omg wait acolyte!reader sleeping with Qimir not knowing he’s her master and everytime they hookup, she starts to see him become more dominant and possessive in bed. until one time where he just goes something like, “be a good girl (enter nickname that only her master calls her)” and she just realizes it mid ya know lol. i love you 🙇🏼♀️
little star | qimir
SUMMARY -> being with qimir elicited fun and peace away from your duties at hand you do for your master. though, your master might be doing the same when his mask slips in the heat of the moment.
qimir x acolyte!fem! reader
masterlist
GENRE -> nsfw/smut
WARNINGS -> unprotected p in v, doggystyle & outdoor sex
WC -> 1.01k
a/n: filth! HAHAHAH LUV THISSS
likes, comments and reposts are greatly appreciated !! <3
enjoy !!
“qimir…”
it was a spur of the moment as always.
you breathily moan out his name as you grip the bark of the tree whilst he pushes his cock further inside you from behind. the sound of the local insects in the forest are accompanied by the noise of qimir’s groans and your breathy whimpers as he pounds into you with such vigor against a tree. it was amusing to say how you two managed to get riled up in the middle of a serious situation, in a rainforest of all places. you had found him hanging by a tree and it turns out mae had put him in that situation.
“i should-“ you breathily say but pausing as qimir harshly grips your hips making you groan. he was demanding and more dominant this time and it makes your core clench at it. “i should save you more often… if this- ah!- is my reward.”
the snap of his hips to the plump swell of your ass is even more rougher and qimir chuckles behind you. he bites his lips, staring down at how your flesh ripples with each powerful thrust he does.
“i’d take you like this from now on then.” he slaps one soft cheek and you yelp at the sudden sting. you turn your head back to look at him, loving the way he was so different than the first time you two had hooked-up.
it was like any other day that time, he visited the remote planet you and your master resided on, delivering fresh supplies as per your master had requested for him. your master had left for a particular agenda that time as he said to you, leaving you to deal with him. you always had an eye on the dorky accomplice and you knew how he looked at you. the subtle too-friendly touches there and you even managed to flirt with him for fun until both of you seemingly snapped at that very night when the tension was too heavy. to say, you rode him on your bed until he was a blabbering mess underneath you.
but now, he seemed to want the upper hand this very moment and it makes your cunt clench around him tight.
"you like the thought of that, huh?" he chuckles lowly. "you want me to fuck you like this?" he snaps his hips rougher and faster and you couldn't quip back at him but enjoy how his cock is spearing inside you with such intensity.
you only nod your head dumbly as you gripped the tree trunk with all your might to not stumble forward with how hard his thrusts are. qimir bends forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and torso, lifting you up to his chest with his strength and you grip his arms for leverage as he wetly kisses your neck.
"oh, fuckkk-" you mewl out as his cock hits the right spot from this angle. you wonder now, if your master would be displeased with you for having this quick romp when you really need to focus on is finding mae and master kelnacca. you dismiss those thoughts for now, wanting to enjoy your time with qimir. you have to deal with mae after this as she had seemingly betrayed the two of you when the information of her sister osha appeared. the master would be very much displeased.
"right there. don't stop. i'm close!" you begged the man behind you and he shakes his head as he kisses your cheek.
"not yet." he cruelly whispers to your ear as his hand delves down to rub your clit and you whined at him.
"please." you tilt your head back to rest it on his shoulder, you could feel your high coming and the thought of cumming on his cock is getting you near there along with his slow circles he is doing on your clit.
"be a good girl for me." he nips your neck. "be a good girl for me, my little star."
you gasped as his thrusts went faster and your eyes widened at the sudden nickname he had said that your master has always called between the two of you. you couldn't really process it for a moment as you were focused on not letting go but your heart is pounding and your mind is in a disarray on what you should focus on. qimir smirks as he surges to capture your lips in a heated kiss as he mumbles between your lips the sweet words you are waiting for.
"come."
you cry out his name and you thrashed in his arms as your orgasm hits you. he fucks you through it as his thrusts became sloppy, he was nearing his high and you let him use you. you now come to a realization, mae or qimir nor anyone knew of that endearment your master calls you. unless...
"master?" you call out to qimir and he groans loudly as he pushes his hips forward and cums inside you. you feel warm all of the sudden as his cum fills your cunt, you're panicking now as he lets go of you and you stumble forward, catching yourself as you stand straight and turn to qimir.
"took you long enough." he grins and you stay frozen, the dawning realization that you had been fucking with your master. shame trembles in you and you think for a moment that you should flee. qimir smiles at you as he reaches towards your shook figure. you let him touch you and you blink dumbly as his cum drips down your thighs. he stares at that with a hungry glint in his eyes and your core clenches. and you think for a moment if this is a good idea but your master has other plans as his hand goes down to your messy cunt mixed with both of your juices.
"come on, little star. we aren't finished yet." you hold your breath for a moment when he towers over you.
but all your shame is thrown out the window as he kisses you.
I don’t usually do ask but I DESPERATELY need a qimir au smut😭 idk about what but I just know I need it
in the darkness | qimir
SUMMARY -> abandoned by her own family and order due to her curse and having no husband, they leave her on a remote planet surrounded by water and grey clouds, as said in her cruel prophecy that her supposed betrothed awaits for her there to take her. but this husband of hers is no ordinary man as he always wears a mask.
qimir x fem! reader
masterlist
GENRE -> nsfw/smut
WARNINGS -> eros & psyche inspired au, unprotected p in v, mutual masturbation & sensory deprivation
WC -> 6.09k
a/n: hope this satisfies your req, anonzz!! sorry it took so long for me to write!!
likes, comments and reposts are greatly appreciated !! <3
enjoy !!
the waves thrash against the rocks as the harsh winds blow across your face.
you clutch your cream scarf tight around you, the grey clouds loom above you menacingly and you can smell a storm coming. you blink wetly, your chest feels heavy and you feel somewhat terrified and betrayed. your father had forced you to wait here, leaving you behind with only a few words of a sorrowful goodbye. you couldn't blame him really... you knew you were cursed, as said by the elders in your order your family is apart of.
"you would never know love with that darkness inside you."
you could not understand what that meant. you were a normal child growing up, always following your family's footsteps and obeying the order. what darkness shrouds inside you? that it would forbid you to love or be loved.
"but someone will want her darkness and they will be waiting for her in a place surrounded by endless water and shores filled with grey sand. her betrothed awaits there, that is her destiny."
you thought for a moment that your supposed prophecy was just a means to make your family usher you to find a husband, for in your age you were supposed to be married by now. all of your sisters were bethroted and you were the only one without any prospect. your mother had been disappointed that you being the eldest was unwedded and you were the shining beautiful daughter she prided in, putting a lot of expectations in you. yet, after the elders had announce your cruel oracle, none of the possible suitors wanted your hand anymore which made your mother's frown deepen.
and you, in-fact, were more displeased in yourself more than anything. you had wished that you were born different... born normal. alas, you couldn't change your life. and here you are, waiting by the grey rocky shores, standing by the waters crawling up to gently touch your sandaled toes. you breathe in the sea air, anxiousness clouding your mind.
who would want you?
or instead... what would want you for you and your darkness?
the anticipation lingers as you watch the sky slowly turn more greyer. was night falling? was that how long you have been waiting on this deserted planet? the hurt inside you grows, and you shiver at the coldness of the weather. your lips tremble, and you curse yourself for being this way instead of living a perfectly normal life in coruscant. you look to the horizon of endless oceans, you had to accept you were either going to die alone on this planet or suffer the loneliness if you will yourself to make this your new home. you now stand up, opting to walk by the shores before the night captures the dull grey sky.
"are you her?" a feminine voice suddenly asks from nowhere. you halt from where you stand at the sudden presence of another person. "are you the wife my master was promised to?"
you turn your head around to be met by a young woman dawning a dark purple cloak and a wool black and grey gown underneath. her hands are clasped in front of her, you look up to her face but you are only met with her eyes that were slightly covered by her hood and her braided hair. the half of her face down is concealed by a bandana similar in color to the clothes she wears. you blink, registering her question and throwing away the curiosity in your mind about how she managed to appear in thin air moments ago.
"...yes." you merely answer with a soft and slightly questioning tone. her eyes do the talking and she seems relieved. you wait, curious to know who is she and what she is to the supposed "betrothed" of yours that she calls her master.
"come, he's waiting for you." she gestures her head to the caves up the island's hills. your gaze follows there, and a chill runs up your spine when you see the dark opening of a cave. someone is watching you. you look back to the strange woman and nod. she walks first and you follow. the gravel is rough underneath your feet in each step you take. you stay quiet, not knowing what to ask of the mysterious woman.
the path to the cave opening was an easy one. You should have noticed a dirt path when you first walked around the shores, and you wonder why you hadn't turned your attention to the rocky hills then. You look beyond the mysterious woman's shoulder and see that you are almost nearing the cave. you let out a tiny sigh of nervousness, and your mind conjures scenarios of what may lie ahead when you meet your husband-to-be.
will he be kind?
would he hurt you?
would he be neglectful?
"my master awaits for you in here." the mysterious woman's voice snaps you back to reality. your breath hitches, and you nod as you look ahead to see only darkness in the cave. she steps aside for you to enter and you step forward. before she could leave you behind, you stop her for a moment.
"I didn't catch your name." you said, and she halted her departure.
"mae, you can call me mae." she answers, her tone light than before. you nod and offer a small smile in response.
"thank you, mae." she nods at you and leaves you alone to face the prophecy of what lies inside. you almost wished that you had asked mae to stay for a while until you entered the vast darkness in front of you.
enough stalling now. your mind scolds you, and you finally take a step in despite the pounding rhythm your heart is doing. The darkness envelops you for a moment, but as you take small steps forward towards the little light at the end, you are met with an unexpected sight of a well-furnished room. the interior walls were of the caves,' but the interior looked like what your home used to look like in coruscant. it felt... nostalgic in a sense. you stand in the middle of the supposed living and dining room, waiting as you look around.
"hello?' your voice echoes throughout the home. you wait for a response, but your eyes catch an unusual object on the wooden dining table. you walk towards it, feeling an unexplained sensation of something pulling you to it. your gaze is attached to the peculiar object and once you near it, your mind is curious to see a saber of all to catch your attention. the saber was like the elders' in your order, similar style, yet somehow this one had a gravitating and oddly weird aura. you lift your hand to touch it, yet a voice scares you.
"you are a curious thing, aren't you?" a deep modulated voice interrupts your curiosity. you jump at the sudden presence of another. you swiftly turn around, clutching your hand around your scarf. you were met with the sight of a masked stranger dressed in black robes. a poncho-like robe concealed most of his stature, but the peek of his arms made you feel relieved that he was human.
this is your betrothed, then.
strange he's wearing a mask.
"forgive m-me." you meekly say and step away from the table. you hear him walk towards you and your heart skips a beat.
"welcome, wife." he greets you, and you look up at him.
"thank you, husband." you nod and your eyes roamed to examine his mask. it was eerily scary seeing how it had multiple lashes, and the design made it seem that it had teeth. but... you can't help but feel more comfort than fear for this mysterious husband of yours. this was entirely different than what you were dreading when you were alone by the shores.
"are you hungry?" he asks, and you shake your head. your fingers fiddle with the hem of your scarf, feeling shy all of a sudden. despite his mask, you could feel a smile creep behind it. he takes a step to you, and you avert his gaze even if you can't see what lies behind the mask.
"do i frighten you?" he cocks his head to the side, curious about your reaction. you momentarily glance at his masked face, wanting to question why he doesn't let you see his face yet you look away, not wanting to offend him.
"no, j-just... nervous." you confessed.
"why?" he asks, and you shrug.
"not to you! i mean, i'm nervous about what lies ahead... about all of this. it's baffling to think i already have a husband that i haven't met or known yet." you sighed at yourself, fearing you have ruined your first impression towards him. "sorry."
"you don't need to apologize. i completely understand your reasons." he assures you, and your shoulders drop at the sudden relief.
"what about you? isn't this prophecy of mine baffle you? that you would want my..." you try not to say that word that has been thrown around on your face.
"it doesn't." he suddenly holds his hand out, and you glance down in curiosity. "i am looking forward to knowing you, wife. whatever the prophecy might say."
you don't have words for that. even though his voice is robotic and you can't tell if it's genuine, you know he speaks the truth, somehow. you slowly raise your hand and place it on his waiting palm, and sparks ignite when the rough callous of his hand touches yours. it felt warm inside that this mysterious person had accepted you despite what was said.
and you feel like this is the start of a life you always wanted now.
・゜゜・．
the days passed since you have been living on the remote planet with your husband. you have grown a tenderness for the mysterious man even though you both barely know each other. he was kind, that was given, caring in a way you never expected, yet he was secretive for the most part. he would always go out, but he would still remind you before he departs, yet he never tells you what he does. in the days that you have been adjusting in his home, there were unwritten rules, or rather what he implies, that you have followed as you got to know him. you two did slept in the same bed, but for the first few days, he gently told you that he'd let you sleep alone for comfort. once you had told him that you were fine and you two were technically married in a sense, he did agree yet he strictly had said the lights had to be turned off.
that was one rule. you never should turn the lights on once he lays with you. and the second was mostly obvious...
you aren't supposed to see his face.
you always wondered why and you did ask him this night as you two readied for bed.
the room was pitch black, you were snuggled in the shared blanket as you felt his body near yours. the sheets shuffled, and you bit your lip if you should ask him the question repeating in your mind. your heart thumps as you hear him let out a relaxed sigh; you wish to see him, yet you know better than to not respect his one wish.
"why do you wear a mask?" you asked, feeling nervous, but eager to hear his voice than the modulated one.
you hear him chuckle; it makes your chest feel tight and how deep and raspy it is. "many reasons."
"can you tell me one?" you ask again, feeling courageous. his voice was beautiful to hear the first time you heard it. and it made you even more curious to see his face that matched his voice.
"why do you ask? are you eager to see me?" he teases you and you pout. he chuckles again, and you wonder if he can see your reaction despite the darkness. you are about to turn your back to him, yet you are surprised when an arm wraps around you, pulling you close to his body. your hands instinctively go to where his chest is, and you are met with the touch of smooth, warm skin. you feel hot all of a sudden as you feel his chest rise.
"for your safety, you can't see me." he merely says, and you blink at that. "i don't wish to put you in any harm."
"why? are you... ashamed of your face?" he laughs at that, a heartful one, and you are pleased to hear it. his hand caresses the side of your waist, and you shiver at the feeling; your legs rub against each other, and you wish to see his smile. the warm feeling of his body against yours, with the shame you can't see his face, is starting to get to you.
"on the contrary, i am not ashamed of my face, wife." his raspy tone makes you squirm for a bit as his hand caresses down to your hip. his touch wasn't foreign to you this moment; he had been respectful the first night when you two slept together, opting for distance. but as the days passed, you two had grown to entangle with each other. you both are technically married, and you knew at some point that this would become normal. but you can't help but mourn the fact that this came with the obstruction of the pitch-black room, even though it brought you comfort still. you loved it, the feel of his body to yours.
"i understand." you say to him as you lay your head on his chest. you sometimes hope you'd catch a glimpse of him in the morning but he always woke up before you. you dismiss the other questions in your mind you want to ask him, you need to show him that you wholeheartedly understand his reasons, no matter how vague they are.
"what do you want to eat for supper tomorrow?" he casually asks and you nuzzle your face against his skin. "will you be cooking?"
"mhmm, can you pick up a couple of cooking herbs? I'm hoping to make a stew for you." you respond, eating times were also a big disappointment for you. you always would eat first, and he would eat after, but you still cook for him, knowing he loved your meals from how he would always if you would cook again.
"alright." you feel his face nuzzle against the top of your head. this affection you two had made was astounding to think that you both were already acting like a married couple in mere days. even if you barely know what he does, you do know small things about him. he often bathes in the lagoon, since he would always smell like the sea. he likes to walk along the shores, and sometimes you'd join; you know that he was like a teacher to mae, saying that she's a student of his. you also know that he apparently is a heavy drinker, judging by the bottles of alcohol you'd see by the counter. and that he's also been living alone on this planet for a long time, and he apparently hates the rain.
"good night, qimir." you yawned, saying his name sleepily. and you also knew his name. the name was unique, and somehow, you felt like you heard it before.
"good night." he whispers softly as sleep takes the both of you.
you wake up suddenly from a strange feeling that's poking against your bum. the darkness still is blinding your sleepy eyes but you squirm at the strange sensation. qimir's chest was pressed against your back, and his arm was lazily draped across your torso. his breath tickled the nape of your neck as you unconsciously push your hips back, wanting to get rid of the object poking your rear. did he forget to take off his belt? you thought as you sleepily sighed, still squirming in his hold.
an elicit groan from him fully awakens you and you freeze in place. qimir's arm tightens around you, his hips suddenly press against your rear, and the poking sensation makes you ponder for a moment if you should wake him up. you close your eyes, still wiggling your bum until a tingling sensation on your neck stops you.
"stop moving." he whispers in your ear, hoarse and... agitated? you're confused for a moment until he softly traces his lip on your neck again. your eyes widen at the realization of the moment, and you suddenly feel embarrassed.
"sorry." you whisper back as you lay your free hand on his arm. "h-have i awoken you?" you try to mask the quiver in your voice of how close he is and the thing of his poking your bum.
"no." he answers, but there's a beat. "...maybe."
you're about to apologize again, but his lips suddenly trace from the nape of your neck to the side wherein he hovers above a particularly sensitive spot.
"you've been moving in your sleep." he says. "bad dreams?"
"not really." you confessed, and he suddenly kissed the sensitive spot on your neck. "q-qimir!"
"do you want me to stop?" he hoarsely asks as his hand softly traces the plane of your stomach.
"no." you immediately answer without much thought than to feel more of his lips and his addicting touch. his hand moves downward to where your ache is, the ache that has been pestering you for the past few days since you had been living with him. your mysterious husband, one you desperately want to see his face than his mask. the one that you have been imagining day and night since he welcomed you into his home despite the cruel curse that has been placed upon you.
"i have been holding back from touching you like this out of respect... but it seems like i have deprived you, my wife." you gasped when his hand gripped your nightgown as he scrunched it up to your waist. your grip on his arm tightened as his hand delved down to the center of your thighs slowly. "i did, did i?"
you could only nod slightly as he nipped your soft flesh. "please..."
"you sing so sweetly for me." he groans as his fingers are met with your wetness. your legs open slightly and you could feel him grind his crotch slowly on your rear.
"husband..." you whined when he rubbed soft circles on your pulsing clit. you wondered how he managed to do this in complete darkness. you let go of his arm, wanting to do something for him. he continues his ministrations as his other hand moves to fully embrace you since you were still laid sideways from him. his hand gripped the soft flesh of your breast while the other pleasures your core. your back was flushed against his hard chest whilst he grinds his hard cock against your ass.
you let your one free hand touch him from behind, it was a little uncomfortable that you had to find the prize you were seeking, but once you felt the tent of his crotch touch your fingertips, accompanied by his low groan, you immediately palmed his clothed cock slowly. the darkness of the room was making your senses sharp. even though you mourn not seeing his mouth open in pleasure from the way he is breathily moaning against your ear due to your hand palming his cock, it did make everything feel more heightened. his scent envelops your senses with his warm body heat has you letting out more noise with the way he's rubbing circles on your clit.
"want you inside of me." you moan out as your hand massaging his prick searches for the hem of his wool pants. your hand glides down from his abdomen to be met by the warm flesh of his cock. you grip him, and he bucks his hips toward your hand with a breathy moan. qimir removes his hand from your dripping cunt while you pump his aching cock.
"open your legs." he suddenly says, and you squeal when he suddenly grips the underside of your thigh and lifts it up. you obey him as you spread your legs slightly for him. you remove your hand from his crotch when you feel him shift in his position to lower his pants down. your heart is beating loudly and the anticipation gnaws you. the act of marital duties wasn't unheard of you from your sisters, your mother would always put on a strict lesson for them of what to expect on the night after their marriage.
a prodding sensation touches your wet entrance and you brace yourself, not entirely sure what to expect. you almost expect qimir to fully take you, but you are surprised when he rubs his cock slowly, making you let out a pleasurable sigh.
"you smell so sweet, so pretty, so beautiful..." qimir huffs as he positions the tip of his cock to your entrance. "and all mine."
you let out a moan when you feel him enter you finally. he's gentle and slow in the process, ensuring you were comfortable. he wraps his arms around you tight, as if you were going to leave. you feel your breasts spill out of your top as the cool air hits the skin of your chest. he cups one and pinches your nipple as he fully sheathes in you. you grind back, feeling full. the darkness of the room is a pleasant sensory sensation, you thought you would be disappointed at the aspect of not seeing him. but he made it pleasurable, which makes your heart skip a beat for him.
he thrusts into you at an agonizingly slow pace that has you pushing your hips back to him. he alternates gentle bites and sweet kisses from your neck down to the slope of your shoulders. you close your eyes, wanting to feel all of him as your free hand finds its way to his hair. you want to touch him as well, and you feel satisfied when you interlock your fingers with his soft hair.
both of you don't know how much time has passed. you both were too into the heat of the moment, not wanting to rush things but to just feel each other. your walls clamp around him as qimir's thrust went from being slow to now setting a steady pace. your moans and his groans fill in the void of the room. you could feel his thumping heart from your back and he could feel your heartbeat under his hand.
your mouth hangs open in pleasure. you feel yourself nearing your high as his other hand dives down to rub your clit. you call out to him, and he calls out to you. he fastens his thrusts, cock hitting that spongy spot in you, and you soar high. he lets out a moan of your name when you squeeze him tight with your orgasm. he shakily thrusts into you, and with a loud groan, he follows through, fucking both of your orgasms into completion. his cum spills on your walls, painting you with his seed. your wetness coats his cock entirely and he halts his thrusts, feeling spent like you are.
a moment of silence transpires, heavy breaths are only heard. his cock is snuggled inside you, and you feel exhaustion and sleep taking over. he loosens his arms around you, still holding you close. you hadn't realized that a small smile graces your lips as you feel him kiss your neck, soothing the intense aftershock. you caress the side of his face, and his lips touch your fingertips. nothing else is said other than sweet caresses and kisses on the skin. sleep seems to take both of you as you let exhaustion null you to sleep.
・゜゜・．
you feel like a whole new person waking up after that night. you were only disappointed to see your husband not by your side when you had awoken. but the sweet soreness of your legs and the dampness of your core were enough to rectify your displeasure of him not being beside you in the morning after. you wobbly did your morning routine and dressed yourself in one of the dresses he had gifted you, a black dress that matched his clothes and your own jewelry, and draped your cream scarf around you since it was cold.
once you had properly dressed yourself, feeling a little giddy when you looked in the mirror to see marks on your neck from his doing. you went out of your shared bedroom and were surprised to see mae sitting by the dining table. qimir was by his workbench, wearing his mask as usual but dressed in clothes you knew he would be going somewhere.
"good morning, mae." you smiled at her, and she nodded at you in greeting. her scarf that concealed her face the first time you met her was gone. you could now see her truly, which made you happy. if only your husband would do the same.
"good morning."
"do you want something to eat?" you asked her, going straight to the kitchen to prepare something for yourself.
"no need. i already ate..." she says, yet there's a concern in her voice as she looks at you. "are you alright? you look tired."
your cheeks heat up all of a sudden. "y-yes, i'm alright. why do you ask?"
"you're walking funny." she points out, and you hear your husband let out a robotic chuckle. you feel embarrassed as you shoot a glare at qimir from his workbench. mae stays silent, a little confused, but you change the topic, noting that they both seem dressed for something.
