#one idea is it comes from the word to wind or twist together | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hellodarling1357 · 3 months

Note

#26 for the Cassian thing where reader is an IC member too and maybe them and Cassian have been seeing each other in secret for a while but Cass doesn't wanna tell anyone yet because he doesn't wanna mess up the dynamic or make things awkward for the rest of them but then all the stuff happens and Nesta comes along and reader's just sad and pissed because they're worried Cass is in love with Nesta now and secret plot twist oh no reader knows them and Cass are mates but it hasn't snapped for him yet so reader is losing it inside but obviously they can't tell any of their closest friends because Cassian still wants it to be a secret

even if you don't want to write this I hope you're having a great day/night ✩

Forever Tied - Cassian x Reader

Hello hello 🥰

The original prompt list I reblogged has disappeared for some reason so now I have no idea what #26 actually was but I did my best with the request you sent me so hopefully this still works, sorry Anon! I've made it extra long to make up for it!

Hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 9.3k

Rhys was trapped Under the Mountain and there was nothing you could do to help. You had crumbled upon hearing his voice in your mind that last time, having no idea what this meant for your friend, your court, or even for Prythian. You hadn’t even realised you had fallen to your knees until a familiar, warm body had knelt next to you and pulled you into their shaking arms.

Cassian had been in the city centre of Velaris when he had heard, all plans for the day disappearing as the realisation of what had happened hit him full blast. Without thinking, he flew back to the House of Wind, unable and unwilling to process this alone. Although, subconsciously, there was really only one person he wanted to be with in that moment. Azriel would have distanced himself upon hearing the news, Amren was at her apartment, and Mor was at the town house, leaving only you in the House of Wind.

He stumbled in his rush as he landed on the balcony and raced inside. His heart broke even further at the sounds of muffled sobs that echoed towards him. In a blind haze he followed the sounds and found you on the ground, as though your legs had completely given out, unable to bare the weight of what had occurred. Without thinking, Cassian was beside you, pulling you into his arms as he rubbed soothing circles across your back, despite the way his own hands shook as tears threatened to burn at his eyes.

Your breathing eventually evened out, the only trace of your tears were the tracks along your cheeks and the redness of your eyes. Turning in his arms, you looked up at Cassian as though only just properly noticing that he was the comforting, warm presence that brought you back from your distressed state.

“We have to do something,” Your voice was a croaked whisper, “I know he said he put up a shield, but there has to be something we can do to help.”

The shaky inhale of Cassian’s breath told you enough. He didn’t think there was anything that could be done. Truthfully, you didn’t either.

You looked at your friend in awe as a singular tear streaked down his face, followed by another, and another. In all the centuries you had been friends, the sight of the male in front of you crying was one you had very rarely witnessed.

“Cass,” You lifted a hand to his face, gently brushing away his tears. Cassian was always the one who held everyone and everything together, and if this was the one time he openly showed he needed someone else to keep from falling apart, you would more than willingly be that person for him. “It’s going to be okay, alright? We’ll figure something out. And Rhys… well, it’s Rhys. He’s going to be just fine.”

The watery smile you gave him didn’t quite meet your eyes, the expression quickly replaced with alarm as Cassian’s breathing quickened, eyes screwed shut as though trying to compose himself. This you had never seen. Cassian completely losing control, his body shaking against yours as sobs escaped his throat.

“He’s gone,” The strangled sound that came from him had your heart splitting in two. “Amarantha, she will…she’s already…” He couldn’t seem to find the words, or couldn’t bear the thought of saying what was running through his head with Amarantha being involved.

“We’ll get him back.” You soothed, hands reaching up as you guided his head into the crook of your neck, fingers running through his dark wave of hair.

But he wasn’t calming, if anything, Cassian found himself spiralling further and further out of control, the emotions and the ‘what ifs’ sending him into a state of panic where even your comforting presence could do nothing to sooth his hyperventilating breaths, the tears, and the shaking that racked through him.

“Cass?” You pulled back, trying to force him to look at you. “Cassian? Hey, I need you to open your eyes, just focus on me, okay? There you go. Now just take in one deep breathe, alright? Just one, that’s all I need you to do. Okay, and again. You’re alright. We’re alright.”

Cassian’s hazel eyes stared into yours as you talked him through his breathing, your hands soothingly moving up and down his arms as you knelt in front of him and offered a comforting smile as you watched his panic slowly ebb away.

“Y/N, I—" Cassian started, eyes wide as he gulped and continued staring at you. Before you could blink or react in anyway, he was surging forward; one hand coming up to rest at the back of your neck, the other was gently placed on your thigh, and then his lips were hurriedly pressed against yours. You stilled and tensed in his grasp, it was all too much after everything else that had happened, but still… Maybe a distraction is what you both needed. So instead of pulling away, you leant into him, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him even closer, and kissing him back with such an urgency that a moan sounded in the back of his throat.

“Y/N,” he muttered against your lips, forehead resting against your own, his breath brushing across your face as it came out in heavy pants.

You just shushed him, also refusing to move too far away. “I know, it’s fine. Just a distraction.”

He looked at you for one more blink and then hungrily pressed against you, this time lowering you to the floor, his muscled body hovering over yours as you lost yourselves in the moment, desperate to forget what had happened and all that was yet to transpire.

*****

Afterwards, you lay on the floor next to one another in the, now dark, room. The combination of your heavy breathes were the only sounds that broke through the silence.

Cassian let out a sigh followed by a chuckle, “Well that was one hell of a distraction.”

You turned your head to look at him and let out a quiet, breathless laugh. Yes, it had been a momentary distraction but now what had happened to Rhys, to Prythian, hung heavy in the room. Cassian turned on his side, leaning up on one arm as he faced you, taking in your still flushed, blissed out expression that now had something akin to pain creeping across it.

“Hey,” He gently grabbed your hand and soothed his thumb across the back of it. “Like you said, we’re alright. And we will get him back.”

You nodded at him then pulled yourself up, tugging your shirt back on before throwing Cassian his discarded clothes.

“Come on, we should find the others. Try to figure something out.”

*****

And that was that.

There was no mention of what had happened between the two of you. No comment on the fact that it had been, without a doubt, and despite the current situation you found yourselves in, the best sex either of you had ever had.

No, even when it happened again three weeks later, and then one week after that, and four days after that, again, and again, and again, it remained an unspoken agreement between the two of you. That momentary distraction where you could lose yourselves in the pleasure of one another and forget about the mess you were left to deal with.

That was how it worked for the next few years. You and Cassian falling into a routine of comfort that you were unable, unwilling, to get from anyone else. You had no idea if the rest of the Inner Circle were aware of what was going on; in terms of your friendship, nothing had changed, there were just additional benefits that came with it now. It didn’t mean anything more.

That is, of course, until your routine had morphed into something that felt like it was on the precipice of something else.

The sex was just as mind-blowingly passionate, however, there were now some instances where it was a bit slower and less frantic, more whispered words and lingering touches. Where the two of you used to chat afterwards, an arm’s worth of distance between you as you slipped back into your normal friendship until the other one left to return to their own room, you now found yourselves wrapped up in each other’s arms, hands softly caressing skin until you both drifted into a restful sleep.

Which is where you now found yourself; wrapped up in Cassian’s arms as he softly snored against you, hand tightly holding onto yours and legs tangled together. You eased out of his grasp, careful not to disturb him and lent against the headboard with a sigh. Usually, you would wake the next morning, offer a small smile, then get on with your day, Rhys’ absence still a clear focus for you all. However, lately you had found yourself letting your mind drift more and more, especially in moments like these where Cassian was still beside you and the bubble you lost yourselves in was yet to be broken.

Each and every time you hated yourself for it, guilt taking over until you forcefully pushed the thoughts away, but you couldn’t help but think that, at some point, you all needed to continue your lives and break away from the standstill existence you had been in since Amarantha took over.

You would never say it out loud, but as the years went on, you had lost all hope of ever getting Rhys back. And if that were the case, and as much as you wished it weren’t, at some point you had to start living for yourselves again. Deep down, in the dark and quiet moments when you awoke and the house was fast asleep, you knew exactly what you wanted that life to look like.

You let out another sigh and looked at Cassian, softly brushing some stray hair away from his face and taking the time to really study his sleep-softened features. You hadn’t meant for it to get this far, but after centuries of friendship, and now the years of intimacy you had shared, the love you felt for Cassian had grown and taken form into a whole different avenue of affection. You were in love with him. You loved him and your heart ached at the thought of it because if you allowed yourself this one bit of happiness into your life, the solidarity and support that Cassian provided, then you couldn’t help but think of it as forgetting about Rhys and the torture he had been enduring whilst you were slowly and deeply falling head over heels with one of your best friends.

The worst part of it was that you were certain Cassian felt the same way about you. The way he held you and touched you, the words he whispered into your ear as you were both tangled, panting messes and then the dazed murmurings that were uttered into the silence afterwards, the longing glances he would give you when the others weren’t looking…

What had started as a desperate distraction and pure, physical need had grown into something so much more meaningful and intimate. And yet you both refused to acknowledge that it was anything other than sex as a means to cope with the instability in your lives.

“Hey,” You hadn’t realised Cassian had stirred, his gruff, sleep-filled voice tearing you away from your thoughts.

“Y/N?” Your expression pulled in confusion at the sudden worry in his voice as he sat up and grasped your hand. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

It wasn’t until his fingers were reaching up to brush away the tears on your cheeks that you realised you had been silently crying.

“I… I don’t know.” You said with a slight sniffle.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Cassian pulled you into his lap, your head resting on his chest as he pressed kisses to the top of your head and rubbed soothing patterns across your back. The unfairness of the situation had you stifling a small sob, Cassian’s embrace reminding you of exactly what you were missing.

“Want to talk about it?” He murmured into your hair, followed by another kiss.

Whether it was the build-up of emotions or your complete and utter exhaustion, you didn’t know and didn’t care. You sat up in Cassian’s arms, desperately looking for any form of confirmation that what you were about to say wouldn’t ruin everything, then took a deep breath.

“This…whatever this is between us, I can’t keep doing it. Not how it is now,” You were too caught up to notice the heartbroken expression that flashed across his face.

Cassian had willingly fallen into this arrangement and would happily continue to do so if it meant he could pretend, even for just a few hours a day, that you were his, and he was yours. There had always been a part of him that had been completely and utterly in love with you. And then when he found out Rhys had been trapped by Amarantha, his emotions had been a surging mess, so he acted on instinct and a selfish need for the upmost form of comfort and risked it all by kissing you. Now the thought that this one bit of joy he allowed himself was being ripped away, another thing he would be losing, sent his heart racing as he waited for the final blow of your words.

“It hurts too much.” You continued, looking down at your intertwined hands before pulling away.

Cassian looked up at you in confusion, “What hurts too much?”

“This. Us,” A shaky laugh escaped you as you gestured to the empty space between you, throwing all caution to the wind as you said, “I can’t keep pretending that this isn’t anything more than a distraction. Not when I have fallen so deeply in love with you that the thought of never…”

You were cut off by Cassian all but picking you up and kissing you with such passion that you couldn’t stop your toes from curling or the small whimper that escaped your throat.

“You love me?” His voice was breathless and gravelly, barely above a whisper. You opened your eyes, his forehead rested against yours, eyes squeezed shut as though trying to hold onto the moment.

“Yes.”

A joyful laugh sounded from him and reverberated through you as his lips found yours again, tongue trailing along your bottom lip before you parted them for him.

Your mind was racing yet you couldn’t form a coherent thought, pulling away in a desperate attempt to catch your breath.

“Good.”

“Cass?”

“Good. Because I have loved you since we first met and I can’t lose you, not now.”

You grinned at him before pulling his face down to meet yours and slamming your lips to his. You had thought that maybe, just maybe, he had been starting to feel something that was more than friendship too. But the idea of him loving you for that long made your heart skip a beat and had butterflies fluttering up a storm in your stomach.

“I feel horrible,” You admitted, quick to clarify at the affronted look Cassian gave you. “It just feels wrong, like we’re betraying Rhys. We don’t…we don’t even know if he is alive, Cass. I want this, with you, more than anything. But it doesn’t feel right while everything is so…” You trailed off, unable to meet his gaze as Cassian watched you with a look of contemplation.

“So we don’t say anything. We can keep it between us, at least for now. We’ve gotten this far without the others asking questions. I love you, so much, and as much as I want everyone to know, I get what you mean. So we don’t say anything until we get him back. And we will get him back, I know we will. Alright?" You nodded; eyes wide as you grasped his calloused hands in yours.

“Besides, I basically sleep here every night anyway. Nothing will really change between us, just that I can now tell you and show you that I love you, instead of having to force the words down every time you so much as look at me.” A blush spread across your cheeks at his words and the wink that followed, but you didn’t care to hide it, instead simply giving him a dazzling smile that sent his heart racing.

He pulled you in for another kiss, murmuring “I love you” as he guided you back down onto the mattress.

“I love you too—" But a loud yawn escaped your mouth, cutting off the rest of your words and sending you into a small fit of giggles.

“Alright, we’ll continue this tomorrow,” Cassian now laughed with you. “Come on, it’s late. Get some sleep.”

You wrapped your arms around him, nuzzling your face into his chest, the comforting and familiar scent had you drifting off in a matter of minutes.

*****

Cassian had been right, not a lot in your dynamic had changed over the years after that night, other than the giddying comfort of knowing that he was yours, and you were his. You weren’t foolish enough to think that the others hadn’t picked up on the slight shift, especially when Cassian had waltzed out of your room one morning only to come face to face with Azriel. You just assumed that they thought you were sleeping together, nothing more.

Then when Rhys returned, you had been, obviously, overjoyed. Not wanting to bombard him with too much on his first night back, you and Cassian had decided later that night once you were back in your room, to hold off on saying anything about your relationship until Rhys had settled back in.

Then everything else had happened.

The arrival of Feyre and her sisters. Hybern and the cauldron. The war and near fatal injuries spread throughout your tight-knit group. It was all too much.

You and Cassian had been discussing back and forth for months: do you tell them or keep hiding it. Ultimately, keeping your relationship secret is what you always landed on. Honestly, you weren’t sure if you were just finding excuses at this point to keep yourselves in your happy little bubble when so much threated to burst it.

Initially, you hadn’t wanted to rub your relationship in Rhys’ face when he was so clearly pining after Feyre who wanted nothing to do with him. Then their mating bond clicked, and you didn’t want to take away or overshadow their happiness with your own. The threat from Hybern felt like you would be playing with fire; if the King of Hybern found out… it was too great a risk when your enemies could use it against you.

Between it all, you still found time to be together; not once did the love you felt for one another falter. But with each excuse, and with each passing month, the decision wore on you more and more.

And then Rhys asked Cassian to take on Nesta.

You felt for her, you really did, but the time and energy Cassian put into helping her had a pit forming in your stomach. At the end of each day, when you were tucked tightly into his chest and his sweet nothings were whispered across your bare skin, you felt silly for ever thinking that he was losing interest in you. Yet, that feeling lingered just that little bit longer with each passing day and with each moment spent away from him when he was, instead, occupied with her.

*****

You had been away in the Summer Court the night that Nesta had hallucinated about being back in the cauldron. After you finished reporting to Rhys upon your return the following night, he had told you what had happened with her silver flames and how Cassian had managed to bring her out of it. With worry for all of them, you got back to the House of Wind as soon as you could but couldn’t find Cassian, Azriel, or Nesta anywhere. It wasn’t until later when you were getting ready for bed that there was a knock on your bedroom door. What you didn’t expect was to find Cassian on the other side of it, you weren’t sure why he suddenly decided to start knocking on the door to the room you had shared for the past 50 years.

With a quizzical look you pulled him inside the room and lent up on your toes to press a soft kiss to his lips that had him instantly wrapping his arms around your frame to pull you in tighter against him.

“I missed you,” he murmured against your skin, trailing lingering kisses down your neck that had a soft moan escaping you.

“I missed you. Rhys told me what happened here, are you alright? Is Nesta?”

Cassian pulled back, pressing another kiss to your lips then the tip of your nose before grabbing your hands and leading you to the couch by the fireplace.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” You remained silent, your doubt erupting in you as you waited for him to continue with bated breath. “We moved her to a closer room, next door to our, your, room, so that if something like that happens again one of us will know straight away.”

Cassian pulled back slightly, studying your features as though waiting for a reaction. You expression remained impassive; you could feel the other shoe about to drop and wanted him to tell you without beating around the bush.

“But,” He sighed, lifting your hand up and pressing a kiss to it, “I think, just for now, at least until things calm down a bit, I should go back to sleeping in my old room.”

“No.”

“Y/N – “

“No, Cassian,” You were shaking your head at him, not caring if you sounded needy or whiny or any of it. “This is the only time we can just be us. It’s already hard enough with keeping it a secret from everyone, I can’t lose this.”

“We decided, together, to keep this between us, there’s too much going on. And I don’t think Nesta will appreciate hearing us through the walls…” You cut him off with a scoff.

“Are you fucking serious, Cass? Are you worried about everyone finding out, or are you worried about Nesta finding out?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I never get to see you because you’re always with her. And now, because of her again, everything that our relationship is needs to go on hold? It’s not fair that after 50 years all I get is a few hours at the end of the day and to be kept your secret from everyone we care about.” You spat the word, all your emotions and fears finally bubbling over, however irrational they may be, but you had had enough.

“Sweetheart, we agreed that it’s for the best that we keep this between ourselves – “

“Well, I don’t agree anymore, Cass. I don’t want it like this. And don’t condescend me.” Your voice had a sharp snap to it. You needed something. Needed something other than the heartbreak that you could feel fast approaching; and a fight sounded like the next best thing.

“I’m not being condescending,” You could sense Cassian’s temper rising. “You can’t suddenly be angry because you’ve changed your mind without saying anything to me. And Nesta has nothing to do with this, it’s for...”

But the rest of his words became a blur at the sudden, incessant tug that pulled at your chest; that pulled you towards the male in front of you.

He was your mate.

Cassian was your mate.

You couldn’t do this, not now when you were in the middle of a fight. Not when Cassian didn’t even seem to be aware – or seem to care, a small voice taunted – of what had just happened. You needed to get away from him, to calm down and think before it could get even more out of hand.

“Cassian, just… Whatever, it’s fine. I’m tired, so just go back to your room, okay? We’ll figure the rest out later. I’m just…tired.” You finished lamely, voice cracking slightly as you watched him look you over, his frustration still evident, before walking out and loudly shutting the door behind him.

You slumped down, holding your knees to your chest as the sobs began. You had thought, had hoped, that Cassian was your mate. But this wasn’t how it was meant to go. Not mid-fight, with him having no idea of the bond’s existence while telling you he no longer wants to share your bed.

Having been so caught up in your thoughts and the overflooding emotions, you missed the flickering of shadows that darted around you. Moments later there was another knock on your door. Wiping your eyes, you called out in a chocked voice, “come in,” assuming it was Cassian.

Instead, Azriel quickly opened the door, closing it just as fast, before taking in the sight before him and making his way over to you.

“Y/N?” You could only sniffle in response, gratefully leaning against his side when his arm wrapped around you. “You alright?”

You remained silent for a few minutes, focusing on Azriel’s comforting hand brushing up and down your arm as you worked to control your breathing and halt your tears.

“I’m fine.” Your voice was hoarse and not at all convincing.

“Want to try that again?” You sent your elbow into his ribs, making the Shadowsinger chuckle before pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head.

With a sigh he asked, “This has nothing to do with the fact that Cassian is suddenly sleeping in his room for the first time in, what? 50 years?”

You gaped up at your friend in shock and at a loss for words.

“You knew?

“Of course I knew. I live here too, remember? As subtle as you might think you’re being, I’ve got these,” His shadows danced around, reminding you that it was stupid to even entertain the idea that Azriel wouldn’t know.

“Oh,” A fresh set of tears filled your eyes and you stared intently into the flickering fire.

“Can you please take me to the town house? I don’t… I can’t be here.” Despite the late hour, you knew he would do anything for you in a heartbeat. While you and Cassian had been friends for decades before anything more had happened, you and Az had been close from the start, instant friends as soon as you had met.

“Of course.”

He waited for you by your bedroom door as you pulled together a small bag of your belongings, not knowing when you would be back.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

You didn’t turn to give the room that held so many memories a final glance as you shut the door behind you and followed Azriel out onto the balcony.

*****

Thankfully, the town house was dark and empty when you arrived, giving you the space and silence to process your thoughts and feelings. You had thanked Azriel for flying you over and had said a quick goodnight before you walked inside and headed upstairs.

Sitting on your bed, you vacantly stared at the wall, lost in thought as the minutes ticked by. You jumped at the sudden dip of the mattress beside you, only to find Azriel sitting there fixing you with a look of concern, a steaming cup of tea extended towards you.

“Thanks,” You murmured, taking a sip and revelling in the slight burn as the liquid went down your throat. “I thought you went home.”

“Not yet. Didn’t want to leave you alone like this.” There was a beat of silence before, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,”

You let out a weary sigh, content on sitting in silence but your thoughts quickly became too much, and you found yourself blurting out, “He’s my mate.”

Azriel whipped around to face you, shock coating his features.

“What? They didn’t tell you?” You gestured to the shadows that skittered around him with a sad smile.

“For how long? I thought you were just sleeping together.” He trailed off, giving you an uncharacteristically sheepish expression as you let out a somewhat bitter laugh.

“It started that way, when Rhys…left,” You whispered, revelling in finally telling someone even though it may well be over. “It was a distraction from the shit show that was going on, but then it just kept happening.” Azriel remained silent, letting you talk.

“A few years in, I realised I had fallen in love with him,” you voice cracked but you kept going, “Then he told me he loved me too. Said he had for a while.”

Azriel chuckled lightly, “That’s an understatement. He was infatuated with you from the moment you met. I knew something was going on or something had at least happened when he suddenly stopped talking to me about you whenever you weren’t there.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks at his words, but with a look and a comforting squeeze of his hand, you let out a shuddering breath and continued, “That was five years into Rhys being gone, and we’ve been together ever since.”

“Five years into… But Y/N, how? That means for over 45 years, the two of you have been…” You sniffed as he put the math together and watched as his eyes widened at the realisation. “How come you never told us?”

“We felt guilty that we found some type of happiness together when Rhys was trapped – “

“He wouldn’t have cared. He would have been happy for you; for both of you” Azriel interjected.

“I know,” You smiled sadly, “But it just didn’t feel right. And then he got back, and everything with Feyre and Hybern happened – it was never the right time.”

You could tell he was still confused, hurt even, about the two of you keeping your relationship private for so long, but he didn’t push you.

“I don’t know how I missed it.” He said, seemingly to himself.

“You only half missed it,” You joked, nudging his arm to try to ease the tension in the room. “We tried to act the same, things were just different when we were alone.”

“When did you realise you were mates?” You inhaled sharply, your earlier fight rushing back to you.

“Tonight. We were arguing and I just felt this tug and knew. He doesn’t know – at least I don’t think he knows.” You voiced your doubts, the weight of them getting the better of you.

“If he knew, he would refuse to leave your side. It just hasn’t snapped into place for him yet.” You gave your friend an appreciative smile and lent your head on his shoulder.

“I’m so tired.”

“Go to sleep. I’ll come back in the morning to check on you. You’re alright here?��

“Thanks Az.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head before leaving the room; leaving you alone to finally mull over the fight, your emotions, and the fact that Cassian was your mate.

*****

“What’s up with you?” Mor plopped into the seat beside you, handing you a glass of wine that you gratefully took.

“Nothing,” You quickly murmured as the others traipsed into the dining room. You were aware of Cassian edging towards you and held in a sigh of relief when Azriel suddenly appeared in the seat on your other side.

It had been a week since you left the House of Wind to stay at the town house. A week since your fight with Cassian when you realised exactly what he was to you. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eye. Despite his best efforts to get you alone over the past few days, you conveniently managed to slip away every time. Tonight’s family dinner was the closest you had been to him all week, the realisation only making your longing for him even more dire – especially now that you were aware of that insistent tug that pulled you towards him.

Dinner was no different to how it usually went, except for the fact that you hardly said a word, opting to keep your eyes focused on the food in front of you. You were so caught up in your own thoughts that you didn’t notice that Cassian also didn’t utter a single word throughout the meal, the only difference between you both was that his eyes were fixed on you, not his plate.

You jumped up as soon as everyone had finished eating, wanting to help clear the plates so you could get out and go home as soon as possible, not wanting to prolong the night for any longer than it needed to be. Too bad for you, Cassian was acutely attuned to your movements and jumped out of his seat seconds after to help in a desperate attempt to have at least one moment to talk to you.

Filling the sink with hot, soapy water, you sensed, rather than saw, Cassian follow you into the kitchen, body tensing up as he silently walked to your side. You worked in silence, scrapping dishes, washing plates, drying, and putting away. Cassian’s eyes were fixed on you, brows furrowing further with every passing moment you continued to ignore him.

“Y/N,” His voice was quiet, unsure. So different to his usual tone that it had you involuntarily turning to face him. Your heart stammered in your chest, the longing and hurt and confusion that had been tearing you apart in your time away from him threatened to burst as you finally met his hazel stare. “Are you… Are we okay? You just left and I had to find out from Az that you’re staying at the town house and now you can barely even look at me.”

