”

Joel fought the urge to roll his eyes at his brothers goading as he leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to the back of your head, whispering, “suckin’ on his cock so prettily, got daddy here nearly leakin’ through his shorts.”

He pulled back slowly, addressing his brother directly, “yeah, well, you ain’t about to steal away all the fun from me, Tommy.” He snipped.

You whimpered softly around Tommy’s cock, drool pooling around the corners of your mouth as you gagged around him, giving yourself a moment to breathe as you slowly pulled your mouth off from his cock with a wet pop!

“Relax, Joel.” Tommy chided, “I wouldn’t dream of takin’ that away from you.”

“C’mere, daddy.” You beckoned him sweetly as you sat up on your knees, scooting over to the edge of the bed as you reached for the hem of his shorts, “wanna gag on your cock again. Get it all nice and wet before you fuck me.” You grasped the hem of his shorts, pulling the elastic back before letting it playfully snap against his hips.

Your eagerness to please him sent blood flowing southwards between his thighs as he leaned over and grasped your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, tilting it upwards so you were looking up at him. “Yeah, baby love? That’s what my eager little cockslut wants, is daddy's cock stuffed down her pretty little throat?” He mused, lips curving into a grin as his thumb gently swiped through a stray strand of drool that was glistening on the corner of your lips.

You nodded dumbly, eyes bright, nearly twinkling under his gaze as you reached for the hem of his shorts once more, leaning in closer, “yeah, daddy.” You cooed, “I want to suck on yours and Tommy’s cock…at the same time. I want to be a good little cockslut for both of you. Do you want that, too?”

It was at that moment that Joel fucking Miller not only forgot his own name, but his birthday and his age. His brain short-circuited, pulse rushing fast in his ears. He nodded, swallowing hard as he regained his composure, “y-yeah.” He stuttered, “fuck—yeah, baby love.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Tommy snickered. “You damn near broke my brother, babygirl.”

Something indescribable flashes across your lover's eyes when you teasingly pull his hard cock free, beckoning him to come closer with a simple curl of your fingers, and that devious glint in your eyes.

“Get to it then.” He snips, surprisingly both you and himself at his sudden change of tone.

Tommy immediately picks up on the obvious shift in the room, and opts to fall into his submissive role beneath his brother. When he opens his mouth to speak, Joel shushes him.

“No. You ain’t gettin’ outta this. She wants to suck both our cocks like a good fuckin’ slut and that’s what she’s gonna do, and then I’m goin’ split her apart with my fuckin’ cock and you’re gonna watch and patiently wait for your turn.”

“Daddy—” you start, but Joel isn’t having any of it when he bends over to the side of the bed where you’re sitting back on your thighs looking up at him expectantly. His big, meaty hand comes to grasp your chin, yanking your head upwards as he leans down further, asserting his dominance, “zip it, baby love. Don’t wanna hear a peep from you. Jus’ the pretty sounds your mouth makes when you’re chokin’ on daddy’s cock, you got that?”

“Yes—”

He shakes his head, applying a bit of pressure to your jaw, causing your eyes to widen slightly. “What did I just fuckin’ say? Not a peep. Nod your head if you understand what daddy’s sayin’ to ya.”

You dumbly nod your head in tandem, squeezing your thighs together from his authoritative nature taking over.

“Atta girl. That’s a good cockslut. Now, open up that pretty mouth for daddy and put it to some good fuckin’ use, baby love.”

Your mouth falls open on command, and maybe a bit of shock as well. You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t want to see Joel’s dominant side more often. You loved when he called you a slut, his slut, his whore, his to take. Did this make you a bit of a masochist? Maybe, but that meant fuck all to you when you obediently stuck your tongue out, awaiting his cock.

A satisfied smirk crossed his handsome features at your willingness to obey. It had been years since his time at Brazzers, and even in Miller-Co his partners before you preferred sex with him to be vanilla, and sometimes he would sprinkle in a little dash of dominance, but nothing quite like the display he was putting on now. A phase of him that once laid dormant, was quickly reawakening right before your very eyes. As if a switch inside of him was flipped on, whirring to life.

He grasped the base of his heavy cock between his fist, guiding the fat cockhead to rest along your tongue.

“Wider.” He rasps as he slowly begins to feed you his cock, watching tears spring to the corner of your eyes when he forces you to stretch your jaw further around the thick girth of him. “That’s it.” He preens, “you can fuckin’ take it. You can take all of me down that pretty little throat. Gonna have you chokin’ and droolin’ all over daddy’s fat fuckin’ cock, baby love.”

his freehand comes to rest along the back of your head, nails scraping at your scalp when the tip of his cock nudges the back of your throat. You gag around him, drool leaking from the edges of your stretched mouth as you try to pull back for air, but he doesn’t allow you. “No.” He sternly chides, brows furrowed as he looks down at you, “Breathe through your nose, baby love. You’re doin’ so good for daddy.” A brief moment of softness, and a reminder to you that you were safe. This wasn’t Brazzers, this was your Joel.

Your nostrils flare at his words, tears beginning to spill over your waterline, not due to being in any physical pain, but more-so for the fact that this is an incredibly intense moment for you both to be experiencing.

“That’s it.” He coos, “relax your jaw. Relax, baby love. You’re safe.” He loosens his grip around your head, tenderly stroking your hair in a soothing motion. “That’s my girl.”

Tommy captures the whole thing on camera. From your drool trailing down your chin and throat, to the girth of his cock stretching your mouth open, to the way that you and Joel are looking at one another through your tears. An intense gaze that neither party breaks. You’ve never trusted anyone in your life like you trust your Joel.

You breathe through the discomfort, dragging your nose through the thatch of curls at the base of his cock, lashes fluttering, eyes rolling back when he slowly juts his hips into your face in a gentle rocking motion. He does this for a few thrusts before he finally releases you, slipping his cock out of your mouth as you gasp for air.

His big palms come to rest along your cheeks, wiping away your tears and shushing you with soft praises. Just as he expected, you’re hungry for more, feeling a newfound confidence wash over you as you reach for both of their cocks. The two brothers exchange a brief glance at one another as you take Tommy’s cock into your mouth, wrapping your fist around Joel’s cock to keep him stimulated.

What a sight you are, sitting prettily on your knees, eyes still glassy from the tears you shed around Joel’s cock. Tommy holds the camera between his hands, getting a close up of your mouth working around him, staring directly into the lens with that sultry gaze. Your pussy is drooling for attention, pulsing at the prospect of getting fucked very, very soon.

The room is heady and coated in a fine layer of sex-induced haze that hangs around the three of you like a cloak. Joel is the first to make a move when he feels that you’ve had enough of Tommy’s cock down your throat and pulls you back to him.

You can’t deny how much you’re enjoying being a little fuck toy for the two Miller Brothers, your throat now stuffed full of Joel’s cock as your fist works around Tommy’s. When you feel like you need a breather, you slip Joel’s cock from your mouth, a translucent thread of saliva dangles from the tip of his cock all the way to your glistening lips.

Now with one hand around Tommy, and one hand around Joel, you rub their cock heads all over your cheeks, lightly slapping yourself with the smooth velvet skin with a cockdrunk look plastered all over your pretty face.

“That’s it. That’s the fuckin’ shot of the century right there.” Tommy chuckles, “we got ourselves the prettiest little cockslut on her knees for us, brother.”

“My cockslut.” Joel doesn’t hesitate to correct him. “My pretty little cockslut who is gonna be stuffed fuckin’ full of daddy’s cum soon.” He rasps, shooting you a subtle wink from above.

Your eyes roll back from his words, spreading your knees further apart in a desperate attempt to grind your pussy along the mattress for any form of relief. You’re aching for any attention, and your Joel revels in the sight of you looking like this.

“Please, Daddy. Please.” Are the only words you’re able to get out as you roll your hips against the mattress.

“Please what, baby love? Look at you,” he coos, “filthy lil’ thing rubbing your sweet cunt all over the mattress like a fuckin’ desperate cockslut. Need your pussy stuffed that bad, baby? S’that it? Need daddy’s cock so bad?”

Oh.

You didn’t expect your Joel to be so…mean and condescending, but you welcomed it eagerly with a swift nod of your head.

“‘Atta girl.” He smirks. “Now, drop Tommy’s cock, baby love and come to daddy.” He demands, curling one of his broad fingers at his side in a come hither motion.

You work on autopilot, dropping Tommy’s cock from your grasp and focusing all your attention on Joel.

“Fuckin’ spit on it, baby love. Spit all over daddy’s fat cock and get it nice and wet for me with that pretty mouth of yours. Don’t think we’re gonna need extra lubrication with the way your pussy is droolin’ all over the goddamn mattress.” He snickers. “But just for the hell of it.”

You waste no time to spit a glob of saliva all over his fat cockhead, watching in a transfixed gaze when he wraps his own fist around himself, smearing in your saliva with his precum. “Good girl, baby love. S’good for daddy. M’gonna reward you now, okay?”

You nod expectantly, briefly glancing over at Tommy who is leisurely stroking his own cock to keep himself hard and stimulated while he would patiently wait his turn to fuck you after his brother.

“Thank you, daddy.” You let out a relieved sigh thinking that he finally was going to give you his cock and stretch you open.

“Wouldn’t go thankin’ me so soon, baby love. Haven’t given ya nothin’ yet.” He reminds you with a stern look that sends your heart racing. “Now, on your back for me. Spread your thighs so daddy can see that pretty soaked pussy. Wanna see all of her.”

There’s a soreness and slight ache in your jaw that you haven’t felt in years up until now. Remnants of your tears stained your cheeks in a salty trail. Joel can see the gears turning in your head, the flicker of emotions behind your eyes. You’re not afraid…it’s more of an apprehension if anything as you reach one hand up to gently rub the soreness in your jaw.

Joel clocks in on your discomfort, glancing over at his brother before he leans over and murmurs something to him. Tommy nods in understanding, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and pads out of the room, his heavy cock bobbing between his thighs.

“Baby love, you doin’ okay?” Joel softly asks as his hands gently slide up the expanse of your thighs, easing you onto your back. “…Am I bein’ too much? Baby, I can dial it back, okay? I shoulda—”

“Joel.” You sigh softly, meeting his softened and concerned gaze, “I’m okay, baby. I’m just…feeling a lot right now.”

“I can tell.” He nods in understanding. “Can see it in your eyes, my sweet girl. That’s why we’re gonna take a breather.”

You attempt to sit up on your elbows, feeling shame creep its way up your spine. You’re afraid now, afraid that you’ve disappointed him so soon. That silly brain of yours can be so fucking mean sometimes and you truly wish that you could just turn it off, especially in a moment like this.

“No—no, it’s fine, Joel. I’m fine.” You weakly argue, attempting to put up a façade that he immediately sees right through.

“You ain’t, and that’s okay. I can see the fuckin’ gears whirring in your brain right now, baby.” His argument is soft spoken, not meant to further upset you as his fingers gently play with the tuft of damp curls above your mound.

“I just…I don’t want to disappoint you, okay? I know it seems silly, but I just feel so fucking vulnerable right now.” There’s a moment of relief and weight lifted off your shoulders when you finally put your feelings into words. You’re half expecting a snarky remark with a clipped tone. He can feel you tense up, thighs growing stiff as an unpleasant shiver runs down your spine.

“If you think that this is about to turn into a therapy session where you make everyone in the room to take pity on you, you’re dead fucking wrong, girl. You honestly think your feelings matter? They don’t. Not in this industry, and you knew this when you signed up. No one here is gonna wipe your tears, so I suggest you wipe them yourself and suck it up. You want to get paid, don’t you? Good. The sooner you quit your whining, the sooner you can ice your jaw.”

You can hear the director at Brazzers snapping in your ear now after you tapped out from a gangbang scene that got too intense. Making you feel worse than you already do. But you were young, fresh to the industry and you thought that maybe you could handle it, but the truth was…you couldn’t.

Joel’s eye begins to twitch, his hand on your thigh flexes, knuckles growing tight when he imagines the degradation and cruelty you faced at Brazzers. It split his heart right down the middle, tearing it by the seams when he hears the pain in your tone, and your fear that you have disappointed him. This couldn’t be further from the truth; you could never disappoint him.

“Baby love, you could never disappoint me, okay? Never. Not in a million fuckin’ years. You just being here in this moment with me, is all I can ever ask for, okay? If you’re feeling scared right now, I need you to tell me. If I’m being too much, too aggressive, too dominant, please tell me, okay?”

“My jaw just really fucking hurts.” You blurt out, masking your words with a forced laugh.

“I know it does, baby. Tommy’s getting you some ice, okay? We don’t have to do that again.”

You sit up finally, grasping him by his broad shoulders and pull him up your body so he’s straddling your hips. “I’m not scared, Joel. You’re not being too much, okay? I actually really love to see this dominant side of you, baby.” You press a sweet kiss to his lips. “I want to do that again because I trust you, and want to have these experiences with you.”

“…You do?” He sounds unsure of himself as he kisses you back, winding his arms around your waist as he gently lifts you into his lap, his cock is still hard and wedged between your stomachs. “I won’t dial it back then, but I just want you to know that I’m not going to push you past your limits, but I will always encourage you to go further because I know that you can. I think back to when we first met and you were so fuckin’ scared over how I would react to the list of things that you were uncomfortable doing, and how from that point forward, i’ve wanted to show you that those painful, and fucked up experiences at Brazzers can be turned into something…liberating for you.” He murmurs, tightening his grip around you.

“Baby, I think it’s so fucking sexy that you’re becoming more familiar and comfortable with your dominate side. I like calling you daddy, and I’m really into you calling me a little cockslut and whatever else that dirty mind of yours conjures up. Joel, I feel so safe with you. The safest I have ever felt with any partner. You inspire me to be more open, to feel less shameful of my feelings and dealing with my trauma. You’re literally my fucking rock, you know that?”

Before your Joel can even process your genuine words and utter out a reply, Tommy has returned, clearing his throat to make his presence known as he leans against the doorjamb with a bag of frozen peas in his hand. “Hey, princess.” He cracks a comforting grin, “couldn’t find an ice pack, but I figured frozen peas would do the trick? Oh, and you’re insanely fucking good at deepthroating—my god.” He gushes earnestly.

You stifle a giggle, looking over Joel’s shoulder. “You’re not just saying that to fuck with me, right Tommy? Am I really that good?”

He laughs, pushing himself off the side of the door before he joins the two of you on the bed. “Babygirl, I am a man who never lies. You’re head game is un-fucking-real.”

“He’s right, baby love. You were chokin’ on daddy’s cock like a pro.” Joel adds with a reassuring smile. “M’so proud of you, baby love. Always so proud of my girl.”

You feel the heat bloom over your cheeks at both of their praises as your confidence slowly begins to return. You press a chaste kiss to Joel’s lips before reaching over his shoulder for the bag of peas.

Joel kisses you back, keeping you secured in his arms as you ice the sore spot on your jaw. Both he and Tommy are beyond considerate and patient and you truly couldn’t be anymore grateful than you feel right now.

Once the soreness in your jaw has considerably dissipated, you hand the now half frozen peas back to Tommy and wind your hand through the back of Joel’s sweaty curls, kissing him with more conviction, “okay, daddy. I’m ready for you to split me open with your cock now. I can take it, I want to take it. Want you to give me your worst.” You mumble against his lips, feeling his cock jump between your pressed bodies from your lewd verbiage.

“Oh, daddy’s gonna give you his fuckin’ worst, alright.” He growls, kissing you deeper while his hands slide under your ass, squeezing the soft flesh of your cheeks firmly. “Gonna make you beg for daddy’s cock, baby love.”

-

The room feels hot, ten times hotter than it’s ever felt as Joel purposely edges you with his cock, pressing the girth of him inside of you before he draws his hips back out. You’re a sobbing, blubbering mess, soaked in sweat. Each time he thrusts into you, his cockhead punches your cervix and it’s a torturous pattern that leaves your thighs quivering at the angle they’re spread at.

Tommy is kneeled behind your head, camera between his hands again while your hand is wrapped loosely around his cock, stroking it at an erratic pace as your back bows from the mattress, hips rolling forward to meet Joel’s periodic thrusts.

“D—daddy, please! Please—fuck.” You let out a whine. You sound so desperate, so needy to come, and you’re right where Joel wants you.

“Aw cute.” He coos in a condescending tone, “You think you’re just gonna get what you want jus’ cus’ you asked daddy so nicely? That’s not how this works, baby love. You’re gonna take whatever daddy fuckin’ gives ya, and you’re gonna act grateful for daddy’s cock.”

“Better listen to him, babygirl.” Tommy warns you from above. “Think you mighta bruised his ego earlier.”

Your eyes flit upwards to meet Tommy’s smirking gaze before they land back on Joel, right down to where he has one hand gripping the inside of your thigh, keeping it pressed open to his liking, and the other rests around the base of his cock. He’s only rewarding you with half of his girth, pulling out completely when he feels your pussy clench down around him. He knows you’re so fucking close, and yet he refuses to allow you the satisfaction to come.

“But—but daddy!” You sob, “you said you weren’t upset with me for saying that Tommy might have you beat! Daddy, please! I’m sorry! Please just let your good girl come.” You begged him.

“Yeah, well, daddy might have lied earlier, baby love. Daddy’s ego is a little bruised over the fact that his perfect girl would even think that Tommy can eat her sweet little pussy better than I can.” He chuckles, eyes casting downwards to your tight little hole pulsing around air as he rubs his wet cockhead all over your puffy clit. “You misunderstood, baby love. Daddy isn’t upset, he’s just a little…angry s’all.”

Your eyes roll back from the sensation, letting out another pathetic sob when he taps his cockhead a few times against your already sensitive clit causing your hips to jolt upwards. “Daddy, I’m so sorry! Please, daddy. I promise I’ll be a good little cockslut for you! I’ll never make a silly comment like that again! You’re the best, daddy.”

“Oh, baby.” He sighs, almost as if he does pity you, “I don’t think you are sorry at all, baby love. And I don’t think you’re grateful for daddy’s cock and what he’s giving you.” He tuts, shaking his head. “Tommy, do you think she’s bein’ grateful right now?”

“Not at all, brother. She’s bein’ an ungrateful little slut.” He taps the side of your cheek with his cock. “So fuckin’ ungrateful.”

“No—no! That’s not true! Daddy, I am so grateful for your cock! I am!” You try to sound convincing, but Joel is unimpressed.

“Thas’ all Y’got for me, baby love? Mmm. I think you need a little encouragement.” He decides as he slips his cock back into your tight, hugging warmth all the way to the hilt. Punching the air from your lungs as you gasp his name.

Your words come out fragmented and broken when he suddenly draws his hips back and thrusts them forward without warning, knocking your body back against the mattress. He does this again, and again. Each thrust increases in speed till he’s jackhammering you into the mattress, shaking the frame against the wall with how much force he’s exerting. His one hand stays firmly clamped around your thigh while the other is splayed against your mound, thumb firmly pressed into your clit, working it in fast, vigorous circles.

“Tell daddy that you’re grateful for his cock, baby love! Tell him that you’re grateful for everything that he’s givin’ you! Cause if you don’t? Daddy will pull out right now, and you don’t fuckin’ get to come.” His voice is gravelly, scratching your eardrums just right with how primal he sounds.

“I—I’m so grateful for your cock, daddy! S-so grateful! Thank you, daddy! Thank you!”

“Yeah, thas’ right, baby love. Thas’ fuckin’ right. Perfect little cockslut is so-so grateful for her daddy’s cock. Fuck yeah, you are.” He grunts deeply, giving you one last solid thrust before he slips out completely. You don’t even get a chance to recover before you’re being flipped over onto your stomach by a new set of hands.

Tommy grips you firmly by the hips, yanking your ass upwards as your face falls flat against the mattress. He fists his cock a few times and uses his thumb and forefinger to guide his cock into you, watching the way your body immediately sucks him until his length is fully inside of you and his hips are firmly pressed against your ass. “Always such a tight fuckin’ fit, babygirl.” He preens as he draws his hips back before thrusting them forward.

Your mouth falls open into an ‘o’ shape, eyes glazed over and blissed out completely. Joel watches from behind the camera as Tommy grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head backwards, forcing you to push yourself up on your forearms.

Joel intently watches the way your ass recoils against Tommy’s hips with each heavy, skin slapping thrust that he delivers you. His voice is still commanding, even when he’s not directly next to you.

“You take his cock so well, baby love. Fuckin’ love seein’ you gettin’ fucked like this. You gonna come all over his cock? Yeah, you are. Only when daddy tells you too, right?”

Your head snaps over in his direction, a fucked out smile tugging across your lips when you meet his gaze, “y—yes, daddy. Only when you tell me too.”

“Thas’ it. There’s my good little obedient cockslut.” He grins proudly, even giving you a cheeky little thumbs up before you're lost in the moment all over again. And when Joel gives you the permission to come, you’re gushing around Tommy’s cock on command. You don’t moan Tommy’s name, however. Oh, no. The only words you can form are daddy.

Tommy slips out, letting your body flop to the mattress like a limp fish before his hands pry your cheeks apart so he can watch your release pulse and drool down the seam of your pussy. He moves out of the way when Joel approaches the bed and hands the camera off to his brother before his calloused hands are gently maneuvering you onto your back.

“Baby love, I wanna try somethin’ with you, okay? Are you up for it, or is my girl positively fucked out now?” He asks teasingly, gently pinching your hips between his fingers.

You let out a squeal, lazily moving to swat his hands away when he pinches your skin. “Mmm…I’m so fucked out right now, daddy, but what do you want to try?”

He drops his hands from your hips and rests them between the apex of your thighs so his thumbs can spread your inner lips open, “wanna make you squirt, baby love. I know you were told before that you couldn’t, but that’s not true. You can, and I’m going to get you there but only if you want to, okay?”

“Y—you want to make me squirt? Daddy…I—I can’t. They told me I couldn’t and I believed them. I love you, I really do. But I can’t.”

“Baby love, you can. The only reason why you couldn’t before is because there was a mental block you were facing. You weren’t with the right people at the time. It wasn’t even your fault that you were fired, okay? Those fuckwads didn’t care enough to cater to your needs, but I’m here. I want you to experience this because it’s so fuckin’ special, baby. It’s nothing you’ve ever felt before.” Joel reassures you.

“And I’m gonna be your personal cheerleader, babygirl. Gonna hype you up the whole time, okay?” Tommy says from behind the camera, kneeling on the opposite side of where Joel is positioned between your thighs. “You can even hold my hand, if ya want.” He adds gently.

“What if you’re wrong, daddy? What if I truly can’t? What if they were right and—”

“Shh.” He says softly, eyes locking onto yours in a gentle yet intense stare, “they weren’t right, baby love. They were just a bunch of jackasses that couldn’t see your potential like I can. And you know what? This ain’t about me. This is about you gaining back your autonomy that they fuckin’ stole from you. You trust me, don’t you? Let me do this for you, please.”

“Joel.” Your voice waivers, fresh brewing tears threatening to spill over, Of course I trust you. I—I want to prove them wrong. I want to prove myself wrong.”

“That’s my girl. That’s my fuckin’ girl.” He preens.

-

It starts off with just two of his fingers; middle and ring finger knuckle deep, curling and shallowly thrusting inside of you. It’s not enough, but Joel doesn’t give up. He orders Tommy to grab one of your favorite toys, a hitachi wand. Joel uses his freehand to turn it to the lowest setting before gently placing it directly against your clit. The sensation is immediately too much and your body is naturally trying to escape, but Joel keeps your hips centered and on the mattress.

“I got you, baby love, daddy’s got you. You’re doing so good for me already. So-so fuckin’ good.”

You’re a mess of moans, a mixture of dripping profanities as you claw at the sheets, feeling your thighs begin to quiver and shake all over again. The feeling is more intense, more real than anything you have felt in this setting before. The coil in your stomach is pulled tighter, and tighter, and tighter.

Tommy reaches for one of your hands, letting your clammy fingers interlock through his as you grip onto him for dear life.

“I—can’t, daddy! It’s too much! Please—it’s too much!” You sob, tears making their way down your cheeks for what feels like the millionth time tonight. You’re surely going to need to hydrate extra after this.

“Yes you can, baby love! You can! I believe in you, Tommy believes in you. You’re so fuckin’ close I can feel it now. Can’t you? The burning hot coil being pulled tight in your tummy? Can’t you feel that?” He asks over the whir and buzz of the vibrator and the wet squelch of your pussy around his fingers, crooking them inwards. Your hips jolt, and you let out a scream that hopefully Joel’s neighbors can’t hear. It’s a scream not of pain, but relief, releasing all of your self-doubt and negativity that you had felt ever since you were wrongfully fired from Brazzers.

Joel Miller was showing you just how fucking amazing your body was, and the limits it could be pushed to. He was proving to you that there wasn’t anything you possibly couldn’t do. No challenge you couldn’t face. Fuck what Brazzers thought about you, or the judgement from your parents and the societal pressure you faced every single day as a woman. Your body was beautiful, powerful, and capable.

“There you go, baby! There you go!” Your Joel announced in excitement, his heart swelling with nothing but pride for his baby love. “Let go, my girl. You’re safe. I’ve got you.” He promised, crooking his fingers faster till he felt your body spasm, and a gush of wet spray coated his hand, forearm and everywhere in between.

Your ears were ringing, mind going fuzzy and Joel’s and Tommy’s voices sounded muffled as you saw stars dot your vision. Once your body started, you couldn’t stop even after Joel slipped his fingers out of you and tossed the vibrator off to the side, your pussy continued to squirt along the mattress till there was nothing left.

He was right, Joel was always right. Squirting for the first time was like nothing you had experienced before, and it felt so fucking liberating.

You faintly felt his warm lips between your thighs, lips suckling on your clit before they kissed their way up your body. Your eyes were half open when his hands cradled your face between them, thumbs stroking and brushing away your free falling tears. “You did it, my girl. I knew you could do it.” He whispered, sweat slick forehead pressed against your own, “m’so fuckin’ proud of you, baby love. So proud.”

Tommy flipped the camera off, setting it down on the nearby table before he left the room to give you and Joel a moment of privacy, and to grab some much deserved refreshments and snacks.

Joel gently eased you into his lap, letting you melt into his arms as you let out a wet sob with your face buried into the juncture of his neck. Your whole body was shaking as you clawed at his back while his strong hands gently rubbed soothing circles into your skin. “Shh, shh. It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. Let it all out. I got you.” He murmured against your sweat soaked hair as he held you close.

“Did I really…?” You murmured into his neck, loosening your grip around him.

“You did, baby love. You did so well.” He whispered, gently beginning to rock you in his arms to further soothe you as you gradually came down from your high.

“Thank you, daddy. I-I love you so much.” You sniffled, pulling your face back from his neck so you could look into his eyes.

“No need to thank me, baby love. That was all you. I was jus’ there to help get you there. I love you so much, my sweet girl.”

You shook your head, disagreeing with his sentiment but before you could speak, he shushed you with a kiss. How could you really argue with him, then?

Tommy returned with three waters and a candy bar for you, flopping down on the bed with a soft oof.

The three of you sat in a comfortable silence while Joel made sure you were hydrated and even fed you small pieces of the candy bar so that you wouldn’t immediately have a sugar crash.

The two brothers exchanged a murmur of words before Joel untangled your limbs from his own and coaxed you up from the bed. He stayed glued to your side as he guided you to the bathroom and all the way into the shower. He made sure the temperature of the stream was just how you liked it.

He gently washed between your thighs, knowing how sensitive you were still feeling and didn’t want to overdo it. You loved that he was always so adamant on aftercare. It might have actually been his favorite part outside of being connected inside of your body. He loved to provide and take care of you in these especially intimate moments.

“How’s my girl feeling?” He asked with a soft rasp under the warm stream.

“Like I’m floating on a cloud.” You giggled softly, winding your arms around his neck. “My pussy feels a little numb though, I’m not gonna lie.”

“Mmm.” He hummed, wrapping his arms around you with his hands resting gently at your lower back, “that’s to be expected. She took a real poundin’ tonight. You’re gonna sleep like a fuckin’ baby soon.” He added with a warm chuckle.

“Fuck.” You laughed, “don’t I know it. I can probably sleep for days after that.”

“Tommy is outside startin’ a fire for us. Told him to grab one of my joints from the garage. I Figured you’d enjoy decompressing after all that.” He reached one hand up to gently rest it along the side of your head as he pulled you in closer.

“You know me too well, daddy. That sounds absolutely perfect to me.”

He grins boyishly at your response, leaning in to brush his lips against yours. “I’ll meet y’all down there in a bit, okay? Gonna finish up here and strip the sheets.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks when he mentioned the now soiled sheets as your teeth briefly knocked together in the wet kiss. “Sorry about that…I didn’t think it would be that much.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for. They’re just sheets, baby love. No need to worry.” He reassured you, deepening the kiss briefly before he slowly pulled away.