"are you two heading out?' you ask, and mae nods.
"i'm preparing a lesson for mae in euda. it shouldn't take too long as she will need to learn it herself." qimir answers you as walks towards where you stand. you nod in understanding, finishing up your breakfast.
"will you be here before supper?" you ask him, since sometimes he'd be late.
"i will." he promises as he caresses the small of your back, knowing you ache below. mae watches the both of you with subtle curiosity, and qimir seems to sense this. "wait by the ship, mae. we'll leave soon."
mae nods. "yes, master." you wave goodbye to her as she heads out. only the two of you are alone at last. he presses himself against, and it makes your heart beat loudly at what he's doing. you tilt your head to see his masked face, but you can feel his tension.
"come back safely." you softly say to him as you turn around, and his hands drop to your hips. he squeezes them as your hands caress his chest.
"always." he assures you. the way he's touching you makes you want to kiss him. and you suddenly realize you still haven't kissed him yet. you already had him inside you and the thought of you two not sharing a kiss baffles you. before he could leave, you stop him.
"i want to kiss you..." you pout and his grip on your hips tightened. "for luck."
you see his chest rise and you smile at that. his other hand lifts his mask up slightly and you watch in anticipation to see a peek of what he looks like. he holds his mask up and you are met with the sight of his pink lips surrounded by facial hair. you thighs clench, knowing that those lips were the cause of the marks that are on your neck.
"are you just going to stare at me, my beautiful wife?" a grin spreads across his pink lips. you roll your eyes as you tiptoe up, wrapping your arms around his neck to finally kiss him. his lips are soft against yours. you let out a noise when his hand gripping your hips pulls you close, and he deepens the kiss. you moan, almost wanting to pull him inside the bedroom, but you let go, and he seems to chase after your lips, which makes you laugh.
"go, mae's waiting." you could see him pout before he adjusted his mask to cover his entire face. you feel a little disappointed he has to hide again. he lets go of you, and you watch him leave, feeling happy. but the gnawing curiosity of what he looks like still itches you now, even if everything is perfect.
・゜゜・．
in truth, you knew in yourself that the one forbidden rule he had said would come to you. you feel guilty that you are still thinking about it... but how could you not? you lay beside him in the darkness again, your head laid on his naked chest and your body pressed against his. you convinced yourself you can live like this with him, that you can learn to love him even if you would never see him for what he is until you die. qimir made everything perfect despite there being clear flaws. you can't sleep, you feel restless, and the desire to see him is strong, but something else bothered you.
"you would never know love with that darkness inside you."
those were the first words the elder had said to you when she prodded into your mind and future. you were terrified... would you know love with qimir? you haven't spoken to him about what your prophecy truly is. and it frightens you to think that maybe this would all fall apart because of you. your brows furrow and a dark feeling encapsulates your chest as something calls out to you.
you lift your head gently, feeling through the room, careful not to wake your sleeping husband. the strong hum of the force calls out to you, so familiar that you cannot place what it is, but you know where it is. you quietly detach yourself from qimir, trying your best to make as little noise as possible as you guide yourself to stand up and let the force guide you. your feet walk on its own and you are pulled to somewhere in the dark room.
your hand stretches out, and you feel cold sweat envelop your whole body when your hand grips a metal object. you let out a shaky breath, and your fingers grip it as your thumb presses against a button. your eyes widened as a red glow enveloped the pitch-black bedroom. you gasped, you were holding a saber. a lightsaber with its color that was forbidden in your order, for it tells a story of its connection to anger, hatred, vengeance, and all things that were forbidden. you freeze in place, seeing that the hilt of the saber is familiar. it was qimir's-
"my love?" you turn around quickly to hear your husband's voice, still holding the illuminating saber. you watch in horror as the red glow reveals his face.
he's beautiful. his face is chiseled, his skin is smooth, and his messy black hair matches everything. even if red illuminated his face, his dark brown eyes are a wonder to stare at.
and you recognize him.
"qimir-" you were cut off when the saber in your hand suddenly flew out and landed on his outstretched hand. his black hair is messy, and his eyes shine a pain of betrayal towards you. your heart stops, and guilt washes over you for what you have done. he switches the saber off, and the darkness meets you again.
"wait, qimir!" you call out to him as everything happens so fast. In the blink of an eye, the bedroom door opens with light, filling the dark room again. you watch your husband without his helmet leave hastily and the one thing you feared most comes to you.
he's going to leave you.
your eyes water as you rush to follow him. a sudden gush of harsh winds makes you falter when you see that the front door of the cave has been opened. you follow still, desperate to make this right for him. you huff, stepping out to see the blue hour of the day. your eyes scan down to see him walking hastily towards where the lagoon is- to where his ship might be. your chest feels heavy as you quickly ran to get to him before he leaves.
stupid, stupid girl. the cackling noise of one of the elder's taunts you in your mind. always playing with the darkness.
tears stream down your face. how could you do that to him? the one thing he asked for you not to do, and you completely disobeyed him. your feet ache as the gravel wounds your bare soles. you see his figure near your line of sight, you had to make this right. you love him-
"qimir! p-please! i'm sorry." you sob out. he suddenly halts in his steps, his grip on his saber tightens and you fear for the worst. will he kill you? now that you have seen him. you stop in your steps as your chest heaved with utter sadness and guilt.
"you can't see me. you're not supposed to see me- why did you..." the hurt in his voice pains you.
"i'm sorry." you bowed your head, ashamed.
"i-i..." you aren't sure if you should say something. you knew his face back in the order, one of elder vernestra's students in her stead. the one that disappeared one day without any trace. rumors that he went rogue on the order, communing with the dark side of the force. and rumors that the order threw him out. while you were by the sidelines, doing your duty as the eldest daughter, you had seen him around years ago in the temple in coruscant. he was a knight and you remembered when one of your sisters gushed about a handsome knight coming out of the temple. tall, black hair, a charming smile, and a skilled warrior. you never once dallied with your sisters' hushed talks about handsome men. but he made everyone stare at him when he entered a room. it's a shame you can't remember his name back then, but all is pieced together now.
"and now you know where i fleed. you must have a lot of questions." he sighs as he finally turns around to you. your heart still beats loudly, seeing his face now. you stay silent, unsure of what to ask him.
"i don't have any." you decided, and that surprised him. "i'm sorry i did that."
his brows furrow. "that doesn't matter now. don't you understand? i am the one the elders of your order who warned you all about-"
"i don't care. you're my husband." you cut him off as you step towards him. his chest rises when you near him as you shakily place your hand on his where he still grips his saber. "they don't matter anymore, qimir. i haven't been in contact with them since i've been here."
"really? did you know that they threw you away as well. haven't you wondered why they suddenly placed a prophecy upon you?" he asks, and you think about that momentarily. he was trying to let you see the seriousness of it.
"i know..." you nod, deep-down you knew why they carelessly threw you away. maybe your own insecurity had taken over when they had said that to you, and you believed them.
"when i heard about your ridiculous prophecy, i knew they were using you to find me." he confesses, and you frown at that. his other hand lifts up to caress the side of your face. there's a tenderness in his eyes, and you understood why he chose not to let you see his face.
"but it seems like i find myself not caring about that anymore."
he looks deep into your eyes and you feel the weight on your shoulders lighten. "i love you, my beautiful, beautiful wife."
"i love you too." you say to him as you pull him down for a kiss. the morning sun shines between you both, no need for hiding now. qimir happily reciprocates the kiss, dropping his saber to the ground as he scoops you up in his toned arms. the salty breeze of the planet is a nice touch to this tender moment, wherein all are finally coming to peace.
and you were right, this is the life you always wanted now.
☾ pairing: dom! incubus yeonjun x sub! human afab reader
☾ rating: 18+ explicit and mature content, smut and angst
☾ wc: 6.9k
☾ content warnings: somnophilia, yeonjun is a demon/incubus, dubious consent into full consent as the story progresses, shape-shifting, choking, hair pulling, yeonjun has a knot ♡, mentions of killing and death, knife/blood play if you squint, pet names, cursing, reader almost dies, slight size kink, yeonjun cries
TRIGGER WARNING: Some scenes may be triggering for survivors of SA. Please read at your own risk.
☾ summary: y/n meets Yeonjun at a club and goes home with him. Yeonjun is an incubus that has to have sex and cum to stay alive but if he's not careful he could kill his victims. including y/n.
One of these days you would stop going out on the weekdays but you found that going to the club kept a lot of negativity and anxiety off your mind when things were stressful. You had a few drinks and could already feel yourself getting a bit tipsy but that didn’t stop you from having a good time. You were sitting at the bar when your friend Wooyoung (obviously wasted) pulled on your arm.
“Y/n, come on.~ Come dance with me!” He whined, giving you his best puppy eyes. Wooyoung usually went with you wherever, but he would never turn down an opportunity to get drunk.
“For fucks sake Wooyoung” you laughed, “how are you this drunk already?”
“I don't know what you're talking about.” He smiled, poorly feigning innocence.
You shook your head in disbelief before following him onto the dance floor anyway. You danced with him despite his unsteady feet. You danced with him for a while, all your worries fading into nothingness as the music and movement melted away the tension from your body. Or at least that’s how it was until Wooyoung lost his balance and fell into you.
You stumbled backward running into other bodies on your way down. It wouldn’t have been as bad, but as soon as your butt hit the ground, you felt like it was raining. Lukewarm, sticky, smelly rain. Someone had spilled their alcohol on you as a result of you knocking into them. You heard cussing above you but when you looked up Wooyoung was nowhere to be found.
“Hah. Of course, he's gone.” You scoffed shaking your head before bracing yourself to get up and also to face the embarrassment of the situation you were in.
“You okay?” You heard from above you. The deep voice sent a chill down your spine. You looked back up, meeting the brown eyes of a boy you’d never seen before. You felt your cheeks become rosy as you looked over his features. Brown eyes that seemed to have a hint of red to them, messy black hair that was a little bit sweaty. He was wearing a white button-up tucked into his pants with a few buttons undone, exposing his collar bones, and black dress pants with a skinny belt. Not to mention the smirk plastered on his face as he watched you stare at him. He waited for you to respond with his hand outstretched.
“Oh, thank you. Sorry if I hit you.” You said quietly, taking his hand. You were surprised by how gentle he was as he helped you up. He smiled down at you and your heart clenched. He was a good bit taller than you, and his hands were so much bigger than yours. Not to mention how incredibly handsome he was.
“You didn’t. But I saw your friend run off, so I figured you’d need some company now.” He chuckled. “What’s your name?” The boy asked his gentle eyes looking you up and down.
“I'm y/n,” you responded. Typically you didn't give random boys the time of day, but this one had piqued your interest. Something about his aura maybe?
“Nice to meet you, y/n. I'm Yeonjun.” he paused before continuing, motioning to your clothes, “You are covered in someone else's beer, can I take you to get some fresh clothes?”
You had somehow forgotten that you were covered in alcohol. Now the stickiness was a lot more obvious. “Oh…” you hesitated. Yeonjun however didn’t give you time to think before chuckling, grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the crowd and towards the door. Normally you would be pulling away, but there was something about this boy that was… magnetic. You didn’t mind letting him tug you away, besides, Wooyoung had left you alone anyway. He would just have to suffer the consequences of his own actions.
Once you had made it outside the bar, Yeonjun sighed, taking in a breath of the cool air outside. “That’s better. It was too fucking loud and hot in there.” he laughed.
“Right? Well thank you Yeonjun, I should probably catch a taxi home now so I can get cleaned up.” You also sighed, but instead of in relief, it was in frustration. You felt for your wallet in your back pocket. Yeonjun watched as you let your arms fall beside you. “It’s gone…” you mumbled.
Yeonjun faked a frown as he pushed your wallet deeper into his back pocket, but then quickly perked up. “You can just come to my apartment. I know you don’t know me and this is probably a huge red flag but I’m not up to any fuck boy shit. I promise.” He said, holding out a pinky to you.
You snorted. Everything told you to run away. This was a bad idea. It was dangerous and definitely a red flag. But you couldn’t help it. For some reason, you didn’t want him to leave. Yeonjun felt trustworthy, and maybe a little bit addictive. You intertwined your pinky with him, completing the promise. “Only if you promise you’re not kidnapping me.”
“I promise.” You saw that red shimmer in his eyes again as he took your hand. You walked with Yeonjun for a little while before your feet started to cramp up from the heels you were wearing. Once Yeonjun noticed your pace slowing down, he quickly turned around and lifted you off the ground. You gasped at the suddenness as well as how easy it seemed for him to lift you.
“Don’t worry. Just rest. I can carry you the rest of the way. It’s only a couple blocks.” He said reassuring you.
You nodded. His scent pulled you in closer as you leaned against his chest. You closed your eyes and let yourself be overcome by his warmth and smell. There was just something about him that made you want to stay close to him. You were so drawn to him in a way you’d never been drawn to anyone before.
You must have dozed off momentarily, but you were quickly awoken by Yeonjun’s gentle but slightly out-of-breath voice. “Y/n,~ I’m sorry I would carry you into the house but I have to open the door.”
You opened your eyes only to be met by a cute pout. He must have genuinely felt bad for having to put you down. He lowered you gently back onto your feet before opening the door and letting you walk inside first. His apartment was small, a little bit disorganized but clean.
“Here I’ll grab you some clothes and put them in the bathroom for you. Then you can wash up if you want to.” Yeonjun said as he took off his shoes and then walked to his bedroom.
You watched as he came out of his bedroom with some folded clothes in his hands as well as a towel or two. Then he stepped out of the bathroom again before motioning that the bathroom was now yours.
“If the clothes are uncomfortable or don’t fit right just let me know and I’ll grab you something else!” He smiled as he walked back into the living room and plopped down on the couch.
You gave him a nod and responded, “Thank you Yeonjun, you didn’t have to do this.” Before heading into the bathroom and closing the door behind you. You locked the bathroom door of course because this guy was still someone you didn’t know + taking a shower + being naked + the unlocked door just didn’t feel quite right.
But after you locked the door, you allowed yourself to relax a bit, using the restroom and starting the shower before peeling off your sticky beer-covered clothes. You hopped into the shower and let the hot water caress your skin. It felt nice. You didn't bother to wash your hair but you did use Yeonjun’s body wash to clean off your body. The smell of his body wash was nice, not too manly but not girly either. After letting your muscles relax in the hot water for a bit you eventually decided it was time to get out of the shower. You noticed that Yeonjun’s towels were nice, they seemed high quality as you dried yourself off. Then you finally picked up the clothes he had brought for you. A big white t-shirt with some sort of logo on the front, and some sweatpants. You slipped the clothes on, not able to wear your beer-soaked bra, and ultimately forced yourself to put back on your sweaty panties.
You looked at yourself in the mirror. You looked comfortable and cute. Your cheeks were pink from hot water and the clothes stuck to your damp body. Your nipples are easy to see in the shirt but you shrug it off, being a man you’re sure Yeonjun probably wouldn’t mind the free view. You decide to tie your hair up into a ponytail to complete the comfortable look before unlocking the door and stepping into the hallway. When you walk back into the living room you find Yeonjun in the kitchen cooking some eggs and toast. He turned around at the sound of the bathroom door opening.
He hummed contently with a raised eyebrow as he looked you up in down in his clothes. “You look cute.”
“Thank you.” You responded, feeling a little bit shy before joining him in the kitchen.
It was quiet for a little bit while he cooked food for himself and you. You took a second to admire him, he was still in the button-down shirt but it was much more open and now he was wearing dark sweatpants. His figure was quite enjoyable to look at, his slender waist easy to see with his shirt tucked in.
Eventually, he finished cooking and handed you a plate of scrambled eggs and some toast along with a glass of wine. “Here, I figured you might be hungry but if you’re not that’s okay!“ he said with a smile.
“You’re so kind Yeonjun.” You replied before taking a few bites. The two of you sat and ate together while chit-chatting and getting to know each other a little better. After a while, you felt the wine turning your cheeks pink.
“Do you… want to watch a movie with me?” Yeonjun smiled, cleaning up the table. “If not, I can take you home.”
“I’m definitely not letting you take me home, you’ve been drinking too, stupid.” You said with crossed arms as you headed over to his couch. He chuckled before joining you in the living room. As he approached you, you could really see how nice his figure was, including the tent in his sweatpants. You quickly looked up after realizing you definitely had been staring for too long and met his eyes. There was that stupid smirk again. Had he seen you checking him out like that? If he did he definitely didn’t say anything.
He sat beside you and that’s when you realized how much bigger he was than you. His hands were twice the size of yours, he was much taller than you, and his arms and thighs were muscular and toned. For a moment you wondered what other parts of him were muscular or big. You shook the thought off quickly embarrassed at yourself for even going there. But you couldn’t help but bite your lip as he put his arm around you.
You could feel your skin light on fire as he pulled you against him. The sudden proximity warmed you to the core. You swore you’d never been so interested in someone like this before but you couldn’t understand what made him so different. He turned on the TV and put on a movie. You had a hard time concentrating on the movie though. Between the unprovoked lewd thoughts and the fact that you were exhausted, after a while you found yourself dozing off on him. Yeonjun was warm and he felt safe even though you had just met him.
Yeonjun watched as your body began to go limp in his arms. He wasn’t surprised that he had taken control over you this easily but still, it amused him to watch as your head fell into his lap. He leaned his head back and tried to calm himself. He wasn’t usually like this but he hadn’t had sex in months and if he didn’t soon he was going to become sick and unable to control himself. He would become dangerous to those around him.
He was hesitant because of what happened last time. He was afraid of hurting or killing anyone. He wasn’t like the rest of them. He really didn’t want to hurt anyone anymore. Maybe if he was quick you wouldn’t wake up and you wouldn’t get hurt. He knew he could keep you sleeping for a while as long as he maintained focus.
Your head was sitting in his lap now. He adjusted how he was sitting but that didn’t help much because now he could feel the blood starting to pulsate into his cock.
“Fuck.” He mumbled.
He looked down and watched as the tent in his pants grew. Your warm breath tingled against the head of his cock through his pants which caused him to thrust up against your face unintentionally. You didn’t respond, but you let out a little whine which only made things worse for Yeonjun.
Yeonjun felt his body heating up. It’s not like he could just get himself off and be done, he needed this to stay alive. His cock only continued to grow, the head now rubbing against your unsuspecting lips through his sweatpants.
He gently rested a hand on your head holding it in place as he began to slowly rut against your face. The drag of his sweatpants against his skin stimulated him in a way that only made him hotter. He continued this for a minute, watching your innocent features as you slept in his lap. This only aroused him more and more. He knew this was wrong, but he didn’t have a choice.
He clenched his jaw before carefully pulling down his sweatpants. His length sprang out just perfectly rubbing across your lips leaving a string of precum connecting to the head.
“Oh fuck.” He cursed. The image in front of him was unholy like him. He ran his fingers through his hair before shaking his head. He couldn’t believe he was about to do this, but you were so beautiful and he couldn’t help it. Something like this was inevitable.
With one hand Yeonjun pinched your cheeks which parted your lips and with the other, he pushed down on your head gently until he was able to push the tip into your mouth.
He paused, the heat and wetness of your mouth making his head spin. All he had to do was keep himself calm and not lose it. If he could just cum once he’d be able to deal with it for now. He needed to cum and to have sex to feed, to stay alive, but he never wanted to hurt anyone. It was a difficult cycle. He loathed it.
He took a shakey breath before pushing himself further into your mouth. Right now, since he was calm and fully human Yeonjun’s cock was only about 6 inches and was a normal width so he was able to push himself father into your mouth without any issues.
While the younger boy fucked into your sleeping mouth, he let his free hand wander around your body. He let his hand crawl under your top and his fingertips kneaded your skin.
Yeonjun thrusted deeper and he could feel your gag reflex kicking in on its own as well as small whines signaling that you were starting to wake up. He sped up, not close enough yet to cum.
“Shit.” He thought. He had taken too long and you were starting to wake up from the dream he had put you in. He was going to have to use a different approach…
You were having the most erotic dream when the constant motion against your skin started to awaken you. You felt like you were drooling and having to work harder to breathe. You felt hot and aroused but it had to be because of the dream. That’s when you remembered where you had been. You had fallen asleep in a stranger's lap.
When your eyes started to flutter open everything was spinning. You were no longer lying down but instead, you were sitting up with something hard pressed against your back. It was dark except for maybe one lamp, but you were in a room you didn’t recognize.
That’s when you realized there was something in your mouth. A hand grabbed your chin and tilted your head upwards. Your eyes met his, but they weren’t the same as before. Yeonjun. His eyes a dark burgundy color now.
“Hi there little bun. Be good for me and don’t move okay?” His voice cooed into your ears.
You started to panic slightly when you finally felt his hips move and then you realized that his cock was in your mouth and that’s why you were dreaming the way you had been.
He started thrusting quickly without much warning causing you to grab onto his thighs as you gagged.
“You’re such a good girl. Taking my cock so well. Open up wide for me honey, I’m not going to hurt you.” He said while rubbing your head. His voice was as sweet as honey and the tender motion of his hands running through your hair with his words somehow melted into your brain easing your anxiety. You felt dizzy with lust. That was because of your dream right?
He pets you a few more times before pushing your head back against the wall. His cock was sliding deeper and deeper into your throat as your spit continued to build. You started gagging more and more which began to pull you out of your daze.
You started to panic adrenaline fighting against Yeonjun’s mental abilities. The rush caused you to start pushing against his thighs again, a sudden subconscious act of fight or flight.
Suddenly, you couldn’t breathe at all. Yeonjun had pinched your nose closed completely blocking you from breathing.
“Don’t worry little bun, I’ve got you. I won’t hurt you, just trust me.” He said as he continued to keep you from breathing.
However, now you weren’t gagging, he was pushing his cock all the way down your throat and your head was spinning. Although you were nervous and scared, you still trusted the younger boy. Suddenly, your hands felt heavy and weak so you let them fall to your side, no longer an obstacle for Yeonjun.
Yeonjun continued to thrust into your throat sharply, the lack of oxygen to your brain was making you dizzy. You felt so weak and fuzzy. You weren’t gagging anymore but your body subconsciously started trying to gasp for air, your throat spasming around Yeonjun’s cock. You heard the younger boy curse above you before he pushed himself all the way in his body shaking slightly. You could feel his cock pulsing as he came down your throat. You looked up at him as your vision started to become spotty, you could have sworn this was a dream too because of the shadows coming up from the boy's back and how the pupils of his eyes were almost glowing and red. His cum was hot and the feeling distracted you from the fact that you were starting to black out.
When you started to become conscious again, everything was still dark. You were lying down, it was warm and you felt a pressure behind you. You blinked a few times before you realized Yeonjun was spooning you. Your jaw was a bit sore, there’s no way everything that just happened wasn’t a dream right? You must have just clenched your jaw from the vivid dreams you were having.
You thought you could hear Yeonjun lightly snoring behind you which made you question yourself even more.
The larger boy adjusted and suddenly you could feel pressure from behind. You blushed. His cock was pushing against your clothed ass. His cock was hard, you could feel that it was throbbing and this made a chill go down your spine. You wanted more.
Yeonjun adjusted again, this time wrapping his arm around your waist and his face was near your shoulder. His breaths were heavy and even, so you were almost certain he was asleep. That was.. until you began to feel his hips rolling against you. His cock pushed against you, slightly dragging with the motion.
You couldn’t move, you were so flustered by his actions you couldn’t help but want to see what would happen also, why were your limbs so fucking heavy. He continued rolling his hips gently for a few minutes. You could feel yourself getting hotter and hotter with every passing second, you wanted more than this.