His words came out hurried, frantic, as though if he spoke any slower you would disappear. Guilt flooded you at the hurt you found in his eyes, but your anger was still very much present, the lingering fear of him choosing Nesta over you held too strong for you to succumb to those feelings of guilt.

“I just need some time.” Voice barely above a whisper, you inwardly cursed as your vision blurred over with tears.

“Time for what? Y/N I don’t know what’s going on–”

“You both okay?”

Neither you nor Cassian heard Azriel approach, both turning to gape at your friend who hesitantly stood in the doorway.

“Fine. Just fine.” You pushed past him on your way out, not giving Cassian a second glance as you entered the spacious loungeroom to say goodnight to everyone. A few moments later the pair walked in after you, you missed the loaded glances they shared, not privy to the hurried conversation they had after you left the kitchen where Cassian had all but begged Azriel to intervene, to allow him the chance to finally talk to you.

“Hey, Y/N?” You turned to look expectantly at Azriel. “Did you still need me to fly you up to the House of Wind for that book?”

“Oh. Yeah, if that’s alright?” In your rush to get away the night you left you had forgotten to pack the next book you had been planning to read.

“Does tonight work? If you’re just about to head off…”

“Sure, I was just going to go…home.” Your voice trailed at the end, willing the blush away as you kept your head held high. You felt as though you didn’t know what home was anymore.

“Great, Cassian was just about to leave as well. He’ll take you up there.” With a clap to Cassian’s shoulder, Azriel sauntered over to where Rhys and Amren were talking, brushing off their questioning glances as he pointedly ignored you, allowing no room for dispute.

“Oh…”

“Is that alright?” You tensed at Cassian’s voice, glancing over your shoulder to find his wary eyes on you. It wasn’t like you could say no, it was not alright, without making a scene. You would be having words with Azriel the next time you saw him; judging by the slight smirk he was wearing, he seemed to assume just as much.

“Erm, yes. If that’s okay?” Cassian simply nodded before gesturing to the front door and, after another quick goodbye to everyone, you found yourselves outside. Another fumbled moment, then you were held tightly in Cassian’s arms with the rush of the crisp night air and an uncomfortable silence engulfing you both as he flew you towards the House of Wind.

You couldn’t stand the awkwardness. It had never been like this between the two of you and you hated that this is what it had come to. The relationship you shared, whether that be friendship or more, it had always come so naturally. Now you were faced with a stilted, tense atmosphere, not quite knowing what to say or where you stood. Then there had been the fight. Sure, you had argued before, after decades of knowing each other, you were bound to come into some disagreements along the way. But you had never had a fight like this, where you had both been so riled up, fuming at the other to the point where you had both stormed away and then not spoken for days. You hated it.

So caught up in your thoughts, you missed the slight detour Cassian was taking you on, only noticing once you were placed back on your feet and found yourself in the middle of the training ring, rather than the usual balcony that led into the house itself.

“What…”

“We’re hashing this out. Right now.”

“You want to…fight?”

“What?” Cassian did a double take, as if just connecting the location with why you would think that. “No, I don’t want to fight. That’s the problem, we are fighting. This just seemed like the most private place to work things out.”

You eyed him hesitantly, not knowing what you wanted your next step to be, especially when the urge to wrap your arms around him and inhale the scent that was so him, the scent that had become home, was so strong.

“So, words or swords?” Your eyes snapped to Cassian as he fiddled with the one of the discarded swords you usually sparred with.

Words

You wanted words. To talk this all out and be done with it, whichever way that turned out to be. But then an image flashed across your mind; an image of Cassian standing up here with Nesta, hands guiding her into the correct form, fingers shifting along her own to straighten her hold on the blade…

Without a single word, you walked to where Cassian was and hauled your own blade up.

“Okay then.” There was a slight smirk on Cassian’s face as he followed behind you into the centre of the training ring. The quirk of his eyebrow was all you needed before you were moving towards him, swords meeting with a clash that pierced the night.

You didn’t think about the moves you were making, giving way to centuries of refined and well-practiced instinct. Cassian was stronger, you knew he would hold out for longer, but you were well matched for now. Both of your foreheads started to sheen in sweat, pants of exertion echoed alongside the clank and clash of swords, and as you moved around and against one another, you finally let out all of your pent-up emotions until you had nothing left.

“I can’t…I can’t do this anymore.” You gasped before dropping the sword and falling to your knees, tears streamed down your face at the sudden emotional outlet. Cassian was by your side in an instant, his sword dropped to the ground in a ricochetting crash.

“Y/N,” His voice was alert, on-edge, eyes dancing over you as he tried to work out what was wrong. “Are you hurt?” The frantic tone now had sobs racking from your chest, shaking your head you surged forward, wrapping your arms around his neck as you cried and cried and cried. Without a second thought, Cassian had his arms around you, pulling you into his lap as he softly caressed your back and whispered soothing words into your ear.

He stayed silent, giving you the time and space to calm down and filter through your thoughts. Not once rushing you or demanding answers after a week of uncertainty.

“I’m sorry, Cass. I’m so fucking sorry, for everything. I just…” At least you managed to get a few words out before you were overcome with tears once again. You weren’t sure what they were for at this point with so many thoughts and scenarios racing through your head: the fight, Cassian being your mate, Cassian getting close with Nesta, Cassian leaving you, Cassian leaving you for Nesta, and then you being forced to watch them be together, knowing you couldn’t stand the thought of him not being in your life, in whatever capacity you were granted.

“Shhh,” He soothed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he softly rocked you back and forth. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

With a deep breath, you nodded against his chest in an attempt to compose yourself. Noting in the position you were in, you could have laughed if you weren’t feeling so empty and deflated; this is how you had both gotten into this in the first place, all those years ago when you thought you would never see Rhys again – both of you with your arms around each other, crying and saying everything was going to be okay. Only this time, you weren’t so sure if the strength of your relationship would hold.

“Please, talk to me, Y/N. What’s going through that head of yours.”

You couldn’t take not knowing what was going to happen any longer. So with a final sniffle, you leant back, sitting on the ground beside him and pulling your knees up to your chest as you held your arms tightly around yourself.

“I don’t know where to start…”

“What about when you decided you wanted the others to know?” There was no malice in his voice, only gentle concern that prodded you to continue.

“I’ve always wanted the others to know,” You ignored Cassian’s slight indignation, “But it was never the right time, what with everything that was happening then, and everything that’s happened since. It felt like the right decision at the time, it felt safe. It was nice knowing that this was just for us when so much was going wrong. But I want to be with you outside of our room. I want to be able to hold your hand and walk through Velaris, kiss you in front of our friends, not pretend that you don’t mean the world to me, because you do Cassian.”

He remained quiet, letting you talk and giving you the space to get everything off your chest but the lingering presence of his hand drawing soothing circles across your back had you feeling grounded. “I love you and the thought of losing you has been tearing me apart.” You winced at the tremor in your voice, gaze fixed on the ground in front of you.

You didn’t dare mention the fact that you were mates. Not yet. He deserved the chance to properly say what needed to be said, without the cauldron’s interference tying him down if he did, in fact, want to leave.

“Why do you think you’re losing me?” Cassian’s voice was quiet and contemplative, as though processing everything you had said but not quite connecting the dots. The kiss to the side of your head had you inhaling a shaky breath and you forced yourself to will away the tears that threatened to spill.

“We’ve been so distant lately; we never get to see each other. And, look, I know it’s for Rhys, but I’m away all the time, and you’re always with Nesta. Then the other night when you said you didn’t want to share our room anymore, and that you were afraid she would find out… I don’t know, I guess it all just became too much.” You could feel his eyes on you but the blush burning your cheeks had you refusing to meet his gaze.

A moment later, Cassian softly said, “I never said I didn’t want to share a room with you, believe me, I want to spend every moment I can with you–” You made a noise of protest, but Cassian gently shushed you before continuing. “But Rhys and Feyre need Nesta to be okay and he’s given that job to me. I should’ve spoken to you about it first or explained it better when I said I was going to sleep in my old room. But you saw what Nesta was like before we got her up here, I didn’t think her seeing, or hearing, us together would be all that helpful – especially when she was using sex as a way to cope with everything.”

“Oh…” You felt stupid. Stupid and selfish and completely undeserving of the amazing, considerate male beside you.

“And,” Cassan continued with a playful nudge of his shoulder, “You have no idea how much I want everyone to know about us. No idea how hard it has been to not tell everyone that this amazing, brilliant, strong, kind female is mine. And just how hard it has been seeing other males so much as look at you without being able to say anything to them.”

You still couldn’t tear your eyes from the ground in front of you, but Cassian noticed the soft smile tugging at your lips.

“Cauldron, if you want, I can fly us back to the River House right now. We can tell everyone exactly what’s been going on, you can kiss me in front of all of our friends then we can go into Velaris, I’ll even let you hold my hand as we walk around.” Another playful nudge had you softly chuckling, eyes finally darting over to look at Cassian. Your heart faltered at the expression on his face, the complete love and adoration that laced his features as he watched you, his own mouth pulling into a smile at the laugh he managed to pull from you.

“Yeah?” Your voice was still slightly hoarse from your previous tears, but it was a touch lighter. You felt lighter.

“Yeah.” Cassian stretched his legs out in front of him, wrapping one arm around your waist as he pulled you closer to him, leaning back on the other.

Still, some doubt lingered. It couldn’t be this easy. Things were never this easy.

“So, you’re not going to leave me?” You couldn’t remember the last time you felt shy in front of him, and you hated yourself for asking, hated that he might think you weak, needy, pathetic – the words raced around, threatening to send you into a panic.

“Never,” That one word had you relaxing immediately. “You would have to force me to leave you, and even then… I’m not going aware, Sweetheart.”

You could have melted at his words. You swore you did as you leant against him, letting out a small sigh of relief, a breath you had been holding for days, weeks, months.

“Y/N?” His voice sent a shiver down your spine, the words whispered into your ear as his breath fanned across your skin. “Can I please kiss you now?”

You tilted your head up to face him, a small smile gracing your features as he slanted his lips over your own and you immediately felt as though you had returned home.

Pulling away all too quickly, your lips desperately chased his, only to receive a playful peck in response before Cassian was helping you to your feet.

“Come on,”

“Cass?” You laugh was laced with confusion, yet you followed him anyway, watching as he picked up the discarded sparring swords and placing them back alongside the others.

“What? We’ve got some news to share,” He stole another quick kiss as he laced your hands together.

“Now?”

“Yes now,” He mocked with a playful grin, “I don’t want to waste another moment, especially when it has you feeling as though–”

The abrupt stop to Cassian’s words had the smile slipping from your face as you took in his wide eyes and startled expression.

“Cassian, what’s wrong?”

“Y/N… You’re…” He let out a disbelieving laugh as he continued to stare at you, drinking in every feature, every miniscule detail and expression that crossed your face. Turning your head, you tried to look around for the cause of his sudden change in demeanour, only to be met with gentle, yet calloused, hands cupping your face, urging you to meet his gaze before his lips were pressed over yours again.

Despite the confusion, you gratefully accepted and leant into the kiss, relaxing as his arms draped around your waist and as you let your fingers travel up his neck before tangling into his hair. Cassian was breathing heavily when he pulled away, you could hear the pounding of his heart as he pressed his forehead against yours. His eyes remained tightly shut, the feel of his lashes fluttering across your skin sent your own heart fluttering in response.

Then he mumbled something incoherently; too quiet and smothered for you to even begin to comprehend.

“Hmm?” You asked, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth as you ran your fingers through his hair.

Another murmur had you pulling away, eyebrows furrowing as you took in his dumbfounded expression and the way his eyes were still tightly shut. But there was now a smile tugging at his lips.

“Cass?”

“Mate. You’re my mate.” His eyes snapped open, revealing complete, utter joy as he stared at you with wonder and bewilderment.

Oh. Right.

“And you’re my mate.” At least you didn’t have to keep this to yourself any longer.

Cassian tilted his head as he processed your reaction and the way your lips spread into a soft, loving smile.

“You knew. You already knew.” Although his voice was laced with exasperation, his face held nothing but love and giddy excitement, eyes bright as he met yours. You sent a wave of affirmation down the newly linked bond, watching with joy as Cassian’s eyes lit up even further at the sensation. You knew you were grinning just as stupidly back at him when you felt a tug of your own filled with nothing but love.

The two of you stood there grinning and staring at one another as though seeing the other in a new light. Then you were both moving, arms a flurry as they desperately wrapped around the other, lips meeting in a loving and passionate kiss that only intensified with each tug that raced down the bond, igniting the need for more, so much more.

A gentle tap from Cassian and you were quick to jump up, wrapping your legs around his waist as his arms held you tightly against him. Through the kisses and moans and soft sighs, somehow Cassian found himself moving, walking the two of you to the door that would lead you inside and to your room.

“Wait,” You pulled back, gasping for air as you leant your forehead against his, legs still tightly wrapped around his middle. Cassian was panting just as heavily, waiting on your every move and word. “Kitchen.”

The suggestive grin he shot you went straight to your core, the feeling only amplified as he attached his lips to your neck. “I think I like where this is heading,” A soft moan sounded in the back of your throat as he tugged on your earlobe, then he was walking again, albeit very quickly, towards the kitchen, his lips back on yours.

“No, idiot,” Another moan had your breathless words halting immediately. “Food.”

Now Cassian pulled away, looking at you through the haze of love and lust, now tainted by a hint of confusion.

“Food,” You continued, pressing a kiss to his lips before trailing along his jaw and returning the favour with a tug on his earlobe. “For the mating bond.”

You felt Cassian’s body tense against you, “You’re going to accept it?”

“Yes…” you said tentatively, not quite understanding the need for his question because what other answer was there?

The intensity in which he kissed you had him stumbling back a few steps, arms wrapping even tighter around you to keep you in his arms.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” Your gaze softened as you took in his uncertain expression, as you felt it through the bond.

“No, I don’t know. I just thought… I mean, you’re… Do you really want to be tied to a bastard-born Illy…” You cut his words off with a sharp look and a deep kiss that conveyed exactly what you thought of what he had just implied. Then you were sending every ounce of love and affection that you could muster towards him, heart melting as his expression changed and with the way he looked at you whilst processing the raw, vulnerability of the emotions surging down the bond.

You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, barely more than a lingering peck before saying, “Please can you let me give you some food now? I’ve been keeping this in all week.”

“All week? You’ve known about this since…”

“It snapped during our fight,” You shrugged, not wanting to relive it now that you had finally reached this point.

It was Cassian’s turn to pull you into a tender kiss before you found yourself overwhelmed by the new sensation of his emotions landing right above your heart.

“I think we can hold off on telling the others for just a little bit longer.”

“I think you’re absolutely right,” You tapped his arm gently and he placed you back onto your feet. Lacing your fingers with his, you pulled him into the kitchen and made him take a seat while you went about putting a plate of food together.

“Besides,” You continued, suddenly remembering Azriel’s involvement, “Az already knows. So I’m sure the others have put the pieces together by now and will steer clear for a few days.”

“A few weeks more like.” You grinned at the slight growl in his voice and the hunger in his eyes as his gaze remained fixed on you.

“Here,” Your voice was almost breathless, stomach fluttering with excitement and nerves as you pushed the plate towards him. Cassian briefly glanced down at it then, with a look of well-honed restraint, he slowly stood and walked over to you, pulling you in for a kiss as he murmured, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Without tearing his eyes away from you, Cassian reached across the table for the plate, eating everything on it as you remained transfixed on one another, basking in the feeling of the bond you shared growing stronger and stronger until, at last, everything felt as though it had finally fallen into place.

***** Thanks for reading 🥰

#cassian x reader #cassian acotar #azriel acotar #rhysand acotar #cassian x y/n #marley writes

529 notes · View notes

aemondsbabe · 5 months

Text

Wind's Howling

summary: sharing a bed & accidental stimulation || you're nursing osferth's injury as the two of you spend a cold night together in an inn, but you feel called to help him in another way as well

pairing: osferth x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, mentions of injury but nothing graphic, dry humping kind of, kissing, breast/nipple play, piv sex, unprotected sex it’s like literally the 800’s sue me, cuddling, osferth whimpering how precious, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 1.8k

a/n: happy day five of 12 days of smuff!! this one can be read as a continuation of love is patient and kind or as a stand alone! enjoy! also yes, the title is a witcher pun

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @black-dread!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

You can hear Osferth let out a soft sigh behind you as you shift yet again in another futile attempt to get comfortable on the thin, lumpy mattress. You sigh too, as you finally settle, only to let out a quiet groan when you realize this position is really no better than the last twenty you tried.

“Sorry,” you spare a glance over your shoulder as you speak, wincing as another harsh gust of wind blows a cold draft through the room, “I can’t get comfortable enough on this damn thing to sleep.” You say with a defeated sigh.

“You need not apologize,” the monk murmurs behind you, “Between my shoulder and this cold, sleep eludes me as well.”

As if on cue, another stinging draft billows through the room, eerily whistling through any cracks it can find. The two of you sigh, defeated — leave it to Uhtred to pick the worst possible inn to stop at, though he had insisted upon it, saying Osferth needed a few days in safety to rest his shoulder and the rest of you needed the opportunity to gather supplies anyway.

Truthfully, a break was probably a good idea. Ever since the ambush a few days ago, the spirits of your group had been in short supply and members were beginning to bicker and fight amongst themselves. Your poor monk had taken it upon himself to be the peacekeeper, which had only served to cause you more stress as you kept trying to compel him to stay in bed and rest his shoulder.

You can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut at the thought of his injury, the memory of him being harshly tugged off his horse in the chaos of the ambush still makes you uneasy; your heart twists in your chest as you think through your list of “what ifs” yet again.

Almost as if he can sense your thoughts, Osferth bumps the back of your leg with his knee. “Please do not worry yourself, my lady,” he says, a heaviness to his tired voice, “I am fine, we are safe.”

“How did you know I was thinking about it?”

“You tense up every time you do.”

You sigh again before finally turning over to face him, your tired eyes meeting his in the dark room, the only light in the room coming from the full moon outside.

“Hi,” you murmur after a moment.

“Hi,” he whispers, the corner of his lips quirking up into a soft smirk.

“How’s your shoulder?” You ask, shrugging one arm out from underneath the thick wool blanket the two of you share to gingerly run your fingers over his arm, taking extra care in the spots you know are still bruised and sore, “Is it feeling any better?”

“I think so,” he mutters, flexing it a little, “It aches to move it too much but as long as I am still, it causes me no pain.”

You nod thoughtfully, silently thanking whatever God there may be that he had escaped relatively unharmed.

After another moment of silence, you wiggle again on the mattress before letting out a quiet, rueful laugh. “I give up,” you groan, “This mattress is useless.”

Osferth sighs next to you and shuffles closer, reaching out as far as he can without extending his shoulder to skim his long fingers over your arm as an act of comfort, “I’m sorry, my sweet lady.”

“I should be the one apologizing,” you murmur, “Without my tossing and turning, perhaps you could find sleep.”

He breathes a quiet laugh through his nose, “You are not what is keeping me awake,” he says with a sigh, “Between this cold and my shoulder, your restlessness is a blessing.”

The wind howls outside once more and you see Osferth shiver as another draft of bitter air blows through the room. With a sigh, you shuffle closer to him, practically molding the front of your body to the front of his as your legs slot together under the woolen blanket; your eyes flutter closed as you savor the warmth of having him pressed against you, though the action causes your thin linen shift to ride up nearly to the tops of your thighs as one of his long legs presses between yours.

After a moment, you find yourself squirming for a much different reason, the discomfort of the mattress quickly slipping from the forefront of your mind as your center begins to throb, making you keenly aware of the way the monk’s warm thigh presses against your bare heat, the thin fabric of his breeches the only thing separating the two of you.

You stay quiet, opting not to disturb him further as you know sleep is important to the healing process. However, it seems his mind is wandering too because after a moment, your eyes shoot open when you feel his hard length pressing against your hip, only to find him already looking at you.

“Osferth —,”

“I’m sorry, my lady,” he murmurs softly, a blush visible on his cheeks even in the dim lighting, “I—,” he starts, though you cut him off with a soft kiss, sighing as his lips press against yours, his warm breath fanning across your face.

“You needn’t apologize,” you whisper, pressing soft kisses to his cheeks, “In fact, I can think of something that may help us both sleep…” You tease, just barely rutting your hips against his.

His eyes slip closed at the feeling, a soft, whimpered sigh escaping his lips before he shakes his head. “You’ve already done so much for me, my lady,” Osferth murmurs, his blue eyes meeting yours once more.

“So let me do this last thing,” you smile, pressing one more sweet kiss against his lips, “Please?”

Your monk can’t help but smile at your eagerness and nods, making you smile brightly in the darkness of the small room. Gently, you untangle yourself from him before guiding him onto his back, taking care to ensure that he moves his shoulder as little as possible. Finally, you climb atop him, straddling his hips, both of you groaning at the way your wet, warm center presses against his length through his cotton breeches. You’re careful to keep the blankets wrapped over your shoulders as you maneuver on top of him, lifting your hips just enough to free his length.

You shiver when you feel him press against you, already throbbing in your grasp as you run the head of his cock through your folds, gasping as it bumps against your already aching bud.

“Please, my lady,” Osferth groans beneath you, his chest already heaving, “You… you feel too good, please.”

You can’t help but obey him, smirking at his pleas as you position his length at your entrance. “Shhh, sweet monk,” you soothe, moaning as the head of his cock slips inside you, “Let me make you feel good.”

Osferth whimpers beneath you as you sink down onto his length with a pleased sigh, your walls already squeezing against him. You gasp softly when he presses fully inside you, your hips resting against his as his length fills you completely, leaving no part of you untouched. You wiggle your hips on top of him, grinding your pearl against him with a soft whimper.

You slowly start moving atop him, though you quickly pick up the pace as one of his hands grips harshly at your waist, the other remains draped across his chest at your insistence, determined to keep his shoulder safe. You bite your lower lip, intending to stay quiet as you know the walls of the old inn must be quite thin, however that gets harder and harder to do as the tip of Osferth’s cock brushes against that sensitive spot within you every time you sink back down onto him.

“You feel so good,” the monk gasps as he stares up at you, marveling at how you move against him, at the beautiful blush spreading across your cheeks, at the way your breasts bounce beneath the nearly sheer fabric of your simple shift dress, “So beautiful, my sweet lady.” He sighs, his cock twitching against your walls.

“Osferth,” you whisper through a harsh gasp, “I love you, my precious monk.” You smile when he groans beneath you, his cock throbbing as you continue moving against him.

“I — Christ,” he gasps, the hand on your hip pushing itself under your shift dress, “I love you too, sweet girl.” He groans, perhaps a bit too loud, as he cups your breast, kneading your soft skin in his palm.

You gasp loudly at the added sensation, the heat in your belly threatening to boil over. Blessedly, Osferth seems just as done in as you, his hips squirming beneath yours as he tries to stay still.

“My lady,” he gasps, blue eyes staring up at you more urgently than before, “My lady, I — !” He cuts himself off with a loud moan when you lean forward to press your bud more firmly against him, which only serves to press his length somehow deeper within you as his fingers toy wildly with your nipple.

“I know,” you nod your head with a gasp, struggling to keep your eyes open, “I know, my sweet monk. It’s okay, please” you moan, your walls clenching hotly around him as your high finally spills over you, igniting every nerve ending with a blinding pleasure, “God, fuck!” You can’t help but squeal, bracing your hands on either side of the monk’s head as you tumble forward, unable to hold yourself up.

Osferth whispers your name over and over, as if in prayer, before he finally groans loudly, cock twitching wildly within you as he cums, painting your walls with his thick spend. He moans happily as you sink further down against him, mouthing at your nipples through the fabric of your dress.

After a moment, your high subsides and you open your eyes once more, giggling softly as you lean down to press a sweet kiss to his lips. With a sigh, you lift yourself off of him before dropping to the bed with a tired groan. You slot yourself against his side and pull the blanket back up from where it had slipped off, one of your legs draped across the monk’s hips.

Just as you’re about to open your mouth again to ask about his shoulder, a fist pounds on the wall above your heads from the next room, making the two of you gasp.

“Oi!” Sihtric calls, his gruff voice muffled, “If you don’t stop fucking like rabbits I’ll come in there and strangle the damn monk myself!”

“Oops,” you whisper to Osferth through a giggle, nuzzling your head against his neck.

“I would face the wrath of ten vikings to bed you, my lady,” the monk whispers softly before pressing a kiss against the top of your head.

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc @fan-goddess @wickedfrsgrl @moonriseoverkyoto @echos-muses

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

589 notes · View notes

mandowifey · 11 months

Text

Bury

Miguel O'hara x Fem!Reader

Miguel Masterlist

Warnings: Reader is 18+,NSFW, oviposition, creampie, breeding mentions, non-con mentions, dark!Miguel, my version of Miguel, dub con, violence, aggressive heroing, Miguel being a massive ass, pet play, reader is held against her will. Oviposition - the process of having eggs laid inside of you.

Another one I needed to do before my brain exploded. Not proof read, enjoy!

× × ×

One face in a sea of millions, and he picked you. Miguel liked to say,'I saved you,' but you knew better. You were taken. Whisked away from your home and locked somewhere unfamiliar and daunting. Most people swooned at the notion of being rescued by Spider-Man, but they didn't know the truth like you.