“I still can’t believe I was actually able to squirt. It feels so fucking validating that after all these years I now know that I never was the problem. I cannot thank you enough for showing me that they were wrong, Joel. I—I wish I had the words to explain how grateful I am for you.”

“Of course they were wrong, baby love. They never deserved you in the first place. You don’t need to explain how grateful you are, okay? I feel it…here.” He reaches for your hand, gently placing it along the left side of his chest, right against his heart.

“You’re going to make me cry again, asshole!” You said playfully, kissing him again just because you could.

He laughed into your lips, bringing his freehand to rest around your face as he kissed you again, and again, and again. “I’m jus’ speaking the truth, baby love.”

“I know, baby. You’re the most honest man I know. Well, outside of Tommy.”

-

You and Joel part ways after showering. He heads back into the studio room while you walk to your shared bedroom to change into something comfy for the rest of the evening. You snatch one of his hoodies, slipping it over your head before grabbing a fresh pair of his boxer briefs and pull them on over your hips and ass.

When you step outside into the backyard, Tommy is already puffing away on the joint he rolled while he uses a spare stick to stoke the fire. He smiled warmly at you, beckoning you over to join him on the outdoor couch.

“There she is. Lil’ miss squirtin’ queen!” He teases as you plop down beside him, giving his shoulder a gentle push.

He passes the joint off to you between his fingers, letting his arm rest behind your head along the back of the couch. “How are ya feeling?”

“Honestly?” You look over at him as you take a long drag, tucking your feet up under your thighs to get comfortable, “I feel like I can conquer the whole fucking world right now.”

“Fuck yeah, you can! Women are soo fucking powerful, babygirl. Y’all are truly some forces to be reckoned with!”

You blow the smoke upwards into the clear night sky, resting your head against his shoulder before passing the joint back to him. “I just feel so…free right now Tommy, y’know? I don’t even know how to put it into words.”

“Girl, you literally soaked the entire fuckin’ mattress. You should feel as free as a bird right now! I know Joel is proud of you, but I am too. I remember the first time I made a girl squirt waaay back in the good ole’ Brazzer’s days. Shit was so intense and the chick I was fuckin’ literally said that she was in love with me! Ain’t that crazy?”

“Aw, Tommy, thank you. I’m really glad that you were there to experience it with me. And shit, no way? Did you tell her that you loved her back?”

“Nah.” He shook his head, clearing his throat as he ashed the joint off to the side, “I uh—I really didn’t know what to say. Felt terrible after the fact because she started to profusely apologize…and I guess I didn’t understand why? I mean, it slipped out in the heat of the moment, man. I don’t think she meant it.”

I really hope she didn’t.

You sat up, focusing your attention on him fully when you could feel his tone shift to somewhere uncertain. “Hey, are you okay?…is there something you want to talk about? I’m here for you, okay?”

He let out a dry laugh shaking his head before he looked over at you finally. “Yeah, there is somethin’ I wanna talk to you about. I jus’ don’t know how to phrase it.”

“Take your time, Tommy. There’s no rush.”

“Okay so, Joel doesn’t know about this yet because I really don’t know how to tell him, but one of my long term onscreen partners is planning on quitting Miller-Co entirely…because of me.” Tommy nervously chewed on the inside of his cheek.

“Tommy, what do you mean someone at Miller-Co wants to quit because of you? What…happened?” Tommy was a good guy in your eyes. You couldn’t imagine him ever making someone feel uncomfortable or god forbid—

“It ain’t bad, okay? I promise I didn’t do anythin’ bad.” He took a deep breath, exhaling before continuing, “so, it started with her starting to make comments about you and Joel and the dynamic of your relationship. She didn’t say nothin’ bad, I promise. She er—was hintin’ that she wanted to be in a relationship with me essentially?”

“Oh.” You said softly, beginning to understand where this conversation was potentially leading into. “I’m assuming you didn’t feel the same way as she did?”

“No.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I didn’t feel the same way. I tried to explain to her that I have never felt a romantic connection to anyone ever and that I was sorry.”

“Wait…never?” You were careful with your choice of words, reading between the lines to figure out exactly what he was saying.

“You can’t tell Joel any of this, okay? I—I don’t know how to tell him, babygirl. I know he would never judge me but I’m jus’—afraid.”

You reach for his hand, interlocking your fingers together to show him that he had your full support. “Tommy, it’s okay. Your brother isn’t going to scold you for this.”

“No, you’re right, he won’t. Anyway, I tried to tell her that I never have had a crush on anyone in my life and I have never been in love. She thought I was just making an excuse! Why would I make an excuse like that? Doesn’t she realize that if I could feel the same way for her that I would already?” He said exasperatedly, waving his freehand around to emphasize the point he was trying to make.

“Tommy, are you…aromantic?” You asked suddenly.

A sheepish look washed over his face, his cheeks turning as red as the flames from the fire, “yeah, I am.” He mumbled quietly.

“Oh, hon. It’s okay, that’s nothing for you to feel ashamed for. You know that, right?” You squeezed his hand gently, stroking your thumb along the outside of his hand.

“Fuck, I know it’s nothing for me to feel ashamed about! I know—but, I feel that way regardless. She literally thinks I’m some cold, heartless prick now! We’ve literally been fucking consistently for over a year and I thought we had…y’know, developed a mutual friendship.”

“I understand, Tommy. But you are not some cold heartless prick. There’s nothing wrong with you. She just…doesn’t see it the way that you and I do.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He sighs, sinking back against the couch cushions as he looks into the flames, “you’re the first person that I’ve ever come out to. I mean, my other queer friends know that I’m bisexual, but no one knows that I’m aromantic as well.”

“I understand how you feel, okay? I really do. I’m bisexual, too. I’ve faced similar ridicule for it ever since I came out. I’ve had people tell me to my face that I’m either straight or gay and that I have to pick between the two? It’s fucking ridiculous. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be a queer man and feeling like there’s something wrong with you and the way that you live your life because of it.”

His lips part in shock as the joint dies between his fingers. He turns to face you completely, feeling a newfound sense of connection towards you that immediately springs tears to his eyes. “Wait, you’re queer too? I uh—I had a feeling, but I never want to be that person to assume, you know? When did you come out, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Yeah, hon. I’m queer too. And really? What gave me away?” You stifled a giggle, leaning further into his side. “I came out on my 21st birthday actually. My friends took me to my first gay bar in LA and I guess I just blurted it out after a few too many shots? Everyone was so fucking supportive. It brought me to tears! When did you come out?”

“Mmm.” He thought about it momentarily, tapping his fingers against his chin, “there wasn’t like a specific thing that gave you away, I just had this feeling when we first met that you were a fruity lil’ thing.” He laughed warmly. “I came out shortly after I flew out to LA to join Joel at Brazzers. I ended up dating one of my costars for a hot minute. He was my first boyfriend, but I didn’t really understand the whole concept of romance or how to make him feel like I loved him? Our breakup was pretty fuckin’ ugly. Told all his friends that I was a heartless tool and that was the end of that. Think I realized I was aromantic when I flat out told him that he was my best friend but my heart…didn’t get a boner for him? Poor choice of words, but I’ve never really been a serious guy to begin with.”

“Interesting.” You mused with a grin, “yeah, probably wasn’t the wisest move to tell him that your heart didn’t get a boner for him…but that was the only way that you felt you could explain it. Did you guys ever talk about it or reconnect?”

“Actually, yeah! We did. He texted me the other day actually to see how I was doing and we got into a conversation about it. He said it made a lot of sense and what not. I guess I’m just struggling with people not understanding that I’m still this…lovable guy, y’know? I just have never had any interest in love or being in love. Why’s that so hard for people to accept?”

“That’s great that you guys reconnected! Tommy, that’s wonderful! I think people have a problem with it because they want to place you into this perfect box so that you can blend in with the rest of society. They’re going to think you're weird because there’s this stigma around aromantic people being cold and heartless, when y’all are incredibly lovable people, just not in the romantic way.”

“Dude, tell me about it! Society is always telling us how we gotta act, dress, and live our lives! So fuckin’ fed up with it. You mentioned earlier how you can’t imagine how difficult it must be to be a queer man, and you hit the nail right on the head, babygirl. I’m constantly…having this internal battle with myself. Feelin’ like I don’t even belong in the community, y’know?” He sniffled, wiping his face along the sleeve of his shirt in an attempt to hide his tears.

“Hey, you absolutely do belong in the queer community. And anyone who tries to shun you is a bigoted asshole that should really do some self reflecting in their personal life before they try to tear down another marginalized person who is simply just fucking living their life and hurting no one!” You felt his pain and frustration from his words and all you really wanted to do was wrap him up in a big hug.

Tommy is momentarily distracted from a flicker of movement in the kitchen and flash of black fur jumping up onto the counter to see what Joel is up to. He smiles briefly, remembering the last time he caught his older brother putzing around the kitchen making munchies and singing a fucking tune like the lovesick teddy bear that he truly was.

“He really loves you.” He murmured softly.

“What?” You’re confused by the sudden flip of the conversation till you follow the path of his eyes and see your Joel flipping something inside of the pan before he picks Artemis up from the counter, kisses her head and gently places her on his shoulder.

“My brother. He really loves you.” Tommy reiterated with a cheeky grin. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him dancing around the kitchen like that. Whenever he gets really caught up in his feelings and emotions, he immediately starts cooking. The last time he did that was for—”

“Carmen?” You question softly, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah.” He nods, squeezing your hand gently when he notices your eyes growing glassy under the warm glow of the fire. “And…Sarah.”

“Oh cool! So now I’m gonna cry some more!” You laugh trying to process the sudden surge of emotions you’re feeling. “Tommy, I love that man so fucking much. He’s truly…heaven sent, y’know?”

He smiles knowingly, dropping your hand so he can wrap his arm around you, giving you a gentle squeeze. “Yeah, babygirl. And you’re the rite of his movement.”

“You—don’t bring Hozier up in a moment like this! Oh my god!” You laugh, turning your face into his shoulder.

The sliding back door from the kitchen opens moments later and your Joel appears with a whole ass stack of freshly made heart shaped pancakes on a plate, smothered in butter and drizzled perfectly in sticky syrup. Artemis is still proudly perched on his shoulder like a damn parakeet, her tail curved around his neck as he approaches the fire pit.

“Baby love!” He sings songs. “Made y’all somethin’ real special! Hope you’re in the mood for pancakes because—” he frowns when he sees the glassy look in his brother's eyes and your own when you peek over at him. “Why do y’all both look like you’re about to burst into tears? Not when I crafted up the best goddamn pancakes in all of Austin!” He attempts to lighten the mood as he gently sits down alongside you, setting the plate along his lap.

“It’s my fault.” Tommy is quick to speak up. “We got into a deep conversation and I uh—got emotional and then baby love got emotional.”

Joel raises a brow and it appears that even Artemis is listening as she leaps down from his shoulder and trots across the back of the couch to nuzzle against your head.

“What kinda deep conversation did y’all get into?”

“Well, first I just wanna let you know that Natalie is planning on quitting Miller-Co…because of me.” Tommy whispered the last part.

“Oh, for fuck sakes! Tommy, what did you do?” Joel lets out an exasperated sigh as he pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“Baby.” You speak up, “hear him out, okay?” You reach for his hand. “Tommy really needs our support right now.”

He sighs, grasping your hand in his palm with his fingers interlocked through yours. “I’m listenin.’”

“I promise I didn’t do anything wrong, Joel. I swear. Look, I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a long time now, I jus’—I’ve been nervous to-do so.” Tommy starts, looking over at his brother as he gathers his thoughts, “so uh, I’m—aromantic and bisexual.”

Joel doesn’t even look the least bit surprised at his brother coming out. His eyes soften as he responds with a small nod, “that ain’t nothin’ you gotta worry about, little brother. I’ve been havin’ a feelin’ for a while now. S’okay. I love you jus’ the same.”

Tommy breaks immediately, his vision blurring with tears when his brother reaches across to gently squeeze his shoulder. “I—I had no idea that you already…knew.” He sniffles.

“Course not, Tommy. M’jus’ a real observant person, y’know? So, is this what’s gotten you all in a fuss? Can I safely assume that Natalie wants to quit because she found out that you’re queer and she has feelings for you that you can’t return?” Joel read between the lines at ease, feeling a surge of anger in his veins that one of their own colleagues made his kin feel a certain way. Especially when the values instilled at Miller-Co were accepting of everyone. No matter their race, gender, sexuality, etc.

“God dammit, you’re smart.” Tommy chuckles. “Yeah, basically that’s why she wants to quit. Fuckin’ ridiculous if I’m being honest.”

“Well, I don't like someone like her working for us anyway. If she wants to quit, then by all means, let her quit. Good riddance, honestly. Damn shame too. Miller-Co doesn’t have a place for small-minded people like her.” Joel is quick to defend and validate his brother's feelings without missing a beat.

“Okay, okay, you don’t needa go off on her or anythin’ , okay? I’ll handle it tomorrow or somethin.’” Tommy reassured him.

“Alright. I’ll let you handle it.” Joel nods, focusing his attention back on you. “So, Tommy comin’ out to ya is what’s gotten you all teary eyed again, baby love?”

You nod, looking over at him with a small smile. “Yeah, and…Joel?”

“Hm?”

“I’m bisexual…too.”

“Guess that makes me the token straight of the family, huh?” He lightly jokes before squeezing your hand, “well, if that’s the case, I love you all the same too, baby love.”

-

The following morning Joel wakes up long before you do. He heads into town, visiting a local business that was queer owned and known for their assortment of pride flag stickers and other merch. He purchases an aromantic pride bumper sticker and a bisexual bumper sticker. He doesn’t wait to get home to put them on the bumper of his truck. He carefully peels the stickers off and places them in a spare spot on the already heavily decorated bumper. He takes a step back, arms crossed over his chest with the biggest smile on his face.

Austin’s token straight, and biggest ally has done it once again, folks!

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[tallulah477]

Prove To You

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader

Warnings: AgedUp!Neteyam, Yandere!Neteyam, ***NON-CON***, Dub-con, Predator/Prey Kink, Chasing, Obsessive/Possessive Behavior, Oral (female receiving), Edging/Orgasm Delay, P in V, Knotting, Size Difference, Fingering, Slight Degradation (use of 'whore'), Belly Bulge, Lapdance (kinda), Creampie, Alien Genitalia, Squirting, A Few Ass Slaps, Mentions of drinking and being tipsy/drunk, Brief Violence/Violent Thoughts (not towards reader), Brief mention of pregnancy, Threat of cutting off another's kuru/neural queue, Thoughts of killing/murder, One (1) non-sexual face slap (reader slaps Neteyam)

Word Count: 9.7K 💀

A/N: Hiiiii it's been a while 🤷🏻‍♀️

Summary: It was only ever supposed to be a hookup, something fun to pass the time. But to Neteyam, it was so much more than that. He's in love with you, obsessed with you - his perfect little mate. But he doesn't know why you keep running away.

**PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS - DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ**

Translations:

Yawne - Beloved

Tìyawn - Love

Tweng - Loincloth

Tawtute - Human

Kuru - Neural Queue

Tsaheylu - Bond, Neural Connection

Swoasey - kava bowl (constructed from seed pods, used for drinking intoxicating beverages)

Kaltxì - Hello

Pxir - Beer

Tsahìk - Spiritual Leader / Healer

Skxawng - Moron / Idiot

Iknimaya - Rite of Passage

Oel Ngati Kameie - I See You

Tanhì - Star

Muntxate - Wife, Female Spouse

Mawey - Calm

He’d only wanted to kiss you. To feel your soft lips pressed against his again. 

It had been so long since he’d gotten to feel them. The mask you have to wear is always a frustrating obstacle. He begs from time to time for you to pull it off, just for a moment, so he can press his warm lips to yours, taste your tongue on his just for a few blissful seconds before the lack of air catches up with you and you have to replace it.

You always say no, always push his hand away from where he has it cupped lovingly around the side of your head, but it never stops him from asking. 

You’re not wearing a mask now though. Instead, a long tube spans one side of your face, curling around your ear and stretching across your cheek before the very end of it forks off into your nostrils. At first glance he panicked, terrified of the thought of you out in the dangerous Pandora environment as a human without your only source of oxygen. It’s silly. He knows that you could have never made it to the village from the lab without some way of breathing. But he can’t help how he reacts, needing to be sure, needing to know that you’re okay. 

He’s at your side in an instant, kneeling in front of your tiny frame, large hands engulfing your head as his eyes searched your face in concern. You smack his hand away, answering his concerned questions of “Ma yawne, what is going on? Are you okay?” with a short “Fine. It’s the new tech the lab guys made,”

He calms, anxiety slipping from his body now that he knows you’re still safe. His eyes flicker over your face, a small smile pulling at his lips as he takes in all your beautiful features in front of him. You’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, he’s always thought that, ever since the very first moment he met you all those years ago. But now here, without the thick layer of glass covering your face, it’s like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again. 

“You’re so pretty, tìyawn,” He whispers, fingers unconsciously reaching out again to brush against your cheek. It’s finally accessible, bare and soft under his fingertips before the dull sting of another slap knocks his hand away. 

You don’t like public displays of affection. 

Or, at least, now you don’t. 

You used to not mind it. Back before that night in front of the fire, you would touch him all the time - sweet and gentle touches when you were talking, so tactile in your interactions with him. A quick squeeze to his knee whenever he was able to make you laugh, friendly half hugs as greetings that would make his heart pound in his chest every single time, your intoxicating scent filling his lungs and suffocating him in the best way. 

He’d keep his nose buried in your neck, breathing you in until you were all he could smell or think about for the rest of eternity if he could. 

He used to carry you places when you would tag along on fun adventures with him and his siblings. Excitement coursed through him every time you agreed to join them, tail swishing eagerly behind him because he knew that eventually you would get tired from walking and allow him to carry you on his back. You like to talk, prattling on about whatever was going on at the lab or a fun new piece of tech that Norm and the others were working on. Sometimes you’d talk about the current drama - someone said you talked too much, were too abrasive, but that you thought that they personally needed to grow a backbone. He’d listen to whatever you had to say - soaking up your voice like the most melodic song and committing every detail you provide him to memory. 

But your voice has a physical response on him. But the horrified looks his siblings would send him when they would see the tent in his tewng from where his hard cock had slipped out of its sheath was always well worth the embarrassment. The feeling of your soft skin on his - arms wrapping around his neck for balance, his hands completely engulfing your warm thighs from where they wrapped tightly around his torso as far as they could. He’s spent many nights imagining them wrapped around his waist from the front instead.

You didn’t mind public displays of affection when you drank an entire swoasey of pxir and danced in front of him by the fire. The celebration had wound down, the clan members satisfied in celebrating the induction of The People who had passed their Iknimaya just a few hours ago. Only a few younger adults who seemed to have the same idea as you remained now, each couple splintering off to different parts of the campground to get their much needed privacy. Even Lo’ak has moved away, enamored by the pretty girl sitting on his lap, uncaring about the way his hands slide down to cup her ass and pull her closer. 

The fading glow of yellows and oranges look amazing against your skin, the steady crackle of the fire like a song all on its own as your hips move to the music only your own head and nature provides. Neteyam’s eyes are wide, excitement coursing through his veins as he watches your hips sway. You sway too, your body a bit unsteady from the drink still in your hand, but mostly it's your hips - the sensual swish back and forth, beads from your tewng (a gift from Kiri he suspects) clank together against each other and your thighs. Your pretty thighs, so soft he wants to wrap his entire hand around them, spread them open for him and see you like he’s always dreamed of. You’d be so wet, so sticky and drenched for him that he’d be able to just slide right in. You were made for him. Made to take him. He’d fit between your thighs so perfectly despite your size difference, he knows he would. 

His breath catches in his throat when you dance closer, small body seductive in the way it calls to him with your movements. You toss the swoasey to the side, the little liquid that was left pouring out and soaking into the ground beside you. Your hands find their way to his bent knees, heat filled eyes never leaving his as you push his legs apart so you can stand between them, searing him with their intensity even from behind the glass of your mask.

Your hands slide up his legs, tiny fingers creeping up the insides of his thighs and he can’t help the audible gulp that escapes him when he feels his cock nudge against his already wet slit, threatening to poke out at any moment. 

Great Mother, you’re so gorgeous. The most beautiful woman Eywa has ever created. You must have been created by her - no other god or goddess or being could ever have made anything more perfect and irresistible than Eywa herself. 

Surely, the Great Mother has made you for him. Just for him. 

“Why so nervous, Teyam?” You giggle, leaning up as far as you can towards his face while still keeping your teasing hands on his thighs, dangerously close to the now bulging fabric. “Tawtute got your tongue?”

“I–um–” He chokes out. He can’t breath, can’t breath with you so fucking close to him. He wants you so badly, wants to touch you so badly he feels like he might die if he doesn’t.

And then you're turning in the cage of his open thighs, back pressing against his front as you grab his shaking hand. There’s a satisfied smirk on your face as you drag his arm around you, the large appendage spanning your entire chest as he sprawls his fingers out across your front. His fingertips automatically curl around the curve of your breast while his palm caresses the other through your beaded top, his body subconsciously reacting to your own guidance. 

His heart is pounding so hard he thinks it might explode in his chest, breathing labored as his hard cock digs into your back.

“You can touch me,” You whisper, but his ears flick at your words and catch them loud and clear. “Want you to play with me.”

“Ha-fuck,” He groans, mouth falling open in silent awe as your top shifts underneath his hand and his finger grazes your hard nipple. Without thinking his hand squeezes your chest, gently but firm enough for you to gasp as he greedily gropes both breasts at once. 

He can smell you now, the mind dizzying scent of your arousal filling the air around you both as you gasp and giggle excitedly at his sudden action, both of your tiny hands reaching up to grip at his big one as you press him tighter against you. 

“Come on, Teyam,” You moan, moan, and he’s not even touching you yet. You turn your head to look at him, craning your neck as you stare up at him with wide, lust filled eyes. “Have some fun with me.”

That night he spent with you under the hypnotic glow of the fire will be forever burned into his mind. Every detail, every moan, every sigh, every praise and whine and plea spilling from your lips as he made love to you for the very first time is kept under the sacred lock and key of his heart - a memory he saved with Eywa back at the Spirit Tree the morning after so that he would never have the possibility of forgetting. 

The memory of your gasp as he pushed you down, beads flying across the mossy ground as he tore your clothes off like an animal and how the roughness of it all made your arousal even stronger. His eyes greedy as they took in their fill of your beautiful body splayed out in front of him like a prize before he covered you with his own. Your fingers teased along his bullet wound scar, tracing the raised line with careful fingers, and he thinks that maybe your loving touch will be enough to fully heal it. 

The place between your thighs feels like home, your tiny pussy swallowing him up and holding him close like the most perfect combination of love and safety. Your voice ringing in his ears, sweet and sensual as you whimper and moan telling him faster, Teyam, fuck me harder, oh god, and he whines in return, cock throbbing and embarrassingly close to bursting so fast already, and sending up thanks and prayers to the Great Mother for granting him this amazing moment with you.

It’s the blending of two hearts, two souls made for each other and coming together as one in a bond so powerful that no one can ever break it. It doesn’t matter that you don’t have a kuru, Neteyam can feel you in himself anyway - can feel you wrapping your tiny fingers around his brain and heart and very being, solidifying your bond together without the need for tsaheylu. 

And when you pull your mask off, holding your breath as the hiss of air escapes from the broken seal around your face - he can’t breathe either. The feel of your lips on his, soft and demanding as you kiss him passionately as he fucks you on the forest floor, makes him see stars.

He’s not sure where the change of behavior came from. One day you were affectionate, touchy and giving with your love, surrounding him with your scent and embrace, pussy wrapped around his cock in a hug so tight he thought you might never let go. He wouldn’t mind that, being buried in your heat forever, warm and loved until the day he dies. But the next morning the walls came up, the attitude started, and when he had gone to greet you with a blinding smile and an adoring ‘kaltxì, yawne,’ on his lips as he bent to kiss your cheek, you pulled back and pressed a firm hand against his belly to push him away. 

He thought that your coldness was nerves, just a reaction a human might have to the new soul bond you’ve experienced. Humans don’t mate for life like the Na’vi do, but you’re special, you’re his, and Eywa has blessed your union and made it so even though it should not be possible. Maybe you just don’t know how to handle it. It’s okay, he can be the patient and supportive mate you need.

But the coldness and hostility doesn’t stop, the days go by and the passage of time doesn’t make you calm down. You don’t throw your arms around him like he wants you to, don’t say those three words he longs to hear fall from your lips said with all the love and trust that you have in your little tawtute body. 

Instead, there’s almost anger, a sudden indifference that he can’t seem to place. Had he done something wrong? He doesn’t think so. So, he tries to do the best he can, be the best mate he can be for you during your obvious time of struggle. He’s always there for you, will always be there for you, providing support and bringing you fresh meat, dicing up your favorite fruits and making you pretty jewelry that he knows will look so beautiful on you if you ever just wear it. 

You don’t. You toss the jewelry to the side like it's nothing, you let the food rot exactly where he’s left it.  

You’re not a Na’vi, you don’t understand the implication of your crassness towards his gifts. You don’t see how your refusals break his heart. It’s okay - you’ll learn. Humans are . . . unusual creatures. It will just take a bit more time for you to warm up to the ways of The People.

But his optimism stings with each slight, each indifference you show towards him. Great Mother, you’re so mean to him. Always trying to run from him when he grabs at you, ripping your hand away from his whenever he tries to hold it. You’ve been hiding from him, your trips into the village getting less and less frequent and you don’t let him in when he tries to come to the lab to visit you. 

“You don’t even like being here,” You say when he tries. And you’re right. The stuffiness of the lab makes him tense, and it feels like he can sometimes feel the energy from the machines pressing up against his body. But when he’s with you he doesn’t care. You’re the only thing that matters to him, and when he’s with you, it’s like everything else just falls away. 

The sting from your smack is still on his hand, but he shakes it off as he reaches out to caress your arm instead. “Ma yawne, are you hungry? You should come to my hut. I’ll cook you a fi–”

“No,” You interrupt, shrugging him off of your arm. “I’m not hungry.”

“Oh,” He breathes, disappointment burrowing in his chest but he tries not to let it show even as his fingers reach out to graze against your wrist. “Well then maybe we can go on a walk? There’s a lake not too far from here that I’ve been wanting to show you. It’s beautiful.” Beautiful like you. “I know you’ll love it.”

“No, Neteyam,” You say again, pulling your wrist from his wandering fingers and crossing your arms across your chest. “I’m busy.”

“What are you doing? Maybe I could–”

“No,”

The clipped word rings in his ears. No, no, no, always no. He’s your mate, you shouldn’t have to tell him no. Where you go, he goes. Where he goes, you go. Together. Simple as that. And yet it’s still always no, no, no. You’re turning away from him without another word, walking away with strides he thinks are way too quick for a human, and he can’t help but wonder where you’re heading to in such a rush. 

“Okay,” He calls out, desperate for the conversation not to be over but knowing it will just upset you if he follows you. “I’ll come see you later, tìyawn. I swear it!”

You don’t even look back.

He hasn’t seen you in nearly a week and his patience is running thin. 

Your absence is killing him. 

Where are you? Why won’t you see him? He knows you have to be suffering too without him. Mated pairs aren’t meant to be without each other for so long and he feels like he’s been apart from you for an eternity. 

You stopped coming to the village. He’s been looking, desperately hoping that he’ll see you among the multitude of faces he sees every day. He wants to hear your voice so badly, wants to pull you into his arms and hold you there, safe and loved, while the warmth of your skin soaks into his. 

He wants to push you down again, cover you with his body as he presses you into his sleeping mat - your sleeping mat. Both of yours, together, the way it should be as he plows into your swollen cunt. His hut should be covered in your scent by now, not an inch of it left without your mark on it. 

It’s not, and his understanding for your trouble adjusting to the bond is quickly dissipating. 

He’s tried to come see you at the lab multiple times. A lot. Every day. The lab guys turn him away.

She’s busy. She’s sleeping. She’s too tired. She’s not feeling too well. 

If you're not feeling well, he should be in there to heal you. Give you comfort when you're at your weakest and motivation to get better. So he can keep an eye on you and make sure you’re safe. If you’re tired, let him in so he can wrap his arms around you. His chest is sure to be a better pillow for you than any other one you would be laying on. He would be warm, chest moving with just the perfect amount of rise and fall to lull you into a restful sleep. Your beauty sleep - not that you need it. And if you’re busy . . . what’s the harm in him just being around you? He won’t bother you, but any time just existing in the same space as you is like a dream come true. 

He tries to be nice, tries to be a good person - these are his father’s friends, allies of the Omatikaya - and he’s never been one to act impulsively. But they are keeping you from him. You are his. His mate. 