You bit your lip before slowly starting to pull the sweatpants you were wearing off. Since they were too big for you they slid off easily but you still moved with hesitation for fear of waking Yeonjun up. After another minute of gentle thrusting, you lifted your ass slightly and held your legs apart. With another thrust, Yeonjun’s cock slid down to underneath your ass and with this next thrust, his cock slid between your thighs against your clothed pussy. You gently let your legs fall back together and covered your mouth as the boy now thrusts against your heat.
You felt dizzy with lust, your mind was racing yet only focused on what was happening behind you. The sweat made for a good lubricant between your thighs and you could feel Yeonjun’s cock growing harder. Yeonjun’s breath was hot against your neck.
The thrusting continued against your heat until you felt your thighs slick with sweat and precum. You whined quietly, your mind was hazy and your pussy was throbbing. You wanted more but you also didn’t want to wake him.
“Do you want me that bad princess?” You heard a voice but the voice was in your head? You shook your head a bit thinking you were literally losing it. “My previous actions weren’t enough for you? Are you that desperate?” The voice again. But that’s when everything started to change.
“Do you know what you’re messing with Angel?” The voice spoke once more in your head. You felt Yeonjun’s body shift and you jumped as you felt sharpness digging into you where his hand was around your waist. A knife?
You’re body and mind were conflicted, fear pulsed through your body at the sudden change in mood but you couldn’t help but push back against Yeonjun’s cock which you swore had gotten bigger than when it was in your mouth. Wait but that was a dream? This is a nightmare, right? It was time to wake up.
You shook your head again and pinched yourself. This earned you a deep chuckle from behind. “No use love. You’re mine now, but what happens next is in your hands.” The voice in your head again.
“Yeonjun…” you spoke out loud the following words sounding ridiculous as they left your mouth, “What is going on? Is that you.. in my head?”
“Mmm… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. But I couldn’t. It was much too risky. I’m an incubus, and you are my prey but.. I have no intentions of hurting you as long as you can handle it.” Yeonjun spoke aloud now, his breath tickling your ear.
Tears pricked at your eyes as your flight or fight kicked in once more. “h-handle it?” You stuttered.
In a sudden movement, yeonjun had flipped you to where you were on your stomach and he was pressed on top of you. His cock still rubbing against your heat. The younger boy put his hands where you could see them and you watched in horror as his fingers shifted into slender claws. He lifted a hand to graze a claw against your neck. Their sharpness a likened to a brand new razor. You didn’t dare to move.
“Do you think you can handle me, princess?” He paused, “If you can’t, you don’t have to be afraid, I’ll make it quick and easy and you’ll never feel pain ever again. But if you can…. I promise I’ll make it worth it.” He whispered into your ear kissing it a few times sending shivers down your spine.
You didn’t have a chance to answer before Yeonjun flipped you over and pinned you down his claws tearing into the sheets like little knives. Your heart and mind were racing unsure whether you were more fascinated or frightened by the scene in front of you. You watched as small dark black horns grew from his head and then he grimaced as dark bat-like wings came out from behind his back and lastly a whiplike tail with a spade on the end. You were horrified truly but despite the insanity of the situation you were in you tried to focus on the boy's face. You watched his face as the changes in his body caused him agony. You could tell he didn't want to be like this, not when it hurt him so much. You wanted to hug him, do anything to ease his pain.
When his eyes finally met yours again they were still the deep burgundy color. He smirked once more as he watched the tears trickle down your cheeks. Fear had pulled them unwillingly from your eyes despite how you wanted to appear brave. He pulled a hand back and wrapped it around your throat once more. You whined and then realized still hadn't answered him.
You reached up and ran a hand through his tousled hair and then over one of his horns. “You won’t hurt me Yeonjun. You don’t want to.” You managed to choke out as his hand tightened on your throat. You were sure that his next move would have been to kill you if you didn't speak up.
He seemed surprised at your response. His hand loosened slightly and his eyebrow picked up in curiosity. “You’re not afraid?” He said.
“Of course I’m afraid. This is possibly the worst nightmare I've ever had but… Yeonjun, if you wanted to kill me you would have done it already, and besides…" you paused, "I really really… want you right now.” You replied, still aware of how his body was pressed against yours and how wet you were.
Yeonjun’s cock throbbed at your words. He hadn’t really ever experienced this. Usually, when his prey woke up early he would just kill them. They usually woke up screaming or crying. The fear in their eyes was unbearable for him. He hated to see people be so afraid of him. He didn’t like killing people either. Many times Yeonjun had wished one of his prey would have had the means to kill him so he wouldn't have to do this anymore.
Yeonjun sat back, releasing his hand fully from your throat and you watched as his tail came up and slid underneath your shirt. It was cold against your burning skin. The spade traveled all the way up to your neck before coming back down in fast motion ripping your shirt cleanly into two with zero resistance. You jumped as the spade cut you slightly across your chest on the way out. You were now exposed to yeonjun.
Yeonjun watched for a moment as the blood trickled down your bare chest. He was also taking the time to admire your bare torso. Then he leaned down and licked from your belly button up to your neck, stopping to lick up the blood from your skin. When he got to your neck he kissed gently, eliciting a quiet whimper from you.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, running a hand through his hair again and tugging gently near the base of his horns. Yeonjun growled at this, continuing to kiss and suck beautiful bruises on your neck. Your head spun as he licked against the shell of your ear before coming back down to lick at your erect nipples. He sucked at one and then the other, only causing your pussy to throb with every slight move.
You grabbed at his shirt wanting to be able to feel his skin against yours. The younger boy simply just tore his shirt open from the front before using his tail to pull it off of his wings. You ran your fingers down his chest surprised to find numerous scars, some more fresh than others, and black marks like tattoos all across his pale skin.
He watched you patiently as you took in his features. “You should be scared of me.” He said quietly, glancing down at his own scars being reminded of the many atrocities he had experienced and caused.
You looked back at him with a small smile. “I’m not afraid Yeonjun. You're beautiful” you responded, tracing a scar with your fingers. Yeonjun nodded before smirking once more. “Well, not yet you’re not princess.”
You lifted an eyebrow but before you could question him, Yeonjun was pulling down your panties. You blushed now being fully exposed to him so quickly.
Yeonjun licked his lips as he realized how wet you were for him. “Ah… darling… did you perhaps want this all along hmm?” he said as he ran his claws down your thighs scratching them but not enough to draw blood. “Pretty girl.” He cooed, pulling your panties all the way off.
You turned your head away slightly embarrassed at the situation. Yeonjun wasn’t able to use his hands to finger you, so instead he opted for his tongue, pulling your legs apart to kiss and lick at your heat. You moaned at his actions, clutching at the sheets because of the sudden pleasure of friction against your clit. He licked you fully, including using his tongue to push into you slightly which felt so good that you reached down to push his head down more. Yeonjun seemed to enjoy this slight dynamic change, licking at you like you were the only meal he had had all day.
After a few minutes of this, Yeonjun came back up to face you. He licked his lips again. This time you caught a glimpse of his elongated canines.
Yeonjun leaned into you, wrapping his arms around you suddenly. He was holding you as if he didn't want to let go. You felt him begin to rut against you again. His cock was still unbelievably hard. “y/n.” He panted “I won’t be able to stop once I start. You have to trust me if things become… frightening.”
You nodded, rubbing his arms in reassurance. You weren’t sure exactly what he was trying to say but there wasn’t anything you could do about it now and the truth is, you didn't want him to stop anyway.
Yeonjun sat back up and began to pull down his pants. You desperately wanted to see what you hadn't yet been able to see. You were sure his cock was just as pretty as he was. You watched curiously until the lights began to flicker. Just as his length was about to come into your view everything went pitch black and you could feel as Yeonjun pushed his bare cock against your heat. You whined and the younger boy groaned both of you finally feeling the relief of skin-to-skin contact.
He continued this for a moment making sure to lubricate himself with your wetness before you felt the tip of his cock pushing at your entrance. He pushed in slowly at that’s when you realized something was different. The head of his cock was slender and more pointy than normal and as he pushed into you you could feel bumps and ridges that were more than just veins along the sides of his cock. This was curious to you but it felt much better than normal.
He was going slow but still, you felt so full already. You heard him moaning quietly above you as he bottomed out. You whined at the stretch. It didn't hurt but it was enough to leave you wanting just a little bit more.
The lights flickered back on but everything was dimmer than before. You met Yeonjun’s eyes and without notice, he began fucking into you. He wasn’t being rough yet, but the bumps on his cock rubbed the inside of you in ways you had never felt before. You couldn’t help yourself from letting out quiet moans as his cock slid in and out of you easily.
The younger boy leaned into your neck again as he fucked you. “God fuck. You’re so good, baby. Taking my cock so well.” He whispered into your ear. “Ah- yeonjun,” you moaned back, shuddering as his breath tickled your ear once again.
He continued to fuck into you harshly but surprisingly it never really hurt. You felt full, hot and so much pleasure. You felt like you could cum at any second with one perfect stroke or one brush against your clit. You’d never felt anything like this and it felt so good. You wondered briefly if Yeonjun had any control over your pain and your pleasure.
Yeonjun pulled back after a moment to push your legs up. You squeaked at this sudden change and how much deeper it felt. You dug your fingernails into Yeonjun’s skin which elicited a slight growl of pleasure.
His eyes were almost animalistic. Maybe this is what he had been talking about. That was until you felt a sudden throbbing in your heat. The throbbing was coming from his cock. For a moment you wondered if he was cumming?
The lights began to flicker again and you felt it as his cock pushed against your walls. His cock was growing, stretching you around double what it had been. It was overwhelming and a little bit painful. Your mind swirling with a mix of emotions and feelings you squeezed your eyes shut to dull the pain.
“Take it, princess.” He said with a devious smirk. “I’m not finished with you yet.”
You whined at tears pricked at your eyes from the pain. It wasn’t overwhelming yet but it still hurt. But god you felt so full and the friction only made you hotter. You didn’t want him to stop, not that he would anyway. You just wanted more and more of him.
“Fuck.. Yeonjun” You cried, gripping the sheets around you unable to really reach him at the moment.
He fucked into you aggressively. You could hear him panting as he thrust. You moaned as tears ran out of your eyes onto the pillow below.
The younger boy reached down and wrapped his arms around your neck, pulling a whimper from you. This sudden intimate position caught you off guard. In return, you once again tugged on his hair. He groaned in pleasure. He had you basically folded in half pushing your physical boundaries to the edge.
Yeonjun’s thrusts began to get shakey and you wondered if he was close now. You quickly lost sight of this question when you once again felt that you were becoming impossibly fuller except now this was only at the base of his cock and it was rubbing directly against your g-spot.
“Fuck Yeonjun. I- I-“ you moaned as the feeling overwhelmed you.
“There you go pretty.” He said, his voice dripping in lust. “Good girl.”
Your head was spinning the sudden pleasure mixing with pain overwhelming you and orgasm approaching quickly.
“Yeonjunie- please. please I want to cum.” You whined, clawing at him desperately.
“Fuck, baby.” He said in response thrusting impossibly harder and faster. The sudden begging caught him off guard and encouraged him.
He grabbed a fist full of your hair before tugging harshly and in a deep raspy growl all he said was “Cum.”
His knot pressed harshly into your g-spot along with his undeniable command causing you to see stars, waves of pleasure wrecking your body as your orgasm hit you. Your body was overstimulated and felt like it melting.
“Good girl.” was all you could process from above you as you came. Your tightening around him caused Yeonjun’s orgasm to come quickly after you. But in the heat of the moment, you grabbed the younger boy by the horns and pulled him in to kiss you.
He kissed you roughly as he came, filling you up with his own heat. The feeling was euphoric, almost better than your orgasm. You still just wanted more despite being so full and wrecked. He continued to kiss you as you both came down slowly from your high. That was until he realized that you were no longer kissing him back.
He pulled back quickly realizing his mistake. He looked at you in horror as you lay there limply.
“Fuck. Oh fuck.” Yeonjun said in a panic, fear running down his spine, “God fuck.”
He had forgotten in a moment of weakness that kissing, especially along with sex, was the fastest way for an incubus to suck the life from its prey. And here you were, lying motionless in his arms.
He lifted your head and ran his fingers through your hair softly. “y/n, I’m sorry. I- I- didn’t mean to I swear.” Yeonjun began to cry, tears quickly running down his face. He didn’t want to be like the other ones. He didn’t want to hurt people. To kill people. He really didn’t want to hurt you. You were the only one who hadn’t been afraid of him. You were different. "I swear I didn't mean to. Please," he begged.
All you knew was that you had been kissing him when suddenly you felt very weak and felt yourself beginning to lose consciousness. Your head was throbbing and dizzy as you felt his tears dripping onto your face as he hung his head above yours. You could hear the younger boy sobbing quietly, strings of desperation slipping from his mouth. “Yeonjunie.” you managed to whisper out. “Please don’t cry.”
The younger boy lifted his head. “y/n?” He choked out between tears.
You worked hard to get your eyes open, only to see the fully human boy once again. His hair was messy, his skin no longer scarred, no wings or tail, his face was red, tears rolling down his cheeks.
He gently pulled you into his arms, both of you still naked and messy. He stroked your head as he continued to cry. “I swear I’m not going to hurt you please don’t be afraid of me.” You felt him trembling.
You let out a small huff of a laugh. “I’m not afraid yeonjun. I’m not afraid at all.” You replied as you placed a reassuring hand on his cheek and wiped his tears with your thumb. You stayed like this for a minute, Yeonjun must have been taking the time to calm himself down.
Yeonjun carefully picked you up and carried you back to the shower where this time he helped wash you and kept you standing. You still felt so weak but having him take care of you felt so good. You couldn't help but want to soak up every single moment of attention he was giving you.
He gave you water and carried you back to the bedroom before getting into bed with you and holding you close.
You reached up to play with his hair because you could tell he liked it before. Sure enough, his head leaned into your touch, following your hand in a silent cry for the much-needed comfort. But while cuddling into him you began to dose off.
“I know we just met but… I hope you don’t plan on getting rid of me…” the younger boy said quietly. “Demons… we create really deep bonds you know… and nobody has ever not been afraid of me like that before.”
You weren't sure if Yeonjun had meant for you to hear him or not. But it didn't matter because you had no desire to leave.
You smiled and leaned up to kiss him once more. You held his face in your hands squishing his cheeks a bit. “I told you I’m not afraid Yeonjun. So now it’s your turn to not be afraid.” You said teasing him gently for his insecurity.
You weren’t sure if you were under the spell of the young incubus or if what you were feeling right now was real or a dream but it didn’t matter. The handsome boy with fluffy hair or the demon with bat wings and horns, either way, you couldn’t help but smile as he held you closely. He nuzzled you before adjusting so your head was lying on his chest. You fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat and the feeling of him rubbing your back. You decided that even if this was all a dream, it was one that you wanted to have again and again or never wake up from.
SUMMARY -> ever since you found him and he trained you, he had always concealed his identity to you for his unknown reasons. you were always curious what he looks like underneath the cortosis helm he wears. though, this time the curiosity in you would be sated at last when a particular sparring session turns into an unexpected lesson in trust.
qimir x acolyte!fem! reader
masterlist
GENRE -> mild nsfw/smut
WARNINGS -> unprotected p in v, sexual tension, mild violence, master/pupil dynamic & smut is at the end : P
WC -> 2.82k
a/n: surprise! another qimir fic cuz i can’t get him out of my head.
likes, comments and reposts are greatly appreciated !! <3
enjoy !!
"have you ever wondered what he looks like underneath that mask?"
you asked your fellow pupil, mae, one day out of the blue. the particular reason for asking that question had always been because of your undying curiosity for the years you started to train under him.
your masked master.
"i don't." mae would answer, saying that she doesn't care what he would look like underneath the mask. saying that as long as he trains her, his identity doesn't matter to her. you understood her with that, she was his acolyte first and it probably dawned upon you that the years of concealing his identity to her she had thrown away the curiosity of what their master looked like.
but on the other hand, you, you somehow couldn't stop wondering.
you had found him or- he had found you when you were escaping your slave captors after your own sister had betrayed you in selling you to them. you were angry, in rage and unaware of the dormant power that had awoken in you with that rage you had felt. and in your fit of rage, you had managed to slaughter two of the captors chasing you, leaving you feeling guilty for your horrendous actions. you decided to escape and flee the planet. that is until by some chance, you had come across the masked stranger in the middle of the night who had told you about the gift you possessed, telling that you shouldn't be ashamed you used it in your self-defense.
and that's when he had took you under his wing, training you as his pupil.
he had taught you what your gift was, what your power is. he trained you, taught you and for the most part, despite him putting this distance between you and mae, he had helped you. and maybe that’s why you’re so curious to know who he is really, you wanted to see the master who had graciously accepted you despite you knowing your connection with the force was not as strong as mae’s.
he was… well, you could not really put a strong opinion on what kind of a man your master was. for the most part, he was always away and in training sessions, he was closed-off and distant. but when he spars with you and mae, that’s when a hint of his personality is peeking through.
rough, aggressive, strict. the way he spared with you had left you with tired sore knees and bruised arms when defending. on the offensive attacks you made he was quick to dodge and maneuver himself with your predictable attacks. he was ruthless in his combat but there was still that fluidity in it. but you knew he still held back with you despite the aggressiveness. you wished he had put more effort in your sparring sessions just like mae’s but you knew he was focusing more on her since she was at the brink of completing her lessons.
“safe travels, mae.” you wish her luck as she nods at you. the master had given her final lesson- to kill a jedi without a weapon. you were proud of your fellow acolyte but it did upset you how much you were falling behind. the waves splash in the background as you watch her walk to her ship. you wave her off as you saw it fly out the cloudy atmosphere then jumped into hyperspace, on the course to euda.
the sea breeze helps you gather your thoughts, and you wonder if the master would train you further today. seeing that mae had to learn this lesson by herself. sensing him, you feel the pull of the force as you turn around to see your master standing a few feet away from you.
the scene makes you remember that night when you found him. for a moment it did frighten you to see him loom over you when you fell to your knees from running. you were injured then and you had momentarily thought he was one of the slave traders that was trying to capture you. it took you a while to get used to him being like this when he appears out of the blue. well, for a random person, it would seem frightening to see a masked stranger dressed in black robes suddenly appear in mid-air. plus the saber tucked in his belt.
“master.” you greet him, anticipation lingering inside you.
“we shall continue your training today, my acolyte.” his modulated voice says. you feel your chest swell with excitement as you nodded. “be prepared.”
“of course, master.” you bowed slightly as he walks off to where the sparring lessons usually are. you smiled to yourself, maybe this time he’d finally put more effort in your training as you walk with a slight spring in your steps.
・゜゜・．
“focus.”
he says as your feet scraped against the rocks at his force push. you huff, your chest heaving, your leather tunic is starting to stick on your glistening sweaty skin, making you feel uncomfortable. you sigh, frustrated how you were not landing a single blow on him. your mind was elsewhere, seeming that you are still focused on wondering what he looks like underneath that mask.
“use that frustration. focus on your emotions.” he commands and you composed yourself, swatting the questions of his unknown face in your head. you ready yourself in a fighting stance, body facing to the side while you wave your arm in front of you. you clenched your fist for a moment as you heed into his words and attack. you use the force to heighten your leap towards him as you land a blow but he dodges again. an uppercut, he doges, a kick you do he dodges again. you feel yourself get even more irritated but in ease that he was finally not holding back when he blocks one of your blows with his arm.
but still, you were still not fighting the way he has to expect you to fight.
“you are too trustful in me, acolyte.” he scolds you, the modulated tone ringing. he backs away from you as you stopped, confused. yes, you indeed trust him, why was it a bad thing?
“i beg your pardon, master?” your breaths are labored and somehow from the close distance, you could hear him sigh underneath the mask.
“you are too trustful.” he says again. “do not trust me that i will not kill you even if i am training you. trust in yourself. we cannot continue this lesson if you do not learn to do that.” a chill runs through your spine at his words. there’s a slight pang of hurt in those words of his that were true. yes, he could kill you. why wouldn’t he if you failed him? you seem to stiffen at his words as he reminds you again, this time he will take the offensive attack.
“trust is a fragile thing. you cannot trust anyone but yourself, my acolyte. even if the person has sworn to trust you, they would eventually betray you. but yourself? you cannot betray yourself.” he explains as you nodded at his words. “when since you had put your whole trust in someone and they betrayed you in the end?”
you look at him, rage starting to boil in you when you remembered your own sister’s betrayal. your chest tightens and your mind is enraged with it. the pain she had put you in, the survival you had to do, the running you had to tire and the people you had to kill just to be free-
“there it is.” he says, proud. feeling your ever glowing rage.
“now, focus.” he suddenly attacks you as you dodged swiftly. both of you move in a tandem, as if it were a dance. the painful realization that even your master, the one who saved you and took you in, would eventually might betray you as well. the rage in you is at its boiling point as you let out a guttural scream when he almost aims for your neck. you push him back with your force then surging to him with heat in your steps as you attacked. he blocks your powerful blow with two of his arms forming an x. you kick him immediately on the stomach and he lurches, caught off guard.
you were too in to your emotions as you attacked and attacked. he tries to doge and block your every hit but he eventually succumbs to your rage when you finally kicked him to the ground. before he could stand, you immediately come on top of him, preventing that. you fist the collar of his robe, clenched hand in the air ready to land a final punch-
“excellent, my acolyte.” he cuts you off as you suddenly blink back into your rational self. you let go of his collar and you let yourself relax but ultimately surprised how close you are to him. you’re on top of him, your legs caging his waist and he seems not to dismiss you to get off. you can see clearly his helmet now, it was full of marks of previous battles. you take your time to admire him beneath you, how his adam’s apple bob and the sheen of sweat covering his bare muscular arms that were bulging with veins.
you blush, realizing you were staring at your master with ill thoughts.
but… the curiosity of what he looks like underneath it makes you wonder. your hand slowly comes up to his helmet and you feel him watch you with every move you make. he observes silently and you hovered your hand above his masked face. but you snap out of it again, realizing you could have offended him. and he could kill you for this. you know he takes great lengths to conceal his identity.
“a-apologies, master, i-“ before you could retract your hand and get off him. his hand suddenly grips your wrist. your eyes widened as he sits up and you adjust, hovering above his lap. he tilts his head to the side inquisitively, as if he was amused to see your curiosity be revealed. you stay quiet, staring at his masked face, waiting for his words. your cheeks are hot and you feel the anticipation grow in you. he places your hand on the side of his mask, the way he brushes your fingers softly makes you feel wobbly now.
“go on.” he merely says. you stutter, not knowing what to say. did he just agreed for you to remove his mask? your thoughts are jumbled but you succumb to your curiosity. you put both of your hands to both sides of his masked face. you slowly remove it inch by inch whilst you stared at the peaking facial features you have longed imagined what he looked like. you remove the helm completely and your heart skips a beat.
your eyes meet with a strangely beautiful dark ones.
his black hair is disheveled, his skin is smooth and his jawline is handsomely well chiseled. your eyes roam his face and it settles to his pink lips. you feel a hum of arousal between your legs when you look into his eyes again. his face is so close to yours that you can feel his hot breath tingle your lips. you put his helmet down to your side as the other brushes the black locks of his concealing his face. his pupils grow dark, your lips are inches to his and you somehow feel in-trance to lock it with yours.
this, this is the face of your master.
he’s beautiful. you think as you let out a noise when his other hand brush against your thigh. the other gently grips your hand that brushed his hair. you wondered why he had hidden his beautiful face from you and mae.