Spider-Man wasn't a hero.

He was a monster, and you were his prey.

Miguel liked to watch you. When he was in thought or pondering his next move, he would often linger in your presence and quietly observe. You hated it, feeling like a zoo animal under scrutiny. Sometimes, he'd cross the room and sit down on the bed near you with his face towards the wall. Other times, he would lay his head on your lap and rest his eyes to the sound of your pattering heart. If you felt brave, you'd tassel your fingers through his brown curls. Being soft with him helped to temper his mood.

That afternoon, he came to you as usual and climbed onto the bed. You folded the book you were reading and sat up, adjusting the silk blue nightgown he'd given you. The look on Miguel's face is different. There is uncertainty in his eyes, and his body language feels off. You watch him for a moment before tentatively touching your hand to his back. "Miguel?"

"I'm going to need you to do something for me today."

The weight of his tone makes you jump. A man who had done nothing but take from you was asking you to help him. You felt uneasy, watching him as his expression twisted into disgust, and he looked away. Ultimately confused, your eyes track him in silence as you wait out whatever internal struggle he was dealing with.

"You aren't going to like it."

Now you laughed.

His head swiveled, and his eyes went from that warm, chocolate brown to hellish red. Bristling, his clawed hand grabbed your cheeks and squeezed until your lips stuck out. "You think it's funny?" He spits, his lip curling in a snarl. "You have no idea, not a one, of what I'm going to do to you today." With a shove, he sends you sprawling onto your back and knocks the wind out of you. You are left flailing, arms and hands catching yourself before you could topple off the bed.

"I'm sorry," you squeak, heart hammering. "I'm sorry, I just -" The way he looked at you made you panic. "You have never asked me before." It was honesty. He had taken you from your home, stolen your virginity, and hadn't stopped using you since. Spider-man's dirty little secret, locked away in his tower forever. You press your knees together and turn your eyes downward, your shoulders slanted. "I'm sorry." You reiterated, as it was the only thing you could think to say now.

Miguel watches you tense like a snake in the grass. "You're right," His voice growled. "So what's the use in asking now. Come here." A fist closes around your ankle, and you're torn closer to him in an effortless display of his strength. The gown you wore rode high, exposing your underwear and soft stomach. His eyes flick over you, taking in what he'd claimed as his long ago. Tonguing one of his growing fangs, Miguel leans down to cage your body with his own. Balanced on his knees between your legs, he brings his mouth to your ear.

"You are special, Y/N. You think I picked you randomly, that I just happened to like you for your looks?" He smiled into his words now. "It's much more than that. You see," One of his hands touches your knee and causes you to jump, a whimper tightening in your throat. "What happened to me didn't just give me fangs, or venom, or red eyes and this charming disposition I know you love so much," A breath wafts against your neck, and you shiver. "My body, every couple of months, goes into a sort of rut." Miguel adjusted himself between your legs, leaning his weight into you to let you feel the growing bulge he sported.

Sucking in a soft breath, you close your eyes as he kisses the nape of your neck. Of everything he did to you, you hated the fact he was able to make you melt. Miguel knew everything you liked and enjoyed using it against you. Grazing your flesh with his fangs, Miguel continued. "It doesn't just make me violent, hungry, and territorial, but in fact, it also makes me produce eggs." Hearing that made your eyes open and head turn to look up at him. With your faces so close, Miguel ghosted his lips over your own. "That's right," He continued. "Every time it's happened and I've tried to pass them manually, it doesn't work. The pain is fucking excruciating, Y/N." Sighing, he nips your mouth. "I came to the conclusion that for this to work, I had to find the right incubator."

That wasn't a compliment. It struck fear in your chest, and another wave of nausea rolled through you, making you hot. "Oh god," you gasp, your voice twisting in distress. Miguel was unflinching, his eyes - now back to brown, staring down at your distraught expression. "It's going to hurt, I'm guessing, but since you're such a good girl, I know you'll take them just fine for me." A sickening smile crossed his features as he kissed you, bruising your lips before drawing upwards.

"W-wait, wait, wait- Wait, Miguel, f-fuck, Miguel wait -" You babbled, helpless as the super human moved your body around to his liking. "P-please, please let's talk about this!" Tears stung your eyes and clouded your vision as he drew you close and pushed your legs apart. The only thing hiding you from him now were your panties. "Nothing to talk about, kid." He sighed finally. "Maybe you'll even like it, who knows." Miguel was unbothered by your tears as he let his suit crawl back until he was bare.

This couldn't be real, and most certainly couldn't be happening to you.

Heaving a sob, you put your face in your hands as he rips your underwear off and exposes your soft folds. "Besides, you used to beg me to stop before and now look at you, I practically make you cum every time we fuck." Chuckling, Miguel wrapped a fist around his cock and dragged the weeping tip through your slit, collecting moisture. He tuts at you. "You're kidding me! You're wet, too? Sheesh, I'm starting to think you really do like me, princess." You were humiliated and frustrated at your body for defying you. In no way did you want to be used by some maniac to harbor his clutch, and certainly didn't want to cum for him.

Miguel rumbled above you, brooding and large as he notched at your entrance. "Try not to tense up this time." He smiles when you peek at him from between your fingers, then shoves forward. His cock stretches you brutally and bottoms out as he hilts. Your hands fly from your face to grab the blankets while a scream bellows deep from your diaphragm. "Shh, shh shh, you're doing great." Cooed the hero, his body leaning forward so he could balance on his forearms above you.

He begins to thrust, drawing back until only the head is left submerged before slowly shoving back to your end. The drag of his cock is maddening, stroking the deepest reaches of your cunt and making you mewl like a cat in heat. Miguel drops his head to yours, stealing a kiss to swallow your cries and lapping into your mouth. You felt smothered as he rocks his hips, driving deep into you with each brutal thrust he gave. "Ghh-god, f-feel so fucking good." He hisses against your lips, his breath fanning your face as he bucked. Your body bounced helplessly under him as you tried so hard to fight that rising heat in your abdomen.

"That's it." Miguel purrs against your gaping mouth, dipping his tongue over your teeth and breathing in your scent. Your cunt squishes around him, embarrassing you further as it made his girth pound easier within you. "M-mi-guel-" You choke, your words broken by each impact. Finally winding your hands into his hair and scratching down his back, you cave. As hard as you fought, he fucked you well, and you couldn't deny it.

Spurred by your affection, Miguel thrusts harder. His cock pounding into you rough enough to bruise, pulling cry after cry from you. Your nails scour his back, making him snarl as his head drops to your shoulder. The both of you are panting in tandem, your mouths brushing as you breathe eachothers air. He was losing it, his thrusts becoming uneven and frantic as he draws closer to his end.

"H-hah, t-too m-much-!" Your voice breaks, nearly sobbing as he rocks just right, the tip of his cock forcing against your gspot and bringing you closer to your own release. The sounds you make encourage him, and he suddenly sits up to grab your ankles and fold you at the hips. With this knee-to-chest position, you gasp. Miguel looks down at you, his eyes cloudy with emotion and need. Some of his hair came loose and dangled in strands in front of his face.

"C'mon princess, cum for me."

And that was all it took.

The mans cock brushes something explosive and sets you off. Your world becomes white hot, body tensing and arching as you clamp down around him in waves. Later, you will hate yourself, but now you ride out your release while you cry out and rock your hips to his. Miguel, now satisfied that you finished, braces himself on his hands by either side of your head. His face changes to a look of near pitiful desperation, the sounds escaping him paint a different picture of the man who held you against your will.

As you come down from your high, you watch as he unravels. Eyes closed lightly, and head lowered, Miguel bucks into you. He sought your warmth and the comforting squeeze your little cunt gave him. Harder, until he bumps your cervix again, and you keen softly, then he crumbles. You feel him throb, followed by a hot spray of thick, heavy fluid. It doesn't hurt, even when he begins to frantically rabbit his hips into you.

He's muttering in Spanish, like he's talking to himself. The thrusting slows, and you feel strangely full and warm. Miguel eases down until his larger frame is resting against yours, caging you under him while leaving his cock nestled inside your walls. His lips press to your neck and jaw, peppering you in what felt like gratitude. You were apprehensive and uncertain if this were really all there was. It gnaws at you, but you bring your arms to wrap around his neck.

"Does it hurt?"

Your eyes open and catch Miguel's worried stare. "No. Should it?" The man frowns and moves one of his hands to pet and paw over your abdomen. He looks unsure, and you realize this was equally new to him. After a moment, he reluctantly pulls out of you and moves to curl around your body. You were dwarfed by him as he wrapped you in his arms and drew you into his broad chest.

Affectionate was not a term you would ever associate with Miguel. He presses kisses into your hair and inhales your pleasant scent, his hand drifting down to cup your abdomen once more. As you settle into him, you look down and notice the slight bloat under his hand, like you'd pulled a muscle and were pushing it out. Fear prickles up your spine as he pets you there, your mind racing with dozens of thoughts.

Are there really eggs inside of me?

What happens when they hatch?

Miguel can feel you starting to tense, and he kisses your temple. "You'll be just fine." He churrs into your ear, making the color drain from your face. "Motherhood will suit you." He nipped your neck before laying his face into your shoulder. Miguel was giddy at the notion of any of those eggs taking. Imagine you swollen with his child, giving him a new life to love and raise, an opportunity to be a father again. It was all he wanted.

He falls asleep curled with you, his hand planted against your growing abdomen. You mourn the loss of your bodies autonomy, silently laying there in his arms while dozens of tapioca sized eggs clung to your hot womb and begin to grow. You were certain you could feel the process as it underwent. The sensation made your throat dry and eyes wet, knowing that Miguel, your captor, left a part of himself inside of you. He claimed you in every way, violating you so deeply that you knew there was no coming back.

As the day descends into night, you listen to him sleeping soundly and wonder if he was right.

If motherhood would suit you.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara headcanon #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #oscar isaac #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spiderman into the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman x reader #spider-man x reader

1K notes · View notes

clockwayswrites · 7 months

Text

Not Exactly Cinderella Part 1

WC: 1350

CW: mildy raunchy talk

Dick/Danny/Wally

Wally still didn’t really get why Dick hated galas so much. The outfits were a little stuffy, but Dick always looked amazing in them and these days he found ways to have fun with the looks. The people could be stuck up, sure, but there were always lots of Waynes and other supes to talk to. And the galas could drag on a little, but Dick was amazing at finding dark corners to duck into and make out in.

The worst part, really, was the photos going in. That was mostly because Wally felt so utterly inadequate standing next to Dick, but he doubted Dick had any issue with that part. Still, every time that Dick begged Wally to come along with him to one, he acted as if he was going to his execution. For a guy who fought crime and had literately been at his own attempted executions before, it felt a little extreme.

“You know, we could still have the driver turn around,” Dick suggested hopefully.

“Put those baby blues away because we really, really cannot,” Wally said, but he softened his words by reaching out to twist their fingers together. “You have to be at this one, babe. Part of what they’re trying to raise funds for is your idea.”

Dick groaned and let his head fall back against the the black leather seat. It made Wally want to lean over and kiss along that length of neck as beautifully highlighted by the passing neon lights as it was, but he managed to resist. Dick really shouldn’t be marked up before photos.

(Which was a shame.)

“Hey, I’m with you at least?” Wally offered. He knew it was paltry compensation, but it was at least something.

“You are. Thanks for coming,” Dick said. He lifted their hands to press a kiss to the back of Wally’s hand. “I know—”

“Hey, I’ve said it lots before. I don’t mind coming to the galas with you at all. Where else am I going to get to eat so many tiny foods?”

“Tiny food is overrated.”

“It’s the best.”

“Speedsters,” Dick said, rolling his eyes.

Wally elbowed Dick for saying ‘speedsters’, even if the driver wasn’t supposed to be able to hear them right then. Dick, of course, was completely unrepentant and just stole a quick kiss instead as the car rolled to a stop.

Dick took a deep breath. “Okay, time to look pretty, Wally.”

Wally’s ‘easy for you to say’ was lost to the sounds of flashing cameras and shouted questions as the door opened and Dick stepped out. Wally tamped down the urge to fidget and took Dick’s hand, joining him in the lights and noise.

For the most part, Wally was glad that he wasn’t expected to contribute to the conversations as they made their rounds at the gala. He got the basic ‘how are you’ or ‘so what is it you do’, but really no one wanted to know, not unless he ran into other scientists. Wally knew he could be a bit… much to talk to, so he let Dick lead for all the important conversation. Wally figured he could slip off to talk to the other nerds later, if they were around, but he’d stick by Dick for the first part at least. This obligation would probably wind down soon, even those coming in fashionably late had arrived by now.

Wally scanned the crowd as they headed up to the second floor to make sure they had caught everyone they needed to. Ah, there were some people he recognized from WE Research, as well as some new faces. They looked like they were having a good time. The group laughed and one of the people Wally didn’t know, turned with the act and looked over the crowd too. For just a moment his eyes and Wally’s caught.

His smile was brilliant.

Suddenly Wally found himself tipping forward, toe caught on the step. Only Dick’s quick reaction time saved Wally’s face from meeting the marble.

“Shit, Wally, you okay?” Dick asked, clutching Wally tightly to him.

Wally buried his blushing red face into Dick’s shoulder. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Dick said, drawing the word out. He guided Wally upstairs and into one of those dark corners, not taking his bracing hand off Wally’s back. Voice quiet, he asked, “Is it something from the… work issue earlier today?”

“No,” Wally said, but his word was muffled by the his hands pressed over his warm face. “I didn’t get hurt.”

“Okay,” Dick said again.

“Stop saying okay. It’s nothing. I’m just being… ugh.”

“Walls, sweetheart,” Dick pried Wally’s hands away from his face, holding them gently, “you’re worrying me a little here.”

Wally sighed. “I tripped because a cute guy smiled in my direction, alright?”

“What?” Dick asked. He covered his laughter with their clasped hands.

“I tripped because I’m an idiot and got flustered when a cute guy smiled my way.”

Dick pouted, still snickering. “You’ve never tripped up because of my smile.”

Wally just stared at Dick.

“What?”

He couldn’t believe it. “Do you really not know how many walls I ran into because of your smile, Dick?”

“No.” Dick was grinning now, bright and wonderful. “Give me a number here. Ten? Twenty?”

“So many, Dick, so many. So no getting jealous, you’re still way in the lead.”

Dick sobered instantly. He reached out and caught Wally’s wrist again, running his fingers along that too fast Speedster’s pulse. “Hey, no, you think I’m being jealous?”

Wally just shrugged. He did and he didn’t. He really didn’t know what to think. He didn’t think Dick was the jealous type, but it hadn’t exactly been put to the test. When this thing between them had turned from fooling around into something more they had agreed on an open relationship and worked out the details. And Wally would talk about someone being hot, sure, but they were always someone unobtainable. It’s Dick who had actually gone out and dated, or at least slept with, other people.

“Oh sweetheart, no,” Dick murmured, closing the distance between them to nothing. “I was just teasing. I think it’s adorable that his smile made you stumble— and at a ball too! That’s some real fairy tale stuff right there.”

“Okay, but fairy tales usually ended pretty horrifically,” Wally pointed out, though he could feel his own smile tugging at his lips.

Dick rolled his eyes. “Alright, a Disney style fairy tale then.”

Wally’s nose wrinkled. “Too wholesome.”

“Picky, picky, picky. An adult film knock off of a Disney story?”

“Dick!” Wally laughed and gave the other a little shove. The bastard didn’t even budge.

“Sorry,” Dick said without sounding sorry at all. “Come on, let’s go talk to him.”

“What?!” Wally squawked. “No! Dick, no, why?”

“Because you thought he was cute. It can’t hurt.”

“Yes it can! He’ll talk to me and…”

“Walls?”

Wally looked down at their feet, scuffing his banged up toe around. “He’ll, I don’t know, get bored of me? Or at least it won’t go anywhere.”

Dick ducked down so he could see Wally’s eyes. “Hey, no, sweetheart, why do you think that? You’re a catch.”

“I’m pretty sure only you think that,” Wally said.

“Lies,” Dick said, giving Wally a peck. “I’ll prove it. Come on, let me be your ‘wing man.”

Wally snorted at that.

“You know I’m a great ‘wing.”

“You are,” Wally said, unable to help the fond smile.

“Then come on. I know all your virtues, including how good you are at blow jobs. Let me extol them.”

“Dick! You are not telling a stranger I’m good at blow jobs!” Wally hissed.

“But you are.”

“Yeah, I am, aren’t I?”

Dick backed up, tugging Wally out of the nook. “We’ll do a quick pass up here and then go find him. See if we can’t get you lucky.”

“I was supposed to get lucky with you tonight,” Wally reminded him.

Dick just shrugged, still smiling. “I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart. I’ll still be around after you have some fun.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

AN: So I didn't really have anything else that fit Tooth-Rotting Tuesday in my current wips (not where they were at least) and somehow this got in my brain soooo.... hopefully you enjoyed it?

I love how gung-ho Dick is about getting his boyfriend laid. His plan is to get them started flirting and then just slip away. But will he be able to pull that off?

Sorry for any mistakes. A pressure migraine on top of my other migraine rolled in with the front yesterday so I am KOed.

Stay delightful darlings!

#dp x dc #danny fenton/dick grayson/wally west #rocket fuel #we're going with that ship name here personally lol #cause somehow I'm writing more of these three #tooth rotting thursay #not exactly cinderella

730 notes · View notes

bitchimasnake-sss · 29 days

Note

i love reading your fics, they always give me 🦋🦋🦋 i love them so much, so, i want to make a request a angst-comfort where zoro and reader are dating but they got into a fight (*cough* zoro got jealous and starts to question reader's loyalty *cough*) but it ends happily because I don't want cry. n e way, continue writing stories, you write them so well... 😚

im so glad you like my work!! and thankyouu so much for sending in the request, let's get to itt <3

moss and towel ft. roronoa zoro!

set-up: in which, you and zoro have been dating for six months. but after one fight night and growing distances, he finds himself questioning everything you've built together.

warnings: (poor attempts at writing) angst, zoro acts like an idiot, profanities. yeah, that's about it.

the winds were cruel tonight and even crueler were you. atleast there was some comfort in the cold gusts, some reason in the way they played against the swordsman's skin and left behind selfish goosebumps. atleast, he could attempt to understand it with nami's weather charts or whatnot.

but you. how could he attempt to understand you?

his eyebrows bunched as he stared up, fixing his gaze against the twinkling points. groaning, he put his hand over his eyes. maybe in a way, sure, it was his fault. he was never good with words or those fancy poems or haikus. he was never the one to resort to affection. but how was he supposed to fix this?

the first mate of the ship rested a fraction of his bodyweight against the wooden railing of the crow's nest. the wind tousled his unkempt hair and running a hand through his moss-green locks, he vaguely tried to remember how long it had been since nami dragged him into the bathroom and gave him a haircut again.

probably too long. he concluded with a sigh as the soft tresses caressed the mid-point of the back of his neck.

he was supposed to meet his girlfriend here. that's what had been decided. just you, him and the infinitely infinite night sky. the swordsman had even decided to talk about his feelings 'neath the dark abyss of the sky (even if he hated the mere idea of that).

but it had been 30 minutes and there were no signs of you anywhere.

life had been hectic for the both of you lately, whether it was because of the constant run-ins with the marines, zoro having to accompany luffy to side-quests or some other shit the sea sprouted every once in a while. either ways, it meant that you and him saw less and less of each-other as each day passed him by.

resigning himself to a tired sigh, zoro decided to climb downwards. you were not gonna come, that much was sure.

as his heavy feet planted against the wooden floor, he took a second to collect his thoughts. he started walking the stairs to go under the deck, to the common space where most of the crew lounged at the end of the day. descending, he thought of all possible explainations. maybe you had been caught by someone else and forced to listen to one of their anecdotes, maybe nami had asked you to help with the log pose calculations of the last island, or maybe chopper wanted you to help him grind some fresh medicine.

maybe-

he stepped inside the common place with heavy footsteps and a heavier heart and immediately saw you. you, ever so beautiful with you soft smiles and your lame jokes. you with your flowing hair and unruly habits. you, that was currently laughing along to something that shit-cook was talking about.

he must have caught your gaze cause you immediately looked away from sanji and to your boyfriend, giving him a soft smile. but he left the room without returning that gesture and you found yourself on your feet, walking after him and confused.

you trailed after him, calling his name out sweetly till you reached his room and he shut the door before you could get in.

"hey!" you laughed playfully, twisting the handle with ease and stepping inside. you closed the door behind you and tucked your arms around your chest, sporting a lively pout.

but he seemed to have to reaction to your antics, instead, deciding to carefully lay his three swords on the bed behind him as if he was courting the swords and not you.

"what's up with you?" you raised an eyebrow at him, amused by the way the man sat at the edge of the bed with an annoyed huff. when he said nothing, you pressed again, this time a bit more direct, "why are you grumbling now?"

he's been like this for the past few days and now that he refused to elaborate, you found your patience slipping off of you like a thin overcoat, leaving you behind in your ugly, impatient skin.

today had been hard, like any other day. and for some reason or the other, instead of inviting you into his arms, this man had swore to make your life even more difficult.

"zorooo," groaning, you asked again, "can you stop being so dramatic?"

his head snapped up, eyes finding yours with wicked ease. his jaw was clenched tight, face red as if he was burning up, "i am being dramatic? me?"

"yeah? you're being so fucking weird." you sighed, "why?"

"i dunno, go ask that fucking cook maybe?" he grumbled.

if the exasperation on your face wasn't obvious until now, after that comment, it was surely on full display.

"what?" you hissed, "what is up with you and all these weird accusations?"

"as i said, i dunno. ask that fuckin' waiter instead, why don't you? i'm sure he'd have some answers lined up."

"why are you dragging sanji into this?"

"why are you defending him?" he stood up, his face mirroring your exasperation tenfold. he crossed his arms similarly to yours and the muscles shifted impatiently under his shirt.

you threw you hands upwards, "im not defending him! i am aski—"

"—yes you are defending him, don't even."

you were tired.

god knew you every inch of your muscles were alight with exhaustion, your head was pounding and if he wanted to fight you, you wouldn't even have it in you to fight back. these past few days had been enough on their own. so, you sighed, taking on a resigned tone, "i am so tired, zoro. can't we do it another day?"

"yeah, right." he grumbled again, his eyebrows bunching together in a characteristic manner, "everything needs to be pushed back with you, right?"

"what is that supposed to mean?" you were sure smoke was rising from the top of your head and your pupils were comically blown out, "i was tired and wanted to take some time off, so, i had sat down. and sanji found me to make some ideal chit-chat. god forbid i be tired for once-"

"i was waiting at the crow's nest for the past 30 minutes, where were you?"

"huh—" fuck. your eyes widened as the terrible realization set in. almost on instinct, your fingers reached out to touch him so as to makeup for the terrible deed you had committed. but your boyfriend pulled himself back, dodging your careful grasp before rasping out, "don't."

"zoro, i'm sorry! really, i genuinely cannot believe i forgot—"

"so, you forgot me over that fucking cook?"

"no!" you repeated, slower, "no, of course not. i was just tired and—"

"—and you decided to go off with him instead?" he scoffed, "i thought we were dating and yet, i think we've barely had any time to just spend together. every time it's someone or the other you have to rely on, not me."

"zoro..." you started carefully but he cut off you off, "don't zoro me. it's either nami or sanji or luffy or someone or the other. i wouldn't be surprised if you're fucking blondie behind my back too."

you stared at him, shocked. the wretched feeling gnawed at your insides till you looked at him in pure, utter disgust. the corners of your eyes burned up and you spat out, "don't fucking talk to me."

and you left the room, slamming the door shut behind you.

zoro stared at the place you were standing at and then slowly dragged his eyes at the door that you had slammed shut.

fuck.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆🪐⋆⭒˚｡⋆

well into the night, when he finally had swallowed his pride and mentally beat himself enough, he walked out of his room.

his steps were slow, stride careful so to not panic the mostly sleeping crew. searching through the washroom and the kitchen, the supply closet and chopper's tiny, stashed-away office, he failed to find you. then, he stepped out onto the deck and in a clean sweep, found you at the port side. the wind blew ideally though your hair and you stood with your arms on the railing.

the swordsman silently walked up to you, choosing to stand beside you without saying much. and if he had hoped for you to start the conversation, he was in for a long, long night.

"hey" he finally started off.

"i think i told you to not talk to me."

your feet shifted and you balanced your bodyweight away from him and he pursed his lips. standing in silence, the sounds of waves crashing against the ship painted you both in a uncomfortable hues.

he tried again, "i- i am sorry, really."

"don't care, didn't ask."

roronoa zoro bit the inside of his cheek, savoring the taste of foul rejection in his mouth over and over. but he had never been the one to go out without a fight. hell, he was the king of hell.

"but i am sorry." he repeated and his calloused fingers inched closer to yours, a poor attempt to ghost his skimming touches over your hand. but you were quicker and you pulled your hands back to yourself and wrapped them around yourself.

he slowly withdrew his hand and his head hung low, "how long are you gonna be mad at me?"

"i don't know? probably till i want to."

"babe—"

"—don't babe me."