By the looks on their faces, they know how lucky they are that they got away with only some vicious snarls and a pushed over lab desk. Keeping away someone’s mate should be punishable by death.

At least, that’s how Neteyam feels right about now.

He doesn’t like being angry, hates the disgusting feeling that he feels clawing relentlessly at his chest. But he’s frustrated and heartbroken at your self inflicted absence and the warriors he’s training are his unfortunate victims. He pushes them hard, way harder than he probably should. Two of them have already had to go see the Tsahìk for their injuries and most of them look just about ready to drop from exertion. The anger he lets out on them doesn’t seem to quell any of the feelings still boiling inside him.

But then he sees you and it’s like time stops. The anger and frustration flee his body in a rush of relief. You’re here. 

You’re hiding behind a tree just along the edge of the clearing. Why are you hiding? Maybe you’re trying to surprise him, stay out of sight until he’s done training so as to not distract him with your beauty. You would have. You’ve told him plenty of times that he has a staring problem. But he can’t help it. You’re just so breathtaking that he can’t help but want to stare at you all the time. You’re what he imagines Eywa incarnate to look like - a beauty so alluring and otherworldly that he just can’t bear to tear his eyes away. 

The training session is just about done. He releases a majority of the warriors for the day and there’s only a few stragglers that need a few minutes of one-on-one training before he can send them on their way too. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying to them, letting muscle memory and repetition help him drag these last few minutes along as quickly as possible before he’s able to run over to you. He’s already decided that he’s going to take you out tonight. A date night, just like his father and mother have. It’s a time where you both can get away from the hustle and bustle of village and lab life and just be with each other. You clearly need it and he’s so desperate to spend time with you that he’s just about ready to kidnap you from your duties just so he can get a moment of peace just to stare at your gorgeous, unmasked face more. 

Maybe do some other stuff too. Hopefully. 

His heart hasn’t been the only needy thing of his without you. 

The last warrior he’s with is really pushing his luck. How hard is it to switch a knife from a bladed upward position to a downward facing position with just one hand? It’s a simple wrist movement to perfect a move that might save your life one day and this skxawng keeps. dropping. the. knife. Neteyam’s seemingly endless patience is gone. He dismisses the warrior, words much too harsh to be considered professional but he doesn’t care. His mate is waiting for him and he doesn’t want to waste any more time. 

He turns back to head to where you are, a giddy smile pulling at his lips, mood immediately flipping at the thought of finally seeing you, talking to you, holding you. 

Except when he does it’s like he’s being doused with freezing water. 

Another one of his warrior trainees, Oäpon, is standing in front of you and Neteyam can see how he’s purposefully bulging his muscles a little more to make them seem bigger - an action male Na’vi do when trying to attract a mate. Neteyam wants to rip those muscles out of his worthless body. He should be disgusted with himself with how fast his hand twitches towards the knife on his hip, ready to give no thoughts and just act on his emotions. He’s not impulsive, he’s not. But for once in his life he feels like he might actually kill one of his own clan members. 

Would the Great Mother desert him if he did?

But you catch his attention again, the movement of your small step closer to the other man dragging his furious gaze back to you. Your gorgeous eyes aren’t on Neteyam like they should be, but instead on Oäpon in return. You’re smiling at him, grinning so wide that surely it's fake because you’ve never smiled at him like that before. Oäpon lifts his hand and there’s a deep purple flower between his fingers. The flower finds its way behind your ear and all Neteyam sees is red. 

He’s across the clearing in a second, roaring snarls ripping from his chest as he tears the flower from behind your ear. He can hear Oäpon start to talk, to question what the fuck he’s doing, but the other man’s words are cut off with a pained gasp as he’s kicked to the ground and then he’s shock silent, fear written all over his face as he stares in horror at his kuru and the knife held in Neteyam’s inescapable grip. 

“Don’t! Please, don’t,” Oäpon begs, voice shaking as he struggles to force the words out. “Great Mother, help! Please, don’t!”

“Neteyam, stop!” You yell, tiny fists beating at Netayam’s back, but he barely even feels them. 

“She is mine!” Neteyam growls. “Mine. My mate. You do not touch her!”

“I didn’t know,” Oäpon whimpers. “I didn’t know. Please! I swear!”

He wants to do it, wants to slice through the braid so badly. He doesn’t deserve to have it. Kurus are sacred, the ability to connect to Eywa and her creatures is sacred. Attempting to defile the bond between a mated pair is nearly unheard of. Your screams for him to stop are just making the desire worse. You’re protecting him?! Protecting the thing that was trying to . . . no. No, no, no. He deserves to have it cut off, deserves to die.

Oäpon should kiss his feet in thanks for the mercy Neteyam shows by releasing him. 

“I don’t ever want to see you near her again,” Neteyam shouts. Oäpon doesn’t respond, too busy scrambling away and darting across the clearing, but Neteyam knows he’s heard him. 

“You’re a monster!” You scream, another fist coming down to hit at his back. “How could you do that to him?”

Your hits don’t stop and even through his rage he’s trying to be gentle with you. He catches your flying fists in one of his hands, holding them tight as he crouches in front of you trying to get on your level.

“Ma yawne, did he hurt you?” 

Your eyes are wide as you stare at him in disbelief. “Did he hurt me? Are you kidding me?"

Neteyam’s brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“You fucking–” You screech, Neteyam’s ears pinning against his skull from the high pitched, angry sound. “You–you–I–ARGH!”

You're so frustrated, so upset you can’t even speak properly. Maybe you are hurt - Neteyam’s eyes scan your body for injury, eyes lingering on the area around your ear where the flower had been. The flower now lays forgotten at your feet, crushed and ruined from his angry grip, and Neteyam can’t find any source of injury that might be causing your upset.

“You don’t have to worry,” Neteyam says, cupping your cheek with his free hand. “He won’t bother you anymore, I swear it.”

You jerk away from his touch. “What is wrong with you?”

“I don’t understand what you mean. Nothing is wrong?”

“No,” You shake your head, wrists still trying to twist out of his grip. “No, there’s something wrong with you. Something is seriously wrong with you,”

“You are upset, tìyawn. Tell me what I can–”

“Don’t call me that!” You scream, nose scrunching with the effort. “Stop calling me that!”

“Oh,” Neteyam’s swishing tail droops in disappointment. “I’m sorry, y/n. I didn’t know you didn’t like the name. I only meant to use it to show my love for you as my mate but I can–”

“We aren’t mates, Neteyam!” The words stab like a knife through his heart and his hand loosens around your wrists in shock enough for you to pull them out of his grasp. “We fucked once. A hookup, Neteyam. Sex, that’s it.”

“No,” He whispers. 

Why are you saying this? How could you say this? He was there! He remembers that night more clearly than any other day of his life. You love him. He feels it, feels it with every fiber of his being. You let him into your body, wrapped him tight inside you like a promise that you would never let him go - like he would never have to be alone ever again. You caressed his bullet scar, and he remembers the feel of your gentle fingers silently mourning for it and for all he’s had to suffer. He remembers thinking that being there with you in that moment was worth every other hardship he has to endure. He can take on anything with you at his side. 

“No,” He says again, disbelief coloring his tone. “How can you say that? We are mates! You’re mine!”

“No, we aren’t,”

“We are! I love you, y/n! Oel ngati kam–”

“We are not mated, Neteyam! We fucked. Mindless, hot, means-to-an-end-to-get-off sex. That’s it! Get that through your thick skull,”

He’s watching you as if in slow motion. You turn, stomping away from him as you start to head back into the forest and his brain feels like it’s going a million miles an hour. You’re mates. You are. You have to be - there’s no other way to explain the way he feels about you. The love and utter devotion he has for you. The need to be near you always - looking in your eyes, touching your skin, hearing your voice and the way you’ve always sounded so sweet saying his name. Eywa has blessed your union and he doesn't understand why you don’t feel the same way. Can’t you feel the same inescapable pull that he does? How your soul is tied to his in a way that surpasses even that of tsaheylu?

He reaches out to grab you before you get too far, fingers wrapping around your upper arm. Your own arm flies out around you and the sharp sound echoes through the forest and his sensitive ears before the pain registers on his cheek. 

He’s never seen your eyes so wide before, crazed and panicked as you stare back into his equally shocked amber ones. Your hand is shaking, still raised in the follow through of the slap. The force of your smack is still heating up his cheek, and if he can feel it as much as he is now, he’s sure your hand is probably tingling. 

Any other time he would check you for injuries. You’re so much more fragile than him - you could really hurt yourself if you’re not careful. But you just hit him. Your mate. The man that loves you more than anything. He’s frozen, body cold and not knowing how to react. 

Don’t call me that.

Anger floods through him again. This was Oäpon’s fault. He tricked you, seduced you somehow - out from right under Neteyam’s nose. He should have killed him. 

We are not mated.

You rip your arm out of his grip, wide eyes locked on him as he straightens his body, unfurling out of his crouched position as he rises to his full height. The shadow his body creates over you sends something primal through him. The darkened image of him completely overtaking your tiny figure makes him hungry. Possessive. 

Just sex, Neteyam. That’s it.

He won’t let that worthless skxawng corrupt you anymore. You’re the love of his life, his tanhì. You’re just confused. You’re not thinking clearly. 

You don’t mean it. 

He feels like if he concentrates hard enough, he can hear the sound of your heart racing. Or maybe it's his own, the frantic thump thump thump thump thump of his heart pumping rushing blood into his ears and making him feel like there’s static in his brain. 

When you turn to run, he’s not even shocked. His pupils dilate until there’s barely any color left, predatory gaze marked onto your back as you sprint into the dense Pandoran forest. Everything is so clear to him now. You’re testing him, wanting to see how loyal he is and how far he’ll go to keep you. You’re a beautiful woman, of course you’d have options. But you chose him for a reason, and now you want him to chase you - to prove himself a strong and worthy mate.

You want to play hard to get? Fine. He’ll play. 

He’s a natural hunter, an apex predator - and you, tiny human, have just become his prey. 

It might be fun to hunt you again - sometime in the future when this is all behind you. He’d be sure to make it as fair for you as possible: give you a head start, maybe allow you to rub some mud on your skin to hide your scent just to drag out the game a little longer, give you ample time and resources to find a good hiding spot where you can sit and try to listen with your not that great human hearing for any sign that he’s creeping up on your position. He’d wrap his arms around your waist when he inevitably finds you, smug grin tugging at his lips when your giggled shrieks pierce his eardrums as he pulls you from your oh so clever hiding spot. And then, he’d claim his prize, tearing your clothes from your body right there wherever he found you and fucking you until your giggly shrieking turns into blissful moaning. 

This isn’t fun. It’s not a game. And your headstart is dwindling rapidly. You’re racing through the forest, running as fast as your feet will carry you. He can hear your heavy breaths, the sound of the ground crunching under your clumsy feet. He can smell you, the scent you’re leaving behind in your rush is a direct trail back to you for him to follow. 

He doesn’t need it. He never lost sight of you. 

One of his strides equal close to four of yours, and he covers ground quickly as he closes in on you. He catches you only a little further into the forest than where the chase started and you scream as he tackles you to the ground, the force of his momentum completely knocking you both off your feet. He doesn’t let you touch the ground on the fall, twisting his body enough to take the brunt of the impact. The action still leaves you breathless, dazed for a moment before seeming to come back to yourself and struggling to get off from on top of him.

His hold around your waist is secure and he uses the anchor he has around your waist to throw you on to the ground beside him before climbing on top of you and pinning both of your hands above your head with one of his. 

“Get off me!” You scream, body struggling underneath him, hands pulling in his unrelenting grip as you try to get free, but you can barely move under his weight. “Get off me, Neteyam! Get off, get off, get o–”

His free hand latches around your throat, your words dying on your tongue as his fingers dig into the sides of your neck. 

“Quiet!” He hisses, baring his fangs. “Be quiet!”

The aggressive display makes a small whimper rip from your throat and he can feel the vibrations tickle under his palm. You’re not quiet though, you never stay quiet - ever the talker that you are. You’d talk his ear off if you could. The only time you’ve ever stayed quiet is when you avoided him, and he refuses to let that happen again. 

“Neteyam, please,” You whisper, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You’re scaring me. Let’s just relax and talk about thi–”

“Shut up! Just shut up!” He growls. “You’ve said enough already, don’t you think?”

He releases your hands, grip on your throat loosening and moving down slightly until it's just a singular hand pressed against your chest to keep you pinned. Your hands immediately latch onto the large hand, one of your own clutching the back while the other curls around one of his long fingers. He feels how you pull at it, trying to get it off of you - and he knows how much harder you could be trying right now if you wanted to. 

He lowers his face to yours, inches away so that his breath fans across your skin as he speaks. “You like to talk, but you don’t like words. You’ve made that clear. My words mean nothing to you.” He can feel how your quick breathing puffs against his face too, the warm air caressing his cheeks. “You need actions - a visual representation of my devotion to you. I see that now.”

In a flash, his hands are balling into her t-shirt, pulling roughly in either direction and the thin material gives easily under the pressure. You gasp as he rips your shirt down the middle, the torn fabric falling on either side of your body as he does the same with your bra with a quick snap of his wrist. 

“What are you doing?!” You shout, but you can’t fool him now. He’s grown tired of your games and your body can’t lie to him. 

“Don’t worry, yawne. I’ll give you what you need,”

The sound of ripping material echoes through the otherwise peaceful forest. Your shorts require just a bit more force to tear, but it’s barely a percentage of his full strength so the fabric comes apart at the seams easily leaving the ruined bottoms still around your waist and thighs, but a large opening right at your center. A rumble of satisfaction builds in his chest when he smells you, the first scent of your arousal permeating the air around you. You gasp when he rips your panties too, leaving nothing left of the light blue material but the thin elastic around your limbs and hips. 

His mouth waters at the sight of your pretty pussy, bare and tempting and already getting so wet for him. 

“Fuck,” You whimper, arms splayed out beside you, fingers gripping into the moss covered ground. 

“You like it when I’m rough, huh?” Neteyam teases. “When I’m demanding and just take what I want from you?”

You shake your head, trying to deny it, but the way he can see your pussy’s responding clench is damning to your denial. 

“I remember now,” Neteyam’s hand slides down your thigh and caresses your calf, long fingers wrapping around your leg as he presses a nipping kiss to your ankle just above your sock. “You loved how I shoved you down on the ground that night. It made you gush in your pretty little tewng, didn’t it?”

“S-shut up,”

“Hm, my muntxate likes being handled roughly, doesn’t she?”

Your response is a shocked squeal when he snatches your hips, hauling you up off the forest floor, the quick snapping of moss ripping from the ground as you’re abruptly pulled upwards. Your entire world is turned upside down as Neteyam dangles you like prey in front of him. He throws your legs over his shoulders and wraps a secure arm around your stomach to hold your lower back to his chest. The other hand holds onto your thigh to make sure to keep you spread before him as if you had any chance to wiggle away. 

A choked sob rips from your throat as your hands reach for the ground, blood rushing to your head as your fingers stretch as far as they can trying to get leverage and hold yourself up. Your fingertips only just barely graze the soft green. 

Neteyam groans as he enjoys the sight right in front of his face. You’re spread open for him, pussy perfectly framed by the destroyed fabric - dripping and glistening in want against the dimming sunlight despite yourself. He can see how you subconsciously contract and clench it, hole practically begging him to fill it with his tongue. He wants to bury his face in it, suffocate on your smell and taste until it’s all he can think about. 

So he does. 

He digs his face between your legs, tongue lapping at your folds like a man starved. He is. He didn’t get to do this your first time. It was too fast, too desperate. He couldn’t control himself with you. Everything about you calls to him like a siren, luring him in with your beauty and light. You dragged him down on top of you that night. You were already open, you told him - had fucked yourself with that fake cock he had found hidden in your drawers during an impromptu hangout in your bedroom at the lab. You still felt suffocatingly tight when he pushed in, but he had been grateful that he didn’t have to wait.

He had waited so long for the chance to be inside you that he felt like if he had waited another second without you he would have exploded. 

Your back arches as he licks up your slit, moaning loudly as his textured tongue slides across your clit. 

“Oh my god,” You gasp out, hands forgoing reaching for the ground and finding purchase on his thighs instead. “Neteyam, f-fuck,”

He hums in response, his tongue targeting the sensitive bundle of nerves, sliding and flicking relentlessly against the small bud as your moans and gasps get louder and louder. Your sounds are driving him crazy, the taste of you on his tongue setting every one of his nerves on fire. His cock is already hard, already working its way past his wet slit and tenting in his tewng. You taste so good, so perfect for him. He wonders what it feels like for you, how good it must feel for you to be writhing in his grip now, so vocal for him in your pleasure that your voice is already starting to sound a bit raspy from use. He bets his tongue feels better than any other man you’ve ever tried, the texture of it foreign and unique and unlike anything else you’ve ever had before. 

It will be the same way for him too, he’s sure. He’s dreamed about it, fantasized and jerked off to the thought of your tongue, soft and silky, running up and down his cock. You’d torture him with it, be teasing and delicate in your licks, alternating between those featherlight, barely there teases against his lavender tip and firmer strokes down the base of his cock. 

Your nails are digging into the meat of his thighs as he wraps his lips around your clit, panting breaths telling him yes, right there, Teyam, fuck, fuck, yes as your hips try to hump against his face. You’re right there, right on the edge, ready to fall over it with just a little bit more.

But he stops, reveling in your frustrated groan as he pulls his mouth away from your soaked core. His intense golden eyes meet yours when your head forces its way up, raspy voice whining a desperate ‘why’ as you feel your orgasm slipping away from you. 

“Tell me you’re mine,” He demands. He needs to hear you say it. 

“Teyam…” 

He can’t bear to hear you deny him again. Can’t handle hearing you say the words that make him feel like his heart has been dunked in acid.

His lips latch onto your clit again, sucking harshly at the tiny bud and your words cut off with a gasp. He works you back up, your head falling back as he nips at your clit with his sharp teeth before licking down your slit to circle your entrance. You’re so tight, so so so tight around his tongue as he pushes it in. You clench around the wet muscle and then somehow clench even tighter when the hand gripping your thigh reaches over to rub firm circles on your clit.

“Teyam, oh god, Neteyam, please!” You beg, thighs squeezing his head as they try to force themselves closed. “I’m gonna cum. Please,”

You wail as he pulls his mouth away again, your hole clenching around nothing as your orgasm dissipates again. 

“Say it,” He feels your whole body shiver as his words breathe hot air on your sensitive cunt. “You’re mine. Say it, y/n,”

You sob, frustration evident in every sound and twitch your body makes. You’re trying to lift your head again, looking up at him from your spot dangling below him like a puppet, and he wonders if all the blood rushing to your head from being upside down for so long is getting to you. 

“Say it,” He repeats and then digs back in, the flat of his tongue roughly swiping over your clit before latching onto it again.

Your legs kick as he works you up again, overstimulated pussy throbbing as he plays you like an instrument he’s known for years. His cock is throbbing too, desperate to be released from the confines of his tewng and shown some attention. He wants so badly to push inside your soaking hole and feel how it’ll grip his cock within its slick walls. 

“Neteyam, please!” You cry, and he knows you’re so close, right there again as he hurdles you back towards that just out of reach edge. He doesn’t stop the suction of his mouth. You’ll say it, he knows you will. You’ll say it because if you don’t, you won’t get to cum. He’ll keep you here, upside down in his unrelenting hold until you pass out from exhaustion before he’s going to let you go without saying it. 

You’re a stubborn brat. He can see as he looks down your hanging body that you’re biting your lip. You want to say it - you’re just being stubborn. He sucks harder on the swollen bud, free hand smacking your hip and your asscheek just hard enough to make you cry and gush further on his tongue, the remaining remnants of your clothes doing very little to muffle the sting. 

“Okay!” You yell. “Okay, okay, Neteyam! I’ll say it! I’m yours! Please, please let me cum!”

The words make Neteyam’s chest tighten. Finally. Finally, you’ve admitted it, and the excitement from the admission urges him to lick you faster. He’s sloppy and greedy as he eats you out, overeager and face wet to the point of dripping as he devours you for all you have. You cum on his tongue with a choked scream, hands reaching up to grab desperately at his arm encircling your waist, nails digging into the cerulean flesh as your back arches and your thighs clench tightly around his head. 

He swallows everything you offer him, lapping up your juices like his favorite most treasured treat, before placing a protective hand on your back to steady you as he lowers you back down to safety.

“Mawey, yawne,” Neteyam coos, gently brushing away a few rogue pieces of moss stuck to your sweaty forehead. You’re still panting, exhaustion creeping over you as your eyes glaze over and threaten to close. The oxygen tube had unhooked from around your ear at some point during your experience upside down. Neteyam guides it back around your ear with careful fingers. “You’ve been such a good girl for me. Keep being a good girl while I fuck you, yes?”

Your eyes widen at the mention of fucking, shaking your head slightly even as the full bodied shivers of the orgasm’s aftershocks continue to wrack your body. “N-no, Teyam. C-can’t take i-it.”

Neteyam smiles, leaning forward to press a sweet kiss against your lips. The feel of your lips on his is almost enough to make him cum. He’s so worked up already, so high off the taste of your cunt on his tongue that all it takes is the loving press of your lips on his and he’s a second away from exploding in his tewng and ruining the fun. 

“Yes, you can,” He says against your lips, his sharp teeth digging into your plush bottom lip just to hear you whine. 

Last time he fucked you, he took you from the front. It was love making, a bonding of two souls coming together as one - a spiritual experience filled with panting breaths, eye contact, and the passionate coupling that comes with mating with the one your heart belongs to. 

You don’t deserve that right now, not with the way you’ve hurt him - made him work for the love that should have been given freely. The things you said can’t just be forgotten. You need him to prove his worthiness to you? Prove his loyalty? Then fine, he’ll do that by giving you exactly what you deserve.

You yelp when he flips you over on your stomach, large hands grabbing your hips and hauling them up so your ass is in the air and on display for him. The remaining fabric of your shorts still cover nearly half of your ass, but the little coverage does nothing to diminish the amazing view. You try to push yourself up with your arms, but Neteyam is quick to shove you back down with a hand on the back of your neck. 

“No, no, tìyawn,” He says, running a large hand over your exposed ass, his fingers teasing along the creamy slit of your pussy. “You said you’re mine, so let me see what’s mine.”

His teasing fingers find your hole and his teeth dig into his lower lip when he sees your thigh start trembling as he circles your entrance with the pad of his finger. You like it rough, he has to remind himself. You’re a human, so delicate compared to him that he naturally wants to be gentle with you. But that got him nowhere, it got him ignored. You respond to roughness, passion, him taking charge - so he doesn’t give you any warning before he’s plunging two long fingers inside you all the way to the knuckle.

You scream, slick walls squeezing around his fingers, your own hands once again ripping at the moss below you. The scream is agonized, oversensitive and pained from your earlier edging and orgasm. Your thighs are shaking, desperate sobs erupting from your throat. But the way you’re pushing back against him, rocking back against his invading fingers trying to get them deeper inside you tell him everything he needs to know. 

“Look at you,” He coos. His fingers start up a steady rhythm, thrusting inside you with purpose as he stretches you open. “Such a little whore for me, aren’t you?”

Your moans are muffled against the ground, cheek pressed firmly against the moss from his hand pinning you down by his neck. You ignore his question, too lost in trying to push back against his hand and make him fuck you faster - so he rips his fingers from your gripping cunt, drops of your wetness flying from the force of his retreat, and his large hand lands harshly on your backside. 

You howl at the smack, the sound of the slap against direct skin this time cracks through the forest like a gunshot. 

“I asked if you’re my whore,” Neteyam repeats. It’s not as romantic as ‘I’m yours’, but still just as important. 

“Yes, Teyam,” You whine. “I’m your whore.”

“Just for me, right? Only my whore,” Silence again, but your hips are still wiggling and searching for his fingers, so he rewards your silence with another sharp smack. “Say it, yawne,”

“Fuck!” You cry, ass feeling like it's on fire even as more of your slick drips down your thighs. “Yes, yes! Only for you, Teyam. Only for you,”

“Good girl,” Neteyam purrs, and you’re rewarded this time with his fingers sliding back inside your aching pussy. 

He stretches you out on those two fingers, alternating between scissoring them inside you and curling them to rub at that special spongy spot that makes you squeal and see stars. He contemplates adding a third, but decides that he wants to finish stretching you out on his cock instead. 

This time when you cum, it's less of a scream and more of a deep guttural groan that comes from deep inside you. It’s wetter than he expects it to be when you squeeze around his fingers, and the sight of your slick dripping from your mound onto the forest floor beneath you makes him feel absolutely feral. 

He lets go of the back of your neck and pulls his fingers from your abused cunt. The wet fingers work frantically at the knots on his tewng and he feels like he can’t get the fucking thing off fast enough. When the knots come undone and the tan material flutters to the ground, he breathes a sigh of relief, thick needy cock springing from its confines to slap against his belly. 

When he focuses back on you, your exhausted body is already trying to curl in a ball, eyes threatening to close as sleep calls to you. No, Neteyam thinks. He’s not done with you yet.

He flips you back on your stomach, pulling your hips back up high so they’re flush with his. You both groan as he rubs his hard cock between your folds, the tip nudging at your swollen clit. Fuck, you feel so good, pussy feeling like silk against his aching length. His eyes are locked onto where he’s lining his head with your entrance, watching in awe as he nudges himself forward, your greedy hole welcoming him in like you’ve been doing this forever. He can’t control his sounds, grunts and moans of pleasure echoing loudly through the trees as he sinks himself inside your slick walls. You’re so tight, even with the amount he’s stretched you out already you’re still so tight. But you stretch around him like you were made for him, made to take his cock into your depths - like your insides already know the exact shape of him and welcome him back into their warm embrace.

You whimper as he fills you up, back arching and hands clawing at the ground like you’re both trying to get away from him and closer to him at the same time. 

“I fucked you so good, didn’t I?” He gunts, pulling halfway out of your gripping pussy before slamming back in, relishing in the tortured moan it pulls from you. “That night by the fire. Made you cum so many times, over and over again until you were so cock drunk you couldn’t speak.”

He pulls out again, just a little further this time before thrusting back in. He does it again, and again, the rhythm hard and unforgiving and he pulls your hips closer to his. In the back of his mind he fears that he’s being too mean, too rough, but your gasping hiccups and blissed out sighs contain any worry. This is as much for him as it is for you anyway. He’s allowed to be selfish. 

“You’re always so talkative,” He pants. “Where’s that pretty voice now, huh? You were so talkative that night, just endless pleas of my name falling from your gorgeous lips. Like music to my ears. I wanna hear it again. Please, yawne?”

“Mmh, please,” You whine. “Please, Teyam,”

“Please what?”

“Faster,” You beg. “Fuck me faster,”

Who is he to deny such a sweet and pretty thing?

He leans forward, body curling over yours to cover you completely, one of his hands grabbing yours and linking your fingers together as he presses them both against the ground. His other hand is still on your hip, using it as leverage as he fucks your puffy pussy faster, the tip of his cock barreling against your cervix with each snap of his hips. 

He can feel the knot on the base of his cock swelling, the large ball of tissue nudging at your entrance with each thrust. The instinct driven part of him urges him to push harder against you, to force the knot against your tight hole to see if it will fit. 

He didn’t knot you that night, not wanting to risk hurting you or getting you pregnant so fast with such a new relationship. He came inside you with his fist wrapped tightly around his knot instead. Na’vi bonds are forever. Human bonds . . . now he’s not so sure. He’s not willing to risk it anymore. He’s going to bond with you in every way he knows how. 

When he feels his orgasm creep up his spine, he lets instinct take over. His grip on your hip tightens, thrusts halting as he presses the enlarged ball against your soaked entrance. 

You gasp, whimpering as his knot stretches you more. “Oh god, wait, wait,”

But it's too late. With another determined shove, the knot pops inside you and he has you trapped, locked on his cock until time decides to free you. 

“Neteyam, i-it’s too b-big,” You whine, shock evident in your voice. “Hmh, so full,”

Neteyam plants soothing kisses on the back of your head and neck, the hand on your hip smoothing around your belly to caress the large bulge of the outline of his cock in your stomach. “I know, tìyawn. I know. It’s so much, but you’re doing so well. Just a little more for me, okay?”

He can’t thrust now, can't even so much as pull out an inch now that he’s locked inside you. So, he makes you do the work. He keeps one hand on the bulge in your tummy, the other hand coming down to rub relentlessly at your throbbing clit. The stimulation makes you keen, pussy clenching and tightening around him and working his aching length with your wet walls. 

His fingers on your clit are your undoing. He barely hears any noise from you as your orgasm hits, but this time he’s able to see the side of your face as you come undone. Your eyes roll back into your head, mouth opening in a silent scream, but it's like all the breath has been stolen from your lungs. Your body tenses, muscles shaking through the overwhelming pleasure, and he feels as much as he hears how you gush and squirt all over his teasing digits and the ground below you. 