“master…” you plead as he smirks and it makes you blush.
“you did good today.” his low voice with a rasp of approval instead of the modulated one made your stomach churn and your thighs clench. the way his lips are still hovering above yours makes your head dizzy with the anticipation of what he’s doing. his top lip brushes against yours and he leans forward but before you could feel his soft lips lock with yours, you pull back. this is wrong.
“apologies, master.” you place your hands on his chest as you pulled yourself up to your feet. he seems taken aback for a moment with your rejection but composes himself as he eyes you up with a dark glint in his eyes.
“curiosity is normal. don’t be embarrassed.” he chuckles and that rings through your ears. the way he acts now is dissimilar to when he has his mask on and it baffles you how human he now is. you don’t know what to say, fearing that you have failed him in almost every way. you watch him stand up then grabbed his helmet and he looks at you. something in his gaze shines with hunger.
“we’ll continue our lesson another time.” he walks pass you and the brush of his arm against yours makes your heart jump.
“yes, master.” the initial shock of the situation still hasn’t faded when he’s out of your sight. you gulp, sweat dripping down your forehead. was he not upset that you know his face now? would he kill you for it later perhaps? those questions hang in the air. your heart still beats remembering his lips close to yours. you turn back, walking back to the shore, there’s a feeling you can’t seem to place as you let your thoughts linger on your master’s revealed face.
・゜゜・．
you dry your face with a rag then pulled a fresh tunic and bottoms from your pile of fresh clean robes. the dimness of the light inside your room in the cave made it comforting for your wild thoughts. you put on the brown tight bottoms then the grey tunic. but those thoughts soon come alive when you felt a presence near the entrance of your room.
you turn around swiftly, seeing your master standing right by the concave opening of your room. no mask on but just wearing… perfectly normal clothing. he dawned a white tunic and usual black bottoms, his hair is slicked back, damp from his bath you presumed. you stand awkwardly, not knowing what to say or do. you were used to his mysterious persona.
“you did exceptionally well today.” he begins with a praise. “but, i am surprised how focused you are on knowing what i look like.”
“thank you.” you merely say, eyes shying away when he points out your curiosity. “i apologize for that, master.”
“don’t be.” he steps forward and each step he takes has an anticipation behind them. you stay in your place, taking in how comforting he looks. “i’m glad for your curiosity.” he confesses.
“you are?” you are surprised with that.
qimir nods, adoring the way you seemed so surprised. he had his reasons for concealing his identity to you and mae. it was for to create a distance between the master and pupil. he feared attachment might overcome why he took you under his wing. he knows you already saw him as a person who finally cared for you and in truth, he does. you are a gifted woman with the force and over the years despite the distance he placed, you managed to crawl into his cold heart.
“but i fear your curiosity isn’t sated enough.” he points out and the atmosphere in the room changes. you know what he means. when you had almost kissed him but you hesitated, fearing that things might change drastically after that. he was your master after all. he steps closer to you, the distance is just like the one moments ago.
“am i right?” he asks when you stare at his lips. you wondered if mae would be enraged for what you are about to do as your body moved at its own accord.
you surge forward and lock your lips with his.
and that ends up with you sprawled underneath him. your curiosity is sated and he rewards you more with a thrust of his hips with his cock inside you. you clench around him, your hands caressing the width of his broad back. here you are, your naked body pressed against his as you moan in his ear. he groans, suckling the soft flesh of your neck.
“master…” you sigh, legs wrapped around tight on his waist. his hands are holding your thighs in place as he thrusts his cock into your warm heat. he locks eyes with your heavy one and it makes him soar at the feeling of you wrapped around him. he smirks as he kisses you hotly as he grinds his hips down.
your curiosity indeed was successfully sated by him.
Summary: They say sometimes older men are better when it comes to relationships, but Y/N finds that isn't always the case when she wakes up in bed with a certain younger man after breaking up with a certain Winter Soldier
Warnings: 18+ only, age gap relationship, older woman/younger man!, everyone is over 18!, fratboy!Peter Parker, cheater!Bucky, computergenius!reader, hacker!reader, toxicex!Bucky, consensual sex, un-consensual voyeurism (Peter knows tho), heavy smut, mentions of oral sex, unprotected sex, eventual pregnancy
Added Warnings: HYDRA, brief talks of a breeding program, disapproving family
!Ageless/Minor Blogs will not be added to any taglists!
Banner by @vase-of-lilies Dividers by @firefly-graphics @roseschoices
Series Masterlist
Time had passed and her shoulder had healed amazingly, thanks to the vaccine that Bruce and Dr. Cho had been working on for faster healing.
"HYDRA is planning on a breeding program", Y/N began, showing the evidence she had retrieved from the drive. "They know they can't replicate the Zola's serum so they want to make more soldiers by impregnating women with sperm from their soldiers in hopes of having a natural birthed, super soldier."
"It looks like they were planning on re-capturing the remaining, alive Winter Soldiers along with women that fit their category of fertility to start up the program."
"Well, I'll be damned", Tony breathed, leaning back in his seat with his arms folded behind his head.
Peter had been sitting beside her when she had unearthed the material, finding the documents of what fertility drugs were to be used, the type of women they were to search for and the list of living Winter Soldiers they were to use.
"So it's safe to assume that they want ol' Robocop here", Sam added with a nod towards Bucky.
She nodded, "along with five other living soldiers that were injected. I made sure to download all the information into your tablets."
She saw Peter scrolling through his, noting the slight disheveled appearance he wore and a knowing thought crossed her mind as she knew she was the cause of it.
It wasn't entirely her fault.
She was blaming the fact she was ovulating this week for her cornering Peter before the meeting and getting down on her knees for him, giving him a sloppy blowjob in the hallway where anyone could see.
Not that Peter minded, he was more than happy to receive her sudden surprise with the promise of extending the thanks after the meeting.
She felt her cunt clench in waiting anticipation as she saw Peter look at over from his spot and a dirty grin graced his pretty face.
Oh, how she loved dating a younger man sometimes.
Was it wrong for her to be feeling this when she was speaking at the briefing of her findings?
Possibly, but the way that Peter looked at her with those chocolate brown eyes made her feel less guilty.
~
The overall consensus had been made that Bucky would not be allowed out on missions for awhile while they continued to explore this finding.
Bucky felt pissed about the whole thing if he was being honest on top of everything else.
He only felt more anger at seeing the eye fucking Peter was giving Y/N and how she seemed to revel in it. No one else seemed to notice it or even cared to acknowledge it and he was fucking done with the whole situation.
Which led him to now, walking towards her office (which she had requested to be hidden away from the labs for her own privacy) to confront his ex-girlfriend.
How dare she move on so quickly? Was she not ashamed at the fact she was dating someone younger than her?
When Bucky had tried to express his thoughts to Steve, he was quickly shot down with a look and glare. It seemed only Dot shared his sentiments, but the only good thing about the airhead was her pussy and even that was not that great anymore.
He was so lost in his thoughts that he nearly missed the sound of moaning and cries of pleasure escaping the room, and once his ears caught the noise, he simmered more with rage.
But curiosity got the better of him as he slowly and carefully opened the door and the sight before him made his blood just continue to boil.
~
The sight of his girlfriend, naked and sweaty with her head lolled back as sweet sounds of sinful pleasure escaping her swollen lips while she rode his cock like a pro made Peter feel like the luckiest guy in the multiverse.
"Fuck, babe", Peter groaned as he gripped her hips and thrusting up into her, matching her rhythm.
Her pussy seemed to be on a mission to milk him for everything he was worth as Y/N swirled her hips as she leaned back, her hands on his thighs. It gave him a clear view of her drooling, stretched pussy sucking him in and he brought his thumb to her swollen clit, rubbing precise and firm circles that made her moans go louder.
"Peter", Y/N sobbed, her rhythm becoming more sloppy and desperate.
"Need some help, pretty?" Peter teased.
"Ye- oh god!" Peter managed to rearrange them with her on her back, her legs resting on his shoulders and the new angle only had them more desperate.
Y/N clawed down his biceps as tears streamed down her cheeks.
Peter grinned at the sight of his girlfriend's pleasure before letting out a loud groan as he felt her pussy clench around him and his thrusts becoming sloppy as he could feel his balls drawing up.
He quickened his attention on her clit, rubbing harsher in a way he knew made her writhe and shake.
"C'mon baby", Peter encouraged. "Cum on this dick."
He watched as her eyes began to flutter and arch her back, her hard nipples pressing into him as he felt her pussy spasm as her mouth dropped in a silent scream as a powerful stream shot out from her.
Amazement filled Peter before his own orgasm took over, his own eyes clenching as he cummed in her.
He hoped Bucky enjoyed the show.
Especially since he made Y/N squirt and Bucky never could.
Her stomach felt like it was in knots as she felt her heart beating in her chest as she sat at the table. Her stomach rolled with nausea as she felt the stare of the woman across from her as even Peter seemed uncomfortable with the gaze of his aunt.
So far, meeting Peter's Aunt May seemed to not be going well for her.
Y/N knew not everyone would be okay with the near ten year age gap between her and Peter, but maybe she had grown accustomed to the small bubble within the Avengers that were accepting of their relationship (she excluded Bucky because his ass didn't count).
"So", Peter said with a strained smile. "How's work been for you, Aunt May?"
"It's been fine", May responded with a quirked brow. "So, Y/N, Peter tells me that you work as a hacker?"
"Yes", Y/N said with a small smile. "Tony's the one that found me."
"And I imagine you went to school for that?"
"Not... exactly", Y/N said with a squirm.
Her stomach rolled and twisted, the climbing feeling of nausea going up her throat and her skin felt a bit clammy. She could feel her heart pounding in her ears as the vomit began to crawl up her throat, but she swallowed it down.
Eventually, she managed to excuse herself to the bathroom where Y/N found herself hunched over the toilet, holding back the hairs trying to worm their way into her mouth.
Her mind swirled with the look of un-acceptance from Peter's Aunt and it made her stomach clench, and her heart feel heavy. Worried filled her as she thought about it, knowing how highly Peter thought of his aunt.
If she was honest, Peter had been the only boyfriend that wasn't ashamed of being with her due to her soft, curvy figure. She hadn't thought that she would find herself with someone as young as Peter, but nowadays it was hard to think of living a life without Peter.
And as she dry heaved into the toilet, it never occurred to her in that moment how late her period had been and that the un-opened box of pads rested in her bathroom...
tags: 18+ smut!!! somnophilia (!!), dub-con (!!), established relationship, he’s down bad, force usage x2 (if you squint), unprotected sex, you wake up, creampie
a/n: still working on my 6K fic of ep6😵💫 (i’m going insane) in the meantime i might write more short smut drabbles like this for fun 🫶🏼
qimir slowly, and gently sliding inside you as your breathing slowed down and your eyes were barely able to stay open. his hand made its way to grab your waist while you let out little gasps, too tired to tell him to stop and because it felt too good.
add along the fact that you’ve both been wanting to dabble in somnophilia and have given him consent to do it when you’re sleeping, he took this opportunity.
you were going in and out of consciousness, sleeping calls to you with every flying second and you let it take over.
meanwhile qimir was now fully inside you. so warm and tight. you hugged him to perfection. he did slow and sensual thrusts, eyes rolling back because it was amazing.
he kept his moans as quiet as he could, biting on his bottom lip so he didn’t wake you. but then he realized if him fucking you wasn’t enough to keep you awake, then surely a few moans won’t wake you.
so he let out a few moans under his breath, grabbing your right leg and carefully moving it up so he could go deeper. you were laid on your side but now with your leg up, it gave him more room to fuck you how he wanted.
you were stirring in your sleep, letting out small whimpers which only drove him more feral. he was so ecstatic to finally indulge in one of your shared fantasies, he couldn’t help but change his pace to be slightly faster.
his thrusts were desperate. something about how you just fell asleep knowing he was inside you did something to him. and the fact that you’re yet to wake up.
a sleeping beauty in all her glory. you looked so peaceful, beautiful. as always. your beauty never fails to impress him and he was eternally grateful you were all his.
your breathing was somewhat steady but your pussy was clenching against him and there was already a white ring of cream around the base of his cock. even though you were unconscious your body still reacted the same way to his like when you’re awake. he groaned and closed his eyes, wanting to rely on the force alone to really feel you.
he always seemed to find himself using desire as the emotion to help him use the force. his desire for you was unlike any other so it just felt beyond perfect, he was speechless. his mind was clear and he could feel your own desire radiating off your body.
you always claimed you didn’t have a connection to the force, and your stubbornness would never let him help you nor venture past something as simple as sensing when he’s near. but when it came to moments like these it was painfully strong, another reason he was happy you were his.
you’d only be this way with him and if that was as far as your patience with the force ran, then he’d be content.
you were now slightly snoring which had him grinning ear to ear like a lovesick fool. he slowed down and went back to sensual thrusts, making sure you had every inch of him inside you.
he opened his eyes and looked down at your body, now noticing that your arousal was now dripping down to your asshole. “fuck-“ he muttered under his breath and felt himself twitch.
you stirred in your sleep and squirmed around only to just heighten the pleasure. he bit his lip and gripped your waist a little more while his right hand went to grab on to the back of your leg. he steadied himself and was trying to not just explode inside you that very second.
you suddenly just felt that ache between your thighs and your consciousness woke you up. dazed and confused, you wipe your eyes only to realize your wet dream was actually real.
you fell asleep and qimir finally made the move to fuck you as you slept. you let out a yawn and turn your head to face him, his pretty eyes already on you as you murmur, “i thought it was a dream.”
he chuckles and shakes his head, “a dream come true maybe..”
you playfully roll your eyes and he grins, “there’s my girl.”
you sheepishly grin, feeling your cheeks grow warm like they always did with any sweet words he’d give you. you stretched your arm out back to your waist to which he instinctively interlocked your hands together. his thumb gently rubbed your skin and he went back to focusing on his deep strokes.
you laid your head back into the pillow and closed your eyes, allowing yourself to just relax and feel everything he’s doing.
he was now freely moaning, absolute music to your ears and unsurprisingly the cause of your orgasm getting closer. you whimpered and tried to squeeze your thighs together but his second hand didn’t let you. he clicked his tongue and you could just picture the look of disapproval on his face while you pout.
that alone was enough for his own orgasm to build up in his body and he started going faster, desperately trying to catch his release. “qimir-“ you whimpered and squeezed his hand.
he groaned and suddenly released his load deep inside you. his pace didn’t calm down until you were shaking and crying in pleasure from your orgasm suddenly hitting you too.
he stopped and slowly pulled out, not wanting to hurt you. he let go of your leg but leaned down to kiss your hand before letting go when his dick just slid out of you with a plop.
he kissed your hand some more before laying down behind you. you turned your body to lay on his chest, with a hand on his heart just feeling it beat for you. already having in mind that you need this to happen again, and qimir knowing without having to ask.
The echo of applause lingers in your ears even as you make your way through the quiet lobby of the hotel. Even as the elevator doors shut quietly behind you, there was still a faint ringing. The haze of the concert only really lifts when you and Joe step into the suite at the end of the hall on the twelfth floor.
The room is almost too perfect. A king bed dressed in steel gray linens, floor to ceiling windows that’s letting in the glow of the city streets below. In the far corner, a full-length mirror stands.
You drop your bag by the door, and toe off your shoes. You’re unbuttoning your jacket when you feel Joe’s eyes on you, slow and deliberate, in a way that makes your pulse race. He’s already perched on the bed, elbows braced on knees, curls damp at the temples from sweat and heat of the stage.
“You feel okay?” He asks.
You shrug, feeling a little hazy still but not minding it. “Yeah. Ears are just ringing a bit.”
He pats the mattress between his legs. "Come here, let’s see if we can fix that."
You let yourself be drawn to him, hips guided by gentle hands until you’re standing between his knees. He looks up at you with a smile that breaks across his lips, not the rehearsed one for cameras but the honest one he saves for off stage.
His fingers skate up the back of your thighs, lingering just enough to make you shiver.
"You always do this," you murmur, trying to sound accusing but failing to bite the sweetness out of it.
"Do what?" He feigns innocence, thumbs now tracing slow, lazy circles where your waistband meets skin.
"Look at me like I’m some precious thing, and you’re dying to touch every inch."
He grins, and lets the silence settle for a beat before responding.
"Maybe I am," he says, and his tone dips, soft and warm like honey in tea. "Or maybe you just look really, really good tonight."
You want to believe him. You do. But you also know what’s underneath the denim, the jersey, the months-old insecurity clinging to your ribs and thighs. You shift, trying to hide your uncertainty behind a joke, but Joe’s hands don’t let you go anywhere.
He hooks his thumbs in your belt loops and gives a gentle tug, enough to close the inches between you. The top of your head is at eye-level with him now, so close you can see the halo of city light reflected in his pupils.
"Want me to stop?" He asks, barely a whisper.
You shake your head. He doesn’t. Instead, he brings his hands up, palms splayed wide, and starts to unbutton your shirt. One, two, three, slow enough you could stop him at any point. He peels the fabric back, exposing skin. For a second you cross your arms, covering your chest from the sudden exposure, but Joe catches your wrists and brings your hands to his lips.
"None of that," he says, voice low and sure.
He kisses the inside of your wrist, then the other, as if to underline the point.
He shifts on the bed, guiding you to turn so you’re facing the mirror in the corner. The reflection startles you: the city’s neon makes you almost look like a ghost. Joe’s still behind you, chin hooked over your shoulder, hands mapped to the shape of your hips.
"Do you see what I see?" He murmurs, lips close enough to brush your ear.
You try to, but your gaze stutters at the places you always avoid: your stomach, the soft skin under your arms, the angles you never want to show in photographs. He notices, of course. He always does.
"Right there," he says, guiding your hands so you touch your own waist. "This is my favorite part. It’s so—" he pauses, searching for a word. "—soft. Like you’re daring the world not to love you exactly as you are."
You snort, and the sound breaks some of the tension in your jaw. "That’s not how the world sees it."
"I’m not the world," he says, matter of fact. "But I love every inch. Especially the ones you’re so mean to."
He trails his fingertips up your spine, across your shoulders, then under your arms, brushing the sensitive skin you usually hide. Each touch is paired with a kiss to the corresponding spot in the mirror, a ritual of mapping and claiming, as if every part of you deserves to be worshipped.
He works your shirt off the rest of the way, letting it slide down your arms until it puddles at your wrists. Then he goes for your pants, undoing the button with the practiced ease of a man who’s spent years on the road, always undressing in haste but never with the tenderness he saves for you.
The fabric pools at your ankles and you step out, feeling more exposed than you’ve ever been. You glance away from the mirror, but Joe’s hands guide your chin back to your reflection.
"Look at you," he breathes, and his tone is reverent, almost awed. "You’re beautiful. You know that, right?"
You want to say yes. Instead, you let your head fall forward, hair shielding your face from the scrutiny. Joe doesn’t let it stay there long. He tucks a strand behind your ear, kisses the spot just below your earlobe, and then moves down to the line of your shoulder.
"Don’t hide from me," he pleads, voice low, almost a vibration against your skin.
You stand there, trembling in nothing but your underwear, while Joe’s lips chart the territory of your neck and collarbone. His hands travel up and down your arms, chasing the goosebumps he leaves behind. Every time you flinch, he just pulls you closer, until your back is pressed to his chest and his breath fans across your jaw.
He wraps you up, one arm banded across your stomach, the other hand exploring the places you least expect: the gentle roundness of your belly, the soft undercurve of your thigh. He murmurs into your ear, each word a small act of reclamation.
"You don’t have to change a thing," he says, tracing circles over your hipbone. "Not for me. Not for anyone."
You want to argue, to insist on your imperfections, but the words dissolve before they can form. Instead, you let him hold you, breathing in the scent of his cologne, the warmth of his skin. You rest your head against his shoulder, watching the mirror as if it holds answers you’ve never let yourself believe.
He catches your eye in the glass, grinning that half-smile again.
"Perfect," he says, and for the first time all night, you almost believe it.
His lips find yours, gentle and insistent. When he pulls away, he runs his fingers through your hair and tucks it behind your ear. His eyes roam your body in the mirror, looking at every part, every flaw, every inch of you.
He leads you back toward the bed, and for the first time in a long time you feel wanted. Joe takes your hand, and laces his fingers through yours as he leads you to the edge of the bed. The mattress gives just a little as you side, the high thread count sheets cool beneath your bare thighs.
“Lie down,” he says softly.
You hesitate for half a second, then stretch out along the length of the bed. He scoots you gently, adjusting your angle until your head is level with the footboard, your feet toward the pillows. It’s not the way you’d ever position yourself, but with Joe you don’t question it.
He crawls up the bed after you, knees braced on either side of your hips, hands planted just above your shoulders. His body eclipses the overhead light, casting you in a cocoon of shadow and warmth.
You reach up, catching the bottom hem of his shirt and tugging.
"Taking charge, are we?" He says, but there’s a heat beneath the tease.
"I want you," you say, and it comes out a little raw, but you don’t regret it.
He bows his head, lips finding the skin beneath your collarbone. His hands steady your sides as you work the buttons free, one after another. The shirt opens slowly, parting to reveal his chest: warm skin, dark hair, the edge of a tattoo you trace with your finger. Joe shivers, an involuntary twitch, and grins against your sternum.
"Ticklish," he admits, laughing low.
You grin back at him. Your fingers fan out over his skin, learning the way his muscles tense under your touch. You press the flat of your palm to his chest, feeling the drumming pulse beneath.
His shirt slips from his shoulders, bunches around his elbows, and then he’s fully above you, all skin and muscle and the faint sheen of sweat from the night. You run your hands down his arms, over the little constellation of freckles just above his wrist. He cages you in, leaning down to kiss you with an intensity that catches you off guard.
His lips are soft but greedy, tongue teasing at the edge of your mouth. You open for him, sighing into the kiss, and he swallows the sound like it’s his new favorite song. His hand slides up to cradle the back of your head, thumb stroking just behind your ear.
He shifts, pressing his body flush to yours. The line of his hip fits perfectly against the cradle of your legs. You can feel the heat of him, the promise of what’s next, but he holds back, savoring the buildup.
His mouth moves to your jaw, leaving a trail of kisses down to your chin and then the line of your throat. He pauses there, nuzzling the soft skin, inhaling as if he could memorize your scent. When he speaks, his voice is almost a growl.
"Can I show you something?"
You nod, breathless. His hands cup your face, tilting it so you’re forced to look over the foot of the bed.
His hands cup your face, tilting it so you’re forced to look over the foot of the bed, directly into the full length mirror. Your reflection is flushed, pupils wide and wanting. Joe’s body looms behind you.
"Just scooch a little," he murmurs, guiding your shoulders down so your head hangs just past the edge of the mattress. The sensation is dizzying, blood rushing to your temples, amplifying every sound, every brush of skin.
He bends, kissing you upside down, his face framed by your hair spilling over the bedding. The world flips in the mirror: his body, your body, joined in a way that looks almost unreal.
"Look at us," he whispers, and his hands sweep over your ribs, your stomach, every part you still struggle to own. "Fucking beautiful."
You squirm, trying to bury your face, but he won’t let you. His hands are everywhere: steadying, exploring, claiming. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes locked with your reflection.
"I want you to see what I see," he says. "Promise me you’ll keep your eyes open."
It’s hard, almost impossible, but you do. You watch the way your body responds to his touch: the arch of your back, the flush spreading down your chest, the way your legs tremble when he trails kisses along your inner thigh.