"i am sorry—"

"—to fuCKING HELL WITH YOUR SORRY!" your cool demeanor washed off and you bore daggers into his paper-like skin as you stared him down. your breath was laboured and you were sure your yells must have woken someone, if not the entire crew.

he stayed silent, ready to face the consequences of his actions. and although venom was a resident on your tongue, looking at his guilt-struck face, you were reduced to nothing but a dumbfounded, little girl.

whatever you had planned, whatever you had thought you'd call him, whatever accusations you had thrown you'd throw at him dissolved at the tip of your tongue. and instead, an ugly feeling stirred under your skin. the feeling sunk heavy in your chest and your stomach and your head and heart and every other crevice of you. bile crawled up your scratchy throat and the same waterworks made home on your lash line.

when you spoke, you were sure your voice sounded more like a desperate plea than a demand for apology.

"why? why did you say that? that was low."

he looked down at his feet, his fingers twiddling against the sword hilt of his wado ichimonji in an attempt to self-soothe, "i know it was wrong. i was just so angry."

"and that makes it okay for you to question my loyalty?" you sniffed, feeling the watery weight cascade down your cheeks.

"no!" he looked up, alarmed, "no! ofcourse it doesn't. i never was— i was just—" he paused, wincing, "—i was jealous of him."

"sanji?!"

he continued, agonized, "yes, the damn cook. and everyone else, i guess. you seemed to have time for everyone but me."

"zoro, why didn't you just say it out loud to me?" you whispered softly. inching closer to him, you rested your palm against his warm cheek. his growing stubble lightly tickled your skin. you hummed softly when he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, pressing an easy kiss to your fingers. "because i- i just couldn't bring myself to. i'm sorry, i should have talked to you rather than being a prick, really."

"i am sorry too. i know we haven't spent any time for the past two weeks or so. i was so busy within myself that i didn't reach out to you." your fingers played gently against the scars on his face from years of training, "these past few days have been hard—"

"—they've been hell."

you laughed despite yourself, "yeah, i guess they've been hell."

his eyes swayed against yours in a guilt-ridden dance, "forgive me?"

you paused a beat, "do you trust me?"

his answer came more easily than breathing did, "more than i trust myself."

you hummed, "sure?"

and he just nodded. as moments passed you both by, he finally quipped up, "so, am i forgiven?"

"well..." you pondered for a second, "technically, i did fuck up too. so, yeah, you're forgiven." you glared at him, "just never say that kinda shit again."

he smiled and when he spoke, he offered a kind explaination, "i didn't actually mean you were fucking the cook. i just- just kinda said it."

"eh," you waved off his comment, "i don't wanna fuck blondes, anyways. to be honest, not really my type."

"huh?!" his eyes widened in play-pretend, "so his hair colour is holding you back?"

"i mean i'm more into idiots who grow slowly on me. like moss does on a wet towel."

roronoa zoro— bounty hunter, pirate, first mate to a terrifying crew, kind of hell, demon, whatever— looked appalled. "are you comparing me to moss?"

"i am comparing how you grew on me to the lowest form of moss that even grows on the stupidest surfaces."

"don't call yourself stupid, now."

you huffed and turned around, walking towards the stairways that led to the rooms, "i am gonna stop talking to you again!"

he laughed, taking in easy strides to walk after you, "just kidding. i promise. your moss, ever and forever more."

he met your pace, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. you gave him a wayward grin, "good."

he gave you one right back, "great."

"i'm tired."

"me too."

as you both disappeared back into your room, hand in hand, you made a comment about how much his hair grew and he responded with "like moss grows on a wet towel?". next morning you found yourself waking up to the swordsman's heavy snores and heavier body against you.

stupid moss-head.

a/n: i think i like how this turned out lol. hope it's okay @rkiveinmarvel and as always, thank you to anyone else who reads this <3

#one piece #opla #op #roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro fluff #one piece fluff #zoro fanfic #zoro imagine

211 notes · View notes

stardustvanfleet · 8 months

Text

Backstage Baby (Jake Kiszka x Groupie!Reader)

SMUT. 18+ ONLY! MDNI!!!!!

PAIRING: Jake Kiszka x F!Reader

WORDS: 4k

WARNINGS: Dom!Jake. BASICALLY PWP. rough unprotected sex, edging, daddy kink, light choking (blink and you’ll miss it), mix of praise and degradation, nicknames (baby, princess, good girl, slut), my obsession with jake’s silver medallion, ending with flirtatious fluffy aftercare.

A/N: i’ve been writing band rpf for years, but this is my first gvf fic! ever since seeing them in boston on 9/15, i have literally been walking around in a daze, daydreaming about going backstage with jake……. and this is the result lmfao. title inspired by B-Side Baby by Adam Ant. i’m always looking for more gvf friends to discuss ideas with….. and also just cry and lose my mind with LMAO. anyway— i hope you enjoy! XO, li

••••••••••••••••••••

No matter how many times you saw Jake up there, he still made you breathless.

That furrowed concentration on his brow as his expert fingers flew across the strings… his hair falling across his shoulders… the way he would rock and grind against his guitar, glowing under the lights as sweat dripped down his forehead, his chest bare and slick from perspiration…

You didn’t really ever plan on becoming a groupie. The effect that Jake had on you had been intense enough long before you started following Greta Van Fleet around the country, before you’d even once thought you’d ever be in a room with him smaller than a stadium. But you hadn’t expected anything like the way things had actually gone. They had always said real life was stranger than fiction, but you had never thought its twists and turns could be this earth-shattering.

It had started with the eye contact. The first few times it happened, you couldn’t be sure if you were imagining things, your head perhaps fuzzy from the thrill of numerous front-row nights in a row… but when Jake crouched down and leaned towards you mid-solo, his eyes meeting yours with a jolt of electricity, a wicked smirk on his face, you realized with a heart-stopping shudder that no, you hadn’t been imagining his eyes on you.

Those looks would intensify as the tour continued. He’d always somehow find you in the front row, letting his cool and confident gaze rest on you as he played, just long enough to leave you squeezing your thighs together involuntarily. One night, you had been approached by a stagehand, who simply passed you a note with directions to an afterparty, and even though the note had no signature, something deep down told you exactly who it had been from.

That was your first night with Jake, and you had left the next morning with aching legs that felt like jelly. Since then, every night had been fucking cinematic.

Tonight was no exception. It had been damn near impossible to take your eyes off of Jake before you’d even had any opportunity to speak to him, but now, knowing exactly what he was able to do to your body, how fucking incredible he could make you feel… seeing him like that onstage made you positively throb throughout the show, taking all of your energy just to keep your composure.

As the concert winded down, you slipped out of the pit up front, making your way to the backstage entrance. The security guards, who recognized you by now— still an odd feeling — let you in. You headed towards where you now knew the band would be coming down once they left the stage, your heart already pounding with anticipation, heat already beginning to pool between your thighs. You took a deep breath, tugging on the hem of your top, which you had intentionally chosen due to its short length: you loved the way it highlighted the curves of your waist and hips, and hoped Jake would too.

And, as always, once they emerged, it seemed as though everything was happening at once– pulling out earpieces, handing off instruments and passing equipment along – but your eyes were only on Jake, and, you realized with a shudder that wracked your entire body, his were on you.

Once his guitar had been handed off, Jake wasted no time in heading right towards you, grabbing your wrist, and leading you down the hall. He didn’t need to say anything; you knew exactly where he was taking you, and you instantly felt a wave of overwhelming desire wash over your every inch. It was truly absurd how little he had to do to turn you on.

He pulled you into his dressing room, and immediately pushed your back up against the closing door. Jake’s large hands pinned your shoulders against it, a soft clicking sound occurring as the door locked automatically. His lips collided sloppily with yours, kissing you with a hunger that sent your head spinning, sparks of heat igniting deep within your core.

When he finally pulled back, grazing your bottom lip with his teeth as he did so, a shiver went down your spine, and it took you far longer than intended to regain composure and open your eyes. When you did, his heavy-lidded dark eyes were on you, pupils blown wide with desire. The dominance behind his expression was enough to cause an involuntary whimper to escape you, the sound of which brought out a smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“So needy today… What a dirty girl,” he said, his tone dripping with authority, making your knees immediately weaken. His eyes never left yours as he continued teasing, knowing by now what it did to you. He leaned in, making sure you got his next few words right in your ear. “You wanna get fucked tonight? Hm?” His voice was low and seductive, leaving one hand on your shoulder to keep you pinned to the wall, while his other one stroked first down your arm, then back up, your skin lighting up under his touch. As his body pressed up against yours, you could feel him, rock-hard and throbbing against your thigh, the sensation almost overwhelming as you found yourself nodding your head as hard as you could, already difficult to find the words.

That wasn’t enough, though, not for Jake. The hand that had been stroking up and down your bare arms moved abruptly to your jaw, holding it firmly in place so his gaze was locked on yours. “I asked you a question, princess.” Your lower lip trembled desperately as Jake tilted his head ever so slightly, his expression and tone just the right amount of patronizing as his hips began to roll at a slow but steady pace against you, breathing out, “You want this cock?”

“Yes, fuck,” you managed, already feeling lightheaded at just his words and close proximity.

“There you go,” he chuckled condescendingly at the sound of you using your words for the first time. He continued to rock up against your thigh, letting the hand on your jaw slide to your throat, but not lingering there too long, not giving you yet what he knew you wanted— just staying long enough to drag his long fingers down the sensitive skin of your neck, as if examining every inch of you. What a fucking tease.

“Jake, please,” you found yourself begging, taking your free hand and gripping the lapel of his black jacket— all he was wearing over his tanned, sweaty torso, which had been making your head spin all night— “I’m so fucking hot for you. So fucking wet for you. I want you so bad, please…”

The sound of your desperation made a low sound somewhere between a chuckle and a growl rumble in Jake’s throat, and if your panties weren’t soaked through already, that alone would have been enough to get you there.

Your begging had satisfied him, for now. Jake finally released his grip, freeing you from your position pinned up against the door, only to lead you over to the white leather couch in the corner of the room. Before having you sit, however, there were two things that needed to be done. First of all, he shrugged his black jacket off from his shoulders, throwing it to the floor behind him, leaving him standing before you in nothing but those sinfully tight pants and that silver necklace that drove you wild. Through your lightheadedness, you could tell how horny he was, too— his pants left almost nothing to the imagination, and the sight of the achingly large bulge straining against the tight black fabric was making your head swim, to say nothing of the heat between your thighs.

That was when he lowered himself just enough that his lips were in line with the top button of your jeans, and you felt all breath leave your body as he looked wickedly up at you. Going slowly enough to make you squirm, but not so slowly that you’d protest, Jake unzipped your bell bottoms. His gaze never left yours as he pulled them down your legs, revealing inch after inch of your skin to him, his tongue flicking out across his own bottom lip hungrily as he watched himself undress you— this gorgeous present, all his to unwrap.

As you had anticipated, your light pink panties were so soaked they had been rendered essentially useless as a means of covering you up, and the feeling of Jake’s eyes devouring the sight of your pussy through them were only making you wetter.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed out, his eyes glancing up to meet yours for a moment before looking right back down at the burning heat between your legs. After a second or two of him just looking intently— as if committing the sight to memory— he spoke, saying, “Drives me fucking crazy…” as one of his hands found its way to the inside of your calf, stroking slowly up, further and further, “...how fucking wet you get for me, before I’ve even touched you. Goddamn.”

“Jake, please,” you begged again, your voice cracking a bit as you spread your legs to give him easier access to your inner thigh, his long fingers stroking and massaging you only centimeters from where you needed his touch the most. “I need your fingers… I need them… please.”

Your final “please” had such an undertone of neediness, desperation, it must’ve been exactly what Jake had been looking for-– and immediately, your eyes rolled back into your head as his long middle finger began to stroke deliciously up and down your clothed slit. He started at your entrance to gather your wetness through your panties, then slid upwards and flattened his fingertip out, letting the pad of the digit trace tight circles over your throbbing clit. Immediately upon the contact with your sensitive bundle of nerves, you cried out, clapping a hand over your own mouth as you, in a cloud of arousal, watched Jake play with your pussy from his position between your legs, his eyes never leaving yours as he kept up his steady, rhythmic circular motions.

Time seemed to stop for what could have been seconds or minutes as Jake massaged your clit and teased your entrance through your dripping panties, and it was only when your eyes were watering and whimpers were falling from your lips that he pulled his hand back, the loss of contact making you let out an involuntary whine.

But once his fingers hooked around the waistband of your panties, you realized he wasn’t teasing any longer— he was escalating. The thought made you shudder as he tugged the soaked scrap of fabric down your legs, Jake’s face flushed with heat, that gorgeous hair of his falling across his shoulders and sticking to his forehead.

Once your panties were off, he tossed them to the side, standing up and leaving you trembling on the leather couch as his hands moved down to his own waistband, his eyes meeting yours and his tongue once again swiping across his bottom lip hungrily. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him as he moved to pull his pants down— which, at this point, were pornographically tight— and, Jesus Christ, he looked angelic as they came off. His skin was glowing with sweat, and warm light from the dressing room’s lamps was glinting off the silver medallion around his neck. When he took his cock out, you let out yet another involuntary whimper.

Hard and thick, the tip already glistening with his arousal, just the sight of it made your mouth water. He wrapped his hand around his length, beginning to pump it up and down just slightly as he lowered himself onto the couch next to you, watching with blown-out pupils as you pulled your crop top over your head, revealing to Jake that you hadn’t worn a bra underneath it, your tits bouncing free. The realization made him growl under his breath between strokes of his cock, groaning, “Fuck… you do that for me?” Your nod made him groan all over again, rasping out, “Mmmm… you’re such a dirty girl… C’mere.”

The simple command was all you needed, giving into your desire and practically pushing yourself against his slick, toned body. The feeling of his hot skin against yours alone made you moan out loud as Jake’s hands found your hips, pulling you into his lap. Once you were straddling him, you were so close to his cock that you felt entirely lightheaded, knowing that if you rocked forward, your clit would get the most incredible friction rubbing up against his length…

But you didn’t have to do anything yourself. Before you could organize your thoughts, Jake was kissing you again, messy and filthy, his tongue and teeth everywhere, his mouth moving sloppily from your lips to your neck and back again, and suddenly you hadn’t any thoughts left at all beyond Jake, his hands, his body, and the feeling of his cold silver medallion pressing up against the skin of your breasts— grazing your nipple, making you gasp into his mouth, eliciting a dark chuckle form the man beneath you.

One of his hands took yours and guided it to his cock, and when your fingers wrapped around the velvety skin of his length the both of you shuddered in unison. Jake’s mouth immediately dropped open from the pleasure, murmuring another, “Fuck, princess,” his other hand slipping between your legs to start toying with your clit again. It didn’t take long for your legs to start to tremble. You were aching for him to fill you up.

You both worked each other like this for a minute or two, eyes growing more half-lidded and cheeks flushing ever pinker as you built up to the main event. Finally, after what seemed an achingly long time, Jake finally spoke, words coming in between his heavy panting that was making your whole body tremble.

“You want it, baby? You want this cock right now? You want Daddy to fuck you like the cute little slut you are?”

You moaned so desperately you hardly recognized your own voice. He always knew exactly when to bring things up a notch, and how. You were nodding your head before you could even speak, finally finding the words to beg, “Please, Daddy. I need it, I need your cock,” staring at him with lust-blown doe eyes.

Jake let out a true growl this time, and sat back further, spreading his legs wide, his cock thick and hard and waiting, your wetness all over his thigh from where you had been straddling him. When he spoke again, his voice was low and authoritative. “Then sit on this fucking dick.”

The sound that left your lips in response to his words was something beyond desperation. With trembling thighs, you positioned yourself over Jake as he gave his cock another couple strokes, lining himself up at your entrance, and saying lowly, hotly, “Look at me.”

You obliged without even having to think, and with your eyes on each other, taking in every little change in expression, you started lowering yourself onto him. Slowly but surely, you felt every single inch of his hard cock stretching you out, and as you took all of him as deep as possible, you made sure to keep your eyes right on his as your mouth fell open. He loved to see what he was doing to you.

He only waited a moment, giving you enough time to grab onto his shoulders for leverage, but not enough time to catch your breath, before his hands found your hips. His fingernails dug into your skin, something sexy, dangerous, and dark in his eyes that you instantly recognized. Oh. There would be no working slowly into things tonight. Tonight, Jake was entirely in control.

Roughly, quickly, he lifted you by the hips, before pushing you right back down onto his cock, making you cry out in ecstasy. It was only a moment before he lifted you right back up again, then shoving you back down onto him, giving you no rest from the sudden and overwhelming pleasure. His sense of timing, perfected from years of playing guitar, was more obvious than ever as he started to build up a rhythm that was dizzying in its relentless repetition. The way he was filling you up felt so fucking good, and it only intensified when Jake began to fuck up into you while pressing you down onto him, getting deeper and deeper with every thrust. You couldn’t hold back anymore, starting to moan out his name as he fucked you.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Jake groaned out, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead onto his chest, “Such a good girl… taking my cock so fucking well. Goddamn. So fuckin’ filthy.”

“Fuck, fuck, thank you, Daddy,” you were moaning, broken sounds falling nonstop from your lips as Jake slammed his cock into you, but when your eyes threatened to roll back into your head, he once again took your jaw in his large hand, forcing your gaze to stay on his.

“I told you to keep your fucking eyes on me when I fuck you.”

You whimpered, biting your lip, Jake’s relentless pounding hitting you right where it felt the best, the angle at which he was fucking you giving him perfect access to your sweet spot.

“I’m sorry, Daddy, fuck, fuck, don’t stop!” you begged, the combination of his cock filling you up and that low, sexy voice of his right in your ear completely emptying your mind of any other thoughts besides how fucking good he was making you feel.

Jake was speeding up now, and it was getting harder and harder for you to keep your eyes on him with the pleasure building so intensely within you. You knew you were close, and his labored gasps and breathless growls made it clear that he wasn’t far behind.

“Fuck, baby… that perfect pussy… she’s gripping me so fuckin’ tight,” he was groaning against you, and you were nodding desperately and moaning out obscenities, tears forming in your eyes from the unyielding ecstasy. One of your arms was still around his shoulders, while the other had a white-knuckled grip on his silver necklace as you rolled your hips in time with his thrusts.

He must’ve been able to tell you were close by the way your thighs began to shake, the way your moans turned into desperate, tiny whimpers, because you didn’t even have to say a word before Jake sucked his pointer and middle fingers into his mouth, getting them nice and slick before lowering them to trace tight circles onto your clit.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It was all so much; so deliciously overstimulating— Jake’s cock deep in your pussy, his fingers working your clit just right, his dark eyes looking at you so intently that even the act of him simply watching you as you fell apart felt so fantastically filthy and sinful.

“Does my little slut wanna cum?” Jake growled through gritted teeth, still thrusting up into you as he managed one of those patronizing smirks that drove you wild, “Not yet. Not until I say so.”

You let out a desperate whine, whimpering weakly, “Jake— fuck, please, Daddy.” Every word took all of your focus and energy to stammer out, with Jake surrounding what felt like every inch of your body, from his cock pumping in and out of you, to his fingers on your clit, and the heat of his skin against yours.

“Be a good girl now,” he continued between grunts, fucking you deep and hard, his lust-blown eyes never once leaving yours, “I’m gonna count down. Then… and only then… you cum on my fucking cock.”

You managed to make the only sound you could— a whimper that sounded so pathetic and slutty you hardly recognized your own voice. Trying to find words now would be hopeless. It was all so much. It felt so fucking good. Tears began to spill from your eyes as Jake’s thick cock slammed against your g-spot over and over again, in perfect time with his calloused fingers relentlessly circling your clit.

He chuckled condescendingly. You could tell— he knew you were too fucked out to answer him.

“Here we go, princess… five…”

You were trembling, moments away from the edge, utilizing every bit of energy you had left to hold off the orgasm that threatened to overtake you any second.

“Four… three…”

You could barely breathe. Every sensation, every feeling, was layered on top of one other. The pressure on your clit. Jake’s eyes, watching you unravel. The feeling of his cock swelling inside of you as he pounded into your cunt. His other hand still gripping your hip for leverage, surely leaving bruises in the shape of his fingerprints.

“Two…”

He leaned right in, giving you a look so fucking intense and hungry that you felt yourself go lightheaded, that heat building, building… so close, so fucking close… he just had to say…

“One. Cum for me. Fucking cum.”

The moment the command left his lips, it was all over. The white-hot coil within you snapped, and your body was overtaken with bliss, shaking uncontrollably as you clenched down onto him, the feeling of your release all around him making Jake groan out a pornographic, “Oh, fuck.”

He kept up his pace as he fucked you and worked your clit through your orgasm, repeatedly biting his lower lip in concentration as he groaned out, “That’s it, baby, give it to me, soak my fucking cock.” The pleasure was dizzying, damn near overwhelming, and through your haze it was impossible to tell for just how long he helped prolong your climax while chasing his own.

With a delicious moan and a string of obscenities, Jake pulled out of your cunt just in time, thrusting into his hand and covering your stomach in his cum. Even through your post-orgasmic haze, the sight of him cumming all over you was so incredibly filthy you found yourself whimpering all over again, watching him through glazed-over eyes as he rode out his high.

When you both finally collapsed onto each other, panting, covered in sweat and cum, Jake groaned out a breathless, “Holy fuck,” before taking his hand and running it through your hair. There was a tenderness in his gaze and a softness in his tone as he asked, “Are you okay, baby?”

You nodded, slowly but surely coming back down to Earth. When you managed a dazed grin, he chuckled a little, smirking affectionately. He leaned in to press a kiss to your lips— this one far more gentle, but no less passionate. When Jake pulled back, he breathed out, “That was so fucking hot, baby… goddamn. You’re something else.”

You felt a blush creep up in your cheeks as he stroked your hair, then your back, his tender touches grounding you as you caught your breath against his chest. It was only after a good long while, once the stickiness on your stomachs became too much to bear, that he helped you to your feet, your thighs already feeling a familiar ache, knees still wobbling a bit. By now, you had found your words, and you thanked him, giggling shyly despite yourself.

He wrapped a plush towel around you, cleaning you up as best as he could, grabbing another towel for himself. It was after this, though, that he spoke.

“Come back to the hotel with me tonight.”

His words took you by surprise. Yes, you’d been to his hotel rooms before— but generally, you’d head there in order to fuck, not after it already had taken place. He must’ve been able to read your expression, because he continued, “I wanna take care of you, baby. It’s the least I can do… there’s a jacuzzi, we can get a nice bath going for you… and there’s a king-sized bed…”

And… you were blushing again. Of course.

You chewed on your bottom lip with nervous excitement, your heart already starting to beat faster. “Jake… that sounds perfect.” He smiled at you, looking utterly radiant, and you felt butterflies in your stomach all over again as he put his arm around you. “C’mon, gorgeous… let’s get you some of my clothes to put on. I’ve got a sweatshirt in here somewhere…”

As you melted into his touch, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. The night was only just beginning.

••••••••••••••••••••

A/N: thank you so so much for reading!! i would absolutely love to hear your thoughts either in the notes or through tumblr DMs. my ask box is always open for filthy thoughts, and i’m always looking for more gvf friends to discuss with 🥰 i’m also starting a taglist for any new fics i post, so be sure to let me know if you want to be added! XO, li

#jake kiszka #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #greta van smut #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet x reader #li speaks #my fanfics #when i tell you i accidentally stayed up until 3am TWO NIGHTS IN A ROW writing this…. i am not well. someone lock me up #writing tag

382 notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 1 year

Text

Reaper

This isn't a thing, it's just... a thing.

Simon Riley/reader - Grim Reaper Simon Riley 1k words Warnings-tags: ... none? Silver tongue and scythe.

The porch is decorated with mirrors. They’re all strung together on fishing line, clear, nearly iridescent strings that move with the wind, reflective glass occasionally chiming when they hit one another. It almost looks like art, beams of sunlight getting caught in the mirrors and reflecting off into different directions, across the worn wooden boards or into the two front windows, sneaking past the white lace curtains that are pulled shut.

A broom is nailed to the right of the front door, it’s gnarled and twisted handled complimented by frayed bristles, fuzzy twine wrapped around where the two meet. In the front garden bed, a small, trimmed tree stretches upwards, its branches adorned with upside down glass bottles.

He shifts his weight from one leg to another while he waits for an answer to his knock. He keeps catching his own reflection in the many mirrors that swing in the breeze, shards and squares and circles all reflecting his own gaze back to him, over and over. He realizes, right then and there, that this, will be more difficult than usual.

You open the door. Just a crack, not enough for him to fully see, not enough to even get a good idea of what you look like.

“Excuse me, I’m-“

“What do you want.” Your voice is flat. Unamused.

“Well, I’m your neighbor, just moved into the old Callaway place down the road. Thought I’d stop by, introduce myself.” He twists his tone into something American, something southern, but you don’t take the bait.

The door doesn’t budge. The wind picks up, and the leaves of the sugar maple in the yard rustle against each other.

“Great. Did you need something?”

“Just, wanted to meet my neighbors, I guess. It’s just you, and the house up the way so I figured-“

“You figured wrong.” He bites his tongue, nearly swallows it when you go to force the door closed.

“Wait. Sorry, I know… it’s rude to just show up unannounced but I promise, I’m just tryin’ to be neighborly. I’m Simon.” He doesn’t extend his hand because he already knows how that will go. You trace him from his black leather shoes to the top button of his shirt, cinched tight beneath his throat. A cat meows from behind you, black and shiny, sitting on its haunches with its head tilted, regarding him silently. A familiar? Bloody hell.