He moans at the sight, the feel of your pussy clenching around his length and the wetness from your orgasm on his fingers and cock makes him tip over the edge. His orgasm crashes through him, tearing him apart as he spills himself inside you. His cum paints your walls, and his knot makes sure to keep every single drop of it inside you. 

Neteyam collapses next to you, shaking as the aftershocks roll through him, and pulls your limp body safely against his. It will be at least an hour before the knot’s swelling goes down enough before he’s able to slip out. You let out a moan of pain as the knot pulls at your entrance as he adjusts you, but he sushes you.

“Relax, ma yawne. I’ll take care of you.” He coos. “Oel ngati kameie,”

You don’t say it back. You don’t even hear him, already dead to the world as your exhaustion finally catches up with you. 

It’s okay. He knows in his heart that one day soon, you’ll say it back.

Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife @erenjaegerwifee @f-cklife @beautiful-brown-skin-05 @minnory @localjasmine @skywonder @neteyamswillow @luvv4j4ybe11 @vampirefilmlover @quicktosimp (cause you said you liked yanderes)

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[inner-viper]

Your first time with your FS (Detailed Ver)

Hello, I decided to do this reading because surprisingly I haven’t done a full version of it.

Pile 1

The Cosmic Slumber Tarot:

Five of Cups, King of Torches, Nine of Pentacles, The Magus, and Ten of Torches

Tarot of Sexual Magic:

The Empress, 8 of Wands, 9 of Pentacles, Ace of Chalices, and 3 of Swords

This will happen when you are feeling sad, I feel like something upset you and you will want to feel comforted. Perhaps throughout the day, someone made a rude remark. For some who choose this pile, you are having a bad day. You will be focusing on the remark or the negativity. Sometimes you have tendencies to get into your head, and this is one of those days. No worries because you can always try your best to just be!

Now, your FS will want to cheer you up. They will notice that there is something off about you. I am getting this vibe that some of your FS was the one making the rude remark. Anyway, they will want to make up the day for you! They will take you out on a trip, shopping, eating, and strolling around. On this particular day, they are feeling horny, they will be in their sexual energy and will desire to be one with you.

So I see that people who choose this pile have a rich FS. They got their money up and their finances are taken care of, this means that they will take care of you. They will invite you to a fancy hotel with amazing views, or it could be their luxurious place. I see that they have set up the bed and would like to have things prepared for you, I see that you both did plan to have a date in mind! After a long non-sexual relationship, you both are ready to dive into a new experience together!

The sexual act will be fun, it will feel reliving. It’s like you both are finally reaching the highs that you wanted to with each other. I see that you both like to spend some time together reminiscing about your time spent together. It will be a cute moment, where you both will stare into each other and admire each other. Seeing through one another, walls being torn and your soul staring at the other present soul.

You both carry past burdens that may have been affecting your relationship, there will be a sense of wanting to liberate yourselves from setbacks. This is a beautiful transformation that will happen, you both will move on to the next chapter. It’s like a rite of passage, things are more serious and commitment is strong. Lust has been invoked in its purest form, a sinful desire lies awake. Ready to consume each other.

You will be dominant…

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Pile 2

TW: Degrading

The Cosmic Slumber Tarot:

Six of Torches, Eight of Swords, Six of Pentacles, Prince of Cups, and Prince of Pentacles

Tarot of Sexual Magic:

Temperance, 8 of Chalices, 5 of Swords, Knave of Swords, and 7 of Swords

You are someone who is popular, a person that is for the community. You represent something strong in other people’s lives, everyone who has chosen this pile has a heart of gold. Your general energy feels like someone who wants to help their community and build a safe space for everyone. Some people who have chosen this pile are famous, or very well-known in their communities!

Now, your FS knows that you are someone who is charismatic. You are charming and playful, someone who speaks well and knows where they are headed in life. I see that there will be a scenario that they will be jealous of you because of how attractive you are. There could be an instance of a person coming towards you and flirting with you. They may not be there at first and could be walking towards you and will get upset that someone is trying to steal you away from them.

Although, your intentions and actions mean well. In your perspective, it is your job to be charming. To be a little flirtatious and that doesn’t mean you want to leave your partner for someone else. Your partner may be sensitive at times because they are afraid of you leaving them for someone else. You will explain to them how you view this interaction and they will calm down.

You are beautiful and they know that your features and body are beautiful! You will playfully tease them after they cool down. Your attention will be back on them and you will focus on flirting with your partner. Making them feel special and having all the attention to themselves. This will eventually lead to an evening of passionate lustful sex. Your desires grow for each other, they will be feening to take control. Showing who is the one who “owns” you.

They can be quite selfish and over-possessive. This will be evident in the evenings that you both spend with each other. They can be childish at times, and they aren’t focused on the world around them. Although, they will be awakened to mark you up, to see you being “owned”, this manifests in their sexual desires and fantasies.

They will want to put their face in your butt…

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Pile 3

The Cosmic Slumber Tarot:

Princess of Swords, Eight of Cups, Temperance, Four of Cups, Eight of Torches

Tarot of Sexual Magic:

Knave of Chalices, 10 of Swords, 9 of Swords, 8 of Wands, and 3 of Chalices

This will happen when you are in a state of being strong, independent, and confident. You have this fearless energy around you, or you are perceived that way by many. Your FS thinks that you are someone who is strong and is always standing up for yourself. They will find it very attractive, it’s a quality that elevates your character.

There seem to be some challenges that you will face on that day, you both have spoken about wanting to drift your relationship into something more. You both will discuss things and mention how the current relationship doesn’t feel that “serious” despite the both of you being very serious and committed to each other. A venture into a new path, what lies ahead is a testament to your passionate love, lust, and emotions.

There will be some waiting period for this event to occur, you both will remain patient and may engage in phone sex. There will be risky messages sent, private photos, and videos. It’s erotic, also it seems like some of you are confident over the phone but in person. If that doesn’t resonate with you, then it could be your FS. There is attention to detail on their end, they will point out the things you mention when you both meet up.

However, someone here is shy and will want to initiate sex. There is an insecurity stemming from this person. They don’t feel confident enough to bring it up, and this could be your FS. You may be the one to lead because of their shy personality, but once they are in bed they aren’t shy anymore. It’s a very contrasting relationship but one that compliments each other.

The sexual act will be fast, there will be a climax reached in a short time. There does seem to be a focus on wanting to bring new experiences that can bring both of you closer. I see that you both will explore different kinks, positions, and locations. It is like a journey of sexual freedom, you both after this experience will feel comfortable sharing your specific likes and dislikes.

There will be an emotional bond that will develop..

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[thedreamlessnights]

Fixation

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW

Synopsis: When a mistranslated ancient spell goes wrong, you're forced to suffer the consequences. Astarion takes a keen interest in your... predicament.

Warnings and tags: 18+ (and I cannot stress this enough), aphrodisiac spell, Spawn!Tav, established relationship, possessiveness. Brief referrals to the Rite of Profane Ascension and Cazador. Fingering, oral sex (receiving), blood drinking, multiple orgasms, slightly rough sex. Brief overstimulation, praise, mild degradation, uses of the terms 'pet' and 'consort.'

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: And here's the second of my parallel aphrodisiac fics for Non-Ascended vs. Ascended Astarion! It was honestly very interesting to write the differences between them. The Non-Ascended one is much softer than this - please mind the tags!

The book must be hundreds of years old, but it feels warm in your hands. You’ve perused it inside and out, practically memorizing the faded runes. Fixation. It’s a weakness of yours. 

Still, how often is it that you find an ancient book of spells? Who knows if you might discover some long-lost secret buried within the pages. And, yes: you’re bored. 

Your messy translations are not ideal for this sort of thing, which is exactly why you’ve chosen a basic spell to start with. It’s mid-afternoon, quiet and still, the soft glow of candlelight illuminating the room. 

The long-forgotten words flow from your mouth like honey - as if they’ve been waiting for centuries just to be said. Light and sweet, they settle into the room and linger for just a moment. Some spells can be felt in the very air, manifesting as an electric haze that tickles the lungs, but not this one. When the sound of your voice fades away, the only sign that the spell has worked is a gentle heat that settles in your skin.

For a long moment, you kneel, studying the small scrape on your finger and waiting for something to happen. If you’d translated correctly, this should have been a basic healing spell with enough capacity to mend small cuts and burns. An increasingly pleasant heat builds in your veins, but the scrape remains untouched.

It should have worked by now. But if it wasn’t a healing spell, then…

Your eyes turn back to the pages, flickering between the references you’d found and the runes. Something connects. A line you hadn’t seen. A word you hadn’t added. The runes on the page - they’re not for healing, like you’d thought. But if they don’t mean health, then…

You stare at it a moment longer.

Lust. 

“Oh. Oh, gods.”

You rise to your feet like you’ve been slapped. The heat is bearable for now but growing incessantly, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. No counterspell. No healing potion. Anything you try could just as well make it worse. Which poses the question: what the hells are you going to do?

You suck in a deep breath.

First things first: you need to get out of this room. The air is feeling like it might strangle you. 

The chill of the hall greets you sweetly as you pace up and down the walkway, weighing your options. A spell this simple shouldn’t last long. It’ll most likely linger for only a few hours, then dissipate. It doesn’t seem dangerous. It’s not painful. Not yet, at least.

You could lock yourself in the cellar for the night, but that isn’t exactly appealing. The bedroom wouldn’t work, either. It’s Astarion’s room too, after all.

Astarion. Just the thought of him sends sparks flaring through you. It ladles heat into a very pleasant spot in your abdomen, and something flutters deep in your gut. Gods, what you wouldn’t give for him to be touching you.

But he cannot find out about this. By the hells, he can’t ever find out, because if he does, you will never live this down. Which leaves two options: you can either go to dinner and attempt to act like you’re fine, or you can try to hide away in one of the rooms and wait it out. 

Neither one is ideal. Being physically near him, he’ll be able to read you like a book - which makes dinner a very dangerous concept. But if you neglect to show up at all? He’ll be even more suspect. He’ll certainly seek you out and find out the truth in the end.

So. Dinner it is. 

You’ll just have to keep yourself composed, somehow. If only doing was as easy as thinking. But do you really have a choice?

No, you think. 

You don’t.

As soon as he’s through the door, Astarion’s eyes are on you. They always seem to be, these days. Ever since the Ascension. His dark consort, his right hand. His, for whatever he wants. He never seems to see you like he used to, but the sting of that faded long ago. Another thing lost to the ritual.

“Hello, my treasure,” he greets.

You offer him a smile as he takes your hand, pressing a kiss to the skin. You can only hope he doesn’t notice the fear in your eyes or the way you’re trembling. 

The gods must be on your side, because he’s distracted. The moment he releases you, he’s talking with a servant about something or other. You can barely keep up with the politics of the city on a normal day, much less on one with flaming lust in your stomach.

So you follow him to the table like a puppet, moving to your usual seat opposite his. It seems much closer together than usual. Everything does. He could be across the room, and you’d still feel like he was at your side, his breath at your neck. You’re almost grateful that the near-only things you can consume are blood and wine, because your trembling fingers are not fit to handle a knife.

After you’ve taken your seat, you have to put all of your attention into holding your glass. You’d try to act natural, but you can’t even remember what that feels like anymore. Does your skin look cold enough? Is your smile convincing? Is the picture you’re painting compelling, or will your imperfections give you away?

For a moment, Astarion’s attentions are focused on his papers. Then, with a sigh, he sets them aside and looks at you. He seems bored, more than anything. Not suspicious yet. “And how was your day, pet?” he asks.

Your grip tightens around your glass. “Good,” you manage to say. “I found a new book in the library.”

He raises a brow. “Did you?”

You nod, attempting to bury yourself in a sip of wine, but it doesn’t work. The more he looks at you, the more the feeling grows. Your hands are slick. Your mind feels clouded over. 

“A - ah, book of poetry.” Your voice shakes as you speak, and the betrayal of it is like a dagger in your chest.

He sets down his knife and fork. 

Already? you think, lightheaded and humiliated. Gods - you’d known he’d likely catch on sooner or later, but, really? Not even two minutes in? It’s pathetic.

But you aren’t going to give in yet. Astarion may have the winning card in his hand, but you’re determined to play this game for all it’s worth. So you set down the wine, fold your hands in your lap as if you aren’t struggling with keeping still, and give him your prettiest smile.

The glint in his eye grows. “Really?” he purrs, tilting his head. “I didn’t know you liked poetry.”

And as soon as he’s spoken, his voice is in your mind - words you’d thought you’d forgotten, pressing to the front of your thoughts. 

It’s a poem. A gift from Cazador.

The first time you’d seen his scars. 

“I…” Your voice chokes, and you swallow hard. “I don’t read it often. But I enjoy it, sometimes.”

He hums in response. His eyes are fixed on yours like a predator - watching your every move. Every blink. Every swallow. Every tremble. He’s waiting for you to break. 

You don’t. Not yet.

“And you?” you ask. “How was your day?”

“Oh, you know how it is,” he muses, his hand gesturing indifferently. “The usual.”

But you don’t know how it is. He hasn’t told you a word about his work, and you’ve never invited yourself into it. He leans back in his seat, and his expression molds into something complacent as you struggle to find the right thing to say.

You decide that wine on your tongue will be much better than words. It’s rich and dark, mildly bitter, and heady. It lingers for a long moment after you’ve drunk, sloshing around your glass as you swirl it.

The end is coming. Your body is fighting you tooth and nail. Your hands are shaking, your mouth is dry, and your head is foggy. Setting the wine down shouldn’t be a difficult thing, but it feels like trying to thread a rose stem through the eye of a needle - painful and futile. 

Your wrist twitches. A tiny, incomprehensible mistake. The goblet nicks the edge of the table, your grip loosens, and the next thing you know, there’s wine everywhere. Bleeding over the top of the table. Dripping into your lap. Splashed over your chest. The taste of it is still in your mouth, bitter on your tongue.

“You’ve gotten clumsy, pet,” Astarion says. He places his hands on the table, pushes to his feet, and approaches with a languid stride, amused and possessive in his gaze. You meet his eyes, determined not to break.

He grabs a clean napkin and half-heartedly dabs the wine off of you, stopping to swipe a droplet off your chest with his finger. Then he lifts it into his mouth, never looking away. “You’re trembling,” he says.

“Am I?” Your voice is breathless. “That’s strange.”

His eyes narrow. “Are you feeling alright, dearest?” 

“Me?” you ask, your hands clenching into fists. “Of course I am.”

He stares at you. You stare at him. He raises a brow. You paste on your sweetest smile, just for him. 

“You know,” he sighs, circling behind you, “I do hate it when you lie to me.”

The feeling in your gut is ravenous now. You’re nothing short of feverish, buried in a haze of sheer need. You need him more than you have ever needed before. You will not let yourself have him.

You play this game with him because, no matter what he says, you know he wants you to. You slot yourself in as his pawn, settling into your place, competing with him even though the game is rigged from the start; all because he wants it. He wants you to lose, and to beg for him to touch you. And, gods help you, despite this cruel, vicious thing he’s become, you still want him. 

He reaches out to a loose strand of your hair, tucking it away behind your ear. “I want the truth,” he says, leaning in close. You’re shivering with desire. Every part of you wants him near. You fight the impulse to make a sound, and he steps away.

“I really am feeling fine,” you insist. 

His eyes pass over you. You can feel the way they trail along your features, both analytical and skeptical. His head tilts and he smirks, and you know you’ve lost. Just like he wanted you to. 

His hand comes up to cup your cheek. “Little love,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb along your jaw. His touch is warm, skimming against your skin. “You’ve gotten yourself into quite the predicament, haven't you?” The corner of his lips flick into a smile, but his eyes stay cold as ice. “I know lust when I see it.”

Then, he lets you go.

You want to beg him to come back.

“What a shame,” he muses. “I have so much work to do tonight. You’ll wait for me, won’t you, my sweet?”

You will. You don’t have any choice.

A small sound involuntarily chokes from your throat, and his eyes narrow. “Now, now,” he chides. “Be patient.”

He returns to the doorway, studying your appearance with a smug sort of satisfaction. “Oh, and darling?” he says. “Don’t you dare touch yourself.” 

He pulls the door shut after him, and you stare blankly ahead.

Gods. He’s going to drag this out. You know he will - he loves to see you squirm. But to tell you that you can’t touch yourself? It’s particularly cruel.

But this is where he wants you. You’d lost the game, and this is how you’re paying for it.

The time ticks by. The feeling in your gut grows. You have to squeeze the armrests of your chair to keep them from straying. Heat flushes through every part of your body.

It’s a strange thing, being warm. It’s been months since you’ve had warm blood in your veins. You’d almost forgotten how it felt. It only makes this sensation so much more overwhelming. 

It’s like the sun kissing your skin. It’s like fire, searing through your chest. It’s both pain and pleasure, mingling in your senses. More pleasure, perhaps, if you were allowed to touch yourself. You don’t dare to, not even once. Not even a little. No matter how much you want to.

When the door finally opens again, you let out a rush of air. Relief. Sheer relief. But Astarion doesn’t move toward you. He goes to the papers he’d left on the table, rummaging through them. He finds the one he wants, pauses, then glances at you.

“My, my. Look at you,” he remarks. “Gods below. You’re a mess, darling.”

It’s only then that you realize he’s not coming back yet. He’s not here to touch you.

“Astarion-”

The look he gives you silences your words. Your mouth snaps closed, and you try to resist the urge to sob.

“Patience,” he says. His tone is a warning, low and dark. “Or you’ll get nothing at all.”

The door shuts once more, and this time, a noise breaks free from your throat.

You should have just told him. You’d have lost the game all the same, but he might have taken pity on you. But you’d lied to him. You’d kept it hidden. You hadn’t begged.

His message is as clear as day. This is what you get. This is your punishment.

You’d just had to try out that spell book, hadn’t you? You couldn’t have left it alone? Now look at you. Shaking, clinging onto the chair so tightly that your fingers are beginning to go numb. You feel rabid. Whatever self-control is leashing you is beginning to slip.

Just hold on, you tell yourself. Just until he comes back.

So you wait. Your body feels like it’s on fire, but you wait. 

You’ve just begun to consider touching yourself, consequences be damned, when you finally hear the blissfully familiar sound of Astarion’s voice. 

“I’m here now, my dear,” he announces. “You can stop terrorizing the poor chair.”

He’s standing in front of you, looking down at you with a mix of desire and possessiveness. You have to stare at him for a good ten seconds before you realize that he’s actually there, not just a vision. That your torment will soon be over. 

His words finally connect with your mind and register somewhere within the mess of need. Your hands loosen from their grip, and a soft noise escapes from your lips. From pain or want, you don’t know.

“Kneel,” he says.

Your legs tremble when they stand, as if they might finally give out. You sink to your knees, barely feeling the hard stone beneath you.

Astarion takes two fingers and places them under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “My pet, do you want me?”

“Yes.” Your voice is hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

“Tell me.”

You swallow hard. “I - I want you.”

“Louder.”

“I want you.”

His head tilts. “Good.”

He drops his fingers. You want to scream at the loss of his touch.

“Get up,” he instructs.

You can barely move, but you do it. Your knees shake. You want to grab onto him for support, but you know you shouldn’t. Not yet.

Instead, his hand wraps around your waist. “Just look at you,” he murmurs, echoing his statement from earlier. His other hand comes up to your mouth, his thumb brushing against your lips. 

Then his hand on your waist trails up your back, up your neck, fisting into your hair. “And all for me.”

He pulls you close and kisses you hard. Bruising. His hand cups your cheek, his grip tightens in your hair. His lips are warm and soft and demanding, coaxing your mouth open as he walks you into the table. The back of your legs meet the edge and you pull away to sit, panting as he sets himself over you, straddling your hips.

His eyes are dark and hazy, trailing over you in a way that makes you shiver.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, trailing a finger along your cheek. His lips move to your jaw, trailing feather light kisses along the bone, and you tilt your head to give him full access to your neck. He hums an approval into your skin.

You barely feel it when his teeth sink in and draw blood. There’s only a faint flash of pain, a muddled sensation beneath your want. You feel his hand rest on your hip. His gentle, wet tongue, darting out to clean the wound.

If he doesn’t touch you soon, you’re sure you’ll combust.

“Astarion,” you breathe, gripping onto the back of his shirt. You know he heard you, but he keeps kissing down your throat, stopping at your collar bones to brush his lips over them. A sharp nip. An apologetic kiss to soothe the sting.

“Astarion, please,” you repeat.

“Hm?” He doesn’t bother to pull away. He simply undoes the lacing of your clothing without looking and tosses the outfit across the room.

“Touch me,” you beg.

At that, he finally stops kissing you and looks up at you, something dark and hungry simmering in his gaze. “Dearest, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he drawls, “but I am touching you.”

You’re in no mood to deal with this - not with the scorching flame inside that will not let up even for an instant. “You know what I mean,” you snap. “Please, gods. Touch me.”

But the more desperate you are, the more he pulls back from you. He gives you a look - half amused, half bored. “But I don’t know what you mean,” he says. “I can’t read your mind anymore, my sweet. Don’t you remember?”

Anger and frustration cloud your vision in a veil of red. A sharp noise chokes through your chest, and you tighten your grip on his shoulders, digging your nails into the skin. “Fuck me, Astarion. Please.”

The corners of his mouth flick into a self-satisfied smile. “You’re lucky I like you, little love,” he murmurs, easing your legs apart with his thigh, and you sigh in relief, relaxing into his touch as he returns to kissing your neck. “But you wouldn’t deny me a taste, surely?” he asks. “I want everyone in the city to hear you screaming my name.”

And then he drops to his knees.

You’re left shivering with need, so desperate that your vision seems to be clouding over. The top layer of your clothing has been removed, but you’re still in your smallclothes, and he of course takes his sweet time with you. The feel of his tongue through the fabric of your smalls, so desperately close to where you need him to be - but not there, not yet there - is all but maddening. You fix your hand into his hair and try to relax, but you’re so tightly-wound that you feel like a rope about to snap.

How the hells are you supposed to relax when the sweet friction of his mouth is pressing against your clit - when he’s on his knees for you, his grip on your thighs bruising and almost, almost perfect? You could come like this, riled up to the point of climax, but that would be too easy. He’d never let it be that easy.

Instead, he brings you to the verge of orgasm, bites at the tender flesh of your thigh, then pulls away.

“Gods,” you mutter, caught between feeling like the tiniest action will send you into waves of pleasure and simultaneously feeling like you’re going to black out. “Astarion-”

“Shh,” he says, still on his knees. “Relax, pet.”

Out of the two of you, he’s in the more vulnerable position, but you’d never know it from the way he’s practically holding you down on the top of the table - from the way his eyes are devouring you, practically daring you to protest. 

You know him. The more you rebel, the less he’ll give you. So you don’t. You force yourself silent and suck in a breath or two, trying to remember the way oxygen tastes, trying to keep the dam inside you from bursting open.

A small sob breaks free, but aside from that, you’re a statue. A lustful, slightly relaxed statue. It’s all you can give, and it must be enough, because he finally pulls your smalls off of you. 

They’re so wet from his tongue and from your arousal that they stick to you, and you can see the way his gaze darkens. The way he swallows, taking in a deep breath and setting them aside. He could keep you here all night, but he’d be torturing himself, too.

He starts slowly again, and with every graze of his warm fingers, with every brush of his skin against yours, your body bucks into his touch. It doesn’t matter where or how brief; it’s just the silky trailing of his fingertips over your abdomen, your body is still chasing the minimal pleasure his presence gives you. If it’s his thumb against your clit, your body still shudders the way you know he wants you to.

When his tongue finally, finally meets your clit, you let out a sharp gasp and have to physically stop yourself from following that feeling, from grinding against his mouth the way you so desperately want to. Your nails dig into the tablecloth, but you let him keep his own pace. His own agonizing, teasing pace. 

One finger, slipping inside of you, finding the electrifying spot inside of you that has you moaning his name, your hand tightening in his hair and your hips bucking of their own accord. Then one becomes two. A slow, even rhythm of thrusting that slowly grows harder, faster, deeper. 

He brings you right back to the edge, and this time, he lets you come. 

Your body tenses. Your grip tightens even more. He groans against you, and the vibrations of it course out through your skin. The rope of tension pulls and pulls and pulls until it finally snaps, leaving you shuddering and mindlessly crying out, his name leaving your mouth like a mantra. 

Just like he’d said it would. 

Your consciousness seems to float away from your body - a blinding, sharp pleasure that comes to you in a pulsing, ambrosial wave. When you come down, you’re still burning. The fire wanes a little, but won’t be sated. Not that easily. In many ways, it’s just like Astarion. Running you through, filling you with need, and not letting you go until it’s done with you.

When you come down, you find yourself with wet thighs and covered in sweat, your breath pulling unnaturally from your lungs until you’ve recovered. You’re still shaking, and Astarion is still between your legs - licking at sensitive skin. 

You whimper, and he finally pulls away, his pupils blown wide and an impatience to his expression. Possessiveness. Need. He rises to his feet and winds a hand in your hair, pulling your head back with a grip that borders on painful.

He doesn’t say a thing, but his gaze speaks volumes - the glittering, dark ruby of his eyes, the almost removed way he observes you, eyes trailing over your face. Studying how he’s ruined you, no doubt.

He releases his hold on you, and though you can see his erection through his trousers, his movements are slow - methodical, almost. When he speaks, his voice is low and dark.

“Come here, my sweet, little consort.”

And you do. With your still-shaking legs, you slide off the table and take a step closer, unsure how near he wants you. 

“Turn around,” he instructs. 

And you do.

You only register his hand on the nape of your neck when your cheek connects with something hard. The table. He’s bent you over it and is standing behind you, and the impact barely smarts in comparison to the heat that floods between your legs.

“You like it like this, don’t you?” Astarion muses, dragging a finger along your spine. “You want everyone to know who you belong to. You want me to fuck you into this table and let everyone hear how much you need me.”

And you can’t even argue with him. You can’t argue, because you know he’s right - and he knows it, too. 

You swallow hard, back arching toward his hand. “Yes.”

He’s silent for a moment, tracing his hand along your back. Then he presses his thumb to your clit and you mindlessly grind into him, barely resisting the urge to beg him to just fuck you already.

Then you hear fabric shifting, and your whole body tenses in anticipation of him. 

He’s not gentle, and he’s not tender. He sheathes himself into you in a single, harsh thrust that has you crying out, your hands scrabbling for something to grasp for support but finding nothing. 

“Gods,” he growls, his grip settling on your hips and pressing into the skin as he sets a rough, punishing pace. His voice is breathless when he speaks. “You look so pretty for me, pet. Bent over like this. Say my name for me, won’t you?”

You can barely choke out the sound between his thrusts, but it comes out of you nonetheless. “A… A-star-ion-” 

“Good,” he says, and then his pace turns brutal, every thrust sending your cheek scraping against the table. There’s pain, but you barely feel it - not against the burning pleasure of him inside you, filling you up, and not against the fire in your skin that’s building to a boiling point again.

Over and over.

His breathing is getting faster. His grip on you is ever tightening, sure to leave a number of tender bruises for the morning. He’ll kiss them, then, draw his fingers over them in admiration, but for now: he groans and grips at your hair again, and you sit there and take every inch he’s giving to you until you can barely stand it - the sweet, delectable friction of him inside you, the vulgar, wet noises that echo around the room. Evidence of how much you want him. How close you are.

“Tell - tell me you’re mine,” he says through gritted teeth.

“I’m yours.”

He thrusts even harder, and it vaguely occurs to you that you might not be able to walk tomorrow. You can feel the tell-tale signs of him getting closer - the tensing of his thighs, the panting as he approaches climax, the moans he’s letting out. He pauses mid-thrust and trembles for a moment before he slams back into you once, twice - three times.

That’s all it takes to send you over the edge with him, clenching around him, barely conscious of the table under you, barely conscious of the fact that both of you are in the dining room and almost certainly the servants are able to hear what he’s doing to you.

You can feel him seeping out of you, trickling down your thighs, and you go slack against the table, gasping and trying to remember how to breathe.

He finally releases your hair and pulls out of you, paying no mind to the way you wince.

You definitely won’t be able to walk tomorrow.

“What a good little pet you are,” he remarks, smoothing your hair away from your neck and placing a kiss to the nape. When he speaks again, his voice has gone to that pouty, condescending tone that he sometimes uses. “You wouldn’t dream of doing that to me again, would you, my treasure? Lying to me? Hiding your own pleasure from me? And at my table, nonetheless.”

You attempt an answer, but it comes out as nothing but a helpless whimper.

“What was that?” he asks. 

“No,” you breathe. 

“Good.”