He hovers over you, the curve of his smile caught in the mirror’s edge.
"You’re fucking perfect," he murmurs, and this time you almost believe it. Maybe it’s the way his voice breaks, or the way his hands don’t shy away from any part of you, not even for a second.
He kisses you again, a messy, upside down tangle of tongues and teeth, and when he pulls away his pupils are blown wide, wild with want.
"You ready?" he asks, not just for the sex but for all of it: the seeing, the being seen.
You nod, this time without hesitation.
He kisses your forehead and shifts his weight, still braced above you. His hands slip lower, over your hips, down to the band of your underwear. The anticipation hums in your veins, every nerve ending attuned to him, to the city lights, to the reflection that is somehow more honest than anything you’ve ever let yourself see.
"Keep watching," he tells you, voice low and almost reverent. "Don’t look away, okay?"
You nod again, and in the mirror, you see the moment his resolve breaks: a flicker of naked want, unfiltered and raw. He smiles, more animal than angel, and presses his lips to yours, sealing the promise.
Joe hovers above you, braced on one arm, the other trailing down your chest, pausing at the trembling line of your stomach. He moves slow, savoring every inch of you like he’s learning the instrument by heart. You feel the pull of his fingers at your waistband, the gentle snap of elastic as he slides your underwear down your hips. He peels them off, letting the cool air prick your thighs, and then you’re fully exposed, every bit of you on display in the glass.
For a moment, all he does is look. You expect critique, or hesitation, but he’s only ever greedy: for the way you flush under his gaze, for the ripple of goosebumps when he touches you, for the raw, animal honesty of you on your back, breathing hard.
"Fuck," he whispers, reverent. "You’re unreal."
He shifts, settling his weight between your thighs, and you can see his outline mirrored perfectly. The muscle in his shoulders, the arc of his spine, the hunger in the way his hand grips the mattress beside your head. He leans in to kiss you again, deeper, this time more teeth and tongue, more now than later.
You hear the sound of his belt. He pops the button, unzips, and shoves his jeans down just enough. Then his boxers, and suddenly his cock is out, flushed and rigid, the head glistening in the city’s blue half light.
He wraps a hand around himself, giving it a few lazy strokes. Your mouth goes dry. Your hips buck toward him involuntarily. He grins, watching you the whole time.
"Like what you see?" he teases, voice rougher than before.
You nod, almost dizzy. "Yeah. A lot."
He lines himself up, the tip of his cock pressing against you, slick and hot and insistent. For a second he just holds there, nudging at your entrance, teasing you open. You whimper, shifting your hips to meet him, and he gives you a look that’s equal parts worship and devilry.
"Tell me what you want," he says, and you hear the edge of a dare in it.
"I want you," you blurt, half beg, the honesty embarrassing but necessary. "Now."
He pushes in slow, filling you inch by inch, the burn and stretch tempered by his hand on your thigh, thumb stroking circles until you relax around him. He bottoms out, holding still, letting you adjust to the fullness. Your head spins: not just from the pleasure, but from the angle, the blood rush, the surreal sight of it all in the mirror.
You gasp, every sense lit up at once. The city blurs and flickers. Joe starts to move, hips drawing back and then pressing forward, careful but relentless. He watches your face in the mirror, every microexpression, every hitch in your breath.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he pants, picking up the rhythm.
He drives into you, harder with each thrust, and the sounds: skin on skin, the low animal noises he makes in his throat, your own unselfconscious moans, echo against the glass and concrete.
With your head hanging off the end of the bed, every thrust sends a jolt of light behind your eyes. It’s almost psychedelic, the sensation amplified by the headrush. You try to speak, to say something…anything…but all that comes out is a broken string of syllables.
Joe’s hands roam your body, kneading your thighs, then sliding up to grip your waist. He uses the leverage to pull you onto him, deeper with every stroke. In the mirror, you can see your body straining, arching, surrendering to the movement.
"Look at you," he groans, eyes fixed on your reflection. "You’re taking me so good."
Your hands scrabble for purchase, clutching at the bedding, your own thighs, his biceps. He grabs your wrists, pins them above your head, and the new restraint sends another pulse of heat through you. Your vision goes white at the edges, stars popping against the darkness.
Each thrust hits a spot that makes you whimper, legs shaking uncontrollably. You try to keep your eyes open, to do what he said, but the pleasure is overwhelming. The world starts to tilt and everything is blurry, soft, and unreal.
Joe notices instantly. He slows, then pulls out, breathless. "Too much?"
You’re barely coherent. "No, just lightheaded," you admit, fighting a laugh. "Never felt anything like it."
He grins, feral and fond at the same time.
"Gotta take care of you," he says, then flips you over like you’re nothing but air. He props your hips up, pushing your face into the sheets, but then guides your head so you’re still facing the mirror.
"Don’t hide," he reminds you, and there’s a roughness now, an edge of command that makes your stomach somersault. "Want you to see what you do to me."
You feel his cock at your entrance again, and then he’s back inside, the new position somehow even deeper. He fucks you hard, every thrust calculated to drive you wild. His hands grip your hips, thumbs digging in just enough to leave marks, and you revel in the sting.
You try to bury your face in the bedding, but Joe isn’t having it. He threads his fingers through your hair, gently pulling until you’re forced to look at your reflection.
You look. You see the way your body moves, the way Joe’s chest glistens with sweat, the way his face is twisted with pleasure. You see yourself as he sees you: open, unguarded, beautiful in your own way.
He leans forward, mouth at your ear.
"You close?" he asks, and the words vibrate down your spine.
"Yes," you gasp, not sure if you mean orgasm or tears or some impossible fusion of both.
He picks up the pace, relentless now, hips slamming against you with perfect precision. His hand sneaks between your legs, fingers finding your clit, rubbing circles until you’re gone, screaming, writhing, shattering in the glass.
Your orgasm hits like a tidal wave, ripping through you with a force that leaves you sobbing, boneless, utterly spent. Joe fucks you through it, chasing his own release, until he shudders and comes with a groan that shakes the windows.
He collapses over you, chests heaving in sync, sweat cooling in the city air. For a long time, neither of you says anything. You just lay there, caught in the glow of the streetlights, reflections tangled and spent.
Finally, Joe rolls to the side, scooping you up with one arm. He pulls you into his chest, lips pressed to your forehead, fingers drawing lazy shapes on your back.
"Still with me?" He murmurs, and there’s laughter and awe and something deeper threaded into it.
You nod, eyes closing. He kisses you, slow and sweet. The city outside keeps humming, but in this room, it’s only you and him.
You hold onto him, not quite ready to let go.
The hotel room feels weightless now, the hush after a storm. Your limbs are heavy and boneless, draped across the rumpled bedding, skin cooling but tingling in the aftermath. The city outside has blurred to a watercolor, streetlights and neon fading into the haze of dawn.
Joe rolls to his side, arm slung possessively over your waist, his breath slow and even against the nape of your neck. He draws you in, molding your back to his chest. His hand traces lazy shapes along your ribs, sometimes just holding, sometimes moving in a slow, syncopated rhythm maybe a song he played onstage, maybe just your shared pulse.
The air is thick with that post everything silence, the kind that’s full but never awkward. You reach down, capturing his hand in yours, thumb brushing over his knuckles. He hums softly, lips curving against your shoulder.
"You okay?" He asks, voice muffled but so close you feel it before you hear it.
You nod, letting your head tip back against him. He nuzzles your neck, kisses you just behind the ear.
"Good. Because I plan on keeping you right here until the sun comes up." His fingers start tapping again, this time the chorus of a song you both know by heart.
You laugh, the sound pure and reckless, and he joins in. The world outside keeps spinning, but in this room, time stretches and softens. You’re not thinking about tomorrow, or the show, or the way you looked in the mirror. You’re thinking only of Joe, and the way he’s made you feel.
Eventually, your eyes grow heavy. Joe tucks the blanket up around your shoulders, one last protective gesture. His breathing slows, matching yours, the rhythm syncing until you’re not sure where his heart ends and yours begins.
You fall asleep to the sound of him humming, his hand splayed over your ribs, holding you exactly as you are.
Summary: You and Peter have been dating for over 5 years. You are now living together and it's the first year of living together, so far it’s going well. Normal couple stuff: arguing, cuddling, cooking for each other, etc. Game nights are the highlights of living together. But One night Peter walks in on you stressing yourself over trying to play as spiderman on Marvel Rivals.
Warnings: None, It’s wholesome.
word count: 1563
Author's Note: This is my first time posting Peter Parker fanfiction, This is my first time writing something in so long in general. The last time I wrote was back in 2019 on my other account. I’m very nervous because I can’t write for shit but I’m just writing out what I feel at the moment. The other night I was playing Marvel Rivals in a practice range trying to learn how to play as Spiderman. He was SO hard to do. During that I thought about writing how peter parker would react to it. Hehehe I hope you enjoy it -Elina
Skip if you know Marvel rivals, read if you don’t know it.
Side Note: For those of you who don’t know. Marvel Rivals is a video game on pc. Dps is short for damage per second, they’re important to do high damage against enemies.They also protect their healers. Tank means they take all the hits from enemies and try to protect their healers, and their job is to push on site to hold and win until time is over. Healers, in my opinion, are the hardest because they have to keep watch on their teammates health. They tend to get a lot of heat for “not healing” their teammates, and are constantly getting targeted by their dps enemies. Normally, nobody saves the healers.
────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────
Why did you think you could play as Spiderman?
Well you were practicing to play as dps for rank. You already got healer and tank down. But dps is sometimes hard for you. You felt spiderman would be great to use in a rank because everytime as a healer you’re constantly getting targeted by them.
Even by your own boyfriend. That man is amazing as spiderman in marvel rivals. Good thing he is since he’s the real spiderman in real life, how is spiderman himself not gonna be good playing as spiderman in a video game.
A frustrated groan escaped from you. "Damnit. How can anyone play as him?" You pulled back from the screen, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes to relieve the burning strain.
You grabbed your phone from your long white mouse pad to unlock your screen, opening tiktok to see what a pro spiderman player does. “Swing… pull? I tried doing that but I keep missing” You mutter to yourself.
Thirty minutes had vanished, spent grinding away in the practice range while the rest of the apartment slept. You were oblivious to everything except the screen, even as the clock ticked past 2:00 AM. Since you were both night owls and it was the weekend, you being up made perfect sense, but you were unaware that Peter was slipping into the dark apartment. He was finally home, quietly exhausted after finishing his long night patrol being spiderman.
Shedding the constraint of his work clothes, Peter traded his suit for comfortable clothes: soft grey sweatpants and a worn white t-shirt proclaiming, 'I survived my trip to NYC.'
As he moved down the hallway, your frustrated voice drifted from the gaming room. "Damnit...why is this so hard?" you sighed loudly, the sound making him grin despite his exhaustion. Peter approached the door, where a soft purple glow leaked out, He gently nudged the door open, his eyes immediately finding you—a picture of intense focus—at the screen
Peter's eyes went straight to the screen, immediately identifying the game and the character you were trying to master in the practice range. A knowing grin returned, and he bit his bottom lip. He stayed exactly where he was, simply crossing his arms and leaning his weight on the doorframe to observe your silent battle.
"Baby, not like that," he chuckled, the unexpected sound shattering your concentration and making you jump.
"Shit, you scared me!" You laughed breathlessly, pressing a hand to your chest to steady your pounding heart.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, though the grin betrayed his sincerity. "I just had to watch you get frustrated for a couple of minutes. It was cute." He didn't wait for a reply, dragging his gaming chair over to settle beside you.
"So," he asked, a playful smile meeting your gaze, his eyes full of affection, "why is my amazing healer girlfriend trying to main Spiderman?"
You pouted slightly, giving him a sheepish look. "I wanted to try something different, and hopefully be great with him..."
"You'll get there," he assured you softly. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, then tilted your chin up to give you a quick, heartfelt peck on the lips.
His eyes held a deep affection, gazing at you as if you were the only thing in the room. "Do you need some help?" he offered.
"Maybe," you replied, giving his chest a playful poke. "I also want to be better than you."
He chuckled, rubbing the spot you hit. "Me? What did I do?" he asked, feigning an offended look.
You frowned. "You always target me; I can never get you back. You aren't easy on me..." You tilted your head. "You're supposed to be easy on me, I'm your girlfriend."
"But how else will you ever learn, hm?" He gently rubbed your cheek in a comforting way. "Besides... I don't like losing."
You gasped dramatically. "That's mean!" You swatted his hand away, pouting as he simply laughed.
“But I can help you, If you let me” He motioned the idling spiderman in the game.
“Fine, but you’re joining me in the game.” You say with a smile, Peter returns the smile before pecking your forehead.
He pushes himself on his chair across the room to go to his own gaming desk, turning his computer on so he can join his girl. Opening Marvel Rivals then gets the invitation from you so he can join you in the practice range. He chose to be spiderman so he can teach you how to play as him.
Of course, they joined each other on a discord call to hear each other better.
"Okay, this is what you're gonna do," Peter said, changing the enemy target to Cloak and Dagger—the simple training mannequin.
He began his demonstration, walking you through the sequence: "You're gonna cluster, pull, punch—cluster—uppercut.” Watching him was mesmerizing.
Then it was your turn. "Okay, I'll try—cluster—pull…." You trailed off, lost in your own thoughts, the sequence already gone. "Don't look—" You laughed sheepishly as you started wildly kicking and punching the bot instead. A few desperate blows later, you finally managed to kill it.
The resulting silence felt impossibly long until Peter broke it with a stifled snort. He was clearly trying not to laugh as he watched you try the sequence again, murmuring his instructions to yourself under your breath.
"You'll get it. Keep trying, take it slow," he assured you, his calm voice guiding you through the sequence. You followed his every instruction, step by step.
Finally, you nailed it. The combo flowed perfectly, and you even managed to web-pull the bot while swinging from the air—a flawless execution. "Okay, I'm ready for a 1v1," you declared, your voice ringing with determined confidence.
Peter's lips curled into a smirk. He adjusted his position in his chair, already preparing himself for the inevitable battle with his newly-trained rival.
Of course, he effortlessly pulled–kick–punch–solo ult you.
“Don’t mess with the amazing spiderman!” For the 30th time, Peter's Spiderman finished you off. You threw your hands up, abandoning the keyboard.
"Seriously, I'm done," you announced, your voice heavy with defeat and just a touch of childish pique. "I don't wanna play no more."
Peter burst into laughter at your little tantrum, watching you push away from the desk and stride out of the room. He followed quickly, finding you in the kitchen grabbing a bottle of Evian water.
"I'm sorry, I was just trying to teach you. I didn't mean to—"
"Beat me for the thirtieth time?" you cut him off with a sassy edge, taking a long drink of water.
"I know, I'm sorry! But look, you at least got me ten times. That's way more than before." He tried to cheer you up, but the only response he got was a serious death glare.
"That's not helping; it's making it worse. Why are you so damn good at Spiderman?" you asked, letting the saltiness seep into your tone.
"Well, I would hope I am," he joked, flashing a playful, easy grin. "I am Spiderman. Imagine how sad that would be if I wasn't?"
You rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head. "Okay," you sang, finding his boast charming. "Mr. I-have-to-be-good-at-everything."
"I'm not good at everything," he defended himself instantly.
"Mmm, that's true..." You paused, leaning in with a playful smirk. "In the bedroom, I am definitely better than you." You gave him a cheeky wink and walked right past him, heading back toward the gaming room.
"Yeah—wait, what? What does that mean?!" Peter sputtered, instantly confused and energized. He hurried after you into the gaming room to continue the night of battling—each other.
The echo of applause lingers in your ears even as you make your way through the quiet lobby of the hotel. Even as the elevator doors shut quietly behind you, there was still a faint ringing. The haze of the concert only really lifts when you and Joe step into the suite at the end of the hall on the twelfth floor.
The room is almost too perfect. A king bed dressed in steel gray linens, floor to ceiling windows that’s letting in the glow of the city streets below. In the far corner, a full-length mirror stands.
You drop your bag by the door, and toe off your shoes. You’re unbuttoning your jacket when you feel Joe’s eyes on you, slow and deliberate, in a way that makes your pulse race. He’s already perched on the bed, elbows braced on knees, curls damp at the temples from sweat and heat of the stage.
“You feel okay?” He asks.
You shrug, feeling a little hazy still but not minding it. “Yeah. Ears are just ringing a bit.”
He pats the mattress between his legs. "Come here, let’s see if we can fix that."
You let yourself be drawn to him, hips guided by gentle hands until you’re standing between his knees. He looks up at you with a smile that breaks across his lips, not the rehearsed one for cameras but the honest one he saves for off stage.
His fingers skate up the back of your thighs, lingering just enough to make you shiver.
"You always do this," you murmur, trying to sound accusing but failing to bite the sweetness out of it.
"Do what?" He feigns innocence, thumbs now tracing slow, lazy circles where your waistband meets skin.
"Look at me like I’m some precious thing, and you’re dying to touch every inch."
He grins, and lets the silence settle for a beat before responding.
"Maybe I am," he says, and his tone dips, soft and warm like honey in tea. "Or maybe you just look really, really good tonight."
You want to believe him. You do. But you also know what’s underneath the denim, the jersey, the months-old insecurity clinging to your ribs and thighs. You shift, trying to hide your uncertainty behind a joke, but Joe’s hands don’t let you go anywhere.
He hooks his thumbs in your belt loops and gives a gentle tug, enough to close the inches between you. The top of your head is at eye-level with him now, so close you can see the halo of city light reflected in his pupils.
"Want me to stop?" He asks, barely a whisper.
You shake your head. He doesn’t. Instead, he brings his hands up, palms splayed wide, and starts to unbutton your shirt. One, two, three, slow enough you could stop him at any point. He peels the fabric back, exposing skin. For a second you cross your arms, covering your chest from the sudden exposure, but Joe catches your wrists and brings your hands to his lips.
"None of that," he says, voice low and sure.
He kisses the inside of your wrist, then the other, as if to underline the point.
He shifts on the bed, guiding you to turn so you’re facing the mirror in the corner. The reflection startles you: the city’s neon makes you almost look like a ghost. Joe’s still behind you, chin hooked over your shoulder, hands mapped to the shape of your hips.
"Do you see what I see?" He murmurs, lips close enough to brush your ear.
You try to, but your gaze stutters at the places you always avoid: your stomach, the soft skin under your arms, the angles you never want to show in photographs. He notices, of course. He always does.
"Right there," he says, guiding your hands so you touch your own waist. "This is my favorite part. It’s so—" he pauses, searching for a word. "—soft. Like you’re daring the world not to love you exactly as you are."
You snort, and the sound breaks some of the tension in your jaw. "That’s not how the world sees it."
"I’m not the world," he says, matter of fact. "But I love every inch. Especially the ones you’re so mean to."
He trails his fingertips up your spine, across your shoulders, then under your arms, brushing the sensitive skin you usually hide. Each touch is paired with a kiss to the corresponding spot in the mirror, a ritual of mapping and claiming, as if every part of you deserves to be worshipped.
He works your shirt off the rest of the way, letting it slide down your arms until it puddles at your wrists. Then he goes for your pants, undoing the button with the practiced ease of a man who’s spent years on the road, always undressing in haste but never with the tenderness he saves for you.
The fabric pools at your ankles and you step out, feeling more exposed than you’ve ever been. You glance away from the mirror, but Joe’s hands guide your chin back to your reflection.
"Look at you," he breathes, and his tone is reverent, almost awed. "You’re beautiful. You know that, right?"
You want to say yes. Instead, you let your head fall forward, hair shielding your face from the scrutiny. Joe doesn’t let it stay there long. He tucks a strand behind your ear, kisses the spot just below your earlobe, and then moves down to the line of your shoulder.
"Don’t hide from me," he pleads, voice low, almost a vibration against your skin.
You stand there, trembling in nothing but your underwear, while Joe’s lips chart the territory of your neck and collarbone. His hands travel up and down your arms, chasing the goosebumps he leaves behind. Every time you flinch, he just pulls you closer, until your back is pressed to his chest and his breath fans across your jaw.
He wraps you up, one arm banded across your stomach, the other hand exploring the places you least expect: the gentle roundness of your belly, the soft undercurve of your thigh. He murmurs into your ear, each word a small act of reclamation.
"You don’t have to change a thing," he says, tracing circles over your hipbone. "Not for me. Not for anyone."
You want to argue, to insist on your imperfections, but the words dissolve before they can form. Instead, you let him hold you, breathing in the scent of his cologne, the warmth of his skin. You rest your head against his shoulder, watching the mirror as if it holds answers you’ve never let yourself believe.
He catches your eye in the glass, grinning that half-smile again.
"Perfect," he says, and for the first time all night, you almost believe it.
His lips find yours, gentle and insistent. When he pulls away, he runs his fingers through your hair and tucks it behind your ear. His eyes roam your body in the mirror, looking at every part, every flaw, every inch of you.
He leads you back toward the bed, and for the first time in a long time you feel wanted. Joe takes your hand, and laces his fingers through yours as he leads you to the edge of the bed. The mattress gives just a little as you side, the high thread count sheets cool beneath your bare thighs.
“Lie down,” he says softly.
You hesitate for half a second, then stretch out along the length of the bed. He scoots you gently, adjusting your angle until your head is level with the footboard, your feet toward the pillows. It’s not the way you’d ever position yourself, but with Joe you don’t question it.
He crawls up the bed after you, knees braced on either side of your hips, hands planted just above your shoulders. His body eclipses the overhead light, casting you in a cocoon of shadow and warmth.
You reach up, catching the bottom hem of his shirt and tugging.
"Taking charge, are we?" He says, but there’s a heat beneath the tease.
"I want you," you say, and it comes out a little raw, but you don’t regret it.
He bows his head, lips finding the skin beneath your collarbone. His hands steady your sides as you work the buttons free, one after another. The shirt opens slowly, parting to reveal his chest: warm skin, dark hair, the edge of a tattoo you trace with your finger. Joe shivers, an involuntary twitch, and grins against your sternum.
"Ticklish," he admits, laughing low.
You grin back at him. Your fingers fan out over his skin, learning the way his muscles tense under your touch. You press the flat of your palm to his chest, feeling the drumming pulse beneath.
His shirt slips from his shoulders, bunches around his elbows, and then he’s fully above you, all skin and muscle and the faint sheen of sweat from the night. You run your hands down his arms, over the little constellation of freckles just above his wrist. He cages you in, leaning down to kiss you with an intensity that catches you off guard.
His lips are soft but greedy, tongue teasing at the edge of your mouth. You open for him, sighing into the kiss, and he swallows the sound like it’s his new favorite song. His hand slides up to cradle the back of your head, thumb stroking just behind your ear.
He shifts, pressing his body flush to yours. The line of his hip fits perfectly against the cradle of your legs. You can feel the heat of him, the promise of what’s next, but he holds back, savoring the buildup.
His mouth moves to your jaw, leaving a trail of kisses down to your chin and then the line of your throat. He pauses there, nuzzling the soft skin, inhaling as if he could memorize your scent. When he speaks, his voice is almost a growl.
"Can I show you something?"
You nod, breathless. His hands cup your face, tilting it so you’re forced to look over the foot of the bed.
His hands cup your face, tilting it so you’re forced to look over the foot of the bed, directly into the full length mirror. Your reflection is flushed, pupils wide and wanting. Joe’s body looms behind you.
"Just scooch a little," he murmurs, guiding your shoulders down so your head hangs just past the edge of the mattress. The sensation is dizzying, blood rushing to your temples, amplifying every sound, every brush of skin.