You stay silent, the only response a raised eyebrow.

“I hear you’re named after a princess.” He tries to pry you open but fails, glancing down at the familiar before attempting a different approach. “Cat got your tongue?” The joke bounces, and you try to shut the door in his face, but he sneaks the tip of his shoe in front of the frame, allowing it to slam into the side of his foot. “Come on, now.” He shifts his voice into something silken, honey smooth and sweet, a tempting pull for all who hear it.

Well, almost all.

Your eyes narrow.

“Get off my porch.” The maple creaks, and something pushes your voice through him, as a warning, an evoking. Marvelous creature, I wonder what weight your soul carries? Will you let me strip it from you, taste it for myself?

“That’s no way to treat a neighbor.”

“You and I both know, you’re no neighbor.” His lips crack into a smile, parting to reveal a beautiful row of pearly white teeth that you cannot see behind the balaclava. The wind whistles again, harder. The smile melts into a thin-lipped frown.

“No. But they say I drive a hard bargain.” It’s your turn to frown, and you do it so beautifully, lips pulling down into a pout, cheeks sucking inward with displeasure. Your nose wrinkles in distaste.

“There is no one here to bargain with you. Take your silver tongue and sickle elsewhere.” A flash of rage thunders across your eyes, and something burns in the pit of his stomach. Intriguing.

“Surely there is something you want? Something you would give in exchange?” You don’t flinch, don’t pause to consider, don’t even blink.

“You’ll have better luck down the road.” You instruct him, daring to point a finger over his shoulder, directing past where the trees curl around your gravel driveway.

“Now, Buttercup.” He drags the first vowel of the nickname out, mimicking the way you grandmother said it, drawling it long and deep. You scowl. “I wonder…” He steps closer, close enough he can smell the scent of your spearmint-tinged breath, see the flecks of brown and gold that gather around your irises. “Do you dare venture out, after dark? Or do you resist the call of the woods, staying safe up in your house, locked away.”

“I venture plenty.” He grins.

“Do you now?” Let me rip you open, darling. Let me drink your soul from the threads of your being. “They say all the fun happens at night; you know.” His hand finds his pocket, slipping into the black linen, and you tense. When he produces a card, silver in the shine of the midday sun, your shoulders ease, following the movement of his hand with your eyes. “My card.” He flourishes it towards you, and you lift a lip in a snarl.

“I said, get off my porch.” You cock you head, tilting your chin just so, straightening your spine in challenge.

“Take it. Just in case.” He watches the hesitation in the tightening lines at the corner of your mouth, the subtle quirk of your lips. Take it, buttercup. A bead of sweat trickles from the hair behind you ear, tracing down the curve of you neck before it disappears down into your shirt.

The air around him snaps to a halt, and your fingers hover in the air above his. Brave little lamb. For a second, your eyes meet his fully, and a tangle of webs weave in the space between him and you. No one moves, or breathes. The world stands still.

The wind shrieks through the maple.

The spell breaks.

You snatch the card and slam the door in his face.

He chuckles. He’ll give you a few hours and hope you come to your senses. He hates reaping by force.

#simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #female reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost cod #cod mwii #cod mw22 fanfiction #cod mw2 #peaches writes

456 notes · View notes

illyrian-dreamer · 1 year

Text

Overwritten – Part 6

Azriel x Reader

Summary: After months as his prisoner, Hybern has hijacked your mind, turning you into an enemy of your home, your family, and your mate, Azriel.

Warnings: None

Words: 2,069

--------

Part 6 ∇

A faint drizzle coated the window, blurring the view of the cluster of winding cobble streets and sparkling river that ran through Velaris. It was hard to imagine yourself strolling this city, browsing shopfronts and dining at restaurants, arms linked with your friends, your family, even your mate.

But as impossible as that felt, it had been your life – or so your family told you. You hadn't the faintest idea of your life before Hybern, your favourite past times, music, food, genre of books – all of it was as foreign to you as the people that insisted on helping. But the way they described it, the way they described you, it was clear you had been happy. Overwhelmingly so.

“Does that book not interest you?”

Behind you, Rhys and Feyre stood together, friendly smiles on both their faces as the High Lord wrapped an arm around his mate’s waist. You looked down at the book in your hands, forgetting you had even come here to read.

After many weeks of treatment, seeing their faces and hearing their voices had become more bearable. You were no longer triggered into episodes of violent hysteria that you could not remember, instead a dull headache would throb behind your eyes, but you managed to stay composed, forever fighting those voices in your head.

The journey to come this far had been exhausting and painful, but you were proud to have moved from the medical wing to your own chambers. Outside of the ongoing treatments with Feyre and Mor you were free to explore the townhouse, the library being your favourite sanction despite how often you were too tired to read. The Inner Circle would check in frequently, all except Azriel. As you were told, his presence was too high of a risk to unravel the progress you had made. You tried not to think about how that must hurt him.

Turning to the couple now, you forced yourself to return their smile before clearing your throat. “I’m not sure romance novels have my interest.” Despite her good intentions, Nesta’s taste in books were not something you could indulge in at this time. It took just one chapter for flustered-ridden heat to stain your cheeks, and you were far too shy to explain that to a house of strangers.

Feyre laughed softly, while Rhys’s smile grew to a grin. Your High Lady walked over, gently taking the book from you and instead held your hands in hers. You couldn't help the thud of your heart. While you found Feyre to be the most approachable of them all, her kindness and empathy radiating just as her beauty did, it was hard not to associate her with the physical and mental labour it took to undergo your treatments.

Swallowing thickly, you looked up at your High Lady. “Are we due for another session?” you asked, cursing your child-like vulnerability. You hated being like this.

Feyre smiled softly in return, understanding written all over her face. “No, not today. I actually wanted to invite you to an event. An afternoon tea, tomorrow.”

You cocked your eyebrow, glancing back at your High Lord, who offered a nod of assurance. “Afternoon tea?”

“Yes, at our house by the river.”

Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm your heart’s thunder. “That’s very kind,” you forced yourself to say.

The High Lord and Lady waited for more. You hadn't left the townhouse yet, and the world beyond that was so unfamiliar. What if you were triggered into another episode? Who might get hurt this time? You would hate yourself even more if you harmed any of these kind people again.

Feyre, catching the spiral of thoughts that twisted in your mind, spoke quickly to reassure you. “It will be a small group, Mor, Nesta, Elain and Amren. Just an afternoon with tea and cakes. We would winnow you there and back, and you can leave anytime you want.”

You swallowed as you tried to picture what that must look like. An afternoon tea – with friends. It was hard to imagine yourself talking and laughing amongst them.

“It could be fun,” Rhys added, walking over now.

Looking at Feyre’s hands that still held yours, you didn't want to offended her by rejecting the invitation. Trusting that she always had your best interest at heart, you forced another smile. “I think that would be nice.” Both of them shared a small breath in relief, almost unnoticeable.

“Excellent!” Feyre clapped, before moving to her mate and giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “I need to check on Nyx, but I’ll see you tomorrow Y/N. Try and get some rest.”

You offered a short smile back before she bounced out of the room, and waited for Rhys to do the same. Instead, he kept his violet eyes fixed on you. There was a moment of silence before you shifted in your seat, uncomfortable under his gaze. “Please don't use your mind magic right now,” you asked softly. Again, so child-like. You were weak still, and all you could do was plead for your own privacy.

“I wouldn't without permission, unless the situation is dire,” he replied calmly.

You nodded, turning your gaze back to the window. You believed him, at this stage you had no reason not to. To your surprise the rain had stopped, but tumbles of grey clouds still plagued the sky, dimming the vibrancy of the outside world.

“I’m curious,” Rhysand spoke, drawing you back to the room. “This is the third day you’ve sat in this chair, staring out of this exact window.”

Your eyes flickered to him, and you tried to hide your annoyance. You knew you were under surveillance – every behaviour, every quirk assessed and judged and analysed. Despite your families best intentions, it was completely alienating, and served as a constant reminder of how dangerous you truly were, and that you could not to be trusted.

Rhys waited for you to respond, his gaze patient, as if he would wait forever until you told him how you truly felt. “It’s a nice view,” you shrugged, not really sure of what else to say.

“The Sidra is spectacular,” he agreed.

“I care more for the shopfronts and restaurants,” you added, nodding your chin to where they splayed miles away.

Rhys cocked an eyebrow, moving to lean against the arm of your chair. “Why’s that?” he asked gently.

You shrugged again, suddenly self conscious. Had you overshared? Or maybe it would be used against you? Did he think you had intentions to harm the people of Velaris, and were plotting from his very home? The breath that left you then was heavy, weighted. How could you convince him, all of them, that you never meant them any harm?

Rhys waited for an answer again, his patience admirable. With a sigh, you gave in. “I suppose… it’s where life beckons.”

“Ah.”

You looked up at him now, the High Lord so casual with his arms folded across his chest. His friendliness and ease was not a forced thing, that much you could tell.

“We must have been close friends,” you noted. You could be observant too.

A half-smile formed on his face as he flicked his eyes down to you. “We attended education lessons together. 486 years ago.”

486 years. Gods, knowing how many forgotten memories laid in that span of time made your mind reel. You bought a quick hand to your temple, clenching through the pain as your mind sifted to remember just one of those moments. You drew up blank.

“Shall I ease it?” Rhys offered, his magic serving as useful pain relief these past months.

“No, no. It’s bearable,” you replied, rubbing your temples before blinking your eyes open again. You were well practiced at recovering from the headaches. “Classmates then?” you spoke through a tight jaw.

Rhys’s grin returned, as a wicked memory flashed in his eyes. “You were a bad influence,” he laughed, nudging you in the arm.

“I was?”

“Always trying to convince me to skip class and take you flying instead.”

You let out a small laugh, dropping your head in embarrassment. “Sorry,” was all you could say.

“Don’t be. I didn't need much convincing.”

“Still trying to relive the glory days Rhys?” a gruff voice chimed in from the doorway. Cassian didn't wait for an answer before he walked to the other side of your chair, peering out of the window you all faced. “What are we looking at?”

“I was just telling Y/N about how we used to spend our time outside of our lessons.”

Cassian chuckled with a knowing nod. “I always said you should have been born with wings yourself Y/N. You’re the only non-Illyrian I know who enjoys flying as much as we do.”

You gave Cassian a smile. It was comforting to hear them both speak about you so knowingly. “I’ll admit, it does sound exhilarating.”

“Well, what about a quick flight now?”

You almost gawked at the tall male. You hadn't even left the house yet, could you truly handle something like flying? It was instinct to cast an unknown glance at Rhys, who was already smiling at you.

“You don’t need permission Y/N,” Rhys levelled your look. “Do as you feel comfortable.”

“Besides, you need the fresh air,” Cassian added, his tone teasing.

You bit your lip as you pondered your choices, excitement brewing in your belly – a unique, distinct feeling that called with such familiarity. “Alright,” you said tightly.

Cassian whooped, before extending a formal hand to the door, the other offered to you. “Your flight awaits,” he joked with the wiggle of his eyebrows. If you hadn’t been so nervous, you might have laughed.

Cassian escorted you to the nearby verandah, flexing his wings as he prepared to take off. “I’ll go slow sweetheart, and if at any point you want to stop, just say the word.”

You nodded, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as strong arms scooped you from your knees, pulling you tight against his chest.

“Why don't you do the honours. You do remember how to count, right?”

With a roll of your eyes, you began. “One.”

Wings flared then – dark, massive things, their breadth consuming the space around you.

“Two.”

Cassian braced himself, his knees bent for takeoff.

“Thr–”

Your words were cut off as you were launched into the sky. You clung tight to Cassian, who laughed freely in your ear. The flap of his wings was faint against the roar of the winds, you hair whipping this way and that.

Cassian speared higher and higher before momentum paid off and he was able to glide.

You dared to look beneath you. The city of Velaris, while faint under the overcast clouds, was still vibrant and bustling, full of life. You took a deep breath, letting the crisp air feel your lungs. Cassian had been right – you did love flying.

“Enjoying yourself?” Cassian spoke loudly, at competition with the winds.

“Very much so!” you yelled back, your smile widening every minute you spent in the air. For who you were now, this was your first time flying. You had never known such exhilarating joy.

Up ahead, rain clouds loomed in threatening darkness. “I’ll have to turn us around,” Cassian spoke, steering his body sideways as he made for a wide turn in the sky. You knew it was a half-excuse, and he likely didn't want to push you physically. But you didn't mind, this wouldn't be your last time flying – that you would make sure of.

Soon enough, Cassian had landed you safely back at the townhouse.

“You look healthier already,” he grinned, flicking your nose. You couldn't help yourself as you rushed at him, wrapping your arms around his waist. Cassian took a moment of surprise before hugging you back, placing a few firm pats on your back.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Anytime sweetheart.”

No longer able to hide the bite of the cold that nipped at you, you pulled away from Cassian, offering him another wide smile before heading inside. He watched you enter the house, his breathing heavy from the exertion of the flight.

It was heavy enough that he didn't hear the Shadowsinger approach.

Cassian didn’t have enough time to dodge the scarred fist that swung for his face.

--------

Part 7 >>>

AN: Thank you for all of the kind feedback for this story so far, and I’m sorry this took me so long to get out! Appreciate each and every one of you ❤️ Comment to join the tag list 💕🌙

Tags: @hyacinthoideshispanica @kennedy-brooke @cosmic-whispers @jazmin2211 @psychobookaholic @fieldofdaisiies @marina468 @itscaitymoore @timecharm @icey--stars @lucyysthings @valeridarkness @alw-aysjanuary @brekkershadowsinger @ladygloucester @ciannemar83 @wiitchkiller @xtreme-shipper @thorslonglocks @im-bili @kexrtiz @shadowcrowsworld @lillithathecat @marina468 @aroseinvelaris @cynicalpotato95 @goldentournesol @maddithefangirl @holywolfsstuff @banasheefan56 @banasheefan56 @im-bili @v1olentdelights @cardanenthusiast @mandarin-lmao @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @ttreader @shadowsingersmate24 @auggiesolovey @percyjacksonspeen @starxqt @reiincarnatiion @thefandomplace @highladyofillyria @ariels-thingamabobs @optimisticbabydreamer

457 notes · View notes

agustdiv1ne · 8 months

Note

congratulations on 3k!!! can i request beomgyu + the devil wears prada + smut please

NOW SHOWING...

pairing: choi beomgyu x fem!reader

genre: smսt

wc: 2.2k

details + warnings: mdni!!!, assistant!beomgyu, boss!mc (girlboss moment), mc is Mean, power imbalance, dom!mc, sub!gyu, oral (f receiving), hair pulling (m receiving), mc calls gyu: good boy, baby (once), gyu experiences slight subdrop but it's ok in the end !

note: thank uuuu ^^ enjoy!!

beomgyu knows next to nothing about fashion. in fact, he has no interest in the subject — that’s more his friend, yeonjun’s, speed — and he’s quite critical of the industry itself, so he’s genuinely unsure why he decided to accept the position of junior assistant to you, the devil herself.

he initially found it hard to believe that you, someone a mere few years older than him, had climbed all the way up to the top of the corporate ladder to become the editor-in-chief of a major fashion magazine. nepotism was his working suspicion, but he quickly realized that you were just that good at your job. fashion is what you live and breathe, it’s what runs through your veins, and while he doesn’t have a particularly keen eye for cohesive style, he can tell that your outfits are intentionally put together. he gets an eyeful of your wardrobe (and, if he’s being truthful, your ass) each day when you come into the office, throwing your designer coat and bag onto his desk without a single glance in his direction. recently, he’s found himself trying harder to curate his own sense of style, though he is not entirely sure why — perhaps he’s seeking approval from you, even if the words you direct towards him are consistently scathing in nature. he kind of likes it, though.

(what can he say, he’s a bit of a masochist.)

he’s well aware that your chronically stoic, unimpressed expression and sharp tongue help you keep everyone pinned under your perfectly manicured thumb. you may not have authority in age, but you sure as hell do in attitude. the whirlwind that the office becomes right before you enter is enough to indicate the sheer amount of influence you hold over his fellow coworkers — and evidently, him as well. it’s fear-based admiration, he thinks. fear, yes, but there is that tiny little part of him that experiences this overwhelming attraction to you as well.

on the bright side, even though his lack of fashion knowledge has gotten him in trouble more often than he’d like to admit, he’s eventually gotten in your good graces, albeit with quite an unorthodox method — one which also satisfies his odd fascination with you.

“tell him that i will not be accepting the girl he sent for that layout. i asked for clean, athletic, and smiley. i received dirty, tired, and drabby— no, i will not be changing my mind. if he does not fix his mistake by tomorrow morning, i will not be working with him in the future,” you sigh on the phone, voice monotone and unaffected despite him kneeling beneath your desk between your legs. this is his master plan: if beomgyu can’t get you to approve of him through his (to be fair, subpar) work as your junior assistant, he’ll just have to prove himself worthy in other ways. please you in other ways.

“so, what i’m hearing is that you want to whore yourself out to me in order to keep your job. what an…interesting proposition,” you had said to him when he’d first come to you with the idea, while he quaked like a leaf in the wind as he sat across from you. your stone-cold face allowed little of your internal state to slip, your eyes scanning over his pressed suit jacket and fashion-forward button up shirt (that he had, admittedly, stolen from yeonjun’s closet that morning). he didn’t expect you to savagely twist his words and throw them back in his face. though once you put it that way, he realized how naïve, how utterly idiotic, it all sounded. his ass was going to be fired and out your office door in t-minus three, two, one—

but then you beckoned him around the desk with a stiletto-shaped, red-painted fingernail, urged him down onto his knees, and spread your legs to reveal thin, lacy black panties beneath your tight, mouth-watering skirt. your expression still hadn’t changed, though your words caused his mouth to water.

“you have five minutes to prove your worth.”

several months have passed since then, and he’s officially demonstrated himself useful to you in ways other than what he was originally hired for. beomgyu finds this type of work far more gratifying than taking calls, cleaning out files, and organizing potential magazine spreads for you to review. he’s sure the his co-workers wonder why someone in such a lowly position spends a significant amount of time in your office with the door shut — but he couldn’t care less about their stares. maybe it’s the sick, perverted crush he’s formed on you that’s talking, but the thought of being used for his body isn’t appalling. rather, it actually really, really turns him on. whenever you call him into his office, he has to suppress a pathetic hard-on and ignore the twitching of his cock while he wonders if you need him for something practical or for…relief.

relief is what you require today, it seems. the slight furrow of your brow is enough to indicate that you’re stressed. being an editor-in-chief at your age is no joke. the job demands all of your time and energy, every waking hour of your day — and he’s grateful that you’ve given him the chance to be your reprieve from the pressure, even if it’s only for a small percentage of your time. sometimes, he wishes he could take up more of your day, bask in your attention for longer, sit beneath your desk for hours and allow you to use him like a stupid sex toy — but at the same time, he thinks this is enough for now.

his teeth dig into his bottom lip as your hands curl into the locks of hair at the crown of his head, pointed nails pressing into his scalp, nipping at the sensitive skin. the gel that slicks back his hair crunches beneath your unrelenting grip, his head stinging as you jerk it back. his eyes nearly roll back into his head at the sensation, a pitiful whine falling from his lips as he feels his trousers grow the slightest bit tighter. narrowed eyes meeting his, you press your mouth into a thin, straight line. the phone is no longer curled between your fingers, attention now fully on him. scrutinizing.

“twenty minutes,” is all you say, and he takes that as his cue to get to work. gently, he slips your skirt off of your legs and lays it out next to him, knowing how much you’d hate for it to wrinkle — it’s unfashionable, trashy. you scolded him the first time he attempted to bunch it up at your hips in haste. now, he knows better, has learned the vast majority of your quirks and preferences, as strict as they can be — he’s your good boy, even if you don’t give him the satisfaction of hearing it that often. he’ll do anything to hear that come from your painted lips.

thumbing your panties to the side reveals your glistening folds to his hungry eyes. he swipes his tongue over the seam of his lips before kissing up your right thigh, avoiding using his teeth because you don’t like marks. he hums as he tongues your folds, the muscle dipping down to your entrance and he nearly moans at the taste that hits his tongue. fuck, why do you always taste so good? it’s like an addiction at this point, the way he needs his tongue buried beneath your thighs every day to feel sated.

above him, you sigh out, stiff shoulders relaxing into your chair. he takes this as a positive sign. fingers curl into his hair as soon as his lips find your clit, enclosing around the tiny pearl, tongue laving across it with practiced motions. typically, you don’t moan, but today, you allow a soft, breathy curse to slip — oh, fuck, he’s done for. he’s on the verge of losing it and cumming in his pants right now. whining against your folds, his incoherent words vibrate against your clit. fingers curl into his hair and tug just hard enough to sting, but he doesn’t stop, insatiable as he drags his tongue from your clit back down to your entrance. his nose bumps against your clit now as he takes laps up the juices flowing from your hole, feeling your walls clench when he dares to dip the muscle into you. dizzy, dizzy is how he feels. dizzy with the warmth of your thighs muffling his ears, with the scent of your musky perfume that you seem to dab on your inner thighs, on your taste, on everything about you. you’re more reactive today, less mean, and he has a half a mind to wonder why.

“fuck, good boy,” you sigh, nails scratching at his sensitive scalp, making him moan. his trousers feel painfully tight, and he can’t help the hand that comes down to stroke over the hardness straining against the fabric. his eyes roll back into his head, eyelids fluttering shut as he switches his attention back to your clit, basking in the sensation of your legs tightening around his head, your hips grinding up into his lips. your breathy pants spur him on further, and when he finally looks back up at your face, he finds your lips bitten to hell, your eyes dark and hooded as you stare right back at him. the eye contact is enough for you to warn him of your impending high, your squirming growing worse until you freeze, legs quaking and hips jumping as he continues to ravage your folds, his hand squeezing himself harder. he could burst at any moment now, but he can’t do that. he has to hold it in, he has to prove that he can listen.

“get up, go handle your problem,” you’d usually say afterwards, leaving him to fend for himself in a bathroom stall, fist pumping his red, aching cock until he spills all over his fingers. today, however, it’s different. instead, he watches as you pick up your phone, dial some number, and say, “yes, tell everyone not to disturb me for another hour. if anyone does, they’ll be fired.”

oh. you’re not…making him leave. what’s going on? is this some sort of cruel way to fire him? he just did so well for you though, you can’t. no, no, no — you can’t get rid of him. he needs you. you need him. dewy tears line his eyes, the amber hue of his pupils shining beneath your warm office lights. as you set the phone back down and look back down at him, your brows pull down into a frown, though there’s little concern and more confusion.

“up,” you urge with another tug to his hair, and he swallows down the squeak that hitches in his throat, blinking back the tears. as he stands, head tucked into his chest, you question, “what is wrong with you?”

“i–i just,” he whimpers. “i—”

your eyes trail down to the tent in his pants, a nail coming up to trace along his covered erection. he visibly shivers. humming, you grope it softly, and he emits a tearful whine. “look at me.”

one, two seconds pass before he follows your command, red-rimmed eyes somehow making him prettier. while he’s a tall man, he’s shrunken into himself, hair mussed, lips still slick with your arousal — you think that he must be deep in some vulnerable headspace, so you decide to say, “you’re not in trouble. you did well.”

the words come out flat, monotone, but it’s enough to cause the panic swelling within his chest to recede. he nods, still unable to look you in the eye. he feels you stand in front of him, reaching for his chin so he has no choice but to face you. your expression remains neutral while you slide a finger back and forth against his jaw. soothing, in a way, lacking the typical sharp edge that your actions have. gently, you push him to the side, and he watches with bated breath as you sit atop your desk, legs dangling off the dark wood. with a single wave of your finger, you guide him between your legs, hands on his hips as you start to help him grind against your panty-covered core.

“do you want to be even better for me?” you ask, and he nods silently. “words, beomgyu.”

“y-yes, i do,” he whispers, watching as your tongue swipes over your lips. a ghost of a smile plays on your lips, barely there — but he notices. he notices everything about you, really, even in this hazy state of his.

“good,” you sigh, reaching down to stroke him once more. he sighs, eyes squeezing shut and vision blurring as they open again. he mouth falls open before he can stop it, a shuddering moan falling from his lips. tilting your head, a single quirk of your brow has his heart pounding harder.

“then go ahead and fuck me, baby.”

3k event masterlist | masterlist

#txt smut #beomgyu smut #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #beomgyu hard hours #beomgyu hard thoughts #txt imagines #beomgyu imagines #txt scenarios #beomgyu drabbles #txt drabbles #3k milestone celebration #💌 — gyu #agust.nsfw

349 notes · View notes

peterman-spideyparker · 1 year

Text

Santa, Baby (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Sooooooooo this fic was supposed to come on December 23, but I procrastinated with it and didn’t end up finishing it until yesterday, and I don’t want to wait until next year to post because I’d put money on it that I’d forget. And it’s still December, so it counts. Enjoy :)

Summary: You want to do something on the sexier side to surprise Matt at Christmastime, but you don’t know how he’d take it. When Matt takes an unexpected night off from vigilantism, you put your plan into motion.