He straightens, running a finger between your legs - no doubt studying the mess he’s made of you.

“Get up,” he says. “We need to get you cleaned up.”

You unstick yourself from the table, legs trembling, and as his gaze travels over you once more, you have a deep, sudden feeling in your gut. It’s too easy. Too easy for you. Even after all the torment you’d faced earlier, stranded and desperate in your chair, it’s not enough. He’s not done with you yet. 

And if you know him at all…

It’ll be surprising if he’s finished with you before morning.

[mercymaker]

I am so happy to finally show off the piece of art from our trade with the incredibly talented @goromimii ♥ thank you so much for this beautiful drawing of Maleane!

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞.

She stayed hidden through it all, day and night. Her mother screamed and screamed — in between the many degrading words coming from the drow party's lips, in between the sounds of sizzling flesh and breaking bones — until a long drawn-out minute of gurgling noises, after which it all went quiet. And even after the group had long departed, Maleane stayed in the little niche under the roots of a tree, frozen, terrified. Just like all those times A’sherra had forced her to hide under the floorboards.

It was only as the dawn was breaking that she gathered enough courage to return to what should’ve been their home for the summer. Yet, it was home no more, merely the leftovers of a terrific crime. They had eaten their food, stolen most of their weapons and left their little cabin in charcoal and ash. But none of it mattered to Maleane. Not when she saw her mother lying on the ground. Or rather, when she saw what was left of her. Looking at her mother’s eyeless, tongueless face put the young drow in such a shock that she spent the rest of the day disconnected from her own self. Maleane knew little of burial rites or funerals, only the rare bits and pieces she’d encountered in her books, but it was almost instinctual to try and hide A’sherra’s remains from the rest of the world. From the animals that were already picking limbs and chunks off of the cadaver. From more damage brought by the ill-meaning creatures. From her own eyes. The rest of the day was a blur suspended in a haze: Maleane dug a crude grave with her own two hands, collecting the pieces of her mother’s body and then covering it all in a suffocating layer of dirt. And then came the empty. At first, it was only Mal’s blood and tears watering the soil underneath her knees, but soon the sky started weeping as well. The young sorceress sat there for hours — her eyes a blank field of lilac — as the summer storm drenched her to the last thread of her shirt, washing the dirt and dried blood off of her and into the muddy grave below. Everything she was feeling, all the emotions rolling through her in waves slipped out in tendrils of magic, up and up into the stormy sky, to weave clouds and rain and lightning, until exhaustion finally took her.

[sh1-n0bu]

I am such a simp for Scara Nobu omg. I'm in love with him being AFAB 🥹

Thinking about him cumming completely untouched just from your praise :(( He needs to hear it so badly, he's your good boy and just wants you to say it all the time <33

-👖

♡︎ 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙜𝙖𝙧 ♡︎

characters: AFAB!sub!scaramouche x nb!dom!reader

warnings: praise, markings, dirty talk, praise, degrading, thigh riding, cumming untouched, virgin scara my beloved<3

notes: currently on my last fucking line of sanity as i think of transmasc scara squeezing the life outta me with his thighs

wanderer, formerly known as balladeer or scaramouche, was not exactly the most gentle of lovers. he’s always on the defensive, ready to protect himself whether it be verbally or physically. years of trauma, torture and manipulation at the hands of the second fatui harbinger - il dottore - doing nothing to soothe his harsh personality and snappy attitude.

he hated everyone and everything. each and every disgusting trace of emotion other than hatred and sadistic glee being frowned upon, slightest bit of gentle touch met with a harsh glare and a smack. yes, he hates everything.

everything and everyone except you.

he doesn’t really remember how it all started, how the swirling emotions of affection in his chest started. perhaps it was when he first met you when you were with the traveler, during his mission of finding out about the truth of the stars and meteors?

maybe during the lantern rite when the two of you stumbled upon each other as he held his bleeding side, denying your kindness of treating his wounds verbally but never doing anything to live up to his words?

he doesn’t remember and frankly he doesn’t care, not when his smaller frame is sitting on your lap, greedily whining as he chases after your lips in a drunken haze.

his own lips was already cherry red, swollen with small hints of blood, giving chase every time you pull away with a low whimper of a plea slipping from his mouth. his white and blue fabricated kimono top already sitting discarded at the edge of your shared bed, shorts halfway taken off, pooling at his ankle as he grinds himself on your thigh with a bright blush.

"hey now, let me breathe for a bit darling" tugging on his short, messy purple locks, guiding him away from yourself you took deep breaths in and out. wanderer whined at that - stupid oxygen. keeping him away from his lover.

taking your other hand in his smaller one, he guided it towards his side where the zipper to his bodysuit is - silently begging you to undress him. understanding his silent, unexpressed words you fulfilled his wishes, fingers grabbing at the zipper of his bodysuit, slowly pulling them down as your lover wiggled on your thighs with a beautiful deep shade of red blooming on his cheeks.

slipping your hand under his tight bodysuit, you felt him jolt at the sudden feeling of your fingers brushing on his sensitive nub. a quiet, poorly muffled whine escaped his throat as his hips bucked when you decided to give an experimental tug to his puffy nipple.

"ooh? so you like having your nipples played? who knew my sweet little kuni was such a whore" tugging down the turtleneck collar of his bodysuit, you bit down on his sensitive spot of jugular between his neck and shoulder, making the puppet in your arms whimper loudly. face burning up in shame, wanderer wanted to deny your words but deep down he knew it was true. especially with his body reacting so deliciously to each and every last one of your touch on him.

"aww you're this wet for me already? just from a simple tug on your nipples dear?" feeling his wetness soaking through his bodysuit and wetting your pants, you couldn't help but coo at his adorable flushed face. pinching and tugging on his sensitive bud, you leaned down to wrap your lips around his other nipple through his bodysuit. at that, wanderer let out a moan, gazing down at you with a completely red face, a hand over his mouth to muffle his noises. archons, this was all so perverted but he would be lying if he said he didn't like it.

"aanh... w-wait [name]~ wait wait wai-!! mmngh!♡︎" squealing as he threw his head back, your sweet lover spasmed. hips bucking on your thighs before a sudden wetness soaked through your pants more. did he just-?

letting go of his sensitive nipple, you looked up to gaze upon wanderer's face burning up in shame with tears welling up in his pretty blue eyes. hiding his face in your shoulders he let out a whine before asking you a question that made you giggle.

"can we do that again...?"

[curseofdelos]

I finished re-reading TLH recently, and I want to talk about the common fan interpretation of Piper as a pick me girl for a sec (let me preface this whole post by clarifying that while this is ultimately a defense of Piper as a character, it is also a critique of how Rick wrote her, Drew, and the rest of cabin 10)

The way cabin 10 is written in the books has never been great. Very early on in TLT, Rick makes a point to establish that Aphrodite had both sons and daughters:

Take note of how Rick explicitly genders Aphrodite kids in this paragraph, but uses the gender neutral "kids" to refer to the children of every other god. This is a very deliberate writing choice, and I can't think of any reason why he would have done this other than to (initially anyway) avoid associating womanhood with vanity/interest in personal appearances.

...And then in every book after this, cabin 10 heavily skews female, and traditional femininity becomes the butt of almost every joke about them.

Cabin 10 doesn't get any real focus until TLH with the introduction of Piper, Drew, and the rest of Cabin 10, in which Rick spends a lot of time establishing how different Piper is from the rest of her cabin because she rejects traditional femininity. Piper cuts her own hair, she doesn't wear makeup or care about fashion, she hates dresses etc. This is in direct contrast with Drew who's often described as wearing heavy makeup, having perfectly done hair, manicured nails etc.

Note that Piper's description of Drew's appearance is fairly neutral. Her problem with Drew is not in how she chooses to dress, but in her behaviour.

This would be fine if it weren't for the fact that every time Drew's appearance is described, it is directly preceded and/or followed by her doing something heinous. She insults and degrades Piper's appearance within seconds of meeting her, and we see this again in the Cabin 10 scene where she bullies and manipulates their siblings - kicking them out of the bathroom mid-shower, dumping a bin filled with used tampons on the floor and making them clean it up, etc.

Piper and Drew are in direct competition throughout the entirety of TLH. Piper strongly disapproves of the way Drew runs the cabin, they have differing opinions on Silena Beauregard (despite the fact Piper doesn't actually know her but I digress), and they're both interested in pursuing Jason romantically - Piper out of genuine attraction, and Drew out of the desire to break his heart for the Aphrodite Rite of Passage.

The narrative at every turn pits them against each other. Piper's intentions are always painted as pure and kindhearted while Drew is consistently characterised as a stereotypical mean girl who hurts others simply because she can. Drew is never given any motivation for acting the way she does, and her sole role in the story is to act as an obstacle for Piper to overcome so she could become counsellor (which is kind of pointless considering Piper never interacts with her cabin again after this). She's flat and two-dimensional, and never gets any real character development. Her sole personality trait is mean.

The result of all of this is that traditional femininity gets associated with shitty behaviour, while the rejection of traditional femininity gets associated with kindness and generosity. It should be stressed that Piper herself doesn't actually think that she's better than Drew because she doesn't wear makeup etc; Piper's issues entirely lie with Drew's behaviour. The worst Piper ever says is calling all of cabin 10 "shallow" which is no different to how the other characters talk about them (which is still a problem to be clear; it's just not a problem with Piper specifically, but how the narrative characterises cabin 10 as a whole). It's the narrative that paints femininity as lesser because of the way it positions tomboy Piper (the protagonist) as a better person than highly feminine Drew (the antagonist).

In fact, the most explicitly we ever see the book paint Piper's appearance as preferable to Drew's is in Jason's POV - not Piper's. After Piper gets claimed and Aphrodite changes her appearance, Jason spends several chapters going on and on about how much more beautiful and desirable Piper is when she's not dressed up or wearing makeup.

Because of all of this, it's not difficult to see why so many people in this fandom have interpreted Piper as a pick me 'not like other girls' type girl. The narrative constantly presents her as a better person than the more feminine Drew, and Jason (the boy they're competing over) chooses her at least partly because of how naturally beautiful she is without trying.

However, even though I do understand where this interpretation of her character came from, I do want to push back on it for a number of reasons.

Firstly, it is explicitly stated several times in TLH that the reasons Piper doesn't wear makeup and cuts her own hair is because (1) she doesn't like being the centre of attention (see the first screenshot of this post), and (2) she's rebelling against her father.

Piper's entire character arc in TLH centres around her initially being insecure at the start of the book to becoming more confident over the course of their quest. It is stated on several occasions early on that Piper doesn't like being the centre of attention, but by the end, she feels more comfortable in her own skin. She goes from being embarrassed/hurt by Drew's comments about her to laughing them off and standing up to her by the end.

The term "pick me girl" refers to girls who do things for external, mostly male validation. This is the exact opposite of why Piper doesn't wear makeup or conform to traditional femininity. She does this precisely because she does NOT want to draw attention to herself. The only male who's attention she is trying to get is her father's, and she's doing this by acting out in ways he doesn't approve of. Piper does want validation from her father, but she's not cutting her own hair to get his validation; she's so starved for affection that she wants any attention from him, even if that attention is negative.

Similarly, a major point of conflict for Piper is whether or not Jason is attracted to her, but she is not rejecting feminine things because she wants to impress him Jason does find those qualities in her attractive, but Piper held these opinions long before they even met. It was Jason/the narrative that paints those qualities in Piper attractive, not Piper herself. (Side note: there's a lot more to be said about how their relationship was written in TLH, but that isn't relevant to get into that here.)

The other reason why I want to push back on the interpretation of Piper as a pick me girl is that she's a queer woman. In a straight patriarchal society, women (women of colour especially) are often expected and pressured to perform gender in particular ways - wearing makeup, dressing femininely, being attracted to boys and exclusively boys. In much the same way that Piper's coming out now makes it possible to read her relationship with Jason as compulsory heterosexuality, it's also possible to read her discomfort with traditional femininity as discomfort with being a straight girl. It's possible to retroactively read Piper's dislike for feminine things as her feeling uncomfortable with heterosexuality but is too closeted at this point to realise it. She does, after all, cut her hair very short at the end of TBM while she is the process of exploring her sexuality.

(To be clear: I'm not arguing that this is what Rick had always intended for her - I assume he expected Jason/Piper would be endgame at the time he was writing TLH - but I do think there's a 'death of the author' interpretation available here that her hatred of dresses etc is an early sign of her being a closeted queer woman who is beginning to explore her gender presentation and sexuality.)

I feel that sometimes, in their efforts to (rightly) criticise the way femininity gets treated in this series, some people act as if makeup is in intrinsic part of womanhood and that Piper is a misogynist for not wanting to wear it. This is not true. It is not inherently misogynistic for a woman to dislike it - especially when that woman is queer, and especially in today's society where many women are pressured into wearing makeup to be taken seriously. Piper disliking makeup is not the problem.

The problem with Piper's story in TLH is that the narrative consistently presents her as a better person than the more feminine Drew, and a more desirable option for Jason because of how beautiful she is without trying really hard like Drew and the other Aphrodite girls do. Because every highly feminine character is either a villain (Drew) or a joke (Valentina in TOA), the result of Piper and Drew's rivalry is that femininity gets demonised by the narrative. Again, it's not that Piper herself thinks she's better than Drew for hating fashion; it's the way the story puts these characters in opposition to each other that results in femininity being framed as lesser.

I think a writer with a better grasp of women's issues (and queer women's issues especially) could have written a great story here on gender as a performance, and an exploration on conforming (Drew) VS rebelling (Piper) against gender norms! How there really is no winning and women get harassed for being too feminine AND for not being feminine enough (See: the jokes about Clarisse in PJO not being a girl/being manly because she's violent and rough around the edges)! What we got instead was a story that carries the deeply unfortunate implication that girls who don't care about their appearance are kinder and more desirable than girls who do.

It's not Piper that's the problem; it's the narrative. I think a lot of people have been conflating the two, and have been unfairly pinning the blame onto Piper's characterisation when the fault lies with the plot, and with Drew's characterisation as a flat two-dimensional mean girl stereotype. I think if Drew had been given a redemption arc like Clarisse, or some amount of depth that explains why she hates Silena and acts the way she does, or even if she and Piper had learned to respect each other despite their differences, then we would be having a very different conversation.

[rivatar]

Hi can I make a request for Jake sully x fem human reader! (first movie when he gets really buff towards the end!)

Ok hear me out:

Reader is obsessed with Jake sully’s muscles like gets super aroused like down bad for them!! The reader lures Jake into a trap (but Jake doesn’t know that he thinks he’s getting love from her like normal) but reader ties him up with a rope/leash!! (Very unexpected) And super spicy and exciting things happen between them!?!?!?!?!?

I’ll let you finish the story if you dare…😉

Tbh I have been craving a spicy story for weeks now!!

Thank you and have a wonderful day/night!!!

Much love from your fan!!!! 🩷😁

Fell Into the Trap

Pairing: Jake!Sully x fem!human!reader

Warnings/content: smut MDNI🔞, restraints/handcuffs, masturbation, multiple orgasms, p in v, some degradation, they’re both switches kinda, cream pie, think that’s it but lmk :)

A/n: FINALLY got this request done!! I hope you and everyone else enjoys!! It’s pure filth heheh 🫶🏼

W/c: 4.4k

Biceps, abs, quads, pecs, forearms, back muscles.

His muscular physique was running through your head nonstop today (and maybe everyday) and God, it was eating you alive.

It probably didn’t help that Jake had already given you a taste. You befriended him when he arrived on Pandora, rolling in on his wheelchair. You were and still are under Dr. Augustine. You thought Dr. Augustine and Norm gave Jake way too much hell at first, but they eventually warmed up to him. You would always laugh at his witty jokes and sarcasm from the very beginning. And it seemed like he noticed, as he started approaching you more and aimed to make you laugh whenever he could. This turned into a unique bond the two of you developed. You were obviously friends but this elevated into something more after spending so much time with him. He was sweet and charming, and you had no other romantic prospects so why the hell not? You gave into his flirtatious advances months ago and have slept with him ever since.

Now, months later, Jake is officially trained as Omatikayan warrior, having just passed his rites of passage not even a full week ago. You were so proud of him, as was the rest of your department. Everyone celebrated his accomplishment and his recognition was well deserved. Since then, he has received many welcoming gifts to his kelku and even courting offers from a lot of the women in the clan, to which he would respectfully decline.

But selfishly, you were ready to have him back to yourself. He’s been so busy now that he’s officially one of The People that he’s barely in his home and barely has come to see you. You were also tied up with your own work to be fair, but you were used to seeing him for hours everyday after the workday was finished.

The past few nights you would touch yourself before bed or else you would toss and turn all night, craving his touch. It wasn’t enough though. Your fingers paled in comparison to him. He would spend hours pleasuring you with his tongue, fingers, cock, and whatever other body part you desired to touch on him, sometimes opting to ride his abs or thighs. You could just eat him alive, you thought to yourself.

It was late at night as you tossed and turned in your bed for yet another night. Deep in your (horny) thoughts, you decided you would somehow catch him tomorrow and make him make it up to you. You didn’t care how many plans he might have as he’s settling into his new life, it would all just have to wait. You may have been thinking with your cunt instead of your brain but you didn’t care at this point. And by Eywa, he was gonna pay for it.

…………………..

You had your plan perfectly in order. After finishing up your work for the day as quickly as you could, you headed off into the village. You wore a jacket, solely for the reason of being able to load down the pockets with your tools. Tools needed to take a 9 ft tall Na’vi man down and render him helpless.

After making enough small talk with the villagers you passed by, you finally spotted Jake. And fuck, he looked better and better with each passing day. His slutty little tewng barely covered him at all, and it looked like a new tewng, you don’t think you’ve ever seen it befor- “Y/N! Come here, we were just talking about you!” Jake snapped you out of your trance once he spotted you, motioning you to come forward. You were hard to miss in a sea of blue people.

Clearing your throat and masking a smile, you walked towards him and the two other warriors standing next to him. They smiled politely and nodded their heads at you. “All good things, right?” You responded, smirking slightly. They looked to be carving out arrows and assembling them.

Jake chuckled, “More or less,” he teased. You scoffed playfully, crossing your arms. Then you gathered up the courage to tell him the reason you were there.

“Jake, can I borrow you for a minute? It’s nothing bad—just some things Grace wanted me to discuss with you regarding mapping the area,” you grabbed his wrist and tugged him with you, “It might take a minute, it’s a lot of information,” you lied to the warriors that were standing with him as you walked the two of you away. The two men looked at each other knowingly, like they knew what you were really doing. Although Jake looked clueless.

“Sure, but I thought we already discussed this?” He giggled a little at you guiding him, clearly confused what this was about.

“Yes but she wanted to finalize the details. You have the map in your kelku, right?” You asked, already knowing the answer and hastily making your way towards his home.

“Yeah I do but I’ve told her I’ve added everything to it that I know for now. I don’t think there’s anything more I can do,” he thought carefully. His home was in sight, just another minute or so away.

Just keep making excuses, almost there.

“I’m just following her orders, Jake,” you smiled up innocently at him, “let’s just see what we can do, yeah?”

His home was a few feet away, all you had to do was get him past the door and inside. You could nearly taste the sweet victory. You motioned your arm out a little for him to go in before you as you snuck your hand in your pocket to pull out a Banshee Catcher, stretching it out behind his back.

“Yeah, we’ll see what we can d- SHIT!” He hit the floor in the middle of his home with a loud THUD. Your aim was perfect, hitting his ankles precisely as the catcher wrapped around them, making him lose his balance and fall forward. He tried to catch part of his body as he fell, but still ended up hitting his head on the ground. Raising himself up a little, he rubbed his forehead as he winced and turned back to look at you. “What the fuck??”

“Shut. Up.” You barked as you walked towards his laid out form, unraveling the rope you got out from your other pocket and tying it in a loop.

Jake was still laying on his stomach as he continued rubbing his temples. You approached him swiftly before he could make any moves and hooked the loop around his neck, tightening it up.

“B-Baby, what are you doing?” His voice came out a little more shaky than he’d like to admit. His hands found the ground beneath him as he tried to start pushing himself up. You stomped your foot on his back and pushed him back down with all your weight.

“Do not move!” You scolded while tightening the rope you had on his neck as you stood above him.

He relaxed his arms and held his hands out to the side in surrender. “Okay, okay. Jesus Christ— who taught you how to take down a man like this?”

“I’ll never share my sources,” you smirked cockily.

Reaching into your back pocket of your jeans, you pulled out your final item.

“Arms behind your back,” you demanded.

His eyes grew wide once they came into view as he craned his neck back to see what you had. “Where the hell did you steal handcuffs from??”

“I have my ways and it’s none of your concern! Arms back, Sully.”

He shut up in defeat, slowly placing his arms back. You snapped the cuffs around his wrists and finally let out a sigh of relief that he was pretty much helpless now, even with you being a human and him being a Na’vi, he wasn’t getting out of this.

“Okay, you got me now. Good job. Now can you please kindly explain what this is about??” He huffed in annoyance, feeling kinda proud of you yet embarrassed you took him down so easily.

“I’m about to show you,” you said while squatting down to place your hands around the banshee catcher, “I’ll undo this if you promise not to run,” you offered.

“Yes, yes, please— I won’t leave, I swear,” he pleaded. You eyed him for any bluffing but he seemed rather honest. So graciously, you released the hold the catcher had around his ankles. He spread out his legs in relief, not daring to try to take off. Besides, how would he tell everyone a human girl managed to get him in handcuffs? They would never let him live that down. And also, he didn’t particularly mind seeing you so… feisty. Although he didn’t know why you were being this way, specifically towards him. Nevertheless, you had his full attention. He rolled over on his back to face you.

You slightly pulled the rope around his neck, urging him to sit up on his butt. You swiftly tied your end of his leash, per se, around a sturdy post in the middle of the room.

You couldn’t help but bust out laughing at his astonished look of pure and utter disbelief. “God, I wish you could see the look on your face right now,” you giggled uncontrollably, hunching over a little to hold your tummy as it started to hurt from laughing. He just looked more and more confused by the second, wondering why you were laughing and what had gotten into you.

He chuckled a bit uncomfortably, “Haha, yeah… so what now? You gonna leave me here?” He presumed.

“Oh Jake… is that what you think this is?” You poked your bottom lip out to mock him, “No baby, but you’re gonna wish I had left you here by the time I’m done with you,” you giggled triumphantly. His eyebrows scrunched together more, trying to figure out why you were acting so crazy. He was beginning to be speechless.

To confuse him even more, you decided to start taking off your clothes. You wore comfy gym shorts and a sports tanktop today as it was hot and sunny outside. You peeled up your tank and tossed it at his face, to which it hung onto him for a split second until falling down to the ground. His mouth hung open slightly as saliva pooled in his mouth, eyes roaming everywhere on you.

Then you peeled off your sports bra and your breasts popped out, bouncing a little as they settled freely with no more restriction. You kicked out of your shoes and shimmied your shorts and panties down in one go, tossing everything to the side and out of the way.

“Get my meaning now, Jakey?” You mocked his little nickname, tilting your head at him with your hands on your hips.

He licked his lips and swallowed all the drool that pooled up in his mouth from such a mouthwatering sight. His pupils were blown up and his tail was stiff and pointing upwards in high alert. “Shit baby… if you wanted some you should’ve just asked,” He said with a slight groan, eyes still soaking up every inch of you.

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, having already been fed up with waiting for so long, “I’ve given you several hints and you ignored them. Ignored ME!” Your voice rose as you pointed at yourself, “So, I had to take matters into my own hands,” you shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly. To you, you were only doing what anyone else would’ve done. Take control of the situation instead of suffering.

“So now you will listen to me and do whatever I want, got it?” You demanded.

Jake couldn’t help the wide grin that split across his face. He looked like a kid who had just been given some ice cream. This was supposed to be his punishment and the bastard never looked so happy. “Yes ma’am,” he followed your orders. Happily. He shifted over to get on his knees, a little too excited already as he had a prominent bulge in his loincloth.

You walked towards him with an all-knowing smirk. It was laughable that he thought he was gonna get some pussy right away. “Yeah, you’re good at following orders, aren’t you Marine?” You grabbed his face and brought it right up to yours.

His breath was hot and came out in quick exhales, fanning across your lips. “Mhmm,” he licked his lips while he stared at yours, being so close yet not close enough to seal them together.

You kept teasing him, acting like you were about to kiss him and then you just didn’t. He leaned forward to try to catch your lips and you leaned back before he could, laughing in his face. “Don’t get all desperate and pathetic on me already, Jakey,” you teased as he looked visibly disappointed. His cheeks were already a purplish tint.

“‘m not desperate,” he grumbled.

“Oh really? Let’s see about that,” you said prettily and innocently as you lowered yourself to the ground, laying back and propping on your elbows as your legs sprawled out for him to see everything.

Sharp canines came into view as he bit his bottom lip, eyes hooded over with pure lust. He crawled on his knees to get closer but the rope held him back. A growl left his chest in frustration. “How the hell am I supposed to touch you when you’ve got me tied up, huh?”

“Who said anything about you doing any touching? This is not for you, Sully,” you scolded, “Now, follow my orders—Watch.”

Your scooted back a little to lean against the wall so you could relax without holding yourself up. You ran your two little hands down your soft body, slowly and sensually to drag out as much pleasure as possible. The lightest feathery touches on yourself heightened your sensitivity. You massaged your breasts, pinching your nipple between your thumb and index finger. The feeling went straight to your core. Slick started leaking out of your hole, begging for some attention. You left one hand to keep stimulating your nipple and the other hand trailed down to your pussy. You ran two fingers through your glistening folds as you teased around your entrance and on your swollen clit. Your head fell back as a soft moan escaped your parted lips, to which you then bit your lip.

“Jesus,” He whispered, “Okay, I get it and I’m sorry I didn’t make time for you and that sweet pussy. I regret it so much and it won’t happen again!” He babbled as his erection was becoming more painful by the second.

“Hmm, how sorry are you?” You hummed as you kept pleasuring yourself, sticking two fingers inside. But it wasn’t nearly enough.

“So fucking sorry! Baby please, I’ll make it up to you, I swear!!” He pleaded, watching desperately as your fingers sunk into your heat.

You started a steady pace going in and out, not really caring for his words but appreciating the deep baritone of his voice getting you off more. “Damn right you’re making it up to me,” you all but moaned.

You were getting lost in your own world, it felt like pure hot liquid gold was pooling in your tummy as your orgasm built up. “Stand up, Jake,” you whimpered. You wanted to see his entire form in all its glory.

He did as he was told like the good little soldier he was. And fuck, his physique was blessed by Eywa herself. You would thank her later for her perfect design of him. His hair looked so pretty, as two shorter strands hung out front to frame his face, and damn— that face. ‘Handsome’ was an understatement that didn’t do him justice. Chokers adorned his strong neck that flared out to incredibly broad and sturdy shoulders. His arms were amazingly strong and bulky— much bulkier than the other Na’vi. They were much leaner and smaller-boned than Jake. His mix of human DNA in his Na’vi body was nothing less of perfect, in your opinion. His chest was powerful looking, with plump pecs showcasing his strength in that area. Then his waist— God, his waste. It was so slutty, the way it narrowed down so much compared to how wide his shoulders and chest were. Even though it was lean, it still housed just as many muscles in his abs and hips, with not an ounce of fat, just pure muscle. His thighs and calves shouldn’t be left out either, they were equally as beautiful. And of course you couldn’t leave out a particular body part you deemed as your favorite— his veiny cock. Just like the rest of his body that everyone else got to see, it was just as perfect as him. Long and girthy, littered with his unique bioluminescent pattern on it.

And now as he stood, you could savor the sight of him. Seeing his muscles ripple slightly as he shifted his stance and strained against the handcuffs was all you needed to finish. You sped up on rubbing your clit as your other hand plunged in and out of your sopping cunt.

“Fuckkk, Jake!” You screamed as you rode it out, your body twitching and trying to get away from the overstimulation. You swore you heard a low rumbling growl but it was hard to tell over your choked sobs.

“You’re torturing me, baby,” he said shakily, almost whimpering. He watched intently with eyes trained directly on your pussy as the precious scene took place before him. Some slick gushed out of your hole and around your fingers as you pulled them out slowly.

“I know,” you replied wryly.

“Can you untie me now so I can help you out?” He was sounding so desperate now and it did you well to get beneath his skin like this.

“Hmmm,” you pretended to think, “Maybe later.”

He groaned in frustration and bared his teeth briefly, clearly getting aggravated.

“Don’t get sassy with me,” you snapped while standing up to saunter over to him. Once you were closer you could see the wet spot on his loincloth from his pre-cum.

“Awww, are you pent up? Poor guy needs to cum so bad, don’t you?” You teased and mocked him, “It sucks, doesn’t it?”