He bends, kissing you upside down, his face framed by your hair spilling over the bedding. The world flips in the mirror: his body, your body, joined in a way that looks almost unreal.
"Look at us," he whispers, and his hands sweep over your ribs, your stomach, every part you still struggle to own. "Fucking beautiful."
You squirm, trying to bury your face, but he won’t let you. His hands are everywhere: steadying, exploring, claiming. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes locked with your reflection.
"I want you to see what I see," he says. "Promise me you’ll keep your eyes open."
It’s hard, almost impossible, but you do. You watch the way your body responds to his touch: the arch of your back, the flush spreading down your chest, the way your legs tremble when he trails kisses along your inner thigh.
He hovers over you, the curve of his smile caught in the mirror’s edge.
"You’re fucking perfect," he murmurs, and this time you almost believe it. Maybe it’s the way his voice breaks, or the way his hands don’t shy away from any part of you, not even for a second.
He kisses you again, a messy, upside down tangle of tongues and teeth, and when he pulls away his pupils are blown wide, wild with want.
"You ready?" he asks, not just for the sex but for all of it: the seeing, the being seen.
You nod, this time without hesitation.
He kisses your forehead and shifts his weight, still braced above you. His hands slip lower, over your hips, down to the band of your underwear. The anticipation hums in your veins, every nerve ending attuned to him, to the city lights, to the reflection that is somehow more honest than anything you’ve ever let yourself see.
"Keep watching," he tells you, voice low and almost reverent. "Don’t look away, okay?"
You nod again, and in the mirror, you see the moment his resolve breaks: a flicker of naked want, unfiltered and raw. He smiles, more animal than angel, and presses his lips to yours, sealing the promise.
Joe hovers above you, braced on one arm, the other trailing down your chest, pausing at the trembling line of your stomach. He moves slow, savoring every inch of you like he’s learning the instrument by heart. You feel the pull of his fingers at your waistband, the gentle snap of elastic as he slides your underwear down your hips. He peels them off, letting the cool air prick your thighs, and then you’re fully exposed, every bit of you on display in the glass.
For a moment, all he does is look. You expect critique, or hesitation, but he’s only ever greedy: for the way you flush under his gaze, for the ripple of goosebumps when he touches you, for the raw, animal honesty of you on your back, breathing hard.
"Fuck," he whispers, reverent. "You’re unreal."
He shifts, settling his weight between your thighs, and you can see his outline mirrored perfectly. The muscle in his shoulders, the arc of his spine, the hunger in the way his hand grips the mattress beside your head. He leans in to kiss you again, deeper, this time more teeth and tongue, more now than later.
You hear the sound of his belt. He pops the button, unzips, and shoves his jeans down just enough. Then his boxers, and suddenly his cock is out, flushed and rigid, the head glistening in the city’s blue half light.
He wraps a hand around himself, giving it a few lazy strokes. Your mouth goes dry. Your hips buck toward him involuntarily. He grins, watching you the whole time.
"Like what you see?" he teases, voice rougher than before.
You nod, almost dizzy. "Yeah. A lot."
He lines himself up, the tip of his cock pressing against you, slick and hot and insistent. For a second he just holds there, nudging at your entrance, teasing you open. You whimper, shifting your hips to meet him, and he gives you a look that’s equal parts worship and devilry.
"Tell me what you want," he says, and you hear the edge of a dare in it.
"I want you," you blurt, half beg, the honesty embarrassing but necessary. "Now."
He pushes in slow, filling you inch by inch, the burn and stretch tempered by his hand on your thigh, thumb stroking circles until you relax around him. He bottoms out, holding still, letting you adjust to the fullness. Your head spins: not just from the pleasure, but from the angle, the blood rush, the surreal sight of it all in the mirror.
You gasp, every sense lit up at once. The city blurs and flickers. Joe starts to move, hips drawing back and then pressing forward, careful but relentless. He watches your face in the mirror, every microexpression, every hitch in your breath.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he pants, picking up the rhythm.
He drives into you, harder with each thrust, and the sounds: skin on skin, the low animal noises he makes in his throat, your own unselfconscious moans, echo against the glass and concrete.
With your head hanging off the end of the bed, every thrust sends a jolt of light behind your eyes. It’s almost psychedelic, the sensation amplified by the headrush. You try to speak, to say something…anything…but all that comes out is a broken string of syllables.
Joe’s hands roam your body, kneading your thighs, then sliding up to grip your waist. He uses the leverage to pull you onto him, deeper with every stroke. In the mirror, you can see your body straining, arching, surrendering to the movement.
"Look at you," he groans, eyes fixed on your reflection. "You’re taking me so good."
Your hands scrabble for purchase, clutching at the bedding, your own thighs, his biceps. He grabs your wrists, pins them above your head, and the new restraint sends another pulse of heat through you. Your vision goes white at the edges, stars popping against the darkness.
Each thrust hits a spot that makes you whimper, legs shaking uncontrollably. You try to keep your eyes open, to do what he said, but the pleasure is overwhelming. The world starts to tilt and everything is blurry, soft, and unreal.
Joe notices instantly. He slows, then pulls out, breathless. "Too much?"
You’re barely coherent. "No, just lightheaded," you admit, fighting a laugh. "Never felt anything like it."
He grins, feral and fond at the same time.
"Gotta take care of you," he says, then flips you over like you’re nothing but air. He props your hips up, pushing your face into the sheets, but then guides your head so you’re still facing the mirror.
"Don’t hide," he reminds you, and there’s a roughness now, an edge of command that makes your stomach somersault. "Want you to see what you do to me."
You feel his cock at your entrance again, and then he’s back inside, the new position somehow even deeper. He fucks you hard, every thrust calculated to drive you wild. His hands grip your hips, thumbs digging in just enough to leave marks, and you revel in the sting.
You try to bury your face in the bedding, but Joe isn’t having it. He threads his fingers through your hair, gently pulling until you’re forced to look at your reflection.
You look. You see the way your body moves, the way Joe’s chest glistens with sweat, the way his face is twisted with pleasure. You see yourself as he sees you: open, unguarded, beautiful in your own way.
He leans forward, mouth at your ear.
"You close?" he asks, and the words vibrate down your spine.
"Yes," you gasp, not sure if you mean orgasm or tears or some impossible fusion of both.
He picks up the pace, relentless now, hips slamming against you with perfect precision. His hand sneaks between your legs, fingers finding your clit, rubbing circles until you’re gone, screaming, writhing, shattering in the glass.
Your orgasm hits like a tidal wave, ripping through you with a force that leaves you sobbing, boneless, utterly spent. Joe fucks you through it, chasing his own release, until he shudders and comes with a groan that shakes the windows.
He collapses over you, chests heaving in sync, sweat cooling in the city air. For a long time, neither of you says anything. You just lay there, caught in the glow of the streetlights, reflections tangled and spent.
Finally, Joe rolls to the side, scooping you up with one arm. He pulls you into his chest, lips pressed to your forehead, fingers drawing lazy shapes on your back.
"Still with me?" He murmurs, and there’s laughter and awe and something deeper threaded into it.
You nod, eyes closing. He kisses you, slow and sweet. The city outside keeps humming, but in this room, it’s only you and him.
You hold onto him, not quite ready to let go.
The hotel room feels weightless now, the hush after a storm. Your limbs are heavy and boneless, draped across the rumpled bedding, skin cooling but tingling in the aftermath. The city outside has blurred to a watercolor, streetlights and neon fading into the haze of dawn.
Joe rolls to his side, arm slung possessively over your waist, his breath slow and even against the nape of your neck. He draws you in, molding your back to his chest. His hand traces lazy shapes along your ribs, sometimes just holding, sometimes moving in a slow, syncopated rhythm maybe a song he played onstage, maybe just your shared pulse.
The air is thick with that post everything silence, the kind that’s full but never awkward. You reach down, capturing his hand in yours, thumb brushing over his knuckles. He hums softly, lips curving against your shoulder.
"You okay?" He asks, voice muffled but so close you feel it before you hear it.
You nod, letting your head tip back against him. He nuzzles your neck, kisses you just behind the ear.
"Good. Because I plan on keeping you right here until the sun comes up." His fingers start tapping again, this time the chorus of a song you both know by heart.
You laugh, the sound pure and reckless, and he joins in. The world outside keeps spinning, but in this room, time stretches and softens. You’re not thinking about tomorrow, or the show, or the way you looked in the mirror. You’re thinking only of Joe, and the way he’s made you feel.
Eventually, your eyes grow heavy. Joe tucks the blanket up around your shoulders, one last protective gesture. His breathing slows, matching yours, the rhythm syncing until you’re not sure where his heart ends and yours begins.
You fall asleep to the sound of him humming, his hand splayed over your ribs, holding you exactly as you are.
Summary: Joe comes to your place following your first date. What starts as conversation and a kiss on the couch deepns into something more.
Pairing: Joe Jonas (RPF) x Reader
Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content. (Protected Sex/Condom Use, PiV), Language (swearing)
Word Count: around 4,352
PART ONE
You flicked the light on as the door shut behind you, the quiet click of the lock sounding louder than it should have. The warmth of your apartment greeted you, soft lamplight spilling from the living room, the faint scent of the candle you’d blown out before leaving lingering in the air.
Joe stepped in slowly, looking around with curiosity but not intrusion, like he didn’t want to crowd the air you lived in. He toed off his boots near the entryway, glancing at you as if to ask permission.
“Good?” he asked.
“Perfect,” you said, slipping out of your heels with a sigh. The relief made you laugh quietly. “I don’t think my feet could’ve lasted another hour.”
He grinned, crouching to line his boots neatly against the wall.
When you straightened, he was already reaching for the lapels of your jacket. “Here, let me.”
You froze for a second, then let him ease the coat from your shoulders. His fingers brushed lightly against your skin in the process, a whisper of contact that sent a hum through you. He didn’t make anything of it, just folded the jacket over his arm and glanced toward the hooks by the door.
“Thanks,” you murmured, hanging it up yourself if only to give your hands something to do.
He looked around again, softer this time. “This place feels like you.”
You blinked. “Is that…a good thing?”
He smiled, tipping his head toward the living room. “Warm. Comfortable.”
You crossed to the kitchen counter, pulling two glasses from the cabinet. “Can I get you something? Wine? Water?”
He leaned against the wall, watching you move like he’d been here before. “Water’s good.”
You grabbed two glasses from the cupboard above the dishwasher and then grabbed the Brita pitcher from the fridge. You filled both, and then handed him a glass. He accepted it, fingers brushing yours deliberately this time. Just a spark, but enough to catch your breath. You turned away, carrying your own glass into the living room.
The flowers he’d brought earlier now sat on the coffee table, their colors catching the lamplight. He noticed them immediately, smiling with something almost shy. His eyes lingered on the stack of books by your armchair, the soft throw blanket half-slid off the couch.
“Definitely you,” he said again, quieter now.
You sank onto the couch, tucking one leg beneath you. “That’s good, I think. I wanted it to feel like me. Not just a space I live in.”
He lowered himself beside you, close enough that your knees brushed, though neither of you moved away. He rested his glass on the table, then leaned back, arm stretching casually along the back of the couch.
The pause that followed wasn’t empty. His eyes lingered on you a beat longer than necessary, the weight of his attention warming your skin more than the lamps ever could.
You sipped your water, trying to steady your pulse. “So. Still glad you asked me out?”
He turned slightly toward you, mouth quirking. “Glad you said yes.”
Joe shifted closer, and you let yourself lean in an inch, shoulder finding the space near his chest.
“Tonight was good,” you said after a moment, voice quieter than you meant it to be.
He tipped his head, eyes warm. “Better than good.”
You smiled into your glass, suddenly too aware of the way your pulse picked up. “Glad you think so.”
“Glad you came,” he countered.
The pause that followed wasn’t awkward. It was stretched thin with something that made the air feel different. He studied you, gaze slipping to your mouth for just a second before returning to your eyes. You felt your breath catch, your body already anticipating a move he hadn’t made yet.
Your hand, restless with nerves, found the line of buttons on his black shirt. You toyed with the lowest one, pretending it was nothing, a playful distraction.
“This shirt,” you teased softly. “You really dressed for the occasion.”
His mouth quirked. “Was hoping you’d notice.”
You slid your finger over the button, just a light brush, testing. His breath shifted, the tiniest intake, and when your eyes flicked up, he was watching you with that steady kind of focus that made the rest of the room fade.
The first kiss came slow, almost tentative. His lips just barely brushing yours, like he was waiting for you to give him a sign that you wanted more. You leaned in, answering without hesitation. The warmth of his mouth against yours unraveled the last of your nerves, and for a moment it was just that. Soft , grounding, the kind of kiss that felt more like discovery than hunger.
The second kiss was nothing like the first. He caught your mouth fully this time, deeper, surer, as if the careful waiting of the night had finally given way. You sighed into it, fingers clutching at the edge of his shirt. His hand slid from the back of the couch to your waist, firm and warm, tugging you closer.
Your other hand rose, fingertips brushing the open collar, feeling the chain beneath, cool metal against heated skin. He groaned softly at the touch, the sound vibrating between you.
By the time you broke apart, your lips tingled, swollen, your chest rising and falling too quickly. He rested his forehead against yours, smiling faintly, as though he couldn’t quite believe it either.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he murmured.
You laughed quietly, brushing your thumb against the fabric over his chest. “You could’ve fooled me.”
“Patience,” he said, a glint in his eye. “Worth it, though.”
Your smile softened, the heat in your body impossible to ignore.
His hand stayed at your waist after that second kiss, warm and grounding, thumb tracing small circles through the fabric of your dress. The simple motion made your pulse hammer, your skin prickling like it was asking for more.
Your fingers were still tangled in the fabric of his shirt. One button slipped free beneath your touch, and then another. The fabric eased apart, revealing the smooth expanse of his chest, the faint dip of muscle, and the glint of the chain you’d only glimpsed earlier. The sight caught you off guard, how casually beautiful he looked undone, the dim lamplight catching on gold and skin.
He noticed where your eyes lingered. His smile was crooked, playful, though his breath had gone uneven. “Curious?”
“Maybe,” you whispered, undoing one more button just to see the way his chest rose under your hand.
Something flickered in his eyes at that, darker now, and his grip at your waist tightened. He shifted, tugging you closer until your thighs brushed. The couch suddenly felt too narrow, too confining. Before you could overthink, you swung a leg over and straddled him, settling into his lap.
His reaction was instant, a sharp inhale, followed by both hands gripping your hips firmly, anchoring you against him. You felt the heat of him through the thin barrier of clothing, your body sparking everywhere you touched.
“You’re making it hard to be patient,” he murmured, voice rougher than before.
“Then don’t be,” you whispered back, surprising yourself with the boldness.
His answering groan vibrated against your mouth as he pulled you into another kiss. It was hotter this time, teeth grazing, lips parting, the kind of kiss that made your whole body ache. His hands roamed freely now, up your sides, down over your hips, settling at the tops of your thighs.
You threaded your fingers into his dark curls, tugging lightly at first, then with more intent. He sighed into your mouth, the sound low and involuntary, his body melting beneath the touch. Encouraged, you scraped your nails gently against his scalp, feeling the way it made him shiver.
He groaned, breaking the kiss only long enough to breathe, “that feels…”
You didn’t let him finish. You tugged, firmer this time, tilting his head back just enough that you could see him. His throat bared, chain glinting in the lamplight, lips parted in surrender. The sight made your stomach twist, a rush of want so sharp you leaned down and kissed him again, slower this time, savoring.
His hands slid lower, cupping the curve of your thighs, squeezing before gliding up to your hips again. He pulled you against him with a low sound, your body fitting perfectly against his.
You swallowed, heat flooding through you. And then you kissed him again, because words didn’t feel big enough to hold what was building between you.
The kiss deepened until you weren’t sure where your breath ended and his began. His hands were everywhere. Palms firm at your waist, thumbs stroking slow lines against your ribs, fingers flexing like he couldn’t quite decide whether to anchor you or pull you even closer.
Your dress shifted with every movement. First one strap slid, then the other, baring the smooth curve of your shoulder. He broke the kiss just long enough to glance down, his gaze catching on the fabric slipping lower. His throat worked once, hard, before he whispered your name.
The way he said it: low, reverent, like he was tasting it, sent a shiver all the way through you.
“Joe…” you breathed, not even sure what you were asking.
His eyes flicked up, searching, even as his hands slid lower. From your waist to your hips, then farther still, cupping you firmly. He squeezed once, fingers pressing into the curve of your body before pulling you flush against him. The sharp contact made you gasp, and his mouth curved in response, equal parts pleased and undone.
The motion dragged your dress down further, the straps barely clinging now. A hint of black lace peeked from beneath, delicate and deliberate, and his eyes darkened immediately.
“Beautiful,” he murmured again, but this time his voice was rougher, unsteady with want.
Your fingers trembled where they clutched at his shirt, the fabric already half unbuttoned, his chest warm beneath your touch. You tugged another button free, needing more, and his chain slipped further into view, glinting against his skin.
“Want me to stop,” he said suddenly, voice quiet but insistent, grounding even as his hands tightened against you.
You shook your head, lips brushing his as you whispered, “No.”
The word seemed to break something in him. He kissed you again, harder, pulling you into him. Your body arched into his, your hands sliding up into his hair, tugging until he groaned into your mouth.
The straps of your dress finally surrendered, falling fully down your arms. The lace beneath was bared to the dim lamplight, teasing at modesty but offering nothing modest in the way his eyes devoured you.
“God,” he muttered, forehead pressed to yours like he needed the anchor. “You’re gonna ruin me.”
“Good,” you whispered back, breathless.
His laugh was low, shaky, against your lips. One hand stayed firm at your hip while the other smoothed up your back, tracing the line of the lace. The couch seemed too small for all the heat building between you, the air heavy with your mingled breaths, the press of your bodies too insistent to ignore.
You caught yourself smiling into the next kiss, half giddy, half desperate, because somehow this felt like the most natural thing in the world. His shirt hung open, the top of your dress had slipped low, and still it wasn’t enough.
And neither of you seemed the least bit interested in stopping.
He kissed you again, rougher now, his hands sliding lower, cupping the curve of your body and squeezing until you gasped against his mouth. He groaned softly, like the sound had been pulled out of him without permission, and pulled you against him harder.
The heat between you spiked. Every shift of your hips, every brush of lace against his chest, left you more undone. His chain glinted in the low light, the cool metal brushing your skin when you pressed closer.
You clung to him, your hands tangled in his curls, tugging until he sighed into your mouth, the sound both desperate and reverent. His hands squeezed again, pulling you tight, rocking you forward until you couldn’t ignore the evidence of how much he wanted you.
The couch groaned beneath you, a reminder of its limits, and you both froze for half a second before laughing breathlessly against each other’s mouths.
“This is…” you started, breaking off with a shaky laugh.
“Not the right place,” he finished, voice ragged.
Before you could say anything more, Joe’s hands shifted. He slid one beneath your thighs, the other steady against your back, and then he was standing, lifting you like it was nothing.
“Joe—” You gasped, clutching at his shoulders, legs tightening instinctively around his waist. “I’m too heavy—”
He only grinned, breathless but steady, the muscles in his arms taut with effortless strength. “Not even close.”
The ease of it, how easily he carried you, and how secure you felt in his arms, made your head spin more than the kissing had. Your laughter broke free, nervous and giddy, and he kissed your temple in answer, as though to ground you.
The hall stretched before you, dim in the glow of a single lamp you’d left on. He carried you down it like he’d done it before, purposeful and unhurried, your heart thundering with every step.
When he nudged your bedroom door open with his foot, the soft light spilling in from the hall caught on the turned down bed, the pillows stacked neatly. Waiting.
He lowered you onto your feet just inside, but not without letting your body slide slow against his. His hands steadied you until you found your balance, though neither of you seemed interested in stepping apart.
“Better?” he asked softly, his forehead resting against yours.
“Better,” you whispered, though your voice trembled with the need still coursing through you.
He kissed you again, quick and hard, before stepping back just enough to look at you. His gaze dropped to the straps fallen low, the lace peeking through, and lingered there with heat that made your knees weaken.
When his fingers reached for the zipper of your dress, you didn’t stop him. He tugged it down slowly, the sound loud in the quiet room, until the fabric slipped from your shoulders, pooling at your feet.
You stood before him in lace and bare skin, breath shallow, his eyes blown wide as he took you in.
And when he reached for the last button of his own shirt, undoing it with steady fingers before shrugging it off, you knew there was no going back.
You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, but instead of shrinking, you let it embolden you. You turned and crawled onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath your knees. You propped yourself back against the pillows, hair tumbling over your shoulders, and waited.
His hands went to his own shirt, and he shrugged it off, tossing it aside carelessly, the chain at his throat glinting against the warm lines of his chest. The sight of him, broad shoulders and lean muscle, pale skin etched with tattoos, made your breath catch.
He crawled up over you, joining you on the bed. He braced himself with one hand as the other slid along your body. His mouth found yours first, kissing you slow and deep. Then his lips started to wander.
The press of his lips against your jaw sent shivers racing down your spine. He moved to your neck, tracing the line of your throat with soft, lingering kisses that left your skin tingling. You tilted your head back against the pillows, giving him more, and he groaned low in his chest, the sound vibrating against you.
His mouth traveled lower, down to your collarbone, nipping gently before soothing the spot with his tongue. His chain brushed your skin, cool against the heat he left behind, and the contrast made you gasp.
Joe pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours as his hand traced the edge of your bra, following the delicate lace. His palm flattened against your stomach, sliding slowly up your ribs, the touch reverent, unhurried.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, as he pulled back to look into your eyes, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast.
He leaned back down, kissing along the slope of your shoulders, his hand roaming your body with new confidence. His kisses grew hungrier too. Moving up to your lips again. He was less patient than before, his mouth claiming yours with a need that
His hand slid down your side, anchoring at your hip as the other reached for his belt. You felt the tug, the quiet rasp of leather sliding through metal. He broke the kiss just long enough to shove his pants down, the fabric pooling somewhere at the edge of the bed. He kicked them away until he was left in just his black boxers, the outline of him impossible to ignore now.
You pulled him back to you instantly, kissing him deeper, your hands tangling in his curls. When your nails scraped along his scalp, he groaned into your mouth, the sound raw and unguarded. His chain brushed your collarbone with every shift, the cool metal against your heated skin making your whole body ache.
“God,” he muttered, voice breaking as you tugged again. “You’re gonna kill me.”
“Not yet,” you whispered, brushing your lips against his.
His answering laugh was low, frayed at the edges, before he shifted, leaning back against your pillows. He rested there with his head tipped slightly, chest rising and falling as though he needed a second to drink you in. One hand extended toward you, coaxing.
“Come here.”
You obeyed, crawling over him on all fours, the lace of your set catching the low light. His eyes went wide as you straddled his lap again, his hands immediately finding your hips, guiding you down until you were settled firmly over him. The heat of him pressed against your core through the thin barrier of fabric, and the contact dragged a sharp gasp from your throat.
You shifted experimentally, rolling your hips against him. The friction was electric, pulling a choked sound from your lips. His grip on your hips tightened, encouraging, as he bit back a groan of his own.
“Yeah,” he murmured, jaw tight as he watched you. “Just like that.”
You moved again, slower this time, savoring the press of him against you. His boxers did nothing to hide how hard he was, and every shift of your hips made it clearer.
His eyes stayed locked on you, pupils wide and dark.
“You’re…fuck–” He broke off, pulling you down for another kiss, desperate and consuming. His tongue slid against yours, his groans muffled against your mouth as you ground down harder.