Warnings: Fluff (established couple, soft domestic sweetness, kisses), smut (holiday themed sexy outfits, oral - m and f receiving, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie), swearing

Other Characters: Karen Page (Karen x Frank)

Word Count: 3,809

“Hey,” you say with a smile as you open the door, the office of Nelson, Murdock, and Page on the air of the quiet side of things for what you know has been a busy week for the trio.

“Angel, what are you doing here?” Matt smiles, taking a few steps forward from Karen’s desk to meet you in the middle of the reception area.

“I cut work early to run some errands and I was passing by, so I thought I’d pop up,” you hum, placing a quick, sweet kiss on his lips.

“Well, I don’t want to be a bummer, but I gotta go to court soon for a discovery hearing.”

“It’s okay, Matt. I actually came here to ask Karen a question.”

Surprised little “oh”s escape both of their lips, turning toward one another one shock.

“I guess I’ll leave you to it. See you at home, sweetheart.”

“Bye, Matty. You’ll do great,” you say with a kiss to his cheek, waiting as he grabs his jacket and makes it out of the office.

“So what’s up?” Karen asks with a smile as she sits on her desk, and you move to match her body language.

“Well, I had an idea, but I don’t know if I should see it through,” you explain. “See, I wanted to do something for Matt for Christmas, but I don’t know if he’d get his knickers in a twist. I mean, I already got his present—which has been hell to hide from Mr. Super Senses—but I want to do a little something more for him.”

“Like what?”

You feel your cheeks burn hot, suddenly a little embarrassed. You don’t know why you are—you’ve talked to Karen about this kind of stuff plenty of times before, and she has to you. You just have that kind of bond and friendship.

“Well, there was a really cute Santa babydoll dress that I was thinking of getting, but I don’t know if that’d be weird for Matt—making Christmas sexy like that.”

“He’s never hinted around anything in that sphere?”

“Nope.”

“Well, I guess I can understand where that might be an odd thing on different fronts. Making something that shouldn’t be sexy sexy, and then the religious element.”

“So it’s a bad idea then, huh?”

“Maybe that one specifically, but I’m sure there’s another. It’s fun to do sexy holiday things like that. Frank and I love doing them.”

“You do?” you smirk.

“That’s a story for another time with lots of wine,” she laughs. “But I’d look for other options, you know? If anything, Christmas and Valentine’s Day are perfect for something like that because of the softer fabrics, and I know Matt has a thing about that. Just poke around. I can even go shopping with you, if you want.”

“I’ll browse, and if I can’t find anything, we can look together. I’m assuming you’re trying to do something with Frank?”

She blushes deeply. “Yeah. But he doesn’t have a thing too much about Santa, so maybe send me the link for that babydoll?”

You laugh loudly in the quiet office. “Sure thing, Kare.”

As you dry the dishes from dinner, you feel Matt slip his arms around your middle, pressing you flush against his back and holding you close, his chin on your shoulder as he nuzzles into your neck.

“I think I’m gonna stay in tonight,” Matt whispers against your skin. “It’s chilly out.”

“The Devil is scared of a little wind chill?” you smile, trying and failing to turn around in Matt’s grip from behind.

“He likes it a little warmer.“

“Poor thing,” you pout, craning your head to the side, giving him a kiss on the side of the nose. “You’d never survive New England winters.”

“Good thing we live in the best city in the world.”

“You know what I think?”

“Lay it on me, sweetheart.”

“I think my big strong devil is a snuggly, needy, softy. In all the best ways.”

“Me? Needy?”

“We’re all a bit needy, Matty. You, for example, need me.”

“That’s the understatement of the century,” he smiles, letting you turn around in his grip, holding the side of his face and kissing him properly.

“Well, I need you, too, so we’re perfect for one another. And, you’re my human radiator. Blankets don’t stand a chance against my man.”

“Can I get that in writing?” he smiles, his hands on your waist spinning you around to he can give you a kiss.

“Sure thing, baby,” you mutter against his lips.

“Let me put these away.”

“Dish duty is on me tonight. Don’t mess with the system, Matty.”

“Can the system go out the window for one night?”

“My creature of habit wanting to throw routine out of the window?”

“C’mon, angel.”

You lean forward once more, your lips meeting softly once more as you moan into the kiss.

“Okay,” you whisper, running your hands down his arms, moving from between the kitchen counter and his body and onto the couch.

Grabbing your laptop off of the coffee table, you whip it open and weed through your emails, deleting the copious and redundant notifications from different stores regarding sales, special memberships, and the like. Shortly after, Matt makes his way from the kitchen to the seat next to you, returning your computer to where you initially picked it up before he slides you into his lap.

“Hi sweetheart,” he whispers, placing a kiss on your neck.

“Hi Matty,” you hum, snuggling into him. “What do you want to do tonight?”

“What do you want to do? We can pop in a movie, play a game—.”

“You didn’t bring any work home?” you ask, surprised that’s night is completely free—including his Deviling duties.

“Not tonight. I wanted to focus just on you tonight.”

“Mm, that’s sweet.”

“What do you have in mind for tonight, angel?”

You let out a sigh as you rest your head on his shoulder, thinking about the different cozy home activities you could do together when a thought crosses your mind.

“I guess tonight is a good of night as ever,“ you hum.

“Angel?”

“I have an idea, but it’s a surprise.”

“You’ve managed to keep a surprise a secret?”

“Rude,” you chuckle, kissing his cheek as you move to turn and straddle his lap. “You stay right there, Mr. Murdock. And you swear to me on my boobs that you won’t use your senses to try and ruin my surprise.”

“You want me to swear on your boobs?”

“You know you love them. Swear on their softness that you won’t spoil the surprise.”

With a cheeky smirk, he spreads his large hands against your waist.

“I swear I won’t—,” he says into your right boob through your sweater with a kiss, mirroring the action on the other breast, “—ruin your surprise.”

“Thank you,” you hum, running your fingers through his hair, kissing his forehead before you get up, moving to the bedroom and closing the sliding door. Moving to your side of the bed, you pull out a box from underneath mattress, moving to slide on the satin bra and panty set you got from a local boutique. With the bra straps on properly, you tie the long satin tails that act as cups into a nice big bow, mimicking the motion for the ties that are on the hips of the matching panties. Whipping your head up and down to revitalize your hair from the day, you take a deep breath before you open the door, expecting to see Matt on the sofa.

“Matt?” you call as you move into the living space, looking around as you try to find where your boyfriend disappeared to into the apartment. “Matt, where ar—?”

“I need you to help me figure something out, sweetheart. Were you naughty or nice this year?”

Turning around in the dark apartment, your eyes finally focus at the top of the roof access staircase. In all his glory, Matt leans with a smirk against the old brick, bare chested with Santa pants of all things hanging low on his hips, the suspenders on the waist leaning haphazardly down, while a red fuzzy hat sits on his head.

“Your heart rate is telling me you might have made the naughty list this year, angel,” he says as his smirks grows, slowly descending the steps.

“N-No,” you stutter. “I’m just . . . Surprised by the outfit.”

“Why?”

The incoherent stutters that fall from your lips only make Matt laugh as he makes his way over to you, resting his hands on your waist and pulling you in for a kiss before resting his forehead on yours.

“Too much?” he whispers, his thumbs moving back and forth on your skin.

“No, not at all,” you tell him. “Like I said, I’m just surprised.”

“Why?” he tries again.

“I didn’t know how you’d be about sexy Santa. Actually, I didn’t know how you’d feel about making anything Christmas related sexy.”

“Well, it’s a little odd. The pants are really nice and soft, though. And, the way I look at it, we’re not making the root of Christmas sexy, just a commercial element sexy. Now, let Santa unwrap his gift,” he whispers, his voice at a dangerously rich and gravely timbre, his hands slipping down over the globes of your ass, squeezing the exposed flesh.

“Mm, but I thought patience helps you get on the nice list?” you hum as you begin to place slow kisses onto his chest, pulling him by his dangling suspenders to keep him close as you step back toward the bedroom. “Patience is a virtue, after all.”

“Virtue, suggestion,” he chuckles, moving his hands up to the side of your face to kiss you. “Please?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” you smile against his lips as he lies you down on the mattress, pillows at your head. “Open me up, Matty.”

“Mm, thank you, sweetheart,” he hums, his large hands gliding across the surface of your thighs and spreading you open, allowing him to get closer into your body. As his hands move up, his thumbs swipe against the satin of my bra. “It’s such a pretty bow. Hate to ruin it.”

“I can guarantee you, the things underneath it are prettier and softer.”

Matt lets out a soft “Ah”, his smile growing wide on his tender expression before he kisses you, pressing soft embraces down from your lips to your neck, and finally to your chest before his teeth take hold of the ribbon’s tail and gently tug it undone. You let out a little gasp, partially from the cool air of the loft, partially from the way the satin drags along the sensitive skin. Instead of using his hands like you expect, Matt nuzzles his nose against the fleshy mounds, placing little kisses all over the supple skin. You moan softly as he embraces your breasts, leaving no centimeter of the skin untouched, his lips desperately chasing the fatty flesh as it moves around. You gasp when you feel his large, calloused fingers graze the side of your breast as his mouth catches the other one between his lips, sucking at the nipple.

“So good, Matty,” you whine, the hot breath through his nose fanning over your chest as he opens his eyes and tilts his head up, working to lock eyes with yours. The Santa hat remains on his head, but only slightly. “Baby . . .”

Matt slowly pulls off of your nipple, moving to leave wet kisses all over the rest of your chest and up your neck.

“Can I unwrap the rest of my gift, angel?” he gravels, his beard scratching against your skin.

“Of course, Matty. But there’s something I’d like to do first?”

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you switch your positions on the mattress, letting the bra slide down your arms and off of your body. As you flick it to the side, you move down Matt’s body, grazing your fingertips along his pants, slowly moving to peel them off of his body. He lifts his hips up in an effort to help, letting you slide the velvety fabric off so it can join your bra on the floor. But before you can bend down and take hold of Matt’s rock-hard cock, he stops you.

“Hold on, angel,” Matt hushes. Your eyebrows pull together in confusion as he twists to the side and rummages through his bedside drawer. When he lays his back back down, you have to work not to laugh at the sight before your eyes.

“You are a stupendous dork,” you laugh, your smile so bright it lessens your view of him.

“What? It’s Christmas rules—kiss what’s under the mistletoe,” he smirks as he dangles a fake sprig of the weed over his semi-hard cock.

“Well, I can’t upset Christmas rules,” you chuckle, kissing his tip and all the way down to the base, repeating the motions all over his length. Somewhere in your process, the mistletoe doesn’t get held as high before it’s eventually on the ground with out other pieces of clothes.

“(Y/N),” he breathes.

“Yeah, Matty?” you murmur against his base by the patch of small, dark curls on his skin. “Can I suck you off, Matty? There’s no more mistletoe.”

“I need your lips around me, angel. Please.”

With a long lick, you bring your lips back up to the tip and slowly take him in your mouth, having to be conscious of his girth. Each bob of my head brings you down a bit farther on his length until you’re roughly an inch and a half shy of taking him all the way.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so good,” he praises as he gathers up your hair, making sure you don’t swallow any of your locks as you go up and down. “So good for me, angel.”

The head of his cock his the soft flesh of the back of your throat, coating it with his salty precum, the movements only making you gag slightly. He helps you create opportunities to readjust as you go down on him, wanting to make sure you’re comfortable as you work. As you breathe through your nose, you bring your hands down to fondle Matt’s heavy sack, making sure he’s thoroughly taken care of. Between your hand and your mouth, you can feel every last ridge and vein that will bring Matt pleasure, and you briefly wonder if this is even a fraction of what Matt feels—being able to sense every last thing around him. Maybe you just know his body well enough. Whatever it may be, Matt guides you up and off of him by your hair, allowing a long line of saliva to connect from his dick to your chin. He pulls you into a a deep kiss, the embrace wet, needy, and sloppy with passion. As you straddle his waist while out tongues go back and forth, you can’t help but grind into his gorgeously defined muscles, spreading the slick pooling in your satin panties all over the fabric. Matt’s hands slide down to the globes of your ass, squeezing the flesh before giving both cheeks a firm smack, the sound echoing in the spacious bedroom as the sting spreads across your skin. You bite down on his lip as you kiss as response, which only makes Matt moan into your mouth, repeating the movement with his hands once more before he leans forward, your back returning to the mattress while his hands slide around to spread your legs wide.

“Do you want me to eat with your panties on, angel?” he teases as he kisses and marks up your inner thighs. “Would you like that, angel? Or do you want my mouth on your pussy and my fingers in you?”

“It wouldn’t be much of a present if you didn’t unwrap the rest of it,” you hum, biting your bottom lip as you watch him worship your inner thighs.

Dragging his fingertips up the sides of your legs, he finds the bows and pulls them undone, his hands sliding your hips up so you’re slightly off of the mattress. He grasps your panties with his teeth and slides it away from your body, only briefly removing his hands from your legs to take the fabric and throw it aside. His large, calloused digits are quick to move back between your legs, two of his fingers grazing and expertly parting your soaked lips. Matt brings his mouth close to your core, enough for you to practically feel his lips on you, only for him to hover just far enough away from you. He lets out a shallow breath from his mouth, pulling a sound that is part wanton moan, part erotic pornography sounds from you, as he coats your heat with his. When he is satisfied with his work, his lips wrap right around your swollen clit, gently sucking as his tongue slips in every now and then while he works.

“Fuck,” you choke out as he devours you, his beard tickling and scratching at your thighs. “Matthew!”

He just hums into you, sliding two fingers into your core while his other hand wraps around your hips to keep you down as your body begins to writhe and buck uncontrollably. He moans into your dripping cunt, which only makes you cry out into the room louder. Matt moves his tongue and mouth faster while his fingers tickle and scratch your inner spongy walls as his mouth rips a violent orgasm from you. You scream out at the top of your lungs as your body arches off the mattress, an entire sheen of sweat spreading over your skin as Matt relentlessly drags out your orgasm until the contracting muscles of your uterus physically hurt.

“Matty, Matty, oh God, Matt,” you groan, sounding like a woman possessed as he pulls his fingers out of you and releases your clit from his mouth, a line of slick connecting your core to his lips before licking his fingers clean and giving the swollen bundle of nerves a few gentle kisses. Matt places a few kisses on your inner thighs before going straight up your body and to your lips, holding your face in his hands as you kiss one another deeply and passionately.

“More, Matty,” you moan into his lips, pulling at his bottom lip between your teeth. “This gift isn’t over til you cum, baby.”

Matt laughs so warm and happily, it’s like the sun is in the bedroom.

“Whatever you say, angel. You are the gift giver, after all,” he affirms, his lips puckering all along your collarbone.

“Tell me how you want it, Matt. What position do you want, Matty?”

Matt licks a long line up your neck to the shell of your ear, his Santa hat no longer perched atop his head.

“I want you under me, on your back, your legs as far up as they can go, while I fuck you over and over,” Matt whispers in your hear, his voice deep and seductive in its commanding tone. “Can you do that for me, angel?”

“Yes, Matthew,” you breathe.

“Good girl,” he tells me with a harsh squeeze on my hips, his hands sliding back around your legs and bringing them as high up and as close to your chest as your body will allow. Matt slaps his cock repeatedly on your slick, swollen lips before he holds his dick steady as he pushes in, the angle of your legs making everything tighter and making you feel everything on a new level, making the feeling so extraordinary and increasing the pleasure. Bent in half like this, Matt easily hits your back wall and has no problem pounding into you over and over once he gets the angle just right. His strong arms help hold your legs in place, his hands cradling your neck, thumb on your cheeks as he brings his mouth to yours, kissing you deeply and repeatedly as he hits the special spongey spot in you again and again. Your hands grip his muscly arms, pressing little red and angry half-moon shapes of your fingernails into his fair and hairy skin.

“So fucking good, angel,” he grunts into your mouth. “Fuck, s’tight and wet.”

“God, you’re so big!” you whine.

“God isn’t here, angel. Just me, my cock, and your tight cunt.”

“Ma—aahhh! Just like that, Matty, right there!”

The way that Matt’s pelvis slams into the back of your thighs is insane, hitting every right spot over and over again as you start to see stars.

“Sounds like you’re close again, angel,” he grunts. “Are you gonna cum for me again?”

“Mmm!” you whine.

“Words, babygirl.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” you cry out.

“Squeeze my cock, angel. Cum for me.”

With one more hard thrust in just the right spot, you have another earth-shattering orgasm at the hands of your boyfriend. His grunts and the way his hips begin to falter tell you that he’s not going to last much longer if he keeps snapping his hips like that.

“S-Stay inside me,” you beg, holding onto his shoulders. “Fu—Cum inside me.”

Matt’s face contorts, his mouth hanging open and his brows furrowing in pleasure as he moans loudly, hitting deep and releasing his large load. You lie on the bed panting, impossibly close to one another as you both come back down to earth from your cosmic highs.

“Holy shit,” you breathe before you tilt your chin up and press a kiss to his pink, swollen lips.

“I know,” he chuckles with a little grin.

With a few more kisses, he leans back and pulls out to unfold you. As he does, you can feel his cum dribble out of your hole.

“Fuck, that smells nice, you and me together like that” Matt breathes as his thumbs rubs back and forth on your legs. “You’re so beautiful, angel.”

“You’re not bad yourself, there, Murdock.” Taking his hand in yours, you pull him back down on the mattress with you. “Did you like your gift?”

“I loved it,” he smiles, rolling into you for a kiss.

“I mean, I still have an actual gift for you, not just amazing sex.”

“Aw, you shouldn’t have,” he teases. “I love you.”

“I love you more. But I do have a question, though.”

“Mm?”

“Do you think we just got ourselves put on the naughty list for all of that?”

The room is silent before you both burst out in laughter and snuggle into one another.

“I think an exception can be made for us—we were doing something nice for one another.”

“A lawyer through and through, you are.”

“Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”

“Merry Christmas, Matt.”

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger @steampowerednightvaler @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles @toozmanykids @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop @itwasthereaminuteago @peter1ismybrother @hellskitchens-whore @dpaccione

623 notes · View notes

biaswreckingfics · 4 months

Text

Merry Dancer

Pairing: Choi Beomgyu x Reader

Genre: Fae!AU, Angst

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: slight swearing, mentions of death/killing

Summary: Being captured by a fae was not in your plans. Especially when that fae is a member of the notorious Night Court. When a second fae attempts to steal you from him, the last thing you expect is to team up with your captor... That is until he tells you the only way to save your lives is to bind them together.

~ A part of the Thrill of the Hunt collab hosted by @cultofdionysusnet ~

A flash of green streaks past your closed eyes, causing you to jerk your head back into the wooden wall you’re propped against. Pain momentarily stuns you as you blink open your eyes and try to reorient yourself. A little ball of green light hovers by your face, watching you, and you almost get the sense that it’s laughing. However, you can’t be sure because the ball of light is incapable of communicating. You think. Looking past the glowing orb, you see its floating counterpart on the other side of the room, hovering next to him.

The fae that stole you.

The fae that’s currently rolling his eyes and shaking his head in your direction.

Closing your eyes, you let your head fall back against the wall, ignoring the painful twinge you initially feel. This is all bullshit. This entire predicament you’re in is pure and utter bullshit. You can’t believe you’ve let this happen.

The cry of an injured animal catches your attention. You whip your head toward the direction of the sound and spot something furry and low to the ground through the trees. Taking a few steps toward it, you cautiously approach the beige ball of fluff, carelessly stepping off the path.

The moment you get close, it darts deeper into the woods. Following it, you twist and turn through the trees until you’ve not only lost the animal, but you’ve lost the path you were walking on. In an attempt to find it again, you retrace your steps, but you’re so twisted and turned that you have no idea where you are.

Everything looks the same.

After an hour passes of you aimlessly wandering around, you plop down onto the forest floor and try to regroup. Walking around in circles isn’t going to help you. It’s only going to pull you deeper into the woods. Maybe you can climb up and get a higher vantage point to see where you are?

You glance up at the trees around you, quickly noting how thick they get the higher they go. You’d be able to climb, but seeing through the leaves and growth would be relatively impossible. Nixing that option in favor of keeping your strength, you give yourself a moment to rest.

What’d they say about moss growing on trees? It grows on the north side? It points to the north side? Ugh, you whine in frustration. Whose stupid idea was it for you to come out here and pick berries? You don’t even know which ones are poisonous and which ones aren’t!

A flash of yellow in your peripheral vision causes you to quickly turn, but it’s gone before you can see it. Finding it odd but not cause for alarm, you forget about it until you see it again. This time, it’s on your other side.

Slowly, you stand up and try to work it through your mind. It was probably a bird… or a butterfly. Something harmless. Though, when you see it a third time, you notice it’s… glowing? Furrowing your brows, you walk toward the tree you saw it dart behind. Just as you’re about to peek around the trunk at whatever it is, it pops out directly in front of your face.

Startled, you step back. The yellow - definitely glowing - ball of light flutters back and forth in front of your face. All you can do is gape at it as it flickers and hovers in front of you. There are no distinguishable features. It looks just like a light bulb but with less of a discernible shape.

Nothing about it seems dangerous or threatening, so you relax your posture. It’s actually kind of cute… You lift your hand up toward it to see what it does. If it’ll be cautious like a cat or throw caution to the wind. It moves just out of your reach, but as soon as you put your arm back down, it gets closer.

It’s not scared of you, but it doesn’t particularly want you to touch it, either.

A moment later, a second one pops out from behind a tree. Your eyes widen as you look between the two glowing orbs. What are these things, and why are they so cute?

A branch snaps behind you, and you quickly glance back. Nothing immediately catches your attention except for the fact that the woods lay silent. Not a single peep from a bird or scurry from a squirrel can be heard. It even seems like the trees have stopped swaying.

A creeping feeling of alarm crawls up your neck. You survey your surroundings, making sure not to move an inch. Something is out there. Your senses are screaming it at you, but what are you going to do? You can’t outrun a wild animal, and if it’s anything else…

One of the orbs circles your head, pulling your attention to it. When it darts behind you, you turn your head to follow it. The light is only feet away from you. The second ball is even further away into the trees. At first, you assume they’re scared of something, but as the light next to you moves closer, then further away, you realize something.

They want you to follow them.

Shuffling behind you has you whipping back around. This time, you spot a shadow disappear behind a tree. Deciding to take your chances with the lights, you take off after them.

They bob and weave through the trees as you follow them, but they make sure to never get too far ahead of you. Your heart thumps wildly in your chest while you run after them. A heady mix of exertion and fear causes the organ to slam into your ribcage.

Branches snap behind you, and though you know you shouldn’t, you glance back. A dark figure that you can only see for seconds at a time bounds behind you. Facing forward, you try to focus on your foot placement. Tripping and falling would be the same as offering yourself up on a silver platter.

The following minutes feel like the longest moments of your life. They seem endless, and your body is quickly growing tired. One infuriating thing you notice is that your follower is still well and truly there. It hasn’t given up, and it hasn’t fallen back, which leads you to a terrifying thought…

It hasn’t gotten closer, either.

Surely, if it was an animal, it’d have given up or gotten you by now. This thing feels like it’s playing with you. Like it’s enjoying the thrill of the hunt… Just like a fae would.

Almost as if it can hear your thoughts, the footsteps get closer, becoming quicker and gaining ground. You throw whatever energy you have left into your feet and try to run faster. It works for a moment, but then, your feet start to sink.

You have no choice but to slow down as the ground becomes wet and spongy. You consider carrying on, but your next step has your body sinking into the mossy ground. When you take another step, and the same thing happens, you debate the advantage of trying to dredge through, but that’s when you notice something.

Your foot is stuck, and it’s not just the one. They both are.

Panic claws at your throat as you try to get out, but it’s no use. It feels like you’re suction cupped to the ground. What the hell is this stuff?

“The bog? Really?”

A deep voice from behind you has your entire being frozen. Your follower… Somehow, you had almost forgotten.

“You know how much I hate this wretched stench.”

Confusion has you twisting your upper body around to face the being. Once you spot him, you have to work to keep your mouth from falling open. A man taller than you surveys the bog with distaste, but that’s not what has you in awe. It’s his appearance. With brownish-red hair and high cheekbones, the man before you has to be the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. His eyes even appeared to sparkle in the rapidly diminishing evening sky. However, before you can get lost in his beauty, it dawns on you that he’s talking to someone.

Glancing past him, you don’t see anyone else, and bewilderment quickly grows. Who was he talking to? He clearly was –

The two glowing lights pass on each side of you, heading to the newcomer. You watch in silent fascination as they dance around his lithe body. He softly smiles at the lights, and you recognize the look of admiration on his face. That’s when it hits you. They’re with him… and they just led you into his trap.

Coming back to the present, you can’t help but think about how easily you were caught. It’s pathetic, really. You barely even put up a fight, and it’s embarrassing. You literally just followed two glowing orbs through the woods. Insert eye roll here.

When you open your eyes, you find the lights swirling around the fae. They bounce in a way you would almost describe as happy, but you’re unsure if they have feelings and emotions. All you know is that they like to be around the fae.

If you had to guess, you’d say they were a part of him or maybe he controlled them. Especially since the three beings appear to be connected. The lights, which were yellow when you encountered them, change color on a whim. Often when your fae captor seems to experience emotion.