You seen the way his jaw clenched in restraint, he felt like a little kid in timeout again. He stared down at you with a piercing gaze. You were pushing all his buttons. He swore he was gonna tear you apart later the moment he got out of these damned restraints.

You grabbed one of his wrists and led him to a chair in the corner of the room. “Sit down,” you tugged his wrist down, urging him to do so.

He sat down and thankfully the rope was just long enough for him to go to this corner without it straining on his neck. You eagerly climbed into his lap, straddling over one of his thighs with your bare cunt coating your leftover slick on his leg. He let out a shaky breath at the contact of finally at least feeling your warm body against him.

“Y/N, please. I can’t take it much longer,” he whined.

You gave him a peck on the mouth, “Not much longer.” Then started your assault on his body.

You started on his neck, first smelling his natural musk, then licking and sucking on the sensitive flesh there. He quietly groaned and you felt his hips jerk up underneath you, frantically searching for some friction. You felt all around his shoulders, chest, and arms, grabbing all you could get and moaning in appreciation at the straight up beefiness to him. Then your hands went lower and felt up his abs, that were constricting currently due to your neck kisses that drove him mad.

“Hmmm, gonna fuck the shit out of you later,” He promised.

You couldn’t help the soft moan that hummed against his skin where you were kissing, sucking, licking. You quickly stopped to reach around and untie his loincloth hastily. You were gonna die if his dick wasn’t shoved inside you within the next minute or so.

“You stretched out enough?” He asked a bit worriedly as you grabbed his cock and slid it through your folds.

“I hope so,” you breathed out before you slammed your hips down with as much force as you could muster, letting your weight help you sink down.

A slew of curses left both your mouths as your small pussy engulfed him entirely. “Holy shit, you needed it bad, huh?”

“Yes!” You nearly cried as tears already formed in your eyes from the sheer fullness from him. His dick hit every spot you needed to be touched.

Raising up, you slammed back down on him and picked up a ruthless pace. You held onto his shoulders for stability and you had so much adrenaline that your legs weren’t burning from doing the work. You bounced vigorously, barely allowing either one of you enough time to even breathe.

His head was thrown back as guttural moans left his mouth, having no choice but to take what you were giving him. You moaned and cried above him, tears streaming down your cheeks from the incredible sensations. The coil in your core was about to snap at any second but you tried to hold it off as long as you could. But you couldn’t hold it back.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You screamed as your orgasm overtook your entire being. You clenched hard around his length and moaned in time with you.

“S-Shit, gonna make me cum too!” he groaned as his hips stuttered and his hot seed shot up into you. Synchronized moans and whispered of praise filled the room as you worked through your highs.

You slouched onto him as his dick remained inside you, twitching from aftershocks. You were both sticky with sweat and quietly panting.

“Untie me,” his voice was hoarse. You leaned up, slightly confused at his tone. But after you looked in his eyes, you could see the mischief he was trying to mask.

“Yes sir,” you smirked playfully and got off him with wobbly legs, walking over to your discarded clothes to retrieve the key for his cuffs and a knife for his rope. You knew subconsciously that he was about to give you the dicking down of your life after this stunt you pulled, and you weren’t complaining.

You gave him a small smile as you cut the rope and reached around to unlock his handcuffs. He threw the cuffs to the side and scooped you up, and then set you down on the open floor.

“Hands and knees, babygirl,” he demanded. You scurried almost pathetically to get into place, poking your ass out as your arched your back and looked back at him sexily.

“Like a bitch in heat,” he snickered, “Just how I like it”

You arched even more, only eating up his degrading words. Some would call it pathetic or whorish, but by Eywa, you were fine with just being his whore if that’s all he wanted. And you didn’t care how that sounded.

“Now let’s get one thing settled,” he smacked your ass hard, “That was cute and all, but I’m the one in charge here, got it?”

“Yes, sir,” you whimpered and pressed your ass back to nudge against his cock. Your switch up was crazy but again—you’d do nearly anything for this man and that’s why you were so cranky without him. You wanted him to be rough and fuck you hard, so you couldn’t be more pleased with how your plan has went.

“God, you’re such a slut. Only for me though, right?” He taunted.

“Yes, only you!” You swayed your hips around, trying to get him to just put it in you already.

He chuckled darkly behind you and drove it in with one stroke. You sighed contently in unison. You wish you could bottle up this feeling and keep it forever, every second of every day. But then you’d get nothing done ever.

“So goddamn tight and wet still. Needy little thing,” he smacked your ass again while continuing his thrusts.

His thrusts were hard and sloppy. No doubt you would have bruises tomorrow from his pelvis smacking you over and over again. But you didn’t care, not when his cock was kissing your cervix so perfectly.

He grabbed your neck and bent himself over to be right next to you. He kissed your cheek and panted roughly in your ear, “My little slut. Just needed to be fucked silly and stuffed full of cock, right?” He smiled briefly through his panting. Your jaw was completely slack as loud moans fell from your mouth. “Mhmm!!”

He craned your neck back ever more to meet your lips in a sloppy kiss. This position had your back arched so much that your eyes rolled in the back of your head. He sped up his thrusts and you were both nearing another climax.

He pulled his lips off yours because he felt you starting to clench, indicating your incoming orgasm. The third one tonight. He was about to burst himself.

Your eyes kept rolling back and squeezing shut. “Look at me when you cum,” he held your neck in this position, craning up towards him.

“Cumming! I’m cumming!” You cried. You stared in his eyes as your coil snapped and his did too as he stared back at you. It was the type of eye contact that was dangerous, the type that ties people’s souls together and makes them fall in love. There was no going back though.

He pulled out slowly and moved your body to lay down as he laid down beside you. You were both trying to catch your breath.

He pulled you into his chest and kissed the top of your head. “Tired?” He hummed sweetly, noticing your body wasn’t moving at all.

“Mhmm,” you hummed and he laughed.

“Go to sleep, we’ll clean up later,” he stroked your hair, “Just make sure to get those handcuffs back to their rightful owner later,” he chuckled.

“Hush.” You hummed, giving into the sleepiness beckoning you to rest.

Taglist: @bambithewriter @neteyamssyulang @anemonelovesfiction @luvv4j4ybe11 @vogueweb @nonamevenus @inolaphoenix @neteyamsoare @professional-yapper @plantgirliewholovespandora @etherynn @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @ladykat37 @loakstahni @zafrinaxyz @xylianasblog

[tightjeansjavi]

The Rite of Movement | part four

“so move me, baby”

A/N: so like the little slut that I am…I was kicking my feet and giggling at my desk yesterday while writing this 🤭 I surprise myself with just how filthy I can get, woo doggy! Please read the warnings and if this isn’t your cup of tea, just scroll on by baby love! No harm 💗 thank you to my bug @strang3lov3 for the moodboard!! I love u so much & a big thank you to @itsokbbygrl for betaing 🥺

~word count: 6.4k~

Summary: you meet Tommy Miller for the first time, and he takes you for a spin ;)

Pairing | pornstar!joel x pornstar!tommy x pornstar!female reader

Warnings: smut, fluff, established relationship, Joel is in his 40’s, reader is in her 30’s, mentions of alcohol and smoking, consent, unprotected piv, fingering, pussy play, f!masturbation, semi-public sex, reader and Tommy fuck and Joel’s into it, amateur porn video in the back of Tommy’s truck, language, filthy talk, praise kink, daddy kink, over stimulation/fucked out, light degradation (by Tommy but in a sexy non-offensive way), dumbification kink (endearing), readers nickname is baby love, reader has no physical descriptions, reader, Joel, and Tommy, are sexually liberated individuals, NSFW, +18 minors dni! Please let me know if I missed anything!

playlist🎧 series masterlist

“Joel…” you trailed off, picking at a loose thread on your denim skirt absentmindedly. “What if your brother doesn’t like me?” You questioned in an unsure tone.

He turned to face you, leaning over the dashboard while he rested his elbow along the steering wheel, “baby love, you ain’t got nothin’ to be worried about with my brother, okay? Think y’all are gonna get on like a house fire.” He winked in an attempt to soothe your budding nerves. “What about meetin’ him is gettin’ ya all worked up? Talk to me, darlin.’”

He gently grasped your bare knee in his big, warm, palm.

“This is going to sound so fucking stupid, Joel. But what if he finds me annoying—repulsive? I always get nervous when I’m meeting new people. I’m surprised I didn’t completely shit a brick when I first met you for instance.” You stifled a nervous laugh as you looked over at him.

He gave you that warm reassuring smile of his, dimples peeking through as he gently squeezed your knee. “Y’all are gonna get on just fine, ‘Kay? And listen, between you and me, Tommy and I—we uh—we discussed the possibility of the three of us filmin’ somethin’ together at some point. Now, there ain’t no rush for any of that, okay? Last thing I want to do is make you feel uncomfortable or pressured to get along with him.”

Your pupils dialated, thighs clenching inwards at the prospect of fucking…Tommy? Holy fuck—was this real life?

“You, and Tommy—fucking me?” You spluttered out, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. There was no denying that Tommy Miller was a real hunk, with the personality of a horny golden retriever. He was the complete opposite of Joel, but that intrigued you nonetheless.

“Only if you’d be interested in that, baby love. You don’t gotta decide right now, okay? Tonight’s all about you. If you’re feelin’ my brother, I want you to act on it only if you’re comfortable. He’s a real looker, but I’ve made sure that he’s a good Texas gentleman.” Joel reassured you as he was silently trying to gauge how you were feeling thus far based off your body language.

“And you’d be okay with him and I…?” You trailed off, meeting his gaze as you reached for his hand on your knee, interlocking your fingers through his.

“Of course I would be. I’m not gonna get weirdly jealous or possessive if you want to fuck my brother, baby love. That’s why I wanted to have this conversation with you ahead of tonight, because Tommy? He’s interested, but I told him to let you feel it out, and to not spring it on ya right away.”

He watched the subtle clench of your inner thighs, your pupils blown wide and your lips parting. He knew you were turned on by the prospect of fucking his brother, and your arousal inherently turned him on as well.

He dropped his forearm from its resting spot along the steering wheel and brought his hand to your other knee where he proceeded to coax your thighs open just a tad. You didn’t need much coaxing at all as your thighs naturally parted open, thoughts running wild.

“Look at me, baby love.” He rasped, rubbing soothing circles into the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “Is the thought of fucking my brother turnin’ you on, darlin?’ Ya drippin’ all pretty for him already?”

“Fuck.” You breathed out, eyes rolling back into your skull. Joel had barely even touched you yet, and you were leaking like a damn faucet through the gusset of your thin panties. You could feel a droplet of your arousal drip down and create a wet patch through the fabric. Your eyes met his, lower lip harshly taken between your teeth, pupils darkened like an oncoming storm, blown wide like a doe’s.

“I never thought the possibility of fucking your brother would arise, Joel. It’s like—a fantasy coming true.” You breathed out, head lolling to the side, “I think he has such a nice fucking cock.”

Joel preened, leaning the upper half of his body further over the center console as his fingers trailed closer to your covered core. He could feel you pulsing already, the anticipation of being touched igniting a fire in your veins the closer his fingers drew nearer.

“A fantasy come true, huh? You think about my brother a lot, baby love? S’okay if you do. Got yourself all worked up now…almost creating a mess on the seat with how fuckin’ wet your pussy is gettin’, baby.”

You whined out his name, letting yourself fully succumb to your depraved thoughts of fucking Tommy. Your brain felt fried, imploded to complete mush, and yet your Joel didn’t show a lick of judgment towards your arousal. In fact, he encouraged it and therefore you had no reason to feel shameful.

“Why don’t you get me all ready for him, Joel. C’mon baby, please. Play with me a little. Play with my pussy while I think about fucking your brother’s cock, Joel.” You shamelessly shifted your hips towards his hand, chasing his touch with unabashed desire.

He checked the time on his watch, a coy smirk playing on his sinful lips as he looked over at you, “Think we can afford to be fashionably late, baby love.”

-

Joel and Tommy’s local watering hole was exactly how you expected it to be: not the classiest, and certainly not your first pick, but if Joel were any other man, you would have hightailed out of there. But this was your Joel, and his warm palm guiding you to a booth that was tucked away in the corner. You were grateful for the outfit that you chose to wear for the evening could grant easy access. And with the residue of your release still coated between your thighs, you felt the trepidation and anticipation of what was to happen when Tommy would inevitably show up.

The thought had you buzzing all over again as you found yourself tucked into the wall seat of the booth, Joel’s hand finding purchase around your bare thigh as he leaned in, the tip of his aquiline nose brushing against your pulse point.

“Want anythin’ to drink, baby love? Or just water for now?” He rasped low and deep, sending goosebumps rising on your skin.

“Tequila, on the rocks.” You purred out your request, gripping on the edge of the booths worn leather for dear life.

“‘Kay, baby love. One tequila on the rocks comin’ right up.” He pressed a sweet kiss to the side of your face, leaving a whiff of his cologne and musk on your skin.

You watched as he slipped out of the booth and made his way over to the bartop, sleeves rolled up revealing broad, tan, forearms. His fingers that had only just been plunged deep into your pulsing cunt twenty minutes ago, were now casually flipping through a stack of twenties.

“S’cuse me, ma’am. This seat ain’t taken, is it?”

You peered up from your phone at the sound of the stranger's all-too familiar voice. A deep Texas drawl straight out of a western film, paired with two dark espresso colored eyes, a broad nose, and a head of dark, luscious curls that fell in ringlets.

Tommy fucking Miller, and that shit eating smirk of his that sent your thighs clenching together in tandem.

Holy—I need a glass of water.

“Oh, no. It’s not taken. Please, sit down.” You gestured to the empty seat across the booth with a nervous smile.

Tommy slipped into the booth with ease and reached behind his ear and pulled out a single cigarette, twirling it between his fingers before he placed it between his lips. He reached across the booth's table, hand outstretched in your direction. “Y’must be my big brother’s baby love. M’Tommy, the hotter Miller brother. It’s a pleasure to finally meet ya.”

You blinked, registering in your brain that Tommy Miller was in fact sitting across from you and looking like a goddamn snack nonetheless.

You reached for his hand, shaking it firmly, “charmed.” You grinned.

“Damn. And she’s polite too? My brother got the whole package with ya huh, sweetheart?” He chuckled smoothly, shaking your hand a moment longer before he retracted his. “Y’don’t mind if I smoke do ya?”

“Oh, no. Of course! I don’t mind.”

He nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulled out his lighter, lighting the cigarette with ease before he leaned back against the worn leather cushion, stretching his arm to rest along the backside of the booth, long fingers stretched out—flexing.

“Where’s the son of a bitch anyway?” Tommy asked casually, the lit end of the cigarette dipping downwards between his lips.

“He’s right here.” Joel had returned with your tequila on the rocks, and two glasses of neat whiskey. He slid one over to his brother with a small nod. “And you can’t smoke in here, Tommy.” Joel reminded him as he slid into the seat next to you.

“Says who? Doreen don’t give a damn.” Tommy quipped back as he reached for his glass, tipping it in yours and Joel’s direction.

“That’s cause Doreen’s got the fattest fuckin’ crush on you and that big head of yours.” Joel scoffed against the rim of his glass taking a sip before he turned his attention towards you. “Gotcha a water as well, baby love.”

“Who the hell you callin’ a big head, huh?” Tommy wiggled his eyebrows playfully and grasped the cigarette between his two fingers, replacing it with the rim of his glass as he took a sip. “How’s y’all’s evenin’ goin’ so far? Gettin’ into any trouble?”

“Believe I called you a big head, Tommy.” Joel chuckled, letting his free arm gently drape across your shoulders, squeezing them gently as you took a sip of your tequila on the rocks, letting the liquor burn down your throat and warm your stomach. “S’goin’ pretty good. First time baby loves been here, ain’t that right?”

You didn’t register that Joel was talking to you, his voice sounding fuzzy in your ears as you took a bigger sip of your drink. “What?” You questioned softly, being brought back down to earth when you felt his warm palm gently squeeze your shoulder. The heat rose to your cheeks fast and you cleared your throat, turning your face to the side to hide how flustered you were.

“Whatcha ya gettin’ all shy on us for, sweetheart? You don’t gotta do that with us. I swear, I don’t bite, unless ya want me to.” Tommy said with a coy wink.

“She’s just a lil’ bashful is all, cause on the way here she was—”

You cut Joel off, squeezing his bicep firmly in your palm. “I’m gonna head to the bathroom really quick, okay?” You kissed his cheek sweetly, and before he could even get up from the booth, you were slipping past him when you saw an opening.

Joel and Tommy both watched as you quickly walked to the nearest bathroom before they looked back at one another. Tommy took a long drag of his cigarette when Joel spoke again,

“She’s got the hots for you, little brother. She made a goddamn mess all over my fingers on the way here cus’ she was thinkin’ about your cock.” Joel said in a hushed, low tone.

Tommy’s brows raised as he leaned over the table, resting his cigarette off to the side. “Fuck. Y’serious? Goddamn. She make a mess all over the seat too? Bet she fuckin’ did.”

“Mhmmm.” Joel hummed, leaning back against the seat. “She told me that you have a nice fuckin’ cock.” He chuckled, shaking his head to the side before he leaned forward, “Now, when she gets back here after composing herself, I want you to flirt with her a bit. Let her come to you, okay? Y’gotta play nice with her, Tommy. She’s a sweet thing, and I know y’all are gonna get along jus’ fine.”

“Good god.” Tommy said lowly, holding back a groan. “You hit the fuckin’ jackpot with that one, Joel. I’ll play nice with her, scouts honor. Y’know I’ll take extra good care of her.”

“I know you will. She jus’ couldn’t believe it when I said that you and I discussed the possibility of filmin’ a video with her. Absolutely blew her fuckin’ mind with that one. But god, she looked so pretty all flustered and turned on thinkin’ about the two of us fuckin’ her.” Joel reached for his glass, swirling the amber liquid around and took another slow sip.

“Fuck, I bet she did look goddamn gorgeous like that. You got yourself a real filthy and nice girl, Joel. A man’s fuckin’ dream, you lucky son of a bitch. Don’t think I’ve ever seen your grumpy ass smile that much in my whole life. It’s refreshin’ seein’ you grinnin’ like a sinner in church.” Tommy chuckled warmly.

Joel preened as he thought about you. “She’s really amazing, Tommy. She’s been so supportive and brave, and we’re having so much fun with it. It’s been so long since work has felt fun, you know? Who’d’ve thought fucking would get old.” He chuckled with a small grin playing on his lips and a flush rising on his cheeks. “Never really met anyone quite like her, honestly.”

“Goddamn. Who’s in here choppin’ up the fuckin’ onions, huh? Fuck. You’re in love with her, ain’t ya? That’s amazing. I’m seriously so fuckin’ happy for you, Joel.”

“Fuck.” Joel said suddenly, feeling his heart lurch in his chest. “Shit. Yeah—I think, I think I am in love with her. It’s not too soon, is it? I mean—we jus’ we get eachother. I’ve never felt more comfortable with another person before. She gets me, Tommy. The real me. She sees my heart before she sees my job, and no other woman in my life has ever seen me in that light.” He sniffles, feeling tears prick the corner of his eyes at his emotional confession.

“Yeah, you got the love bug bad, brother. Really, really, bad. But y’know what? I know you ain’t bluffin’ about this one either. You’re speakin’ from your goddamn heart. I hear it in your voice, and that’s a beautiful fuckin’ thing, Joel. Cus’ if anyone deserves love in this world, it’s you. So you keep holdin’ onto that, ‘Kay?” Tommy said earnestly and reached across the table to gently squeeze Joel’s shoulder

“Shuddup, Tommy. Or you’re really gonna make me cry.” Joel chuckled through his tears, quickly wiping at his eyes. “I’m gonna keep holdin’ onto her for as long as she’ll have me. I’m hopin’ she’s endgame for me.”

“I reckon she will be.”

-

After you splashed a bit of water on your face and gave yourself a detailed pep talk in the women’s bathroom, you finally mustered up the courage to face Joel and Tommy again. Joel had reassured you in the car that nothing had to happen right away. He always wanted you to be comfortable and this was something that you were still getting used to. The idea of someone caring about you that much? It used to be unfathomable .

You never realized just how good it could get until you met Joel Miller. You were hoping that he would be your endgame too.

After taking one last glance into the mirror you left the bathroom with a new confident stride as you approached the booth. Joel greeted you with a warm and reassuring smile, and when he went to get up, you gently placed your hand against his chest, easing him back down onto the leather seat before you slid in beside him.

Tommy gently nudged your ankle with the toe of his boot, testing the waters with you and heeding Joel’s words to let you come to him.

“Y’feelin’ alright, sweetheart? Can we getcha anythin?” Tommy asked softly, brown eyes looking warm and inviting across the way.

“I’m okay.” You reassured him with a small smile. “It was just—getting really hot in here.” You said with a light laugh to ease the tension.

“Tends to happen when you’re feelin’ flustered.” Tommy added as he leaned in over the table. “Y’know, sweetheart,” he started, “S’okay if I call ya that?”

You nodded, reaching for your glass and took a quick sip.

“I watched one of your films the other day, and I gotta tell ya, you have some real talent. Not jus’ sayin’ that either. I mean it. You’re gorgeous, and I jus’ wanna let you know that there’s no pressure or anythin’ alright? We don’t even gotta do anythin’ tonight if you ain’t feelin’ up for it.”

Joel leaned in close to you then, warm whiskey coated breath kissing your skin as his arm gently wrapped around you, giving you a squeeze.

“Wouldn’t believe how good that pussy is, brother. Like nothin’ else you’ve ever had. Never wanna have another, truly.” He preened, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

Your thighs clamped together immediately and you could feel the corners of Joel’s lips upturn into a small grin.

“Don’t doubt that for a second, Joel.” Tommy nodded and ashed his cigarette along the rim of his empty glass. “Sweetheart, you’re such a natural, babygirl. And I have no doubt in my mind that you’re gonna become a star.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks from both Joel and Tommy’s words and if you were already on your way to hell, well—you just bought yourself a first class ticket!

“You really think I’m gonna be a star, Tommy?” You leaned forward against the table to match his energy, feeling yourself gravitating in his direction.

“Absolutely.” He nodded. “Now, Joel here wants me to take care of ya for a little. Y’okay with that, sweetheart? He’s gonna sit here nice n’comfy if you wanna—”

You were already up from the booth, reaching for Tommy’s hand in a haste and pulling him down the aisle and towards the door of the bar.

Tommy stumbled after you, his palm warm in your grasp as he followed you to the door. But being the gentleman that he was, he held the door open for you, letting you walk past first before he followed suit. “Where do you wanna go, babygirl?” He rasped against your ear, broad arm swooping around your waist, pulling you flush against his side.

“Your truck.” you said confidently, slipping your hand into the back pocket of his dark washed jeans.

“Fuck. You wanna make a mess all over my seats too, babygirl?” He reached for his keys, twirling them around his fingers.

Goddammit, Joel. You thought.

“Did he tell you that?” You squeaked out, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

“He sure as fuck did, sweetheart. He also told me that you think I have a nice fuckin’ cock.” he chuckled, guiding you towards the direction of his parked pickup truck.

“Well, you do have a nice fucking cock, Tommy. And while your brother was playing with me earlier, all I could think about was you and your cock fucking me.” You lowered your voice when an unsuspecting couple walked past the two of you.

“Mmm. I knew that you were a little freak under all those nerves, babygirl. Gonna take real good care of you, okay?” He pressed a kiss to the side of your head, letting his hand curve around your hip. He was thankfully parked in a secluded spot in the lot where people would really have to pay attention to even see the debauchery that would soon be taking place.

He unlocked the back door for you, but before you could climb in, he gently pressed you back against it. “Before I fuck your brains out, I jus’ wanted to let you know that even though you’re consentin’ now, you can change your mind, okay? It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gone with blue balls, babygirl. I want you to enjoy yourself and if you end up not wantin’ to continue, jus’ let me know, ‘Kay?” His words were genuine like Joel’s, and as much as you appreciated them, you were going to lose your mind any second now.

“Tommy, respectfully, thank you. Disrespectfully, I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to last without your cock stuffed inside of me.” You breathed out, letting your hand drop from the side of his truck and palm him through the tight confines of his jeans. “Please, fuck me.”

That’s all it took for Tommy to surge forward, his hands coming to rest on either side of your head as his lips met yours in a bruising kiss that was all tongue and teeth, very different from Joel’s style but you fucking loved it already and wasted no time to wind your arms around his neck, carding your fingers through his thick curls, giving them a good firm tug as he reached around you to pull the door latch open.

He bit down teasingly on your lower lip, tugging it out before chasing the kiss once more. “Get that sweet ass of yours in the backseat, babygirl” he mumbled against your lips and quickly pulled the door open.

Your lips detached from his for a moment only for you to climb into the backseat, falling onto your back as you blindly reached for the hem of your shirt and yanked it over your head.

Tommy was between your legs in seconds after the door slammed shut behind him. His hands grasped at your thighs, spreading them open and positioning your calves to rest over his shoulders. He had a direct view of your covered cunt, a fresh new wet patch blooming through the fabric that sent him grinning like a devil.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart. You that wet already? Those little panties of yours are practically ruined, babygirl.” He tsked under his breath as he situated himself as best as he could on his elbows. “Can you show her to me, baby? Show me that pretty pussy.” He nipped at your exposed inner thigh, dragging the stubble along his jaw against your skin while keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“I almost thought about touching myself in the bathroom when I was in there.” You let out a soft sigh as you dragged your hand down over your bare stomach and underneath the hem of your skirt. You looped your thumb around the outside of your panties, pulling them to the side revealing your puffy, soaked cunt to Tommy’s lustful gaze.

“You shoulda, babygirl. Little slut like you probably needs it all the time, huh? Fingers, a cock stuffed in you, a mouth on that pussy?” He chuckled with a grin. “Spread her open for me, sweetheart. Wanna see all of her before I fuckin’ ruin you.”

You let out a soft whimper from his words just as a droplet of arousal dripped down from your opening and slid down between your cheeks. You used your middle and forefinger to delicately spread yourself open, playing with your arousal that began to coat your fingers, and you couldn’t help but slip one finger in before slowly pulling it back out.

“Is she wet enough for you, Tommy? Maybe you need to give her a taste. See how wet she is for yourself.” You encouraged him with a subtle grin.

“Mmm. Try daddy, babygirl. Think you can call me that? You’ve got such a pretty pussy. My god. She’s already making a goddamn mess all over the seat. Go on and play with yourself for me, sweetheart. I wanna watch.”

“Oh, fuck. How did I already know that you were into the daddy kink?” You giggled softly while your fingers began to play with yourself in a teasing motion. You lightly played with your clit, letting out a soft moan as you dragged your fingers lower, teasing your entrance before slipping two fingers in. “Oh, fuck, daddy.” You moaned, watching him with hooded eyes as he began to palm himself through his jeans.

“That’s it. Good fuckin’ girl. Such a good little slut playin’ with her pussy for daddy. Gettin’ her all nice and ready for daddy’s cock.” He preened and reached for his belt buckle, undoing it so he would have a bit of relief. “You okay if daddy takes a video of this? That way you can watch it later and remember just how good I took care of you, babygirl.”

You nodded enthusiastically as you began to shallowly pump your fingers, curling them inwards before slipping them back out. “Of course you can take a video, daddy. It’ll be your souvenir.” You shot him a playful wink.

“Fuck. You’re really a naughty little slut, babygirl. Touching yourself in daddy’s truck. Gonna have to get it detailed after I’m done with you.” He snickered and reached for his phone and pulled it out of his pocket. He typed in his password quickly before opening the camera app. “Smile for the camera, babygirl.” He angled his phone towards your face and you responded with a cheesy grin, fingers working over your clit to keep yourself stimulated.

“Daddy’s here with his newest slut and her pretty pussy that’s going to be stuffed to the fuckin’ brim with daddy’s cock soon.” He brought his phone down between your thighs getting a good view of your fingers playing with yourself. “Drippin’ all over daddy’s fuckin’ seats like the naughty little slut that she is.”

“So fuckin’ wet for you, daddy.” You moaned, holding steady eye contact between Tommy’s phone and his face. “Show me your cock, please. I want to see it.”

“Ask and you shall receive, babygirl.” He shot you a wink and popped open the button of his jeans followed by his zipper. He pushed his jeans down over his hips along with his boxers. Your eyes went wide for a moment when his cock sprang free and slapped up against his taut stomach.

Tommy’s cock may have not been as thick as Joel’s, but it was longer, and curved at just the right angle.

“Get on all fours for me, baby girl.” He requested while he wrapped his fist around his cock, giving it a few languid strokes from base to tip. You couldn’t help but watch as he spit over the bulbous head, rubbing in his saliva for extra lubricant as you worked your skirt and panties off, tossing them into the front seat before you flipped over onto your stomach, situating yourself on your hands and knees.