You pulled back to catch your breath, your forehead pressed to his. “You’re not the only one dying here.”
The sound he made in response was half laugh, half curse, his hands sliding lower, gripping you harder, rocking you against him with a rhythm that had you gasping.
You reached for the waistband of his boxers, fingers trembling, and he helped you, tugging them down just far enough. He groaned low in his chest when you shifted again, this time without barriers, the heat of him pressed right against you.
Joe stilled, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek. His voice was a little raspy. “Wait…protection.”
You nodded quickly.
“Top drawer,” you whispered, tilting your head toward the nightstand.
He reached over without hesitation, fumbling just long enough to find what he needed. The crinkle of foil filled the quiet, then he rolled it on.
You lifted yourself up on your knees and then guided him slowly, inch by inch, sinking down onto him. His fingers hooked into your underwear, pulling them to the side to make room. The stretch drew a gasp from your lips, your hands bracing against his chest as you took him fully. His groan matched yours, deep and raw, his head tipping back against the pillows.
“Fuck,” he muttered, hands tightening on your hips. “That’s it. Just like that.”
You stilled for a moment, letting yourself adjust. His thumbs stroked slow circles at your sides, grounding, patient. When you finally rolled your hips again, his breath caught, and his eyes snapped back to yours.
You began to move, slow at first, rocking against him. Each shift sent sparks shooting through your body, his every groan fueling your own gasps. His hands guided you gently, following your rhythm but never taking it from you. He let you lead, his gaze locked on you like there was nowhere else he could possibly look.
Encouraged, you picked up the pace, bouncing lightly in his lap. His chest rose hard against your palms, the chain at his throat glinting as his head tipped back in bliss.
“God, look at you,” he breathed, eyes glassy with awe. “So fucking beautiful.”
Heat pooled in your stomach at his words, your movements growing bolder. Your hands trailed up his chest, fingers grazing the chain, before sliding into his curls again. He groaned when your nails scraped against his scalp, hips jerking up to meet yours.
Halfway through, his hand slipped behind your back. He found the clasp of your bra and flicked it open with surprising ease. The lace straps slid from your shoulders, joining the growing pile of clothes at the edge of the bed. His eyes widened as he took you in fully, reverence etched across his face.
“You’re gonna kill me,” he said again, though his voice was more worship than complaint.
You laughed breathlessly, rolling your hips in answer. His groan caught, sharp and desperate. He ran his hands up your sides, palms broad and warm, before gripping the lace panties still clinging to your waist. He tugged them up slightly, framing your hips. His hands slid down to your ass, cupping each cheek, causing you to arch your back.
Your pace quickened, hips moving with his now, each thrust building the tension higher. His hands roamed your body with purpose. He touched your back, your hips, your thighs…like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch you the most.
He broke the kiss only to murmur against your skin, words hot and ragged: “So good. Don’t stop.”
You moved harder, chasing the edge that coiled tighter with every shift. His head tipped back against the pillows, throat bared, jaw clenched as he groaned through each roll of your hips. His eyes fluttered shut, then snapped open again, refusing to look anywhere but at you.
The sound of your bodies together filled the room. Breaths, gasps, the faint creak of the mattress. Your release built, sharp and inevitable, until you could hardly breathe.
“Joe–” you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, voice rough and sure. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you harder, faster, urging you over the edge. “Come with me. Right here.”
Your orgasm crashed through you in waves, your body tightening around him, your cry muffled against his shoulder. His own release followed seconds later, a broken groan against your neck as he pulled you flush against him, hips jerking once then twice before stilling.
You clung to each other through it, bodies trembling, breath tangled. The world narrowed to nothing but his heartbeat against your chest and the warmth of his hands still gripping you like he couldn’t let go.
Joe shifted first, adjusting so you weren’t caught awkwardly against him. He rolled just enough to slide you to the side. His arm curled around your back, pulling you into the curve of his body until you were half on the bed, half sprawled over him.
“Comfortable?” he asked, voice low and rough, still carrying the rasp of what you’d just done.
You let out a shaky laugh, pressing your face into his shoulder. “That’s one word for it.”
His chest shook with quiet laughter of his own, the sound easing the tension that lingered in your body. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, unhurried, tender in a way that caught you off guard.
His fingers began to trace slow, idle patterns along your spine. Circles, back and forth lines, random shapes that all made your muscles start to unwind inch by inch. Each stroke was calming, grounding, the intimacy of it leaving you almost dizzier than the sex had.
You rested your hand against his chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat slow back down to something closer to normal.
For a while, you stayed like that, the quiet wrapping around you both like a blanket. You could’ve fallen asleep right there, safe and tethered.
Joe was the one to break the silence, his lips brushing your hairline as he spoke.
“So…” His voice was softer now, careful but certain. “When’s next time?”
The words sank deep, echoing back to the dinner table, to the way he’d promised there would be more. Your chest tightened, but not with nerves. With something else, something warm.
You tilted your head just enough to look up at him, your cheek still pressed against his arm.
“That depends,” you whispered.
His mouth curved into a faint, tired grin. “On what?”
“On whether you’ll still think I’m worth it when I don’t have a little black dress doing all the work.”
He huffed out a quiet laugh, leaning down to kiss you softly, his lips lingering just long enough to remind you of every spark from before.
“You could show up in sweatpants and I’d still be ruined.”
Your laugh broke the last of the tension, light and unguarded, and he smiled against your skin, pulling you closer until you were flush again. His hand stilled at your back, resting there firmly.
And when your eyes finally drifted closed, it wasn’t with nerves or overthinking, but with the quiet certainty that tonight hadn’t been a one time thing.
Everyone: Please please please don't write your books in Google Docs. Frankly don't use Google Drive for personal stuff.
Their terms of service say they take down stuff like content related to terrorism and trafficking, but this Google Sheet was literally a list of movies I'd watched this year and books I'd read.
Holy smokes, guys. It's way worse than I thought. Google actually took away access to every single file of fiction writing I'd made on that account. BUT I backed it all up on Scrivener yesterday by coincidence. So I haven't lost my work, but I could have just lost the 12,000 words I've written this month after a year of really intense writer's block. I honestly don't know what that would have done to my psyche.
That is awful! If you're looking for a gdocs-like replacement, Ellipsus @ellipsus-writes is a queer friendly, anti-AI equivalent with online syncing and sharing - I've been using it for almost a year now as a replacement for gdocs and absolutely love it.
I do still back up all my work to local storage on LibreOffice too though, thank goodness you backed up to Scrivener OP!
I haven't used Ellipsus before so I can't speak for it, but I'd like to offer Obsidian as an alternative too. It stores locally on your device (palm or desktop), uses open (i.e., non-proprietary) file formats, and has a bunch of community plug-ins to make it do basically whatever you need it to. A lot of the formatting is similar to editing on a wiki or in Discord so most people can just pick it up and know how to use it.
A paid account gets you cloud backup storage but with the Remotely Save plug-in you can do it yourself for free with Dropbox. You can also manually back it up between devices with a physical data cable though
I've used both Ellipsus and Obsidian and either is a great choice. Or both of you want to use Obsidian as your "local copy". Ellipsus even has a solid version history and collaboration tools and will export directly to AO3. Obsidian will let you link together documents wiki-style in addition to all the cool things prev posted
I haven't touched Gdocs in months and it's great
...I also haven't written as much as I wanted to in that time but that's not because of the tools, that's a me problem
EDIT: Ellipsus does not have an app. It does not need one, the site experience is great. Save a shortcut to your homescreen if you can't be bothered with browser bookmarks on mobile
(I've had someone complain about that before when I recommended it)
I backed up all my stuff earlier this year because a few folks I knew online started getting hit by this. So friendly reminder: Google sucks ass and you need to stop using their products if you want to actually keep them
I need to start the long ass process of backing up my fics elsewhere bc Google is just a horror show that gets worse with each passing day. This will probably be my job for next week. Yay.
I have over 1000 fics, this is gonna take foreveeeerrrrr
♱⋅── about: Nightly Rendezvous card, but now we finally understand why rafayel was so desperate when he came back to the hotel room.
♱⋅── word count: 6.7k
♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, porn with some plot, the belt scene, slight exhibisionism, sooo much kissing, slight oral fixation, Lemurian mating bond, needy raf
art credit to @/khouxy on instagram
You swear Rafayel is doing this on purpose.
The first time it happens is right after your flight, the two of you only just managing to check into your hotel and change for dinner.
It's a fancy restaurant overlooking the vast desert, and the outdoor patio offered a clear view to gorgeous sunset. Furious spirals of orange and vermillion cast their light across the sand, making it appear to glow as winds kick up waves of golden dust along the horizon.
It’s beautiful, almost as much so as the man across you, who is still staring longingly into the distance as though committing every color to memory. As if repainting it entirely in his mind.
Not hues of warmth, but those of the deep sea. Blues and purples and colors so dark they’d only come to life in the night.
“How’s your drawing?”
Rafayel sighs at your voice, tossing his pen across the dinner table with a huff before leaning back against the sofa. A stack of crumpled sketches litter your table among half-finished plates of food. He insisted on traveling here to relax, and yet he seems to be doing everything but.
“If a few lines count as a drawing, then wonderfully.” Sassy as ever.
He sighs again, but this one sounds more pained, and you notice the red tinge highlighting his ears and neck as he leans against your shoulder.
“You still don’t feel good?” You ask, voice hushed as you place a kiss against his temple, the skin burning beneath your lips. Raising a hand, Rafayel immediately nuzzles into your palm as you pull his chin up towards you, feeling the rising temperature along his cheek and forehead. “We can head back if you’d like. Take a bath, or shower?”
You hoped the together was implicit by now.
But Rafayel only nods, placing a chaste kiss against your exposed shoulder. “What about the sunset? I saw you admiring it, and squandering a beautiful view is unacceptable for an artist. It’s one of the greatest offenses.”
Rafayel’s breath is minty and dry against your ear, and when you turn to look at him, his face is doused in the fiery hues of the sunset, each one casting deep purple shadows that only make his features all the sharper, half his face veiled in darkness.
Some days you wish you were an artist as well, if only to capture moments like this—to show Rafayel just how gorgeous he was.
Perhaps it’s only natural for a god. After all, no mortal could ever need beauty so violently arresting, so worthy of worship.
You’re leaning in despite yourself.
Rafayel meets you halfway, one hand on your waist as the other traces your jaw and bottom lip. But as soon as you feel the brush of his lips across yours, he pulls away.
You open your eyes in confusion. Rafayel’s never denied you before.
When you look at him in question, he only gives you a tired smile and pulls you to your feet with a chaste kiss on your cheek. “Sorry. I’ll feel better as long as I’m close to you like this.”
The second time it happens is when the hotel reception mixes up your and Rafayel’s rooms, leaving you to deliver some sort of formal invitation to him.
But the letter is soon forgotten; you can’t be bothered thinking about it, not when Rafayel still looks so absent.
He’s right next to you, knees brushing yours as you sit side by side on the couch, and yet he seems to be miles away, gazing out the window as the dunes shift and rise like waves under the moonlight.
"I used to really enjoy scenic spots before," Rafayel says, voice barely rising above the hum of the heater. "Catching sights of subtle things that might be easily overlooked used to feel like enough. More satisfying than finishing a painting, even."
A laugh. Dry, humorless.
His fingers grazed the edge of his glass, tracing the condensation absentmindedly. A droplet trails down his wrist. "But now, sometimes, I forget why I even decided to travel in the first place.”
You watch him, waiting. He doesn’t meet your gaze.
"I think," Rafayel continues, "somewhere along the way, I stopped just... noticing things. And I started needing them. Like the world wasn’t worth looking at unless I could turn it into something. Capture it, hold it in my hands, and call it mine." He shakes his head, a shadow of a smile crossing his lips. "It’s not a very generous way to live, is it?"
"You don’t need to be generous with everything," you say carefully. "Some things are just... for you to enjoy."
"Enjoy," he repeats, like the word doesn’t quite fit in his mouth. A pout. "It doesn’t feel like enjoyment anymore. It feels more like... hunger.”
Like he’s always fucking starving.
Rafayel finally turns to look at you, eyes eclipsed in the dark. Nearly dilated black.
“Sometimes I’m afraid that if I feed it, it’ll only grow worse.”
You turn to face him on the couch, sliding your leg between his thighs before perching yourself on Rafayel’s lap. It’s not lost on you how his heartbeat picks up, chest rising and falling rapidly as each shallow breath hits your lips. Perhaps it’s cruel, but you can’t help but touch him again, fingers tracing his full lips, up his jaw, fluttering against his eyelashes and into his hair.
“You think hunger gets worse when you feed it?" You finally ask, voice quiet, slow, daring to push back. "Doesn't it stop when you're full?"
Rafayel’s mouth quirks, a sharp, fleeting twist of a smile. "Not always. Sometimes it makes you realize just how much more you want. Or how much more you could take."
You frown. “You’re not demanding anything. Not from the world, not from me."
"Maybe not yet. But, if one day, I become someone who only takes… If I were like that, would you leave me?"
The confession hangs for a moment, the truth of it hidden. Something about the way his shoulders tense under your touch— like he's bracing for something, but it hasn’t yet arrived. A phantom pain from centuries ago, and a pain to come for a thousand years more.
“Silly fishie, I’d never leave you.”
Rafayel smiles in a way you know all too well, lopsided and teasing and empty.
“Thank you…” he hums, finally pulling you closer as his lips skim alongside the curve of your neck. “for accepting me the way I am.”
His breaths come out in desperate huffs against your skin, and he inhales sharply, freezing, before finally placing a kiss against the crook of your neck. And then another, and another.
“You’re just anxious,” you whisper, sucking a mark into Rafayel’s neck as he moans so sweetly against your ear. “I can help you relax.”
You wiggle your hips to better balance yourself on his lap and Rafayel looks almost near tears, one hand forcing you still while the other grabs your wrist, trailing kisses from your fingertips back up to your neck.
More. You need more. Rushing, your hands fly up into his hair, about to tug Rafayel to lay down on the couch when a crack echoes behind you.
The glass lays shattered against the floor.
Panting, Rafayel stares at the spilled water for a long moment before pulling away. You feel his erection digging into your thigh, the warmth of his fever spiking yet again as his skin burns against yours, yet he still refuses.
“As you said, I’m anxious…” Still panting, Rafayel picks you up, gently lifting you up as he stands from the couch. “Or, more like restless. In every sense of the word.”
The need in his eyes almost makes your knees buckle. He looks at you like you’re the only thing he could ever crave, like a bite would both be salvation and leave him hungry forever.
“But see, now I can’t stand the idea of letting you go again, and you don’t want me to either.” He sets you down just a little farther than necessary, but his hands don’t leave your waist, trembling, waiting. “What should we do?”
“Rafayel…” You want him. You want him so badly it hurts.
“Fuck.”
You nearly jump at that. Rafayel curses again, his head falling onto your shoulder as his breath hitches. “I can feel your concern. That and…” another convulsion, his body burning up. “Fuck. You have to leave.”
You don’t even have time to retort before you’re pushed out of his hotel room, and the door slams shut behind you.
By the third time, you know something is wrong.
It’s not that you and Rafayel haven’t kissed yet. Hell, you’ve had sex before. The last time was quite literally on the night before you were supposed to leave for this trip. Obviously, Rafayel suggested that you stay at his place for the night—insisting he was closer to the airport and getting an Uber would be quicker this way—and one thing led to another, as is what happens nearly every time Rafayel and you are left alone for too long.
But now it’s been nearly a week and Rafayel has barely touched you, let alone picked up on your not-so-subtle clues.
So yes, it's safe to say you’ve become rather pent up.
You’ve fallen asleep in the off-roader the two of you rented out for the day, bobbing up and down the dunes like waves flecked white not with seafoam but snow. There’s a chill as you drift off, but your dreams are anything but, plagued with memories of Rafayel.
His hands, deft and talented with a brush, are even more so when teasing your skin, knowing exactly how to trace delicate circles against your thighs before roughly curling into your cunt. His tongue, every smartass comment and teasing grin now silenced as he licks and sucks against your clit. His body, the warmth of it, bearing down on you with every thrust, or perhaps writhing beneath you as you take him again and again and again—
It’s the cold that wakes you up.
Your eyes flutter open, first noticing the dim light of the hotel parking lot, and second, the burning desire still aching between your legs.
“Rafayel?”
A shuffle makes you turn, and you find said man still seated in the driver’s seat, unbuckled as he sits with his head resting on his hand.
“Yes, cutie?” Rafayel’s tone is teasing, but the way he stares down at you feels like anything but. The hunger is back.
Sitting up, you clear your throat. “How long have I been asleep? Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“You seemed like you were having such a nice dream, I didn’t want to disturb you.”
You inhale sharply. Glaring, you try and see if he’s teasing again or being serious, but Rafayel doesn’t let you read him for long, already leaning over the middle console.
He places his lips gently on your temple, brushing over the skin, and then moves down to your cheek, his breath warm against your neck. He whispers your name, so softly you almost think it was a trick of your imagination.
Your mind goes blank when he kisses your jaw, a small noise escaping the back of your throat as you feel his hair tickle your skin.
"Raf," you mumble under your breath, but you know he hears it because he exhales sharply against you.
Rafayel trails a series of kisses up your neck, "I know, I know. I'm sorry, cutie." His body temperature is rising again, and the air in the van feels dangerously thin as he sways in your grasp. "I'm trying."
The hunger is back, all-consuming and hot as you genuinely fear you might burn up. A wave of dizziness washes over you, and you finally cup Rafayel's jaw, leading him towards your lips.
Yet again, he stops you halfway.
“Do you want to go back to your room first?”
At first you think he’s suggesting moving there before continuing, but you know better at this point.
“You’re not coming with me?”
Rafayel pulls out the invitation from before, waving it between the two of you as if all this was the letter’s fault. “I still have to attend my friend’s salon thing.”
“But you’re still burning up! Forget this, I can’t let you go out to who knows where when you’re still acting strange. Maybe we can see a doctor—”
“Cutie…”
“—No, no. Or maybe I can come with you.”
Rafayel says your name this time. Firmer. Cutting off your rambling as he places his forehead against yours.
“Do you want me to turn into a sea creature that’s beached on the sand after the ocean recedes? Leaving me to suffocate when I come out of the water?”
You don’t quite know how to respond to that, feeling his desperation in every word even as you struggle to make sense of it.
Rafayel continues, pulling away from you again. “Don’t you trust me? How about we make a promise?”
“What kind of promise?”
A smile. “I promise… I’ll be okay without you tonight.”
There’s no joke, no hidden meaning, just Rafayel who so violently hopes that this promise will hold true.
So you relent. “Okay, just take care of yourself.”
Finally, Rafayel opens the car door, letting the desert night winds sweep in with a biting chill as he leans back against the driver’s seat. He lets out an almost inaudible sigh. “You can head back. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Rafayel promised he’d be okay without you tonight, but you don’t think the opposite could hold true.
Not when the dizziness Rafayel caused remained. Not when you still feel the phantom touch of his lips and hands all over your body, burning you up, leaving you cold and empty and aching.
You’ve been burning for the better part of a week now.
Something stuck between a laugh and a cry of pure frustration leaves you as you fall onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “This is pathetic.”
Even the damned sheets smell like Rafayel, pillows deeply laced with his shampoo and the smell of his cologne—amber, yuzu, and something salty like the ocean—surrounding you as though this were his hotel room and not yours.
Desert nights were cold, but even the room's chill could do nothing to quell your desire, arms shaking with it as you quickly stripped yourself of your shirt and bra. The room spins as you stumble around, leaving your clothes on the floor, another delirious whimper seizing you as you sprawl against the silk sheets.
You need him.
Fuck, you need him, and you hate him for leaving you while the growing ache between your thighs threatens to swallow you whole.
The sheets are deliciously cool against your flushed skin, and you turn your head to rest your cheek in the cool embrace of the pillow. But it only needs a second to heat from your desire.
And then the room is all too hot once again.
Kicking off your pants, your hand snakes down your bare torso, leaving half-hearted squeezes to your breasts and hips, failing to replicate the touch Rafayel already has you addicted to. The memory only makes you more frustrated.
A hand slips beneath your soaked underwear, and fuck, you’re dripping enough to ease your fingers in already. You force yourself to slow down, rubbing slow circles around your entrance, the mere friction enough to have your hips bucking up against nothing.
Inhaling sharply, you slide a finger into your weeping cunt, a moan pushing from your lungs as you do. Not enough. It’s not enough.
You force yourself to draw each movement out, the curl of your wrist accompanied by your muffled cries and the slick, obscene sounds echoing alongside your ragged breath. Withdrawing your finger nearly to the fingertip, two plunge back in this time, and your back arches off the bed with violent tremors as you imagine it was Rafayel's hand instead.
How he’d tease you in the early mornings to wake you up, how he’d take special care of every sensitive spot on your body, how he’d draw his fingers along your clit just the way that will make you come undone.
And as your fingers find that sensitive bundle of nerves, the way you cry his name into the empty room is no different.
Your head is spinning, falling, your thighs shake, and it's not long before you're gasping out, "Rafayel, please.”
Still not enough. Every rough thrust of your fingers brings you higher and higher, but without the pressure of Rafayel's chest pressed to yours, or his hot breath ghosting across your ear, his voice, his lips, his touch—
Without him.
A sob rips from your throat, your hips bucking uselessly against the air as you fuck yourself harder, deeper. But your fingers are only so long, and your free hand, fisting the sheets, is unable to make up the difference. "No, no please," a whine, and your free hand rushes to circle your clit, the other picking up pace.
You're close, so close, sobbing his name when the dizziness from the car returns tenfold, overtaking your body in waves as your eyes roll back. "Please, ah! Rafayel, m’cumming-"
The world goes silent as pleasure surges through you, muscles convulsing, a choked, garbled sound escaping as you come. Collapsing back against the sheets, you struggle to catch your breath, the stickiness of both the heat and your orgasm coating your thighs.
There’s another tug, a violent pull against your chest, but the dizziness remains.
You know you should change the sheets or at least move them aside, but you can’t manage to do either as you rush to shower before Rafayel returns from his friend’s exhibition.
It’s only when you stumble into the bathroom that you notice it.
Shit. This is Rafayel’s room.
You must be trying to kill him.
Surely, this is the gods' cruelest trial—a final test of his resolve—to see if he’d bow once more, forsaking divinity and succumbing to the temptation of you.
Because it’s been barely an hour, and Rafayel has already resigned himself from the party, passing blank smiles and empty compliments as he quietly counts down the minutes until he can return to the hotel, when suddenly he feels it.
The tug of your bond flashes through his body as his dick aches.
Rafayel freezes mid-sentence, the polite smile he'd been wearing slipping from his face. The conversation at the bar around him, something about chiaroscuro in the artist’s latest piece, become muffled static as the chains tighten, digging into his heart.
It’s unmistakable now. The rhythm, the rising intensity, the waves of pleasure that don’t belong to him but still manage to spark delirious heat up his veins.
Rafayel’s breaths quicken, body temperature rising as his Evol flickers out of his control. He glances around the room, feigning interest in the conversation, the glittering glasses of champagne, the faint hum of the crowd. It doesn’t work. The only thing he can focus on is you.
He should leave. Go outside, breathe in the night air, and let the tether between you both loosen, just to regain control. Just to prove to himself it’s not too late.
But the bond tightens, as invasive as it is intoxicating, demanding Rafayel’s attention like a leash coiled around his neck. It’s not gentle. It’s not kind. It’s primal, every nerve in his body pulled taut like you’re screaming his name over and over into the depths of his soul.
It’s not fair.