When you first arrived at his home, something had greatly saddened the fae. You didn’t pay close attention, as you were looking for a way to loosen your bonds, but that’s when you noticed the lights were blue. Then later, when the fae had gotten pissed off at your incessant begging to be let go, they turned red. Since then, you’ve seen a myriad of colors floating around the room.

As of right now, besides the colorful moods, all you know about your captor is what you see. A tall, lithe body with pale skin. Dark hair that is swept over his forehead, and eyes the color of tree bark. You can’t get a grip on his voice because he barely speaks. The most you’ve heard from him is monosyllabic responses, and those were mostly to his lights.

You, on the other hand, he barely acknowledges. When you ask him what he wants and why he has kidnapped you, he only seems exasperated. A part of you isn’t even sure if he knows why he took you. It’s like he wanted the chase. He wanted to catch you and scare you, and now that he has, he has no idea what to do with you... or maybe he just plans on keeping you here forever like some living trophy. By your best guess, you’ve been here for nearly a week, and all those days have been you tied up in a corner, watching him and his lights.

There has got to be a way for you to get out of here. You’ve tested the bonds, though, and unless by some miracle you find something sharp near you, you don’t know how you’ll get out of them. Not to mention, you’re in the middle of the forest. If you did escape, he’d probably send his lights after you again. Actually, maybe he liked the chase so much, that’s exactly what he’s waiting for.

The sudden silence has you refocusing on the fae. His body, which has mostly appeared graceful, is suddenly tense and rigid. His entire being seems alert, nearly predatory, and you have a feeling this is exactly how he looked when he spotted you in the woods.

Someone – or something – must be near his home. While a small part of you feels hopeful that it’s someone who can help you, the logical part of you quickly squashes that feeling. No human would be out here. It’s not likely. What is likely is another fae is encroaching on his territory. Another threat.

The front door flies open, splintering wood into pieces that scatter all over you and the kitchen. You tuck your head, hoping to avoid the impact, but chunks of wood still smack into you. The next moment is pure chaos.

A brute of a fae enters your captor’s house. His golden skin is bright, making his muscles appear less defined, but you aren’t stupid. This fae is three times the size of yours. While the captor may have speed on his side, he’ll be no match for his challenger. Which means you need to figure out a way to get out of here before he discovers you tied up like a stuffed pig.

Searching the broken pieces of wood around you, you find a splintered piece with sharp and jagged points by your toes. You immediately start scooting it to you with your bound feet. Once it’s close enough, you pick it up and find an angle that works for your tied hands. Gripping the piece tightly, you begin to saw at the rope and vines holding you securely in place.

The sound of two bodies colliding causes you to flinch, but you refuse to look away from your task. The grunts and commotion of things breaking cause your panic to heighten. You push at your ties with every ounce of strength you have, and nearly cry with relief when a vine breaks.

The two fae fight mercilessly with each other, holding nothing back. Glass shatters somewhere near you as a lean body goes sailing past. You pause in your work long enough to find your captor on the floor and the brute approaching you. A cry leaves you as you quicken your pace. Realization hits you that you’re the reason the fae broke in here.

Suddenly, a lithe body launches through the air, and your body deflates with relief. Another vine around your ankles snaps, leaving only a half-frayed rope left. With renewed determination, you work at that rope until it falls apart.

Free, you jump up from your spot and run for the door. The two are locked in such a heated battle that you’re unsure they even see your escape. As soon as you burst into the fresh air, you put all your focus into moving your feet as swiftly as possible. Ignoring the urge to look back at your dungeon or look around for help.

Nobody in these woods would help you. Your best bet is to run as far away as possible and then come up with a game plan.

About 100 yards into your running, a roar sounds out from behind you, causing your heart to thump painfully in your chest. A whimper escapes your lips, but you clamp your mouth closed to keep any other noises at bay. For some reason, everything in you is screaming that the brute is the one who made that noise, and that terrifies you more than anything.

Branches crash, and you quickly realize there isn’t enough distance between you and the cabin. He’ll reach you soon, and then you’re really screwed. Even though your sides cramp painfully, you push whatever little energy you have left into your run.

A streak of red flies past your vision before it suddenly stops. When a second red orb comes flying at it, you almost collapse with an odd relief. The lights. Your captor.

In any other circumstance, those words would terrify you, but if you had to choose between the two fae, you’re going to choose the one that hasn’t hurt you. Not the one that busted down a door and attacked another fae to apparently get to you. Devil you know, and all that.

The lights keep pace with you, giving you a sort of comfort. Even though you can still hear the fae behind you. For a moment, you wonder if it’s your captor chasing you, but then you remember how stealthy and quiet he had been the first time.

A figure suddenly appears before you in a flash of white light, giving you zero time to stop. You plow into his surprisingly hard body and look into the eyes of your captor, his hands reaching for your arms to steady you. He searches your face only for a moment before his eyes dart to the noise behind you. With furrowed brows, he grips you tightly. Then, there’s nothing.

It feels like you’re floating. Like you’re everywhere and nowhere at the same time. The only solid thing you feel is him. Then, it’s over as quickly as it started.

Once the earth is solid beneath your feet again, it’s like your vision all comes back at once. Your captor looks at you like he’s waiting for you to orient yourself. When he feels you’re good enough, he drops his hands and steps away. Taking a moment to look around, you realize you’re no longer standing where you once stood.

You’re still in the forest, and you would almost guess you were in the same spot except for two things. One, the crashing sound of branches snapping is no longer behind you. Two, there’s a small clearing just a few trees ahead. One you’ve never seen before. One you magically “poofed” to.

“Did we just teleport?” you ask, having heard whispers about the magic before.

“It would appear that way, wouldn’t it?”

His dry response catches you off guard, or maybe it’s the fact that he spoke at all. His voice is deep and soft and not what you expected. When he turns to face his orbs, you examine him.

His clothes are ripped from the brawl and dried blood cakes his hands. There are also splatters on his face and neck that you missed in the middle of your magical journey. Yet, he didn’t have any visible marks on him. Either he heals super-fast, or he fights better than you gave him credit for.

“Who was that?”

“I’m sorry. I forgot to ask his name in the middle of him destroying my home,” he sarcastically responds before spitting out, “He was another fae.”

His monotone response causes a spike of irritation, and you grunt out a “No shit.”

Finally, he faces you, and you can see the spark of intrigue buried in his eyes. He cocks his head as he appraises you. “So, you do have bite after all.”

“Have you been waiting for me to throw sassy remarks at you while being tied up in your kitchen?”

“I was waiting for you to do something,” he shrugs. Freaking shrugs.

Pushing down your anger, you ask, “I suppose you’re waiting for me to do something now?”

“Actually, at the moment, I’m waiting to see if the fae can track us.”

That causes your anger to rapidly fade. You thought once you teleported, that was the end. The fae wouldn’t be able to follow you, and you’d only have to deal with your captor.

“Can he?”

“We’ll find out,” he says in the most bored tone you’ve ever heard.

We’ll find out. We’ll. Find. Out. You know what? You’re starting to hope your captor tries to abduct you again because you’re going to find the closest sharp object and stab him with it.

“I’m thrilled you’re so blasé about this.” When he completely ignores you, you consider kicking him in his long ass legs. “I’m guessing he was after me then? Since you two didn’t seem so friendly.”

“Really? You mean friends don’t burst through your door and start kicking the shit out of you? Weird.”

A shriek of frustration works its way up your throat. “I liked it better when you didn’t talk.”

“Then stop asking me questions.”

Without thinking, you step forward and do exactly what you were fantasizing about doing. Your foot connects with the side of his leg, causing him to grunt, but that’s it.

He looks down at his pants before his gaze travels up to your face. An eyebrow raises as he asks, “Is that really the best you’ve got?”

“I’m going to stab you.”

A smirk grows on his face. “Don’t get me excited.”

“You’re insufferable!”

He raises his arms to the side and says, “Welcome to the Oidhche Court.”

Oidhche. The Night Court.

Of course. Of course, it’d be a member of the Night Court that abducts you. The court that views humans as playthings. The unruly and unpredictable court that rarely ever plays by the rules. The true psychopaths of the fae world.

How lucky for you.

“I can tell by your face that you’ve heard of us.”

“Of course, I have. They tell us horror stories about your kind to scare the children.” You cross your arms over your chest. “Though I must admit… You haven’t seemed entirely deranged so far.”

He rolls his eyes. “Please, human. Tell me more of what you know about the fae.”

Exasperated, you turn away from him and start walking away. Your eyes spot the clearing, and you make a clear march towards it. Even though you know he has zero intentions of letting you go.

“I wouldn’t put yourself out in the open like that,” he calls after you.

“Why? Is a fae going to come and take me?” You throw over your shoulder. “Or better yet, maybe two of them will fight over me!”

You hear him mutter something under his breath, which would cause you to laugh in any other circumstance. Maybe a ghost of a smile pulls at your lips, but it’s quickly wiped when a flash of white followed by your captor stands in front of you, blocking your way.

“There are a lot of bigger and scarier things than me in this forest. I would tread carefully, human.”

You throw your hands up. “Well, are we just going to stand here? Are we waiting for that other fae to show up with open arms?”

He smirks at you, and you consider wiping it off his face when his lights – which you now notice are purple – begin swirling around the two of you. While you watch in confusion, you notice the fae is eyeing them with pursed lips.

“What are they?”

The fae glances at you before looking back at the lights. “They’re called Merry Dancers.”

When he doesn’t elaborate, you ask, “Are they sentient?”

“They’re a part of me,” he quietly says as he gazes at them with a look you can only describe as fond. “They were born with me, and they will die with me.”

You can’t decide if that is a beautiful or painful notion. The beings you love and cherish cease existing when you do… However, now it made sense why they changed colors based on his emotions. They’re an extension of himself.

“They’re cute.”

His nose wrinkles in disgust. “Nothing in the Night Court is ‘cute’.”

“Whatever,” you mutter as you watch the two dancers begin floating around each other. They bob and weave, sometimes clashing like they’re playing together. That’s when you decide that the word “merry” fits them perfectly. They seem downright joyful. Even going as far as to give you a warm feeling in your chest.

“So, what are you called then?” You turn to the fae.

“I thought you knew all about us in the Night Court?”

Shaking your head, you decide you don’t care. You’ll just keep referring to him as your captor. You’re unsure why you’re even trying to get him to talk in the first place. The thought of making him feel empathy for you dwindles every time he opens his mouth.

“I am what is called a Candela,” he offers. “I’m a creature of light and shadow, but you can call me Beomgyu if you must.”

Immediately, you begin wracking your brain for information about Candelas, but nothing comes to mind. You recall hearing about a being that can traverse both this world and the Shadow World because of their powers, but whether that’s him or not, you have no idea.

“Well, Beomgyu, is there any way that we can stop this fae from coming after me? Unless you plan on giving me to him when he shows up?”

His nostrils flare as he growls out, “You. Are. Mine. No other fae is allowed to touch you.”

You take an involuntary step back as his eyes darken to a blackness that is entirely void of light. He looks animalistic. Purely a predator. Then, you remember how territorial fae become over their property, which is exactly what you are now.

“Okay,” you quietly respond before taking a deep breath. You have no plans of staying with him, but you certainly aren’t going to let some other fae take you, either. For the time being, your partners. “So, how do we stop him?”

It takes a few moments for him to calm down, but when he does, he says, “There are only two ways to stop him. I kill him, or the two of us bond our lives together.”

You open your mouth to ask, but he quickly cuts you off. “I would rather die than bond to a human, so that’s not an option.”

That’s fine with you because there’s not a single part of you that wants to be bound to a fae for the rest of your existence, but the other option didn’t quite work either. “I thought it was against your laws to kill each other?”

Beomgyu’s smile is feral. “I’m a member of the Oidhche Court, remember? Do you think I give a fuck about rules?”

While the Night Court’s attitude strictly leaned toward “screw the rules and screw you”, you knew they adhered to the laws just like the other two courts did. They may actively dislike them and find loopholes around most things, but they’re not going to outright break the law.

“While I’m sure you don’t, I know most of you will hesitate to break them.” You stubbornly jut out your chin like you know you’re right, but it’s a bluff.

“There you go thinking you know everything about the fae again.” He rolls his eyes, and you glare at him.

“Fine. Kill him. I don’t care what happens to you.”

Beomgyu smirks. “Thank you for your blessing.”

Though a dozen snarky comments work their way through your mind, you keep them to yourself as he turns toward his dancers. You watch as the two brightly colored orbs begin to dim and blend into the surrounding forest. When they both shoot off in different directions, you send Beomgyu a questioning look.

“They’re searching for safe areas.”

A brow raises. “You sent them to do recon?”

The corner of Beomgyu’s lips tilt up. “They’re here for more than just looking pretty. They serve a multitude of purposes.”

“How do you know what they’re doing or where they are?”

“I can feel them,” he says as he closes his eyes and focuses.

Silently, you watch him as he does whatever it is he’s doing. His brows furrow once or twice, but mostly, he stays still. After a couple minutes pass, a smirk breaks out on his face, and he opens his eyes.

“The fae is – “

Beomgyu’s eyes widen a fraction of a second before he drops to his knees, yelling in agony. Startled, you drop to your knees with him and try to figure out what’s happening. Are you under attack? Did someone get him from behind?

His body falls the rest of the way to the ground. Once he’s flat, he curls into the fetal position, and you take a couple of seconds to scan his backside. It doesn’t look like he’s injured, so what the hell is happening?

With a contorted face, he rocks on the ground, making sounds somewhere between a groan and a whimper. If you weren’t in the middle of the forest - where anyone could attack you - you’d take a moment to process your shock of seeing one of the strong, otherworldly fae in such a vulnerable state, but you don’t have the time. He needs to keep you alive. At the moment, he’s all you have to keep you safe from the other fae.

“Beomgyu? What’s happening?” You ask as you hesitantly reach for his shoulder. His entire body shakes under your touch. “How can I help you?”

It takes him a couple of tries before he gets out, “You can’t”.

A dim blue ball of light flashes past your vision and comes to rest on top of Beomgyu’s side. In the near week you’ve been with the dancers, you’ve never seen them rest once. They’re always zipping around like little balls of energy. This is the first time you’ve seen one so dim and lifeless, and a horrible thought strikes you.

The feeling emanating from the pair… The blue light of the dancer and Beomgyu’s near crippledness… The fact that the second dancer is nowhere to be seen leads you to one heartbreaking conclusion.

The other Merry Dancer is gone.

... To be continued.

92 notes · View notes

sunandsstars · 1 year

Text

ONE OF THE PEOPLE

CHAPTER 1

Recom!Miles Quaritch x Metkayina!Reader

Summary: When Miles gets saved by a Metkayinan, he realises eventually they aren’t all so bad. But when his mission comes back to him, is it worth leaving it all behind?

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of wounds/death, Alien racism

Word count: 2k A/N: This is my first fanfic on here please be kind! There may be spelling errors (i am currently writing this at 3am) so if you see any please point some out and i will change them. But omg i am so exited for this to be read, I have so many ideas for this story and many others!! :>

It was brutal, the pain, searing through his abdomen and spreading across the torso in pulses. Blood dripped down the large blue hand keeping pressure on the wound. Colonel Miles Quaritch, former human, now recombinant, soured through the sky on his banshee away from the battle him and his men took part in and towards Bridgehead for safety. He needed to heal up and gather more forces as soon as possible.

‘Jake Sully got away again’. He seethed, sucking his teeth. ‘When I heal up, I’ll come back and kill his whole fucking family’.

It was a promise he made to himself ever since Jake joined the Na’vi all those years ago during the war, he was a traitor to human kind and a threat to the RDA, the raids where getting worse and no progress has been made because of it. Now, he has been brought back to life in the form of what he hated most, and he will do well to keep his former promise. He was stronger, faster, and a hell of a lot taller. If anyone can get the job done, it’s him.

The wind started to pick up and rain gradually drizzled down from the sky, his banshee screeched in alarm not used to flying in stormy conditions like this. The two of them were still travelling over the sea and Miles didn’t know when they would arrive back to base, hopefully it wont be too long. The sky turned darker and the bioluminescent glow of the plants in the water created a beautiful light to guide his way back to the jungle, but the impending storm made him grit his teeth and fly faster, not stopping to take in the view. Pandora’s as beautiful as it is dangerous.

‘’Ardmore’s gonna kick my ass’’ Quaritch groaned out. The whole reason he was brought back to life was for this stupid mission and now he’s on the verge of death and his whole squad is wiped out, he wonders if anyone has made it out alive from all that and his mind flashes to Spider. Best not to dwell. Luckily he was far enough away from the wreckage to be captured by any of those hostiles, the last thing he needs is one of those things coming after him.

Famous last words.

Suddenly the creature he was sat on squawked and started to sway violently, Quaritch gripped on until his knuckles paled ‘’WHAT THE FUCK’’. A giant net came crashing into them, capturing both and squeezing them uncomfortably tight together. The net fell through the sky and into the ocean with a massive splash, the recom felt himself and his banshee panic through the bond, the animals shouting deafening his ears. They were under the water and sinking fast, the rocks on the sides of the netting pulling them down.

They needed to get out of here.

He quickly grabbed the seal knife that was strapped to his thigh and and started to cut the seaweed that trapped them, luckily it didn’t take a huge amount of effort and the blade sliced through the plant with ease. With the last slash of the weapon an opening was made and his flying companion wriggled out and swam towards the surface disoriented and in desperate need for air.

‘Fuck’ the recom however, got caught onto the netting and the bond with the ikran broke. The makeshift netting turned and twisted with every move the man made and air was running out quickly.

He lost the opening to the netting in his effort to untangle himself and went to cut more of the seaweed when his chest tightened and he chocked out. A few bubbles flew to the surface and more followed hastily as Quaritch was forced to breath, desperate for air. His heart raced and his vision created patches of darkness.

As his brain fogged, his sight of the ocean became black and he stopped his struggling, sinking slowly to the sea bed.

‘Eywa give me strength’ lips locked together in a hurry and quick puffs of breath where given into ones mouth. A woman was pushing down onto his chest, hoping and praying to her deity he wasn’t dead. ‘It was an accident, I did not mean to harm him’ she panicked and locked their lips again, hoping to save his life. She was merely hunting outside the reef alone, just her and her tsurak, taking time for herself and her thoughts when she caught sight of something flying nearby. Thinking it may as well be caught as food, a net was unleashed and captured the creature. She only just saw the Na’vi as they were sinking into the waters.

The man suddenly opened his eyes and inhaled sharply coughing up whatever liquid he inhaled while he was drowning. ‘’oh thank you great mother! You are alright!’’ she helped him sit up and patted his back to ease his pain. As the stranger was regaining his breath she took the time to examine his interesting attire, he was wearing a chest piece unlike anything she’s ever seen, most men back at the village wear toe guards which protect the heart, not whatever this is. The man also has long cloth wrapped around his legs which ended above his feet, ‘is it not hard to move in those?’. A hand suddenly grasped her arm and threw her to the ground underneath a hard body, she squeaked as she was turned to her stomach and a knee was pushed into her lower back and her hands were bound behind her body by a larger one.

‘’Now just what do you think you’re doing huh?’’ He growled out, the words not making any sense to the woman underneath him, she just saved his life and this is how he thanks her?. ___ wriggled and tried hard to escape, not understanding what he was saying to her and unaware of the horrible insults thrown into her face.

‘’let me go! I do not understand what you are saying!’’ She begged, the pressure on her lower back increasing tenfold and causing pain. She winced and stopped, unable to move more as the knee pushed further into her.

‘’where..am i?’’ He spoke, his accent strong and evident in his words, although his speaking was that of a babies, slow and unsure. The woman’s ears twitched as she made out what he said, turning her head in the sand of the small island she took them too she shouted, ‘’you are near my home, I have taken you to an island after saving you, now please let me go!’’. Quaritch didn’t know why he bothered to ask, he can’t understand a fucking word, he did however understand she wanted to be let go.

Like hell he’ll do that.

A sharp spike of pain hit his abdomen and he doubled over and was forced to let go of the Na’vi who scrambled out from under his body and kneeled facing him on her feet, glaring with a hand on the knife at her hip just in case he tried to reprimand her again. But was surprised to see his face scrunched up in pain with his own hand against his stomach. Her eyes widened as she finally took notice of his wounds ‘how did I not spot this sooner?!’. Instantly standing up and calling to her tsurak who was nearby she grabbed the guys shoulder and pulled him to try and stand him up ‘’I will take you back to Al’mete, I will get you help, come’’.

But he merely turned around and hissed, mouth wide open and pearly fangs on clear display for her to see as a warning, on instinct she hissed back at the threat display. Not taking no for an answer, she pulled him again and pointed to his bleeding wound when he started to growl ‘’come, you are hurt’’. She tried again with concern in her blue eyes. Quaritch realised that she wanted to take him away to aid him, with her greener hand pointing to his gash and her other one pulling his arm it was becoming obvious. He was too weak to fight properly and had no idea where his stupid ikran went off to, he was lost and alone to fend for himself so he figured he has no choice and got up to follow, hunched over and breath raggedy. ‘I’m gonna regret this’.

The native woman walked into the water and he hesitated figuring she might pull him under when they got deep enough and that this was some sort of trap, she will kill him then feed his body to the rest of her so called clan, ‘it’s what savages do’ and that’s when he saw the huge alligator-like creature in the water, it solidified his choice to stay the hell away. ‘’hell the fuck no’’. Quaritch went to grab his knife at his side but instead found nothing, forgetting that it’s sunk to the bottom of the ocean. He swore, and got into a fighting stance preparing to get attacked, remembering when his banshee almost got his head bit off because of Jake and his skimwing, ___ merely blinked at him, wondering why he wanted to fight her so badly.

‘’come’’ she beckoned him over, making tsaheylu in preparation to leave, ‘’do not be difficult’’ she glared. The blue recoms head started pounding, he’s losing a lot of blood by now. Grabbing his hand she gently pulled him over seeing as he was struggling and sat him down behind where she would be kneeled, ‘’you are very strange you know…hold on to me’’.

‘’get the hell off me!’’ His weak thrashing ceased as the tsurak took of at great speeds above the water so he could breath. Miles’s head started to spin with the bumping of the waves and he fell unconscious quickly, leaning into the woman’s back as she held his thigh, steadying him until they returned to her village.

‘’why did you save this man?! He is of the sky! DEMON LOOK AT THESE HANDS!’’ The Tsahìk was immensely angry as she held up Quaritch’s arm showing off the five fingers, why must her daughter be as kind as she is a good warrior, she swore it would be her own downfall. But whatever feelings she may feel towards the skyperson in the marui is pushed aside as he is heeled by her hands by the desperate pleas of her kin. There must be a reason why he is here, she has seen the stars change that day a year ago and knew the humans have returned, but the Metkayina remain unaffected as they are reef people away from the forest and the dangers of aliens.

So why? why is he here?

‘’I am sorry mother! I did not know!’’ ___ ears where downturned in shame, she brought a skyperson to their home but she held no regret to saving his life. How was she supposed to know what the humans looked like anyhow? She has never came across one before, and the man in the murui looked Na’vi to her.

As the Tsahìk Nätsa finished patching all his wounds she stood from her kneeling position and turned around, tail cutting the air in anger. ‘’you will tell your father of what you have done, I will not defend you’’ her words are sharp.

‘That is fair’ ___ nodded and watched as her mother strolled out to put her things away. She turned towards the man laying on the floor and sighed ‘what have I got myself into’.

#✰ — avatar works — ✰#avatar quaritch x reader #avatar the way of water #avatar x reader #avatar the way of water x reader #miles quaritch #x reader #fanfiction #first story #metkayina reader #pandora #atwow #fluff #Eventual smut #chapter 1 #mentions Jake sully

449 notes · View notes

kindredcandy · 2 years

Text

bloody cabin | AZRIEL X READER

A/N: why is it that every time i write fanfic its like sneezing... i have no idea whats gonna come out and im shocked by the experience GIRL IM THE ONE WRITING ITFDSJH yeah so this is messy im sorry but its kinda cute ig? shes chonky, i meant for the prompt requests to be short little headcanony things but... again i was not in control of my body lmao

ALSO this is quite adult content pls heed the warnings. I'd love to expand more into writing whumpy, gory adult stuff

request: “Azriel X reader, 8 and 10 please!!”

8.Patching up wounds, 10.Washing one's hair/helping them bathe after a long day.

WORD COUNT: 6K

warnings: uh i would probably call this 18+. Detailed description of injuries and violence. Trauma, PTSD, burns, fire, scars, anxiety, nudity, undressing, mentions of sex. bathing, fixing up, dealing with trauma, mission gone wrong.

You knew something was wrong before you actually found out. Something in your gut just wasn't right, a unnerving sense that fired the adrenaline in your body with no way to burn it off but to pace the cabin. Azriel should've been back by now. That was the agreement. You would meet at the tiny, unoccupied inbetween house, him and Cassian coming from another side of the mission miles away.

You peered out the window for what must've been the fiftieth time. The weather was biting, cold enough to chill the window panes and make it fog when you pressed a finger to it, but not enough that it should've presented a problem in their journey. Darkness had already fallen, the cover of night beginning to blanket the barren trees surrounding the cabin. The window provided answers to nothing, so you turned and made your way back to the small, crackling fire you managed. You grabbed the iron poke and stabbed at the logs, shifting them as tiny embers flared and sparked outwards.