“Well, if that ain’t a sight made in fuckin’ heaven.” He whistled and grabbed a handful of your left ass-cheek, kneading the soft flesh between his fingers before he gave it a good smack, watching it recoil back as you lurched forward, looking over your shoulder at him. Your pupils were blown wide, lower lip harshly taken between your teeth as you rocked your hips back towards him.

“Please fuck me, daddy.” You arched your back, wiggling your ass in a tantalizing motion just as he brought his hand down over your right cheek in a swift motion eliciting a surprised yelp to slip past your lips.

“You want daddy’s cock that bad, huh? Such a desperate little slut wantin’ to be stuffed full of daddy’s cock.” He slapped your left cheek then before he let his hand drift upwards against your spine, and to your shoulder blades. He gently pressed you further against the seat so that your back was arched even more.

"gonna stretch you out, gonna be ruined for anyone else." He growled against the shell of your ear. “You’re gonna be daddy’s favorite fuckin’ slut when he’s finished with you, babygirl.”

And then you felt the head of his cock press against the seam of your dripping cunt, teasing your folds and bumping against your neglected clit. “Look at you already creamin’ all over daddy’s cock. Barely even inside of you yet, sweetheart.”

You lurched forward when you felt him begin to press you open inch by inch till he was bottomed out with his hips pressed firmly against your ass. Your mouth fell open in an ‘o’ shape as he set an immediate punching rhythm that knocked the air from your lungs.

“Oh—oh fuck!” You moaned, listening to the lewd sounds of skin on skin slapping together. The squelch of your pussy and his heavy, guttural grunts as he pounded his hips into your ass over and over again.

“God, you're such a slut, babygirl. Daddy’s perfect little slut. You give it this good to all the boys, huh? God, your pussy is huggin’ me so goddamn tight.” He groaned out, almost forgetting that he had his phone in his hand still as his forehead came to rest upon your upper back. He slowed his thrusts down momentarily so you could catch your breath and he could check in on you.

“You good, babygirl?”

“Mhmm. Never better.”

He ground his hips against your ass, rolling them forward so you could feel all of him inside of you. Just when you had a moment to catch your breath, he picked the pace up once more and tossed his phone to the side so he could wrap both arms around you, yanking you back against his chest.

"such a whore, babygirl. Workin’ your way through our whole family, aren't you?" He whispered against the shell of your ear, biting down on it with his teeth as he fucked up into you at a new angle.

One hand groped one of your breasts while the other rested along the base of your neck. He was careful to not apply any pressure and get too caught up in the moment. He could feel your pussy fluttering around him, squeezing him like a vice with each pull and drag of his cock. Your eyes were shut in bliss, unabashed moans slipping past your lips as the coil in your belly was pulled tight.

The windows in Tommy’s truck had significantly begun to fog up from the steam that your activities were producing. And despite the discreet location that Tommy was parked in, you couldn’t help the rush you felt when you thought of the possibility of someone—or even Joel catching you and Tommy in this position.

Would he join right in? Fuck—

“Daddy—don’t stop, please!” You cried out, feeling that coil being pulled even tighter as your thighs began to tremble, and tears flooded your eyes: tears of overwhelming pleasure.

“That’s it, babygirl. Such a good fuckin’ cockslut for daddy. Good fuckin’ girl. You gonna come all over daddy’s cock? C’mon! Wanna see you fuckin’ coat me, sweetheart. Come all over my fuckin’ cock.” He snapped his hips forwards then, feeling his own release begin to catch up to him, but you always came first. Tommy would never let you, or any of his girls, not come before him.

He dropped one of his hands from your breasts to thum at your already sensitive clit to push you right on over the edge as you cried out his name, pulsing around his cock and seeing stars dancing behind your closed eyelids.

“There you go, babygirl. There you fuckin’ go.” His tone was much softer now as he slowly slipped out of you, his cock gleaming in your release. He gently flipped you over onto your back, cradling your face delicately in his big hands.

You had a cockdumb look on your face. Completely blissed out and in a whole other world. Your thighs fell open, as your own release drooled down the the seam of your fucked out hole and onto the interior leather seats. In this relaxed position, your pussy let out a squelching sound of air being released, causing you and Tommy to both laugh.

“Fucked her pretty good, didn’t I?” He chuckled to himself and pressed a kiss to your sweaty forehead. “You okay if I take a little look at her, babygirl? I wanna see the mess you made.”

“Mhmmm.” You hummed, lashes fluttering shut as you stretched your arms behind your head in a languid, relaxed movement.

Tommy reached for his discarded phone bringing it back down right over your still pulsing cunt as his fingers gently spread you open, sliding through the milky residue of your release.

“Fuck. So pretty, babygirl. You have such a pretty pussy.” He leaned down and pressed a light kiss to your clit, getting just a little taste before he pulled himself back up. “Definitely gonna have to get my truck detailed after this, sweetheart.” He ended the video, falling back against the seat beside you to catch his own breath.

You let out another soft, cock dumb giggle, peeking one eye open to look over at him. “You really think my pussy is that pretty, Tommy?” You dropped one of your hands to lazily rest along your stomach before dipping it between your thighs, missing that stimulated post-orgasm feeling already.

“Baby, she’s so fucking pretty. Like seriously I could happily watch you play with her for hours and easily get off to it.” He tilted his head to the side to look over at you, grin playing on his lips. “How are you feelin’?”

“Mmm. Joel loves to watch me play with myself too. Guess it’s just a Miller brother thing, huh?” You winked with a giggle. “I feel fucking amazing, Tommy.” Cock dumb and satisfied, you thought.

He preened at your response, resting his arms along the backseats as he let out a relaxed sigh. “Good, baby. I’m real happy to hear that. Means that I did my job right. And what can I say? Joel and I are big pussy lovers.” He chuckled and reached for his phone, texting Joel that they would be back shortly, and attached the video as well.

“Yeah, you guys sure are.”

-

After about twenty minutes, Tommy had to physically help you to sit up and redress. Your entire body felt like jello and you were still positively fucked out. He helped you out of the backseat, keeping his arm wrapped around you for support as he guided you back inside to the booth.

“Easy now, babygirl. Back into my brother’s lap you go. You just cuddle up with him now, ‘kay? Pussy took a real poundin’, let her rest.” Tommy cooed softly against your ear as Joel gently eased you into his lap, letting you bury your face into his neck and lazily wrap your arms around him.

“Mhmmm.” You mumbled against his neck, face scrunching up as you breathed in his natural aroma while he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, rubbing soothing circles into your back underneath your shirt.

"Did such a good job, baby love. Tommy showed me how sweet you were to him, let him feel how soft and warm you are, hmm? My good girl. Here, baby, I got you water. Need you to take a sip, you worked hard out there." Joel murmured softly to you.

“It was so much fun. Tommy was so good to me, baby. He thinks I have such a pretty pussy.” You softly giggled and blindly reached for the glass of water, pulling your face out from where it was pressed against his neck to guzzle the liquid down before cuddling right back up against him.

“I’m happy to hear that, baby love. I knew y’all were gonna hit it off. M’so proud of my girl. And yes, baby. You do have a pretty pussy. Rest now, ‘kay?”

You were out like a light then all curled up in his lap like a koala without a care in the world.

“Whatcha do to her, huh? Got my baby all cock drunk, Tommy.” Joel asked softly, reaching for his fresh glass of whiskey and took a small sip, careful to not disturb you.

Tommy was back across the booth, a new cigarette between his lips and his arms crossed behind his head in a relaxed position.

“Took ‘er for a real good spin.” He grinned, tapping his fingers along the worn, frayed leather. “Gonna have to get the truck fuckin’ detailed though.”

“That so? She make it all messy?” Joel asked.

“Fuck. Yeah, she made it real messy alright. Had her drippin’ all down the seats.”

Joel grinned at this, glancing down at your sleeping form in pure adoration and pride. “Mmm. I believe it. She’s always fuckin’ drippin.’ Doesn’t matter what time of the day it is, my baby love is always soakin.’”

“That right? Pretty slutty cunt like hers always ready to have a big cock in her, huh?” Tommy stifled a chuckle as he sank further against the seat.

You thought you were just having a wet dream, until your hand found Joel’s and discreetly tucked it between your thighs, pressing the pads of his fingers against your ruined cunt that was pulsing once more. Little needy breaths slipped past your parted lips when he gently began to play with you, understanding that you were silently asking him to make you come one more time. You kissed along his neck, open mouthed with little nibbles here and there as you came in his lap, falling back into a relaxed state.

“Okay, think I gotta get my baby love home and in bed. She’s gonna sleep so good tonight.” Joel softly announced as he nudged you gently.

“Oh, I reckon she will be. You take good care of her, Joel. And text me when y’all are home safe, ‘kay?” Tommy nodded in Joel’s direction.

“You know I will, Tommy. I’ll text ya when we’re home.” He gave his brother a little nod and helped you out of the booth and towards the door. Once you were outside, the fresh air seemed to help you wake up a little more as you leaned all your weight into his side.

“You’re so beautiful, baby love. I’m so thankful for you, y’know that? You did so fuckin’ good. I’m so proud of you, so fuckin’ proud of my girl. Let’s get you home, okay? You’re gonna sleep so good tonight.”

“I love you, Joel Miller.” You murmured into his shoulder, one arm draped around his middle for support. You may have been cock dumb, and completely fucked out, but you words were true. You loved Joel, and he deserved to hear it.

“I love you too, baby love. My beautiful, beautiful girl.”

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[munsster]

take me to church

A/N: i am down ASTRONOMICALLY for big men who are also whiny babies (gif creds: @mulderscully)

Pairing: Hugh “Ransom” Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Summary: The Drysdale heir gets on his knees for his darling goddess. 3.0k words

Warnings: smut mdni, switch!ransom, switch!reader, degrading, worship, slapping, pet names (princess, puppy, sweetheart, honey, baby, angel), gentle slapping, religious references (mainly catholic), overuse of italics xoxo

"You should know your place by now, Drysdale."

"I'm sorry—"

"Don't whine, you sound like a baby," you groan. Just a moment ago, you had slammed his bedroom door shut tight, and all six feet of him had whipped around with the meanest scowl on his face. He's big, sure, but you've got leverage on his heart. It kills him the way you snap into place between his ribs with, god, the prettiest laugh he's ever heard. He'd never admit it, though. Least of all to you.

And he knows he's nothing but an insect under your heel, yours to shatter and reconstruct. He gets a rush in your presence. He has never been so intimidated by someone with such a sweet smile. Such a gentle soul but the worst sadist he's ever held close. Worse than himself.

"You think you stand a chance, don't you?"

You're like a roman candle with how unpredictably fiery you are. Yesterday, it was being stuck in traffic down the ninety-five. Tomorrow, it'll probably be some coworker's silly mistake. Tonight, you simply came home angry. That's it. You need a release, and there he is. Dark hair ungelled and messy but pushed back and flawless still, standing like a statue and at your mercy. You're set off, the wild look in your eye setting him off.

"I'm all yours, princess, tell me what you want," he coos so sweetly you could melt, but you never ever would. It'd boost his ego and splinter his edges. He'd get worse. And what you give him is discipline. Patience for his inner child. Medicine for his deepest wounds.

"On your knees, puppy."

He does. Without one single thought. Every iota devoted to your demands. With a thud, he's at your feet, lamenting his own devotion when your hands preen through his hair.

You're his heaven and hell and all the bits in between. He's a shrine to your love, a glimmering reflection in the pool of your heart. And he's grown oh-so-narcissistic these past few months.

"What to do with my poor boy," you whisper because he pouts, not a single change to his expression, but he sinks in on his own body, deflating at the core. You coddle him. "Oh, I know."

He hates your mystery. Because it's no secret what you're up to. It's no longer mystery with a grin like that. He shifts and settles his big hands onto your thighs, pushing up to hold your waist tentatively.

"Please, sweetheart, anything."

"Hugh, you know exactly how I feel about begging." You hold his chin and lean close. So close blood pumps through his ears and drowns out his panic. Yeah, his cock is hard, but it's no rival to his blown pupils and needy hands that tug the waistband of your slacks.

"Keep going," you say against the corner of his mouth, nipping his bottom lip and sucking until he whines and digs his fingertips into your skin. The heat of your palm blows over his cheek as you strike him. Gently, though. Just a kiss of your fingers on his skin, and he blushes. No way in hell would you hit him—harm him without permission. He has to admit though: he'd like the sting if it was your doing. For it would be his unraveling and a blessing all the same.

"Princess, sweetheart, come on, I can give you everything," he huffs, grasping desperately for you, at anything within his insatiable reach, "Just say the word, please, honey, you gotta understand: I worship you."

"Oh, I understand plenty, pet. Why don't you prove it?"

He stands from the floor like a ghost fulfilling his final purpose in your hands. His body is so ardently belonging it's sickening. To be yours is a rite amongst the holy and yet you bring the sin out of him. All seven, splayed out like a deck of cards across his thieving brain.

"You Boston boys think you're so scary. All that east coast charm just pourin' outta you. You couldn't scare a newborn. What makes you so special, huh?"

"You."

Your breath seizes. Every nerve alight with his warm hands crawling over your torso and his cheeks pink. Your boy has never been so forward. Not like this. Not ever. His eyes gleam like he's never witnessed such beauty and wickedness up close. Like he's never seen a mirror.

You stare at him, incredulous of his charisma, his grace. He is sure of one thing though: whatever you are will kill him, but wouldn't that be the best poison?

"You have no idea," Ransom whispers. He tosses your shirt aside and unbuttons your pants. And you let him. Sincerely, you are taken aback and breathing in awe. He is filled to the bones with your light, blood replaced by lust. He needs nothing else besides your soul. Your wicked hands.

Then he kisses you. Like he could lose you to the abyss if he let go for even one moment. With saliva spun from his tongue and delving into yours, but soft and kind and to feel the familiarity of your warmth. He becomes pliant, knowing with clear certainty he is a lonely boat and you are a raging sea only lying in wait to rip him to shreds.

And yet he sails willingly. Blissfully.

"You know," you mumble against his fervent mouth. "You'd be so handsome if you weren't desperate." Though, he doesn't stop to listen. He's too dissatisfied. He needs the taste of you and the half-glass of wine you downed in the kitchen. It tingles in his mouth, bitter and recherché, the best he could find. For his goddess, he'd pay with his life.

If you truly meant the things you said to him out of frustration, he would still promise you every ounce of starlight in the sky. If you truly meant every insult, he would still beg and pine and bleed to be called yours. He'll be a disgrace as long as he is your disgrace.

And he knows you're lying when you tell him things like that. As if someone so lovely as you would consider some lowlife like him if he weren't the finest looking asshole in northern Massachusetts. Worship is an exchange of grace. It's not a one way street, no. It's an intersection. God must love his mortals or they would not be his.

"Hugh."

He pulls back and squints. You call him that when: one, you're pissed off, or two, you're about to fuck the living daylights out of him and leave him destitute and longing for days. Either way, he wins.

"My angel... my beloved... my one. What can I do for you?"

Each endearment peppered with kisses along your throat. He sweetens it up because he's smitten and wants what you give him every time: pain.

"If only I could use you like the poor beggar you are," you say, condescending in that way he goes mad for. And he grins.

"Please?"

Say no more, you tug his hair without any sense of remorse and no gauge for his pain. Anyway, his tolerance is boundless when he's with you. He tilts his head back, neck bare and Adam's apple bobbing as he gulps. Out of fear or pleasure, he can't tell. But he gives you that cheshire smirk, and it all dissolves down into his affinity for your touch.

You trace the column of his throat and press your tongue to his jaw, sucking at the skin to mark him. And he wishes you would do it all over and everyday. He is nothing if not yours. When you leave little bruises, he gets to be told even when you're away.

"You're incorrigible," you pant against his warm skin that pulses with cold blood. "Look at you, so so needy. Trust-fund-fuck-toy, little no good dolly, hmm? Need someone to tell you what to do so you don't rot away."

Something like a growl blooms in his chest, though it feels like a purr when he goes slack and leans into your touch. You're always taken aback by his antics, but you've never let on about it until now. With eyes wide, you're spoon feeding him abuse, and he's taking it without the airplane noises. He slips easily into your submission, and you're stunned. Even now, after all you've put him through.

"Ransom," you whisper into the little indentation at the base of his neck. He hums. Your fingers comb through his hair, and he shivers with delight. We create false gods to pass time and worship them all the same. He is yours, and you are his, and it will be that way until the end of time.

"On the bed. Now."

He jitters with excitement, only still under your scrutiny, and manages to drop his sweatpants into a crumpled pile at his feet. You dare not look down. You don't have to. You know he's not wearing his usual briefs: crisp white and snug around the muscle of his thighs. You know because he hisses when the cold, autumn air sidles along his cock. Doesn't matter. He'll warm up nicely once he gets inside you.

For now, he sloppily kisses the bow of your lips and slumps to the bed, breathing heavy with his back to the headboard. He's loud and yet untouched. You'd think he ran a marathon. Or six.

"Join me," he grumbles, scratching his knee before slowly dragging his blunt nails up and up and—then his fingers are wrapped around his cock. Nothing in comparison to any ounce of what you've given him before. The best sex of his life stands clad in panties with her arms crossed. Brooding over his weak body. "Princess?"

"Shut up. Let me get a good look at you, pretty boy." You hold his chin between thumb and forefinger. Between head and heart, he lies steadfast and boyish in the wake of your warmth. His strength is drained by your every touch. You render him incapable, but he's the one built far above and toned like the shaft of a power drill. You can fit your fingers perfectly into his divots, and all is restored. Turn his house into a home so long as you keep looking at him like he's a work of art.

"Ransom, what're you thinking about?"

And then again, you hold him so so gently, he'd think he was precious. Beyond value, even. What is value anyway. His gauge will always be whether you want him or not. His value is subjective to you. Forever and always, he may be a dreadful Catholic, but he’s well-versed in your scripture.

"What do I ever think about? Other than your sweet pussy," he mumbles and cups his palm between your legs, fingertips slow and circuitous around your covered clit. "Come on, princess, I know you want it. I can tell she needs me. Give in."

You've gotten good at being angry with Ransom, so good it's hard to remember his softness. The assailant of his soul often outsmarts the gentleman. But once in a while, he shines through the cracks beside his eyes when he smiles. So genuine, it's hard to deny. Not now, though.

Now, he reads troublemaker loud and clear.

You straddle his hips, and he gargles down a throat-clawing moan. Oh, you're horrible. A fist around his cock, you tug the crotch of your underwear to the side and slick his tip between your folds. You manhandle and taunt him, and yet he's never been this hard. He's gonna need painkillers for the headache you rattle him with.

"Who needs who again?"

He could cum. In fact, he would burst if he wasn't clenching his fingers through the sheets: tight enough to draw blood between the linen and from the heel of his palm. He's withholding because of your withholding. He won't last like this. And he's going fucking crazy.

"God—fuckin' damnit—gorgeous, baby, you're killin' me. Huh—fuck—'s that what you want?" He groans, head thrown back against the headboard.

"Be careful, Hugh. I can be a lot less nice if you want," you grumble with teeth scraping the edge of his jaw when you kiss his skin. And he wants. Oh, he wants you—with every fiber of his wicked being—to be mean. But he'd also die every which way to be your good boy. He slips his fingertips beneath the underwire of your bra, weaseling his palm to cup your supple breast.

"I'm being careful," he says, "so careful. Wouldn't wanna hurt my babygirl." You grab his jaw hard as he pinches the bud of your nipple with a grin.

"You're the worst, Drysdale."

"You love me."

"I love using you."

He stills. Then lifts his head. Of course. Of course. He suspected it, sure, but never has he wanted you to take back what you said like he does now. His body aches for you nonetheless. He shatters into pieces for you. Of course you love it. But not him.

"Take it back," he mutters.

"Hmm? I can't hear you—"

Ransom wraps his arms flush around your waist to hold you against him like a crime. Your smirk melts away hot and fast at the frown on his pretty face.

"You love me. Say it, princess, you love me." A sinner in every degree, he's begging. His repentance is you. If only you'd forgive his wounded pride. You press the pad of your forefinger to his chin and look down on him like a god. Like he's a sacrifice.

"Oh, Hugh. You don't know the first thing about love."

"But you do. And you love me. Please, love me," he huffs. You lick his wet bottom lip like a cat, stray and rabid and curling into his warmth with the sun long gone.

"I'll show you love, pretty boy. Like you've never felt it before."

And you sink onto him; he nearly loses all control beneath you, squirming and grabbing at anything he can reach. Needy as babies often are, only he is fully grown and you both know it. Though his whining might prove otherwise. 

"Jesus—Jesus Christ, that's—that's—keep going." His hips jerk up off of the mattress with every pulse of your walls clamping around his shaft. His body is so limp and yet so tense, he could explode. He wants nothing more than to make you his: to fill you so deeply he's there for months. Nine, maybe.

You mewl. Holy shit, the prettiest noise he has every heard, you mewl. Like a newborn fawn, ever fair and fragile, only graced by sweat and heavy breaths. His eyes snap open to see your back arched, palming at his wrists with your eyes fluttered closed. He licks his lips, then kissing your navel wetly, he watches you coyly through his lashes.

Your fingers scratch at his scalp while he bounces you on his pulsing cock. Every vein, every subtle undulation, you feel slipping out of you just to slip back in. Yanking his hair, he pants, and you purr again at his body's rough reaction. His hips jolt, and you grin with your lip content between your teeth.

His hands are so big, and you're so soft, and there's nothing he can do but worship and sanctify your hallowed and celestial body. Ethereal. You are of literature, written as an angel, halo and all. A blade of light piercing a thick blanket of clouds, shedding calm on his broken heart. And he's a pagan of your beauty. 

At this point, he accepts it. He wouldn't mind being nothing more than a doll to you. Because you still chose him. He's still your doll, once all is said and done. And his pulse steadies from a raging pounding to a heavy beat in his ears, rushing through his bloodstream like narcotics.

"Feel so good, princess, all tight 'n warm for me. All mine," he groans. Eyes shut, you breathe in the soft slapping of damp skin, and he savors the way you drip down his inner thigh. "My little vice, all wrapped 'round my cock. So good to me, aren't you? Atta girl."

You crane your neck forward and clench your jaw. Your thrusts grow slow and deep and reaching as the warmth drains from your head and you clench his shoulder with eager fingers.

"C'mon, we both know how bad she want it. Fuckin'—can feel you squeezing me, angel." He pats your thigh, and the vein on his neck goes red hot about to burst.

Then you go weak in his palms. It's your turn to be used while he lets you wring his cock for dear life. He glides you in slow up down, up down strokes and spills into you, plugging you tight as you keep him struggling for air.

You nudge the tip of your nose against the soft part of neck beneath his chin. The softest part of Ransom Drysdale—besides the spot reserved in his little heart for you, his dove. You press, and he swallows and syncs to your every movement. From the bat of your eyelashes to the ample exhales of your parted lips.

"I love you, Ransom."

He goes dizzy.

"What?"

"I love you."

You lift your head, dead serious with fingers ticking along his expanding chest. He grins, dopey and elfish and needy. And shifts his hip. You gasp at the blood flowing hard into his cock once more.

"Say it again," he grumbles.

"I love you."

"Yeah. Yeah, you do. Now you're gonna scream it till the neighbors do, too." You're sure of one thing and one thing alone. Ransom Drysdale has always been true to his word. That's how you end up with his hand around your throat and your fingers in his mouth.

masterlist

[pursuitseternal]

“Our Blood: Into the Fire:” 🔥 a conclusion, three times hotter than ever🦇🐦‍⬛😈

A!Astarion x Tav (Cordehlia) x Raphael |E | 5.8K

Summary: One good and wicked turn deserves another… a tryst to sate all curiosity and balance all scales to leave no deal unfulfilled.

CW: poly, M/F/M, possessive dominate A!Astarion, submissive devil, voyeuerism, body worship, Cambion form smut, lots of oral sex, degradation, inappropriate use of the vampire mating bond, grab the devil by the horns… and balls.

Previous Ch | ao3 link | original series | Masterlist

Just an extra reward for them, a rejuvenating bath for the Ascendant and his Bride, a visit to the infamous House of Hope.

All three mighty beings reclined in the waters, bubbles in the water hiding most of their bodies, cups of wine in their hands.

“Even without the Crown of Karsus, you’ve come so far, devil,” Astarion gave a lazy half-smile as he lounged in the relative comforts of Raphael’s bath. Legs stretched languorously in front of him, he reclined in the magical waters of the House of Hope, at ease with Cordehlia seated on his lap. “Nothing like the hospitality of the hells under your care. I find my needs most thoroughly met.”

“I am but a humble purveyor of needs,” Raphael grinned from the top of his bright, golden chalice, his own posture one of flawless pleasure and relaxation as he lounged in the waters across from the pair of undead. “Wine, food, a bath, a rest…. It is the least I may afford you by way of hospitality for your efforts on my behalf today. I won't forget how gloriously you’ve returned the favor, my vamplings.”

Astarion hissed as Cordehlia sucked a bit too hard from her bite in his neck. “Easy, darling,” he admonished before taking a drink from his own bejeweled cup.

“Your pugnacious consort deserves every drop. She put up such a spectacular display of brutality, Astarion, it’s good to let her rejuvenate,” Raphael chuckled as he watched them. “I’m so grateful, I’d offer my own neck, if it would burn the pretty little tongue from her mouth.”

Astarion scoffed, sipping from his cup as he opened his mind to his love. “Sounds like the kind of shit Cazador used to have us go through…”

“Astarion… Play nice with yourself,” Cordehlia hummed back as she licked his wound gently. “Because of Raphael, because of his timely aid in the Rite, you can start living again… with me and forever.”

“I know,” he replied, a wave of adoration swelling from him to flood her heart. He tried not to think about just how close to losing her he had come. All because of that fucker. “Death was too good for Cazador. I still should have saved Cazador’s skull and made it into a piss pot…”

Cordhelia bit his neck anew, a laugh in her mind as he hissed and almost spilled his drink into the rejuvenation bath. “Don’t make a scene, or Raphael will think you’re not enjoying his favors.”

It was a warning and an observation all in one.

“I’m fairly certain he’s thinking up a nice long list of more favors to ask of us now that he rules Avernus.”

Crodehlia kept lazily feeding as they communed, “We are mighty allies to keep, the Ascendant and the Bone Picker.”

“I thought you hated that name?” He scoffed, annoyed and high-pitched in tone.

“I decidedly hate it less when Raphael uses it,” she admitted, running her hand gently over Astarion’s bare chest. “But it still pales compared to all your little monikers for me… darling.”

“I wasn’t worried… darling,” he stressed his pet name for her, emphasizing it with a squeeze of his hand around her breast. “But you do know that there’s one favor he’s silently asking…”

“What?”

Astarion gave her a look that spoke to his centuries that had jaded him. “I’ve seen that look a thousand times from… my past. But this time, I’m not the main course of his desire. He desires us… you especially,” the grip on her sensitive flesh grew more demanding, making her mouth break from his neck with a moan.

“If that bothers you…” Cordehlia started to bristle, and Astarion pulled her from those possessive, violent tendencies with a brush of his thumb over her pink, peaked nipple.

“Don’t fret, darling. I find myself surprisingly unbothered, now that I’m free to follow my own desires. Besides,” he paused to raise her bloodied mouth to his for a kiss, “I rather like flaunting what is so obviously… mine.”

The way he growled that last word into her mind made her back arch and her thighs shake. No touch required to bring her so near the crest of her pleasure.

“I’m more than happy to flaunt what I have, to dangle it before his greedy little devil eyes and have him watch you reduced to a mess in my hands,” Astarion’s voice rumbled in her head as his lips brushed hers.

Her teeth sucked his lip in between her own deadly fangs as she nibbled it. “A mess, you say?”

Astarion groaned, just loud enough for her ears… well maybe louder. “If he’s a good little imp, you could even let him have a taste, if you wish. But…” his fingers slipped so quickly into her, the waters of the bath barely parting in a wake as he moved. Thumbing her clit, fingers curling just as she liked it, he worked her damp folds, another groan sounding from his lips. “This is mine, and he will never know its ecstasy.”

Cordehlia lost all control, too pent up and hot blooded from the day. Only one thing could satisfy. Her lips devoured his, her thighs spread so that, even beneath the bubbling waters in the House of Hope, there was little doubt as to their actions.

A deep voice cleared its throat from across the waters. “Enjoy your indulgence. You’ve earned it, vamplings,” Raphael laughed as he emerged from the bath. Water flowed in steaming rivulets down his red-dusky skin, his toned and sculpted ass hiding most of his signs of arousal. A towel quickly wrapped around him, he moved inward towards his bed within the boudoir, where Haarlep’s fluttering wings twitched audibly.