No god can deny the prayer of a worshipper.
Your pleasure becomes his, and when Rafayel closes his eyes, he swears he can feel your phantom hands on him, dick already heavy and throbbing, leaking through his expensive trousers.
Are you in bed, thighs trembling as you grind against your own palm? Or maybe the shower, steam curling around you as you chase release? Or worse—are you riding something of his? His shirt? His pillow? Is this vengeance a cruel punishment meant to shatter what little resolve he has left?
Shit. He’s hard.
“Hey man, what’s wrong? You good?”
The slam of a glass brings him back. Gods, he hates these rich socialites.
The champagne glass Rafayel was holding is now covered in cracks, blood trickling down his ring finger. He’s unraveling, composure fracturing with every pulse of your pleasure surging in and out as violently as a full moon’s tide.
Rafayel looks up, smiling. “Stress. And apparently a very needy pet.”
The man laughs at what he assumed was a joke, but Rafayel sees his hesitation, the type animals give when they pick up rustling in the bush. Fear.
Rafayel’s grin only widens, all teeth. “I should probably go check on her. Wonderful party,” he adds, lifting his glass in a half-hearted toast before setting it down with a sharp clink.
As he steps outside, the desert air does nothing to soothe him. If anything, the dryness makes it worse as the pull becomes sharper, like you’re reaching for him, your need coiling tighter around his chest.
A growl, almost feral, rumbles low in his throat as he staggers down the cobblestone streets. He doesn’t need directions. He doesn’t even need to think. His body moves instinctively, guided by the bond, by you.
Rafayel swears he can feel you all across his body, your heartbeat picking up as you get closer, the smell of your skin and arousal, the cries of his name that only become more and more desperate as you fail to bring yourself over the edge without him.
You’re begging for him in a way his bond mistakes for worship, because Rafayel’s body feels like it’s burning. Like blood spilled on his altar, an offering of yourself to your god, your husband.
The thought that you might be doing so unintentionally only drives him further into madness.
But, beneath the frustration, there’s something else. A glimmer of something Rafayel hates to name but knows all too well: relief.
Because as much as he might deny it, Rafayel could never leave you. And now that you’ve reciprocated, now that you’ve begged for him oh so sweetly, he would gladly submit to his bond and become chained to you once again, forever at your mercy, unable to escape the inevitability of his fate.
He doesn’t even knock when he reaches the hotel room door. It swings open under the force of his hand, and the sight of you standing there—wide-eyed, startled, only in a bath towel—hits him like a blow to the chest.
There's a soft click as Rafayel locks the door. A hurried shuffle of shoes as he all but stumbles toward you, closing the distance between you in one hurried, unstoppable motion. A startled gasp as he grabs your face in his hands.
It's the last breath you take.
An arm wraps around your waist, blocked by only a flimsy hotel towel as Rafayel violently spins you around. Your surprise is swallowed by his lips as you’re pinned against the window, the chill of the desert snow, frosted against the glass, a harsh contrast to the burn of his touch. His hand pins yours at the wrist as he stares down at your fingers.
“Rafayel? What are you doing here?”
The question barely gets out, not before he rushes forward to claim you in a kiss, if it was even that. A desperate, consuming need overtakes him, Rafayel pushing you back so insistently that your head hits the window with a thud, pain immediately distracted as his clothed knee grinds up between your bare thighs.
Holy fuck, just a towel. Right.
You try to push him back, one hand pressing against his chest as the other flies back to tighten the towel. “Wait–”
Rafayel kisses you again. And again. And again.
You can feel the cloth slipping.
But Rafayel makes it very hard to care. His hand traces your throat, your heartbeat, then drags you closer by your hips as he thrusts forward in time, still caging you against the window. He’s relentless, every kiss only broken with a ragged breath or gasp as though he’s given up on breathing entirely, content to consume you instead, his tongue sweeping against your lip before it coaxes yours to meet it halfway, licking and sucking into your mouth.
It’s obscene, animalistic, and you swear that there has to be something wrong with you because the dizziness is back, and this time it’s enough to make your knees buckle, the two of you blindly stumbling across the hotel room.
So you bite him.
“Why–” Breathe. Remember how to breathe. “Why are you here?”
Rafayel almost looks offended, thumbing his bitten lip before licking away the smudge of blood with a lopsided smile.
Fuck, he’s hard. You feel the heat of his cock jolt against your thigh, pressing into you as he surges forward again, kissing you as his hands squeeze and cup your waist, lifting you up.
"Why?" Rafayel laughs, roughly grinding up against you, your legs wrapping instinctively around his hips. "This is my room, remember? You’re the one who decided to come in here." He growls the last part, licking, biting, sucking at your throat.
“Or was that intentional?”
The look in his eyes is feral.
There’s no hesitation left, no half-riddled questions, no sweet praises, no semblance of your devoted lover. Just hunger. He’s rushing, pushing forward even with nowhere to go, almost in revenge. In punishment. Your teeth click together, foreheads bumping, unable to talk because when you try to open your mouth his tongue only slides in deeper.
The wet sounds echo against your ears alongside your racing heartbeat, only causing you to grind harder, rougher, before Rafayel ungracefully drops you onto the bed.
Your body bounces on the mattress, but it gives you a moment, and you scramble to cover Rafayel’s lips with your palm before he can begin devouring you again.
“What I meant was, shouldn’t you still be at that art salon?”
He all but collapses into your touch. Lips parted, he grabs your wrist, tongue darting out as he licks up your middle and ring fingers, moaning against your skin.
“I tried. I tried going, leaving.” He's panting, breathing in your scent before biting your palm. “But you called me back, you cruel, selfish human. And now I’ll never leave again.”
Your words come out between moans, unable to look away. “I called? I didn’t do—” You’re cut off as Rafayel licks up your skin, sucking lightly at your fingertips as his eyes, half-lidded and blown out stare down into yours.
Oh.
A hot flush of embarrassment seizes you and Rafayel must sense it because his eyes flutter closed. His hips snap forward, grinding his erection into the side of the bed, and he lets out a low whine.
Gods, the taste of your cum lingers in Rafayel’s mouth. Every dry swallow, every inhale, every damn breath tastes like you, and it makes him want to submit to every horrid urge and simply consume until—
“You don't think I know? Don't think I can’t tell?” Rafayel goes back to kissing your wrist, needing something more, something stronger. His hand ventures to the edge of your towel. ”Can feel everything you do, no matter how far away I go. Gods, I feel it, feel everything, and it drives me insane. Need you so bad, need to hear you, feel you, taste you..."
A shudder runs up Rafayel’s spine at the mere thought, and he can't stop himself anymore, leaning down to suck your fingers into his mouth, tongue curling around the digits, saliva coating your fingertips. He rips the towel from your body.
"Say you need me too," He’s begging, sinking down to your knees. "Say you need me just as badly. I–ah fuck—I can smell how much you want me."
Throwing the towel to the floor, Rafayel runs his hands down your chest, rougher, long fingers cupping and massaging your breasts as his mouth trails wet kisses down your stomach, his tongue dragging against the smooth skin, a clear goal in mind as he settles between your thighs, looking up at you as though you were a thing worthy of worship. His Goddess.
He’d offer himself to your alter time and time again. So long as he was the only one who got to bleed for you.
“Yes.” You’re already soaked, the sight of Rafayel panting between your thighs enough to have you babbling, ”Yes, Rafayel. I needed you so, so badly all week. Couldn’t help m’self, please.”
He freezes at that, pouting. “Right, you already came, didn’t you. So mean, cutie. Leaving me out.”
Before you can argue, Rafayel dips his head, dragging his tongue up your cunt before sucking roughly at your clit.
Your legs thrash above his shoulders. “Ah– wait, not so!” It’s too much too soon. Still sensitive from your prior orgasm, your back arches violently off the mattress, but Rafayel pays it no heed, deaf to your cries as he sloppily makes out with your pussy, drool and slick connecting his lips to you in sticky strands even as he pulls away just far enough to talk.
“She’s already so sensitive, s’not fair,” he pouts, mouthing against your thigh as he flicks your throbbing bundle of nerves. You jolt, gasping at the sharp jolt of pain. At the same time, Rafayel fucks his tongue into your cunt, just barely dipping in before he moves back to rub nonsensical patterns on your clit. “But this is mine. I don’t want you touching it without permission anymore.”
Fuck, if you had any semblance of a coherent thought you would have argued, maybe even laughed at the sheer audacity of the man.
Instead, all you can manage is a pathetic whine of his name, because the strange swirls and harsh lines he’s licking into your clit aren’t patterns at all but letters, spelling something over and over and over again.
R-A-F-A-Y-E-L-R-A-F-A-Y-E-L-R-A-F-A-Y—
The ring of the hotel phone buzzes from the nightstand. It’s the artist whose party Rafayel left only minutes ago.
“Tch,” Rafayel scoffs in annoyance, whipping his chin as he goes to decline the call.
But this gives you a moment to breathe, and all you can think of is getting revenge. Especially on the bastard you tried to take Rafayel from you tonight.
“Wait,” you grab his wrist. “You’re just going to hang up? What if it was something important?”
Rafayel turns to you with narrowed eyes, knowing there’s no good intent behind your wicked smile. It turns you on more than you can admit, the sight of his glare, mad at both the call and you interrupting his feast. But Rafayel can't deny you anything and does as he’s told, pressing accept.
“The guest of this room is unable to answer. Please leave a message.”
Instantly, you have Rafayel on his back.
His neck looks far too bare, and you climb onto his lap, enjoying the way his pulse kicks up under your palm. Ripping his shirt’s buttons off you begin biting dark spots down the pale expanse of his chest and neck. You’re about to aim right for the glowing mark on his chest when the phone beeps again, playing a voice recording of a clearly very drunk man.
“Why did you leave, bro? Come back here r’now. One more round of drinks a—” Incoherent laughter and sounds of clinking glasses.
No. No, Rafayel’s not allowed to leave you, not again.
You don’t know where the fear comes from, but you force yourself closer on top of him, breasts pressing into his abs as Rafayel shivers beneath you. Leaning down, you kiss the glowing mark atop his heart, admiring the way it flickers and glows when Rafayel bucks into your touch, moaning as you begin to nip and suck in earnest.
And then you’re flipped onto the mattress once more.
Rafayel’s heaving, arms trembling to keep himself up. Away. “...Are you sure?”
“If I don’t, then you might actually leave. What will you say if you’re asked why you didn’t go back?”
Rafayel smirks, and you catch a glimpse of fangs as he sits back on his knees. There’s a click, the rough sound of metal on metal as he undoes his belt, unzipping his trousers with one hand as the other cups the inside of your thigh, yanking it over his shoulder as he drags you down the bed. “I’m busy.”
And then he’s kissing you.
You’re lost, so hopelessly lost in each other that you fail to notice the phone beep once again, the monotone voice of the machine saying, “Please leave a message at the tone,” before flashing twice, still running.
Again, Rafayel seems to forget the concept of breathing, gasping into your lips as he ruts his hips into yours. “You’re not leaving me, right?” Fuck, he’s leaking all over his stomach, pre-cum splattering across your thighs.
“Never. I’ll never leave you, Rafayel.”
“Then tell me you’re mine. Tell me, please, please—hah—tell me and I’ll do anything, promise cutie, promise.” He’s all but gasping between kisses, cock trapped between his body and yours as he grinds forward, voice a pitch or so higher than it usually would be. “Say it, say you're mine, tell me, I need to hear it again."
He's talking in circles, rambling, the desperation in his voice palpable. Grasping the base of his cock, he sloppily fisting himself once, twice, before thumping against your entrance.
“I’m yours, Rafayel.” You writhe, grinding yourself up against him in hopes that he’s just hurry the fuck up.
“Again.”
“I’m yours, yours Rafayel.”
“Again, ah—again,” he’s nuzzling into your neck, lifting your leg higher and higher, pinning it to your head as he folds you into a matting press. Still, he refuses to press in, cock throbbing against your clit as he hugs you tight, every muscle in your body screaming in protest and pleasure. “Again, please, please.”
“I’m-” You’re either gasping or crying, words flooding out, ”Rafayel’s, I’m Rafayel’s.”
At that, Rafayel’s entire body convulses. He sobs, finally thrusting forward, bullying up into you bit by bit, forcing you to count every inch as the entirety of his weight bares down onto you.
You can feel the way his muscles shift, the way his arms bulge and contract as he holds himself above you, hips flush against yours. The desert air must be infecting him, because Rafayel is dripping sweat, flushed from his ears to his chest as he begins to pull out and slowly grind himself back in.
His voice is wrecked, breathless as he tries to kiss you, missing slightly as he sucks against your bottom lip, drooling. "I'm yours too, I'm yours." At the same time, his cock jerks in you, burying deeper with every filthy roll of his hips, throbbing against your sweet spots.
Then something snaps, Rafayel’s lips sealed back on yours, and the rhythm he sets is brutal.
Rafayel's cock drags over your walls, molding you in ways you never thought possible. Each thrust is hard, deep, and leaves you gasping, eyes rolling back into your head as you arch off the mattress, nowhere to go as his body folds yours damn near in half, weight bearing down on you.
It's all you can do to wrap your arms around him, nails scratching into his back, drawing thin lines of blood across his shoulder blades as you try to stay grounded, keep your mind from being swept away as the dizziness returns.
But the pressure building up in the pit of your stomach makes it hard.
Harder still as Rafayel begins mumbling into your lips, the filth pouring from his mouth making you clench, cunt fluttering around his cock as he pounds into you.
He can see and feel everything like this. Unable to look away from your face only inches away, watching every expression with love-drunk eyes, hugging you closer, fucking you harder.
"Can feel you, can feel you getting tighter. You're close right? Say you're close, please, mhm fuck." he's panting, and if you focus hard enough you can hear the sloppy noises of him sliding in and out, wet and obscene, the harsh slap of his balls against the curve of your ass.
But then Rafayel’s pushing himself lower, your legs dangling uselessly in the air as his chest is pressed so tight against yours you can barely take a breath.
"You're mine, only I can touch you like this, feel this. My wife. Say it, say you're mine, wanna hear it, please. Please, ah, I’ll do anything, say it."
He's barely pulling out anymore, resigning to quick, deep grinds as though he can’t bear to part.
Too uncoordinated to kiss you, Rafayel's head falls to your neck, sobbing into your marked-up skin before messily kissing atop the bruises.
"Yours. Yours. I'm yours, your wife," the words spill from your lips before you can even think, and Rafayel nearly passes out trying to stop himself from cumming then and there.
It’s like you’re trying to milk him, hugging him closer and ankles wrapped around his neck as he’s lifting your hips right off the bed. But now he needs to see it.
Needs to know the way you'll cry out his name, how your eyes will glaze over and roll back into your head, the way your chest will heave, the sweat that will pool at the valley between your breasts, the way the skin will flush from a soft pink to a burning red as you lose yourself in the feeling. To him.
It's the only thing he's able to concentrate on, the only thing he's able to think of. The feeling of your body beneath him, the sound of his name on your lips.
And that alone is enough.
Rafayel’s orgasm is sudden, a jolt of pleasure that surges up his spine with enough intensity to have him collapse, pinning your body beneath him. You can feel it, the way his cum splatters against the walls of your womb, painting your insides, filling you up until the excess squirts out around his cock and your intertwined thighs. He can't stop his hips, can't stop the way he grinds his pelvis against yours, trying to get deeper and deeper still.
"Mine, mine, mine," is all he can say, eyes wide and pupils blown out as he watches the way your body twitches, a mixture of sweat and cum painting your body as you nearly pass out in exhaustion. "Gonna- gonna fill you up, fuck, so pretty, my pretty girl, pretty wife, gonna make sure it sticks, so I’ll never leave. So you’ll never leave me again."
You're cumming.
He can feel the way your cunt spasms, the way your walls lure him back in, the way you tremble and shake as you throw your head back with tears.
Rafayel can't stop himself from leaning down and biting, teeth sinking into the crook of your neck, his hands grabbing at any bit of flesh he can find. All the while he fucks you through your orgasm, the mess of fluids creating the most obscene noises as they squish and bubble out, pooling out from between your bodies.
As you’re swaying in and out of reality, you think you see it. A field of red flame lilies, a poison so sweet that when you drink it, you lick your lips and thank the gods.
God. Just one, the one of the sea and the flaming sun.
♱⋅── a/n: Uber now canonically exists in the lnds universe, thanks. Also, I would have included the absolutely gut-wrenching aftercare included in the card with MC asking Rafayel to sing for her, but honestly I would not change that scene in the slightest and am content to believe that is exactly what happened next.
The LADS Men have seen you in your long flowing dresses, but there was something about the way you looked in this particular dress that hugged your curves ; showing off those legs that they dream about being in-between. Artist @/osk_purinnumee on twitter
‼️MDNI MDNI MDNI‼️
Zayne ♡
Storyline: He couldn't help himself after seeing you in that dress.
"Can you zip me up?" Such an innocent question.
Zayne sat frozen starring at you; his expression giving away nothing. His intense stare caused you to start second guessing whether or not you should wear this dress. "I can change"
"No!" He cleared his throat after his sudden outburst. "No you look beautiful" He stood from his seat on the bed raking his gaze over your body continuously as he circled around behind you. "Just ... perfect" His breath ghosted over your neck as he planted a soft kiss while his hands slowly zipped your dress up.
He spun you around, taking your hand and stepping back to admire you. "I love this dress on you" His voice as soft as silk. Your stomach immediately erupted with butterflies. "Thank you" you whispered back looking away to avoid his piercing gaze.
Before you knew it Zayne was leaning down placing the softest kiss on your lips. His kiss quickly grew hungry as he moved lower, grazing his teeth along your jaw and planting wet kisses down your neck.
"Zayne..." your voice nothing more than a breathy moan. "Hmm?"
"We ... we have to go the award ceremony starts in thirty minutes" He continued his assault on your neck littering kisses as his hands roamed your body. "I need you now" He couldn't help himself seeing the way that dress perfectly hugged your curves while propping his girls up just right.
He backed you against the wall before dropping to his knees and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. You shot a hand out pushing his head back. "Zayne we can't we have to go"
His breath was ragged as he rubbed his nose against your already wet panties before looking up at you through his lashes. "Please" He begged; his breath ghosting over your pussy sending shivers up your spine.
You couldn't help but give in giving a subtle nod and soon after he pulled your panties to the side and took his time with a long languid lick before devouring you like a man starved.
Rafayel ♡
Storyline: No self-control when it comes to you. He has to have you now in the middle of his Art Exhibit.
Rafayel swore you were teasing him with the dress you decided to wear tonight for his latest Art Exhibit. He couldn't take his eyes off you; watching your hips sway and the way you pulled the hem down when it rose almost giving him a nice view of your ass.
He refused to let you leave his side. He was either holding your hand or wrapping his arms around you from behind. "You look so beautiful baby" He whispered in your ear as he slid his hands up and down the front of your dress. "We should get out of here, go somewhere less noisy"
"This is for you Rafayel we can't just leave" He pouted at your answer as he dropped his head into the crook of your neck. "I don't like that answer" A quiet gasp left you as you felt him grind his hardening length against your ass.
"Rafayel!" You whisper-shouted whipping around to glare at him. As soon as your eyes met his you were shocked at how red his cheeks and ears were. You rolled your eyes and exhaled hard; looking around to make sure there were no prying eyes you turned back to Rafayel as a smile stretched across your face. "There's a private room-"
"I know ... I'll be quick .... I don't want to be, but I will be" He cut you off and swiftly tugged you out of the packed venue making his way to the back stairs. Rafayel yanked the private door open pulling you in slamming it behind the two of you and claiming your lips in a heated kiss.
His kiss was breathtaking; you gasped as you felt his hands bunch up your dress and quickly slip into your panties. Rafayel was incredibly skilled with his fingers. He dipped two fingers into you making you tremble as he massaged that spot. "Right there" you moaned between kisses; he moved to you neck as you threw your head back against the door in bliss. It didn't take him long to coax an orgasm out of you.
He smiled against your neck as he pulled his fingers out making you whine. He fumbled with his belt and zipper quickly pulling out his dick that stood hard & red. You were always shocked at how big Raf was it almost seemed like it wouldn't fit.
Not giving you time to catch your breath he slides his hand down your thigh lifting it up and hooking your leg over his hip as he sunk into you with an audible whimper. He lifted your other leg as well; you instinctively locked your legs around his waist as he pounded into you at a ferocious pace.
"Raf- ah!" He slaps his hand over your mouth. "Shhh you have to keep quiet beloved"
Xavier ♡
Storyline: Made it all the way to the Annual Hunters Ball (Yes I made it up get off me) never even made it out of the car.
Xavier had top tier self-control unless it came to you. The minute he saw you in that tailored gown with a slit to show a little leg he was a goner.
"One more just one more" Xavier whimpered against your soaked cunt. He was currently buried between your legs in the backseat of his car. Thank goodness his windows were tinted otherwise everyone would see you splayed out for him with tears running down your face.
"Xav I can't" You whimpered trying to push his head which only caused him to hold your thighs tighter and flick his tongue faster on your overstimulated clit. "You can do it cum on my face"
Such a dirty mouth for someone with such an innocent looking face. Those deep blue eyes gazing up at you watching your every reaction to his tongue had him so hard he could cut diamonds. You arched into his mouth feeling another orgasm crest letting out the sluttiest moan that didn't even sound like something that would come from you.
Xavier continued to lick and suck catching every drop as you came down from your high. Flattening his tongue so you could grind out the last bit of your orgasm before slumping against the door.
Xavier sat up freeing his painful hard-on from his freshly pressed slacks that were now ruined with his pre-cum. "You can't go in with stained pants"
"That Hunters Ball is the last thing on my mind right now" He said as he lined himself up running his tip through your slick before sinking into you slowly. He shivered as he sheathed himself in you inch by inch "Fuck you have heaven between your thighs babe"
Sylus ♡
Storyline: He has to keep one hand on you or .... maybe two fingers in you.
Sylus was doing great. He held his composure from the house all the way to the auction. Which wasn't easy watching your hips sway, ass bounce, and tits jiggle as you ran around putting on your last touches of makeup, jewelry, and redoing your hair twice because you didn't like how your edges looked with the first style.
The dress you had on left just barely enough for the imagination while simultaneously being classy. Sylus couldn't help but at least keep one hand on you.
Long tablecloths were draped over every table giving Sylus the perfect idea. You two sat at a table towards the back of the venue and as soon as the lights dimmed to begin the auction you felt Sylus hand slide up your left thigh. "I'm right handed Sylus my knife is on the other side" You whispered to him.
"I wasn't looking for your weapon Princess" He whispered as his hand inched towards the apex of your thighs. You took a sharp inhale as his fingers brushed against the lining of your panties. "You're already wet sweetie ... in a place like this? How scandalous" Your breathing became ragged as he slid your panties to the side and dipped two fingers into you. He stroked your G spot causing you to cover your mouth with you fist to keep from making noise.
"Sy-Sylus" You moaned as you leaned forward pretending to be interested in what the auctioneer was saying. "I'm gonna cum if you don't stop"
He flattened his palm giving your clit more stimulation. "Then go ahead ... cum on my hand" He leaned over making it look as though he was just whispering in your ear when in reality he gave your ear lobe a soft nip before sucking it between his lips. That sent you right over the edge. Soft whimpers fell from your lips as you dripped all over his hand.
Sylus pulled his fingers out giving you a cheeky smirk before stirring his glass of whiskey with his fingers that you just came all over. "Now that's a one of a kind drink"
Fantasywriter @fantxsywriter - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