You didn't know what would happen if something had befallen the two Illyrians. Partially because they were your ride home, and their part of the plan was crucial, but mostly because the very thought of your family being hurt made everything twist and ache within you. Especially the thought of Azriel— the spymaster who had claimed your heart. The male had been through so much already, you knew he was capable of enduring a lot but it didn't lessen the ache any. You needed to know he was okay before you ripped your hair out from the anxiety of waiting.

It was quiet in the cabin. Silent aside from the wind hitting against the walls, the crackling fire, and the occasional sound of fabric against fabric every time you shifted. It was so quiet. You had been paying the closest attention to every noise for the past several hours— on edge expecting an familiar face to turn up, or preparing yourself if something less friendly decided to show its face.

But even with the silence in the cabin, you didn't hear the footsteps outside. Only aware of a new presence when the cabin door burst open, creaking loudly and sending you shooting across the worn sofa with a hand clutched to your chest. You whirled the second the door opened, but it still took you several moments to compose yourself and process that the dark towering frame in the doorway was Azriel. You nearly gasp out of relief, but your brows draw together when he walks in. Something was wrong. The way he was walking, the way he was carrying himself, his wings... Something was wrong.

"Az," it sounded like a plea.

You rush up from the couch to where he's moved to the round dining table. The door is still open and wind blustering in when he sags against the table, weak and out of breath. In the warm, dim light of the fire and lanterns around the cabin, there's blood clearly smattered across Azriel. His face is smeared, his hair caked with it, his armor glistening and his wings dripping.

You grasp the door, preparing to shut it but waiting for the second Illyrian to appear. You didn't try to hide the concern in your voice. "Where's Cassian?"

"He's fine." Azriel rasped out like it was an effort, but one worth pushing through. He swallows and it almost seems like he's panting, the way he's so out of breath. "The orders changed, he's staying somewhere else."

With that, you shut the door, closing off the bitter winds that had poured into your solstice. That concern you felt at the possibility of Azriel being hurt was magnified ten fold at seeing it in front of you. You didn't even know what to do. It was so unlike him to be this weakened that your mind drew up blank. He'd been hurt before. Badly. But every time there'd been someone else there to help him or he'd been well enough to fix himself. This... You didn't know how to deal with this.

"What happened?" You whispered, closing in on his space. The coppery scent of blood flooded your nostrils as you moved closer and you ignored the way it made your throat tighten. Your hand hovered in his proximity, not sure where to go or what to do.

Azriel looked up at you, hazel eyes dulled with a weariness you hadn't seen him wear... Ever.

He swallowed hard and his eyelids shuttered, breaking contact with you in favor for an unfocused stare across the room. "It was bad. It went worse than we expected and they..."

You were waiting for him to finish the sentence, but something about it told you that he did. That was all he would share of it. Whatever had happened was enough to rattle him and close him off. He wasn't right and you needed to do something.

"Okay," You kept your voice soft. You look around, collecting a mental list of things you need to do, and things to help Azriel. You didn't even know how badly injured he was. "Sit down."

He moves to the couch wordlessly, though the way he limbers, careful and stiff, it was easy to tell there were several injuries for you to worry about. You grabbed him a glass of water from the poor, makeshift kitchen that was part of the main room, and once he was fixed with that, you filled a large pot of water and set it over the fire to heat.

The old feeble couch squeaked when you sat down on it beside Azriel. Your eyes met his for a long second. A weighted second of everything and nothing passing between you two. You two were in the beginning stages of you relationship... Or whatever it was. A fact that shouldn’t have made anything different, but for some reason it did. The nerves you still had around him, the way you might not have been so invested and concerned if you didn’t love him the way you did.

"Where are you hurt?" It takes an absurd amount of willpower to give you the push of confidence to lean forward and begin undoing the straps of his leathers and armors.

Azriel looks down at your hands, his own scarred one still holding the half glass of water. He watches as you unsteadily work the clasps. "I took a hit..." His voice is hoarse and gravely and you try not to think that it's likely from screaming. "I think I cracked a few ribs"

You pause and sigh through your nostrils in displeasure. Not at him, but at the fact that he'd been hurt. He was so distant, so clinical and absent. You’ve been working at undoing his holsters and straps for a few minutes, setting them on the short wooden coffee table in front of you, before you give his face another scan, searching it. Azriel’s eyes are glazed and distant, fixed on the crackling fire in front of him, unmoving aside from the slight rise and fall of his breaths. You’d seen him get that look before around fire and it made your insides twist to think why. It made them twist to see him in this state, so raw and hurt.

You pause your work on removing his armor and weapons to bring a hand up to cup his cheek, a gentle comfort. “We’re gonna get you fixed up.” You push back his caked and dirty black hair, “Okay?”

His eyelids shutter with a soft nod and you click your tongue, running your hand over his cheek once more before you continue unfastening everything. You could tell his thoughts would drift and swallow him if you didn’t at least attempt a distraction, so you talked to him. Gave him something to focus on besides the last few hours he’d endured.

“Are you hungry?”

Most of his clasps and buckles had been undone, but you knew at some point he would stop you. Azriel was sensitive about who touched his weapons, Truth Teller in particular. You waited for him to stop you in your ministrations but more and more belts and sheaths slid off and he didn’t stop you.

He shook his head once, his jaw still tense, the muscles in it sharp.

You were desperate to ask more details of what went wrong but you knew it would only make things worse. Details could wait until Azriel was stable and cared for.

He leaned forward, helping you discard his belts onto the coffee table and clutching his ribs from the movement. You gently pushed back on his shoulder and he sat back onto the couch, getting the message that you didn’t want him to try to help and worsen his injuries. Azriel hands you the half drained glass of water and you place it on the table as well,

“What do you need?” You asked, your words quieter than the wind against the side of the cabin. With all his armor and weapons shed, you’d begun to work on his leathers, but you paused, your hand resting on his chest until he answered.

“I just need to get cleaned up and rest.” He finally looks at you, his eyes softer than you’d seen them tonight. You could see it in them--- that emotion that often reflected in his eyes when he looked at you. Something gentle, almost loving, When he looked at you like that, it felt like he was taking you apart, piece by piece with only his gaze. Seeing every part of you, vulnerable and thrumming beneath him.

A scarred hand lifts to touch some of your hair that had fallen loose, almost as if he was mesmerized by it. His hands didn’t shake, though you knew they should after everything. If not from the sheer adrenaline then from the pain. But it didn’t, not as it whispered over your hair and then lowered down into his lap. You’re not sure why the attention made your throat swell with the threat of tears while your cheeks burned under his gaze, but it did.

You set back to work on his leathers, the clothing coming off easily once all the straps and holsters inhibiting it had been removed. You tugged it off, revealing tanned muscles and swirling black tattoos. You’d seen Azriel shirtless more times than you could count. Most often after training, when he’d show up with marks and bruises across his perfect body and face. Even after having him in your bed a few times, you weren’t used to it yet. He still made you nervous, his body still didn’t feel like it was yours to touch and gawk at, even if he had no problem with you doing so. The sight of him still made your heartbeat pick up so fast you knew he could hear it.

And when the corner of his lip curled up ever so slightly with amusement, you knew you’d been caught.

“Shut up.” You mumbled through a smile.

The corners of his mouth deepened at your response but you were thankful for the it, even if it was at the expense of your pride. He was distracted. Your cheeks heat under his knowing stare, watching you like a hawk, seeing every part of you.

“Didn’t know I had that kind of effect on you,” He mused simply and looked back to the fire.

“Yes, you did.” You glance up to his eyes before pulling off the rest of his leathers. His pants would be another effort, the numerous holsters and plates complicating things enough that you didn’t think they were worth removing until everything else was treated. He didn’t complain of any injuries below his waist, so it’s likely your effort would only result in flushing your cheeks and making it hard to look at him if you set about removing them.

You’re about to pull down the top of his leather and reveal any injuries, when Azriel stops you with a hand.

“I’m not badly hurt.”

Your brows furrow in confusion. Aside from the cracked ribs and dripping blood, even the way he was carrying himself and staring into nothing was enough to tell you he was in pain.

He must see the questions in your face because he adds “It was a hard mission--- I’m tired, but I’m not badly hurt.” Azriel breaks eye contact to look at his lap, pressing a hand over where his ribs must be hurt. “I just wanted to let you know.”

Yours brows are still furrowed when you look back down to his chest, peeling off the layers of leather as you go. If he wasn’t badly hurt like he claimed, then whatever was weighing on him wasn’t physical.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Your tone is careful, eyes flicking up to his and then back down. There’s blood smeared nearly everywhere on the inside of his leathers.

He’s guarded. Sharp, cold walls shifting into place behind his eyes. Not against you, you note, but against whatever had happened. What had he witnessed?

With the top portion of his leathers gone, though, there was nothing to hide the trauma to his body. Purple and black bruises forming across the surface of his skin, That, in addition to the blood. It was everywhere, seeping from a large scrape across his ribs. With the confines of the leather and the way his skin had been ripped off from some kind of harsh impact, blood had pooled in his armor and smeared around, leaking through any crevices it could.

“Az, this looks...” You trail, not wanting to tell him it looked bad, as that was probably poor bedside manner, but it did look bad. “You would appear to be badly hurt.” The technicality in your words a poor attempt at a joke. He smiles.

“I’m not. I’m just sore and feel really gross.” His voice is still raspy but the way it was lighter brought you some peace.

“I have a bath running now. The water’s not heated, so that’s what that’s for,” You nod to the pot of now-boiling water over the fire.

With the reminder of its existence, you pause your work on Azriel and haul the scalding pot to the washroom. With your back turned to him, you missed the way he flinched and lunged at your careless proximity to the fire. The tub in the washroom wasn’t the luxury you were used to at any of Rhy’s houses, but it would suffice for tonight. You turned off the faucet, deeming it sufficiently filled and then proceeded to dump the large pot of hot water into it. The sudden addition of boiling water into the cold hissed and steamed, the sound of the splashes echoing in the quiet room

When you returned to Az, he was standing from the couch, undoing what he could of his thigh holsters and buckles without bending over and straining his injury. It was a vain effort, more blood spreading and his ribs visibly paining him.

“Stop that,” You warned from your place at the washroom doorway, the large pot still in your hand. You walked it into the kitchen and filled it up at the sink. “I’ll do it, just let me do this first.”

He watched you, your eyes meeting as the pot quickly filled with cold water that hissed when it made contact with the hot metal.

“I can do it myself.” Azriel reassures and you have a suspicion that it’s his pride speaking more than anything else.

You turn the faucet off, pot full. “But you’re not going to.” You heft it out of the sink and carry it over to the fire, careful to not bump yourself on the metal as you do so.

As you set it on the fire, a hand lightly grasps your bicep. Az wasn’t one for casual touches, so you immediately turned to him, still trying to get the pot set up on the fire rack.

“Be careful.”

You’re even more confused now, almost pausing your effort.

“Just... be careful with that.” He forces the words out and releases your arm, turning away but not completely so.

A few more heartbeats of confusion follow before it finally clicks and you heart seems to stop with the ache that consumes it. You secure the pot and straighten up, brows curved upward. “Az,” You whisper, reaching out a hand to his arm.

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t flinch away, or lean into the touch. He’s just... Still.

Your throat constricts with emotions you can’t put names to. “Az. What happened?”

You knew about his past. You knew he was never fond of fire after that, but he’d never been like this around it. Fires warming the townhouse and the House of Wind were a constant in the cooler months and the shadowsinger had never had an issue with sitting in front of them with a drink or a book. Something must’ve happened on the mission to make him react this way. Something so sensitive to him that he refuses to speak, or acknowledge it.

Azriel’s jaw is tensed to iron and his throat bobs before he speaks. “It was n-” He stops himself before he can say what you knew was going to be nothing. It wasn’t nothing. “It was just too much to tell tonight.”

An answer you hadn’t been expecting. You nod and look down, focusing on getting off his lower buckles and straps instead of the vulnerability he’d just expressed. You’ll care for him physically now, and when he’s ready for you help him through the mental scars then you’ll do that too.

Your hands drop to his upper thigh, ignoring how close the buckles were to his center. Azriel’s eyes didn’t move from you as you tried to steady yourself and focusing only on getting the buckles off and nothing else. You didn’t know if your fingers brushing against him through his leathers had him half-hard and you didn’t look to find out. The holsters and straps come off easily enough, though it feels like they took years longer than his upper body ones had, your lingering proximity to a place you couldn’t think about right then. The knives strapped to his lower calves gave you no choice but to lower yourself to your knees to get them off. You look up to his face for a split second, the curiosity of his reaction outweighing your business mode. His brows were raised and you knew from the angle it probably looked more inappropriate than you had initially thought it would. If your eyes looked like fuck-me eyes from that angle, you rolled them at his reaction, turning them into oh-fuck-me eyes.

He snorted. “Is this why you wanted to do this? All an elaborate attempt to bed me?” You stand up, meeting him face to face. He adds in a low voice, “again.”

Your cheeks instantly flush at the reference to your previous affairs with him, your stomach flipping with the effect his voice had on you.

“If I wanted to bed you again, I wouldn’t need an elaborate plan.” You smirk and undo the laces of his pants with one swift tug, ignoring his shock at your comeback. “These come off, then get in the tub.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to do this.” Azriel says, a reminder of sorts. One that you can’t help but feel is either self-deprecating or part of his guarded pride once again.

“I’m taking care of you.” Your voice is commanding, in a low, gentle way.

When the second pot of hot water is added, heating it to comfortable temperature, and Azriel is effectively disrobed, it doesn’t take long for the clean water to turn coppery orange at his presence. He winces when his wound makes contact with the water at first, but once seated in the tub, he sighs and sags against it in exhaustion, his eyes falling closed. You wonder how long he was flying in the cold. Illyrians were pretty resiliant against the cold, but it didn’t make long winter flights soaked in blood and injuries any more enjoyable.

You found a cup, an old stained washrag in the kitchen and a bar of soap that looked like it could’ve been older than you, but all things considered you were grateful for the resources. And then you set to work cleaning your Illyrian. He put up little protest in the state that he was in. He scooted forward and you tilted his head back, cradling it in your palm and he simply relaxed into your touch. When you poured a cupful of warm water over his hair, a breath loosed from his chest. Azriel was deflating, decompressing at last. The tension still wore heavy in his shoulders and his wings were... You could tell by the way he moved them and the way he held the muscles in his back that he was still on edge. Even if just a little. His movements were twitchier than usual. Less of the smooth, practiced way he normally moved.

The water around him grew filthier as Azriel grew cleaner. Another cup of water gently poured over his head has his hair looser from the blood and dirt that had it stiff at the ends. You ran your fingers through it and he hummed, low in his throat. You couldn’t help the soft smile that danced across your features. You worked your fingers in deeper, rubbing them along his scalp and scraping your nails against him. Azriel sighed now, all tension melting off like butter.

There wasn’t a need for words to fill the steamed air between you. You knew Azriel. You knew when he was exhausted that talking was the last thing he wanted to do. He wasn’t very talkative on a good day, but it took something extra from him to communicate when he didn’t have the energy. You knew he appreciated solitude, silence, shadows, peace. But sometimes the silence would be the wrong kind of silence for him and it grated, triggering something within him. The recessed memories of being locked up, alone and surrounded by silence.

When silence fell, it was still hard for you to tell what kind of silence it was.

You lathered the bar of soap in your hands, taking an unusually long amount of time to do so due to the shriveled and neglected nature of the bar. Once there were in fact suds, you ran them through his hair, still catching on some tangles and messy spots. The wind always gave his hair the cutest mussed style that made you want to jump him where he stood, but long journeys often resulted more knots and messes than anything else.

Azriel melted beneath your hands, color slowly returning to his complexion as he healed up and relaxed. The scent of him filled the air more than that of the blood. Purely Azriel. You wondered if he could smell you too, if he was paying enough attention. You wondered what he was thinking of, glancing down to his furrowed dark brows. He was a mystery. An enigma, but gods, he was a beautiful one at that. The angle and the lighting made his jaw a sharp cut and his cheekbones... He was truly a specimen to behold. You didn’t know how you got so lucky. A thought followed by you giving him extra attention, rubbing his scalp and running a soapy hand to rub at his sore neck.

Meanwhile, Azriel was thinking the same, dissolving into the only safe place he had. The only place he’d want to be. You were all he thought of through his entire flight. Images of you, glimpses of daydreams and memories flashed in his head at any moment in which action stalled, even during the mission. You consumed his thoughts with a pure, white hot and holy burning desire to just be near you and feel the presence you bring. You were comfort, safety, patience, and something more. Perhaps it was love, but there was something that Azriel chose to not put name to, that made him crave being near you like an addict.

And so hurt and naked in a dingy bath in a busted old cabin, Azriel breathed your presence. He sighed at the feel of your fingers on his scalp, working the muscles in his neck too. He was so irreparably in love with you it made his chest hurt to even be receiving such treatment. The gash on his side, the broken ribs and innumerable bruises were dulled to a small thought in the back of his mind when you touched him with such tenderness. The cabin was silent, aside from the crackling of the fire in the other room and the tinkling and splashing of water rinsing him off. It was the kind of silence that should’ve been peaceful, especially after such a chaotic night, but it was half the chaos of the night that made the silence unbearable. Every time his fae hearing picked up the crackle and pops of the logs in the fire, Azriel stifled a flinch or attempted to keep himself level, though it felt like it might’ve been fresh sweat appearing in the place of the sweat he just rinsed. The silence was too much tonight.

He kept his voice from shaking barely. “Talk to me, my love.”

Your brows furrowed for a split second before you understood the implication behind his words. He’d never explicitly explained to you, but somehow, he had a feeling you understood.

Your hands stilled in his hair as you thought. “What about?”

Azriel made a noise between a hum and a grunt and settled down lower in the tub, leaning against the side. “I don’t care. I just want to hear your voice.”

You’re pretty sure it was part of your broken heart that was what made it so difficult to swallow. His confession, a simple one that tore out a piece of you. A raw presentation of how much he relied on you to get him through this.

“Is it okay if I sing?” You fill up the cup, glancing to meet his fogged hazel eyes. He was looking at you and despite the way he wasn’t totally clear headed, his presence was so intense on average that under these circumstances it still made you squirm to be looked at like that.

“I’d like that.” He whispered, leaning so you could rinse his hair. You did rinse it and were immediately pleased by how much cleaner and softer it was. You couldn’t wait until all of his was cleaned and patched up and you could just rest together in the small rickety double bed.

So you offered your voice, mindlessly humming whatever popped into your head and supplying lyrics when a full song would present itself. It was quiet, a lullaby in the mellow atmosphere of the bathroom. The tile was pressing roughly into your knees by the time you realized Azriel might not even have the energy to finish the rest of his bath on his own. You ran the washcloth down his back, between two dirty bat wings and along the muscles that stood out impressively on the male. You ran it along his front, along his tattooed shoulders and over his collarbone. His eyes were burning into yours now, aware of every movement of yours on his body, but with his attention entirely on you instead of himself. On a better day you might’ve taken the time to slowly feel across the surface of his body as you knew he would give you the opportunity to, but tonight you were strictly business. You’re careful around his injury and when he winced and reached for the cloth to do it himself, you offered it away with no complaint. After he was done with the area, though, he handed it back to you.

You paused your humming, holding the cloth out to him “Did you want to do your wings?”

The automatic assumption that he didn’t want anyone touching them but himself was not just a probable guess, but an obvious assumption. If not based on Illyrian tendencies, then based on Azriel tendencies. And they needed to be washed. Blood, dirt, scratches--- and something else that you’re pretty certain is cobwebs--- cover them in a way that you knew must feel icky.

His wet, scarred hand comes up from the water to push the cloth back towards you, wordlessly.

You gape back at him, unable to process the implications of his action. “Az, don’t you... Are you sure?” Convinced there must be some way you were misunderstanding.

There were so many things about the situation that made it more than just a brief, casual touch of his wing. He was trusting you with the whole surface area of both of them. You had never even been acquainted with the methods and rules of touching them casually. Like, how sensitive were they? If you rubbed the washcloth on them would that be too much? If they were so sensitive, then how could they use them with such brutal wing beats, supporting their bodyweight against winds? You were lost but your concern and all other thoughts melted away when Azriel leaned forward and spread his wings for you, erasing any doubts to whether you misunderstood.

“Tell me if I’m doing something wrong. Or if you’d like it a different way.” You mumbled, dipping the rag into the bath water and slowly bringing it up to his left wing.

Azriel hummed softly, nerves bouncing around at the idea of what he’d just given you permission to do. You were the only person he wanted to do that.

You lower the rag, squeezing it so the warm water trickles on the membranous skin first, testing how he reacted to just the feeling of water. He twitched at the first drops hit the sensitive area, but quickly became accustomed to it and then it didn’t seem to bother him much. You had stopped your gentle lullabies in exchange for focusing all your attention on the task at hand. When he didn’t react to the water, you carefully pressed the washcloth down. Azriel didn’t move, so you did, taking it as a good sign. As you cautiously swiped and dabbed across his wing, you didn’t miss the way he reacted to certain areas. Some of them were notably more sensitive than others and you weren’t entirely sure how to interpret the reactions they elicited. Soft sighs, sucking in his breath, tensing and flickering the muscles in his back despite his wings remaining still. You observed them and noted them for later, for a better time.

When you moved to wash the other wing, Azriel didn’t spread it out for you as much as he had the other. You gently took the task into your own hands, but even with your hand guiding it, he didn’t take the hint and stretch it like you expected he would. A curious observation that had you peering around to scan his face. Only to discover that your gentle ministrations and soft touches had put him to sleep. Your chest nearly caved at the trust in you Azriel had displayed in the past 30 minutes, but you continued washing him, ever so careful to not wake him until the very end when there was nothing left for you to do.

He rubbed at his eyes, a little dazed as he refocused on the world again and remembered where he was and what had happened. You turned to grab his towels and when you turned back around he had stood up, water pouring and dripping off the entirety of his body and back into the bloody bath. You bring the towel forward, only noticing up close with a quick glance that he was half hard. You didn’t know what to make of it, surprised that even in spite of his exhaustion and injuries and despite the way you hadn’t noticed his scent change.

Azriel noticed that you noticed, taking the towel to begin drying himself. “Sorry, I can’t...” He trailed, his voice groggy and gravely.

You weren’t even sure what he was going to say or what excuse he had but you dismissed it quickly regardless. “It’s okay, love.”

◈𝅒 𝅓 𝅒 𝅒 𝅓 𝅒 𝅓 𝅒 𝅓 ◈

Azriel dressed halfway with some old moth eaten pajamas you found in the wardrobe in the bedroom, leaving his top half bare for you to bandage him up. He promised you it wasn’t necessary and that the wound would be closed by the time you two woke in the morning. Despite that being the most words he’d said to you the entire night, it didn’t comfort you much. You knew he just wanted to sleep, but with cracked ribs and a weeping wound on top of them, you would rather stay up for an extra half hour than try to let him sleep with that unbound. The cabin fortunately came stocked with basic medical supplies, a result of Rhys’ priorities.

So you carefully, and as gently as you could, bound his injuries and fastened it so he wouldn’t strain his ribs. All guided by vague, yet helpful instructions from your patient. There was nothing that required stitches and though you wanted to fret over Azriel and his injuries for longer, it was late at night and both of you were exhausted, his own weariness taking precedence over your desperation to patch him up any further. So, at his request, you grabbed his knives from the coffee table and brought them to bedroom, sliding under the thick quilt and watching as Azriel slid Truth Teller beneath his stiff down pillow. You smiled faintly, watching his careful movements as to not aggravate his injuries. His right hand was still pressed over his ribs, making you wonder just how much pain he was hiding from you, though your thoughts dissolved when his eyes met your yours.

Azriel scans your face, taking in your features with a slowness--- a peace that you knew meant that you had done your job well.

“Thank you... for all this.” He whispered in the quiet of your room. His shadows swirled in the darkness. You couldn’t tell where they stopped and where the unlit bedroom began, the light from the the fireplace in the living room being the only source light.

You brought a hand up to his almost dried hair, running your hand through it lovingly. “Of course, Az.” You leaned forward and pecked his lips in a moment of boldness spurred by blind exhaustion and love. He reciprocated and leaned into your touch.

You two stayed like that for longer than you realized, just soaking in each others presence. Coming down from the anxiety and stress of the last several hours and just being with one another.

“That’s what I’m here for.” You muttered, bumping your nose against his before pulling back to settle down in bed.

Azriel does the same, scooting down and situating the pillows comfortably. “And here I thought you just wanted me for my body,” He mumbled and you were grateful for the reappearance of his sarcasm. He lifts an arm, inviting you to cuddle up against him and you immediately do so, appreciative of his warmth in the small cabin.

“I do. That’s why I gotta fix it.” With your head resting on his chest, you look up at him and find him looking down at you with the same lovesick look you know you wore. He leans down and presses a kiss to the top of your head and you shut your eyes at the contact, basking in the warmth of him, the feeling of his skin against yours, the safety in his arms. One of his hands comes up to bury in your hair and you sigh contentedly against him, drifting into sleep like the snow outside that had just begun to float down.

#acotar x reader #acotar #acotar fanfic #a court of thorns and roses fanfic #azriel #a court of mist and fury #acotar one shot #a court of wings and ruin #azriel x reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar

950 notes · View notes