“You know, devil,” Astarion crooned over his beloved’s shoulder. “You could stay here and sleep with that sad, sorry excuse of your own imitation, or…”

The Ascendant’s brow arched, just as Cordhelia let out a moan so desirous, the devil’s cock visibly twitched beneath his towel.

“If I’m right, and I always am about these sorts of things, devil… you want to cash in on one last favour?”

Something at the corners of his human brown eyes hardened, a flicker of desire fanning brightly in his gaze. Raphael smiled. “I must admit, it is something I have… long desired.” He gestured towards that inner room, that scarlet, opulent bed lying in the distance. “Shall we?”

“Ah, ah, devil,” Astarion tutted his tongue. His hand pulled Cordhelia’s head back, fingers tugging her fiery locks to display the look of bliss on her pale face as his finger still worked beneath the surface. “My precious prize is only savoured in my house… under my purview.”

“Is that so?” Raphael purred, shifting stance.

“From one master of the house to another, you can’t tell me you wouldn’t insist on the same…” Astarion ceased his talking, claiming her mouth with possessive ferocity, muffling her cry of pleasure with his tongue as she came.

Raphael’s skin barely rippled, his control, so precious and measured at all times, slipped away at the sight and sound of their play. He took a deep breath, steam fairly blowing from his nostrils. His deep voice bubbled with a chuckle. “Very well.” With a nod of his head and a snap of his fingers, he flew them from plane to plane, leaving only smoke in their wake.

Blues and golds, warm enchanting sunlight broke through the haze of smoke. The creaking floors of their bedroom under their feet.

Home, the Palace. With a guest in tow.

Astarion glanced around his chambers, the fading light of the sun bathing them in warmth and heat. He drew up to the flames that danced in the grate as light caressed those ridges and valleys of his chest, warming the whorls of his scars on his back. How convenient, he laughed inwardly, that they all apparated here, completely nude.

“Sit devil,” he ordered, waving his arm towards the chair by the fire. A bottle and chalices on the mantle glinted brightly in the beams of sunset. “A drink, devil?” Astarion crooned, holding up the bottle. “To our alliance, our victory…”

“To our deeper need for one another?” Raphael’s dark eyes narrowed, a leer on his lips and he closed in on them both. One hand reached for the silver chalice offered, while the other began to wind through the errant tendrils of Cordhelia’s fiery red hair.

Astarion’s dexterous fingers quickly batted the devil away, a silent snarl on his face. “I’ll be clear with you, Raphael, in this game, I make the rules. What’s mine is mine… and if you are worthy enough, you might just get your own chance to play by my rules.” A flicker of power in his crimson eyes, and Astarion released Raphael’s hand. “Are we in accord?”

Raphael eased himself into the chair by the fire, his bare chest still beaded with bath water. Conflict flickered in his brown eyes, the fires of his devilish nature flamed brightly, defying the mere notion of subjugating himself to a mere undead Vampire Lord. But that part of his nature that was human, that slice of him purred at the chance to be told what to do, to be given a chance to earn favors from the one female that had fascinated him for centuries. It was too good a chance for his human nature to ignore, to please his Bone Picker and her mate. “You have my word,” he crooned, holding his hands in the air in supplication. “Not a touch, or taste, or thrust without your permission, oh mighty Ascendant.”

Fangs glinted in crepuscular light as Astarion smirked. “Good boy,” he praised in those honey-dripping tones. Fingers wrapped around Cordhelia’s wrist, pulling her out of the devil’s reach. “Now, my angel, my Raven, my love,” he purred, tilting her face up into his, two fingers pressed beneath her chin, “shall we show the devil what he desires?”

Cordehlia’s voice hummed in approval, deep in her chest, her lips pursing to kiss her beloved. Fingers wound into her hair, those familiar nails scoring into her scalp as he angled her head just so. Her skin burned with the devil’s gaze, his lips drank from his cup, his eyes drinking the way her beloved’s hand gripped into the curve of her ass.

Astarion’s nails dug into the supple flesh, biting into the skin to draw angry red lines in her pale canvas of flesh. Marks that he made. Marks of possession. She didn’t need to tap into their bond to know; he was too deep into his desires for her.

His teeth and fangs bit into her bottom lip, drawing blood with a soft snap of flesh, another on her neck. Lower and lower he bit down her right shoulder, bites not for feeding. Bites to brand her.

There was blood in the air now, and every monster and predator would want a bite. Astarion couldn’t help himself, running that wide pad of his tongue up her neck. He knew Raphael watched, he could hear the slightly slick beat of his own infernal hand on his outwardly mortal cock.

A smirk on his bloodied lips, and the Ascendant turned his love around in his arms, caging her against his chest. One strong arm reached from behind to grip her chin, the other splayed wide over the rapid rise and fall of her belly. Strands of her red hair clung to her sweat-sheened cheeks and neck, and blood ran in trickles from his bites.

“Isn’t she divine? My elven lady, my vampiric bride…” He shifted her to one side, tilting her by her chin to smile down into her face. “You know, devil, I was the first to taste her precious delights centuries ago, and I’ll be the last to consume her when the world falls down. She is more invaluable to me than all the treasures you have amassed in your House of Hope.”

Cordhelia breathed, closing the distance between their lips, letting the wet sound of their mouths kissing resonate in their room.

“This is no mere trifle we offer you, so pay attention, and play nice,” Astarion chuckled, deep in his chest as he locked eyes with Raphael. “Well, my love, shall we to bed?”

Her crimson eyes glinted as she tilted her head, a little smile tugging the corner of her mouth. Ravishing. Confident. Commanding. “Only if the devil shows us his horns…. All of them.”

Astarion giggled. “Oh you naughty, kinky girl. You want to take the devil by his horns?”

“I should like to touch a Cambion’s… appendage, wing or otherwise,” she smirked. “But as for gripping the horns of his head, that is a privilege I leave to you, my love, my lord.”

On cue, Raphael stood in a burst of ash and fire, his form bubbling with magic. Tanned skin turned scarlet, smooth flesh wrinkled into the near-scaly, bone-ridged texture of his powerful frame. With a few flaps, Raphael flexed his wings, his tail twitching carefully behind him.

“An excellent choice,” Astarion purred his approval, “but do watch the wings. Don’t want you wrecking the furniture, devil.” A lilting laugh on his lips, and brought Cordehlia’s lips to him.

Just the slightest brush of her presence in his mind, and he opened himself up, their bond flooding with mutual sensation. Astarion could feel his own hands in her cool, alabaster skin, he could taste himself on her tongue with all its richness and heat.

Nothing held back. All of it shared between them. “This is going to be fun,” he purred, echoing in their bond.

“Astarion,” she sighed, “I want to taste you first.”

“As you should,” he smirked, casting a sidelong glance at the devil. “Watch carefully,” he instructed with a snap to his tone as he reclined against the pillows. He stared at Raphael a moment, those black and yellow eyes fixed on them as he pumped his cock lazily and shifted his weight

“I intend to, and I intend to do more than watch,” he crooned in reply, velvet tones rougher than usual as his lust grew with every stroke of his clawed hand.

The devil has come undone, Astarion smirked to himself, enjoying the little ways Raphael’s careful, controlled demeanor began to crack… the glaze over his eyes, the bulging of his veins in his arm as it began to work faster.

What’s better than a devil you know? A devil you know will be whimpering by the time they were through, the Ascendant smirked.

Astarion crooked his finger at his love, reaching that hand into her red hair the moment she crawled into range. Its weight settled at the nape of her neck, pressing her simpering and smiling lips to suck him.

Cordehlia grinned around his length, giving that rock hard shaft a few extra loud sucks, a few wet slurps as her own crimson eyes glanced up from the bed. A shiver of arousal, of pride, trembled through their bond.

Those black ringed eyes of gold drank in every move she made, the tips of his forked tongue absentmindedly licking at the corner of his lips. With every beat of his hand on his thick length, his tail twitched, just a little. Raphael clearly enjoyed her… wanted her… burned for her.

“Yes, darling, he’s being such an obedient pup,” Astairon’s fingers pulled the loose stands of her red hair that clung to her chin, pulling back the curtain of her hair to expose the workings of her mouth. “At this rate, he might just earn the right to worship you… if you wish it.”

“Yes,” his voice lacked its sonorous velvet tones. Raphael’s words strained through pointed, gritted teeth. “Anything for my beloved Bone Picker. Just to have those hands that have silenced civilizations barely brush my…”

He grunted, hips thrusting erratically into his own fist. Wet, strained pants sounded from his infernal lips as he shuddered. Voice lost, composure broken, wings falling as his cock twitched and spilled its load.

Thick ropes of cum shot to the floor, the slightest sizzle of heat hissing as it hit the floor.

A low chuckle resounded from above her head, fingers guiding Cordehlia to sit up.

“Oh, how disappointing.” Astarion shifted on the mountains of pillows behind him, a wry smile on his face. “Well, I hear Cambions are quick to go again…. You’re going to clean that up before you go…”

Fingers pulled her chin, her face pulled closer until their lips brushed. “Well, my treasure, how should we punish him for coming before we say, hmm?” His voice rang with pride and power. His crimson eyes were bright with delirious joy at the thrill of commanding every detail.

It made her shiver with delight. Made her body shudder as his hand turned her about and pulled her into his lap, her back resting against his chest.

Kisses peppered the sensitive nerves of her neck. “Look at him, my darling…” he whispered loudly, a sentence meant for her, meant for the devil to overhear. “So pathetic, son of the mighty Mephistopheles coming all over our floor because he just can’t contain himself. Tch,” Astarion’s reverent touch pulled her legs wide, draping them over his own spread long in front of them on the bed. “Centuries roaming the planes, craving untold power, and all it takes to bring the great Raphael low is a few sucks of my beloved’s pristine lips on my cock…”

Cordhelia giggled, for the looks that passed over Raphael’s scarlet face told his own inner conflicts and arousals. He could hide nothing, especially not the way his devilishly ridge cock hardened more the harsher Astarion spoke to him. “Tch,” Cordhelia imitated her love, “how… disappointing.”

“It won’t happen again,” Raphael interrupted, his voice strained even as he swallowed loudly, as if tamping down his pride by doing so.

And Astarion chuckled contemptuously, “Oh, devil, we both know that isn't true. I would bet you all seven-thousand and seven souls from my rite of ascension that my blushing Bride could make you come again with a single word and a well placed kiss.”

“Perhaps,” the devil grinned back, that bright fire behind his yellow eyes as his tail swished impatiently, “if only she would afford me the chance to prove you right or wrong.”

Cordehlia shifted in Astarion’s lap, her lover’s warm, familiar fingers sweeping to part her folds. “Well,” he purred in her ear. “You give the word, and you can be worshiped by the devil himself.” He grinned against her neck, fingers thrusting into her cunt with wet, sloppy sounds. “Doesn’t that sound… divine, heavenly almost.” He laughed loudly and deeply at his own humor.

A sigh from her lips, and she arched back against him. “Make him beg for it, my love,” she hissed, fangs bared in a twisted grin.

Rumbling in her ear, Astarion’s chuckle was deep and delighted. “That’s my merciless darling.” With a satisfied breath, both his hands swept down her thighs, spreading her wide. “I wonder just how quickly the new Archdevil of Avernus will drop to his red, leathery knees for a single lick?”

Two pairs of crimson eyes smiled from the bed, and Raphael’s wings shifted on his back, every muscle in that infernal body wound tight in anticipation. “It takes more than a single offering to bring me low…” his warm, silken voice forced through his pointed teeth. But he couldn’t hide the way his hardened cock twitched again, just at the sight of her wetness, the sounds of her rapid breathing, and at the scent of her sex that permeated the air more Astarion ran his hands up and down her toned thighs.

Astarion sucked his teeth in a show of disappointment, “Where are your manners?” he crooned. “I offer you the most… exclusive of my hospitality, and this is the thanks I get?” His fingers finally dipped into her cunt, teasing her folds apart as he dove his touch deep inside her.

Those black and yellow eyes honed in on the object of his desires, even the veins in his neck seemed to bulge a bit more at the sights and wet sounds.

With a sweep of his thumb on her clit, Astarion drew a wet, pleasured moan from his beloved’s lips. “That’s it, my Raven, let it all out. Make your pretty little noises for him. Show him just how tantalizing you are and maybe he will say please….”

Licking his lips, Raphael drew two steps closer to the edge of the bed.

“Ah, ah,” Astarion chided, withdrawing his hand and snapping her thighs shut. The sudden withdrawal made both of them groan in frustration. But the Ascendant only laughed, petting Cordehlia’s head soothingly. “Please is such a simple word, why can’t you say it? Aren’t you all about control and manners and decorum?” He paused waiting for the devil to cave. “See what you’re doing to her… one little word, and you can put her out of her agony. You just have to beg…”

Infernal eyes narrowed, wings fluttering as he rolled his shoulders. “Please,” he relinquished through gritted teeth and a slightly submissive tilt of his great horned head.

“Ah, there we are,” Astarion crowed in victory, parting those pale, muscled thighs again. “What say you my love, was that a pretty enough of a please?” While he whispered into Cordehlia’s pointed ear, his gaze stared, unwavering from those fiendish eyes.

“Not yet,” she groaned, hips bucking as the Ascendant’s digits thrust into her again. Her own sharp stare pinned him down, her parted lips turning in a wicked smirk. “Kneel for your lady. It’s what’s done when you’re so… inferior.”

Astarion tensed at the humiliating tone, but, as he watched the Cambion’s cock twitch as he sank to his knees, all worry left him.

This was going to be fun.

“How deliciously pathetic, isn’t he my love?” He purred, peppering kisses on her neck slowly. “Or should we make him get lower…”

“Lower,” Cordehlia affirmed with another roll of her hips. “Like a devil-skinned rug for me to walk on…”

Tilting his head back, Raphael sighed, long and deep, as his clawed hand wrapped around his cock to pump once more.

“You like that, devil?” Astarion growled, looking down at the mess of red at their bedside. “You’d want her to step on you, to bend you and break you like she has countless others?”

His hand beat faster on his red, ribbed cock. “Yes,” came his admission.

“My violent vixen, my wife of warfare, my bride of battle…” Astarion’s fingers swirled loudly in her slick. Then, he reached out towards Raphael. “I’ll deign to give you a taste. Savour it, for you’ll only get this once…” Sighing, he watched every movement the Cambion took to crawl to the bed, leaning over to suck his fingers into his red-hot mouth. “Isn’t she… divine?” he purred. “And just think, she mine to sample each and every night.”

Cordehlia breathed, heavy and lust-laden, watching her beloved bringing the ruler of Avernus to his knees. All for her. Only for her.

“My love… you’re so wicked,” she poured her arousal down their bond.

“Aren’t you just obsessed, and here I am, not even trying…” he smirked, pulling his fingers free from his lips with a loud and sudden pop. “You’ll enjoy his forked tongue, my love, if you think him properly submissive for you.”

“Let him approach,” she purred, leaning back against Astarion until she felt his cock press insistently against her ass. The bed buckled under him as the devil finally climbed on, red silk sheets dull and drab compared to the brilliant scarlet of his form. His great wings folded in tightly, tail curling its warm length around her calf as he slotted himself between her thighs.

Fingers closed around one rough and jagged horn, and Astarion jerked the devil’s head up with a snarl. His fangs bared, lips raised, he hissed in Raphael’s face. “Be a good… obedient pup and you might just be lucky enough for more rewards.” With a shove, he released him, “Don’t be surprised if I grab you by the horns when you displease us.”

“Very well,” Raphael nodded, his charming smirk revealing those pointed teeth. Lips pursed, he kissed those toned inner thighs. Warm, supple lips pressed higher, his hands gripping around the backside of her legs to bring her closer… and closer.

“Faster devil, before I lose my patience with you,” Cordehlia rasped down at him, angling her hips and threading her arms around her mate behind her. One hand wove into his silver curls, pulling this cheek against her own, and the other gripped hard into his own leg, clenching into his corded thigh for support. To ground her.

She pushed her presence into his mind, feeling his arousal return. Every nerve in his body trembled in anticipation, every touch on her body passed into his… each lick or bite, he could sense as if it were his own flesh. And that made him place a tender kiss on her flushing cheek. “My precious treasure,” he purred aloud, “mine…”

A cry came from her throat, strangled as her muscles bunched. Heat seared through her loins, that scarlet tongue swiping once up her seam. Another pass of his forked tongue, another muffled groan as Cordhelia buried her face in Astarion’s neck.

“Look at you, precious thing, you can withstand the heat,” he purred. “And the devil can work harder to earn that sweet taste now on his forked tongue.” Astarion allowed one more lick, that heat and pressure intruding deeper this time into her cunt. Grabbing the devil by the horn, he sneered into his face again. “Isn’t she delightful? And here you are lazily licking like she’s so two-penny sweet from a shop.” Shaking that devil's head he snapped his fangs. “Pleasure her, unless you don’t mean it…”

Released, Raphael’s mouth set to work in earnest. Little growls from his throat, he sucked her clit until wet, squelching sounds deafened the noises he made. Fingers slipping inside her channel plied in and out, careful not to scratch with his claws. And that tongue… hot, not warm, passed that searing forked pad up and down. Swirl after swirl of it on her clit sent her writhing and bucking back on her lover’s lap. He devoured her, messy and dripping, sloppily feasting on her essence to savor her taste on the tips of his forked tongue.

Panting as one, every sensation swept through their bond, and Astaion’s brow was growing beaded with sweat. One particularly persistent lick ended with a pinch of her clit between Raphael’s teeth, and two voices cried out at the pained bliss that flooded their bodies.

Raising his head and licking his lips, Raphael chuckled. “Curious use of your mating bond, little vampling. Jealous of your Bride? Or just… supervising my techniques?”

Astarion yanked his horns punishingly hard. Jerking the devil’s head to meet his fiery gaze, Astarion sneered from over her shoulder. “Careful, devil, you’re in my house, under my rules, remember? I’d hate for you to be the reason the Vampire Ascendant your father created suddenly got a taste for… fiendish prey.”

The threatening glint in Astarion’s eye, the way he let his fangs catch the firelight, Cordehlia practically swooned at his ferocity. A primal sort of purr came from her throat as she nuzzled against those twin scars of his neck.

Raphael fought to lower his head back down, but Astarion’s grip only tightened. “Apologize,” he crooned, voice like honey, eyes like flint.

Catching Cordhelia’s hand from her side, Raphael placed a kiss on her pale fingers. “I’m sorry, my precious lady…”

Another rough jerk on his horn, and Raphael grunted in surprise. A face full of fangs and ire, Astarion shook him like a naughty babe. “Not to her,” he snarled, “to me, you ingrate.”

The devil canted his head, relishing this tension with all his infernal heart. “My apologies, my lord,” he crooned in that viciously velvet voice.

“Good,” he released his horn to pat him on the cheek. “Satisfied, darling?” he nuzzled the hollow of Cordhelia’s neck. “Would you like for us to taste a Cambion’s ridged cock?”

The question hissed straight into her ear, her back arching with tingles that raced down her vertebrae. “If you like, my love,” came her reply, a wet moan as she leveled her sly gaze at the worshiping devil between her thighs.

“Good, because all this excitement has me in desperate need to fuck you, my dear. I’m sure you can concentrate on two things at once, can’t you my Raven?”

Gods… she simpered at him, glowing with lust and blazing with hunger. “On your knees, devil,” she sneered, a derisive grin on her lips as the devil rose up and sank obediently on his heels. That girthy cock twitched again… and again… with every move he observed. Her full breasts swayed as she shifted onto her hands, her face glistening with a greedy smile and eyes that gave sneaky little furtive glances at his bobbing cock. The hand that had gripped daggers for centuries as the Bone Picker closed on his shaft, unyielding and commanding.

Just like her.

He was… massive, she smirked as she lowered herself, breasts pressing into his thighs. Nothing she couldn’t handle, she assured herself. But the instant she laved her tongue over his flesh, she flinched at the heat.

Raphael chuckled, that staccato roll of a laugh as he carded his fingers through her red hair. “We Cambions are known to run warm… don’t worry, my lady. You’ll get used to it.”

Cordehlia’s eyes glinted at the challenge, her hand fisting around his balls, taking their weight in her command. Raphael grunted, a challenge in his eyes, and yet, he waited patiently and obediently for her to swipe her tongue up the length of him.

It was a strong sensation, the heat from the devil’s flesh. Even Astarion smacked his lips at the shared feeling in his mouth from their bond. She was a treat, his precious, indulging in the spoils of war… She was his treasure, he preened inwardly, his one finger slinking into her cunt from behind, spreading her slick as he soon teased his cock head against that glistening entrance.

And, just as she started to take the devil into her lips, Astarion thrust home, making her moan and arch until she lifted back up. Every roll of his hips filled her with that ancient familiar friction, that pressure that was just as much a part of her as herself.

As Astarion’s rhythm settled in her cunt, Cordhelia returned her mouth back to the devil’s need. “So patient,” she praised before her mouth took him in as far as she could. Ridges cut over her tongue as she sucked, that heat and salty taste a delicacy she savoured with every bob of her head.

“What’s the matter, devil?” Astarion sneered slyly, his hips snapping with expert precision against her ass. “Sweating already? Don’t tell me my love already has you desperate for release…”

Those heavy horns pulled his head back, his spine bending as Raphael arched into her waiting lips. A cacophony of pleasure, a tidal wave of bliss, Cordehlia shuddered with every thrust inside her, her voice moaning, nearly weeping as she sucked and licked every ridge of that cock before her until she nearly gagged. “He’s close,” she heard Astarion purr into her thoughts, “slow down, my love. Make him suffer.”

Just his fleshy cockhead in her lips, she licked and suckled, feeling it grow thicker and hotter against her tongue. It made her drool, made her lips smack sloppily around that red, ridged cock.

“Yes, my love,” the Ascendant growled, words timed with thrusts deep into her cunt. Red, scaled hands gripping into her hair harder, not daring to force her down but clenching as Raphael erupted inside her waiting mouth. Snarls echoed above her, so rough and consuming, waves of growls with each spurt of his cum down her throat. Hot like boiling water, burning like spice, she swallowed as much of him as she could, her hand working that hard, ribbed shaft until all the devil could do was level his gaze down at them once more.

“Isn’t she a gem, devil? Isn’t she… remarkable?” Astarion praised, licking his own lips and skating his fingers against her scalp. “You’ll never know pleasure like this again,” he groaned, pulling her by her hair, making that flexible, elegant back bend until he could kiss her neck.

Eyes locked together, black and yellow into those glinting crimson ones. Cordehlia was too lost, a thrall to his fucking, cum still dripping down her chin as she panted and smiled. She couldn’t care less about the straining power between two males.

As the Ascendant stared him down, power coiled in his muscles and heat flowed in his veins as he snapped into her with abandon. Every wet and noisy slap signaled his possession, every grunt screamed ‘mine,’ until he spilled into her with a guttural cry. He keeled over on her back, and Cordehlia shook in ecstasy, her own steely and toned sinews quaking in orgasm and relief.

A kiss on her neck, and Astarion pulled her nearly-limp frame in his arms to rest against the pillows. She nuzzled into that familiar dip of his chest, his thumb sweeping over her chin to clean that last stick of cum.

Cordehlia took a deep, satisfied sigh. “Well, Raphael, your offer of worship to your lady was acceptable.”

A laugh from his own slack mouth, a tilt of his head, and Raphael grinned. “Of course. It was, and is, my pleasure to serve,” he purred. Sliding from the bed, he untucked his wings. “Consider all our scales balanced and… satisfied.” That final word was graced with careful enunciation, and Raphael never felt more pleased.

A nod of contentment, Astarion kept his gaze roaming over Cordehlia’s blushing face. “I’m sure you’ll see yourself out, devil,” Astarion sighed, still stroking his fingers over the soft dips and rises of her shoulders and back.

A burst of searing heat and a wave of flame, Raphael vanished from their sight.

Astarion’s lips caressed the shell of her ear, “How do you feel my sweet?” His hands wandered over her every inch. “Properly victorious and thoroughly worshiped?”

Cordehlia lifted her head, the tangled muss of her hair falling to one side as she smiled. “Yes and yes,” she whispered her reply against his lips. “But that doesn’t mean I’m yet… satisfied.”

“Insatiable vixen,” he purred, pulling her familiar weight on top of him, losing himself in her body, heart, and soul. “You consume me more than any fire, more than all Avernus itself.”

And Cordehlia smiled at her love.

Thank you, dear reader, for joining me on this slide quest. Our heroes are Happy and sated…. For now 😈

The main arc of “Our Blood” will have a few more updates as well coming up.

And perhaps, some more of these companion side quests will surface. If you have ideas, compliments, suggestions, I’m more than happy to hear them.

On behalf of @marimosalad and myself, Thank you for loving Cordehlia, our Bone Picker, our Raven ❤️🐦‍⬛

[cringecannon]

thinkin about how hot Astarion’s subtle and not so subtle degradation is. It should’ve been obvious from the start, the patronizing way he told you to nod that first time you met. The sarcastic remarks, the way he sometimes speaks to you like you’re too dumb to be alive.

You should’ve realized the second you heard about the Rite of Ascension that it would only make him worse.

He laughs in your face when you try to seriously discuss your relationship. What’s there to talk about? You think too much, pet. Kneel at his feet and let him run his hand over that silly little head of yours. You don’t need to worry about a thing.

…and when he tells you to kneel, you kneel, or he’ll grab you by the neck and force you to your knees with his newfound strength. Any backtalk from you and his well-manicured nails will dig into the flesh of your cheeks as he grabs you by the face. You’d be a fool to speak again without permission, his eyes drilling into yours as he reprimands you. “Yes, master,” he coos while forcing your head up and down in a jerky nod. “Yes, master,” is the only thing that should ever come from your mouth when he gives an order.

Should the reprimand not be enough he’ll be forced to take drastic measures. It pains him to see you so distressed, you know. He doesn’t want to force you onto his lap, naked and exposed in front of his countless spawn as he doles out orders. How else will you learn, though? Maybe a week of this will remind you of your true place, kneeling at his feet as he rules.

[starsreminisce]

Azriel wanting to protect Elain and seeing her as someone who needs protecting are two different things. Nesta didn't want Elain to scry because of what happened the last time. Azriel said "There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to.” He doesn't say that she isn't capable to search for them or find them, he is afraid of their darkness coming to contact with her. Azriel also didn't had any issue when Mor fought in the wars and never made it an issue.

Azriel and Elain have a completely different dynamic than Azriel and Mor. First with Mor it was one sided, while with Elain it is mutual. He needs to stay away because they are struggling to keep their relationship platonic.

Gwyn when she first saw Azriel was distracted and wary of him. And Azriel wasn't able to look her in the eyes without seeing her as the victim. "For a heartbeat, their gazes met. He blocked out the bloody memory that fashed"

SJM made a great job at showing Gwyn's healing by having Gwyn being able to joke with him and challenge him and having Azriel looking at her with admiration and replacing that image with Valkyrie Gwyn. Azriel not being able to do anything to save Nesta, Emery and Gwyn from the rite and reminding Cassian that they trained them well enough to survive isn't specific to Gwyn.

So I don't see how you can compare Azriel wanting to protect the women he has feelings for vs the admiration he has towards Gwyn for her progress and healing.

Then leave.

You're not going to see Gwynriel any more than I would see Elriel because I see nothing romance-coded about any of Elriel's interactions, and especially in ACOSF, I see Azriel being the main enforcer of Rhys's assessment that the IC stifles her.

Which he absolutely did by arguing against her choice to scry twice, regardless of what his intentions were.

I don't even think the feeling is mutual unless that mutual feeling is sexual, considering that's the main thought process he only had for her in his POV.

Just like how you assume Gwyn is wary of seeing the person who saved her from her most traumatic experience that caused her to go into hermit mode, or considering that the first thing Azriel did to her when he saw her was to offer a small smile, or even in his own POV, he blocked out that memory because he recognizes that is not the same person who is in front of him.

So, let's scale it back because the only thing that is actually canon is his feelings towards Mor, yes?

ACOSF shows that Azriel did not want Elain to do things she wanted but encourages Gwyn to do things she wanted.

ACOSF shows that Azriel stays away from Elain and barely acknowledges or talks to her but banters with Gwyn, observes what she's doing with positive descriptions.

ACOSF shows that Azriel was not happy to the point that it concerned Cassian, but we see dancing shadows and expressions of amusement the more time he spends with someone he doesn't consider as a friend.

Azriel treats Gwyn differently; that is the main point. I have yet to see a Gwynriel argument that, at the end of ACOSF, Azriel has feelings for Gwyn, compared to the Elriels who seem convinced that Azriel will continue to pursue Elain after he felt he had been proven right by staying away or that Elain will degrade herself by chasing a male who called what they were about to do a mistake. We are waiting for Gwynriel's book for SJM to tell us their love story, just like we are waiting for Elucien's book for theirs.