to sit outside your door | isaac night x woc!reader
word count: 3300+
content warning: kinda bittersweet, fluff, vaguely 90s nevermore, isaac being awkward charming and sweet? oop, unfriendly femme reader, instance of an anxiety attack, musing on mortality with a raven!reader, reader shorter than isaac, no use of y/n, edited but no beta
an: happy valentine's day! i've been sitting on this idea for literal months now but continually stalled when it came to actually drafting it. finally, a line came to me yesterday and once it clicked i could not not include it as it informs on a lot of thoughts swirling around my head re: writing for fandom.
anyone can read, but girlies of color, this one is for you ❤️🔥❤️🔥❤️🔥
(dividers credit: @pixopix)
You're late for class when your roommate's brother appears. Isaac Night couldn't possibly be here for you, he shouldn't even be in the girl's dorm, so you bypass pleasantries in favor of shutting the door to your room while shrugging on your blazer. "Fran's already gone."
As tall as he is, it's no struggle for him to keep to your heels. "I'm aware. I saw her in the quad."
"Okay?" You weave through the curious eyes of the dorm mates on your floor and head for the staircase.
"I require a favor."
Require, you stifle a snort. Always so formal. The clatter of soles on stone steps join the flutter of notes and textbooks and excited chatter in the morning cacophony of girls rushing about the building. “Lay it on me. Quick,” you urge.
“Right,” he murmurs, likely taken aback by your hurried insistence. While neither of you have talked to the other in any proper manner, you wouldn't consider him a stranger at all. If anything, he's a specter, a gangly phantom who moves just out of sight when your vision focuses. “The Harvest Festival is tonight.”
“…yeah, I’m aware.”
“I assume you’re going.”
“I’m undecided.”
“Oh.”
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, you whirl around. Your abrupt movement and bag swinging off your shoulder startles him and he retreats back a step. You crane your neck to look up at him with a direct and unflinching stare. “Will you spit it out? Not all of us are Stonehearst's pet.”
He flattens his palm against his black lapel. “Francoise is planning to meet a normie there. I promised I’d tag along, but I’m behind on a science project.”
“What’s the favor, Isaac?”
“Could you chaperone her in my stead?”
“That’s it?” He nods.
It sounds too easy, too simple of a task. Fran is already your roommate. She'd even invited you to come along with her, Issac, and her date to the festival. Hardly an ask requiring a personal visit from the Night brother. But he did come all this way. “What’s in it for me?”
"I-" He cuts himself short, the toe of his shoe idly scuffing the iron railing of the staircase. You've seen him go back and forth with teachers over quadratics and molecular mechanics that fly over your head. Surely, he isn't so easily flustered. "Francoise likes you and trusts you, so must I. And I'll owe you a favor in return."
Your eyebrow instinctively lifts, and an expression must cross your features because he rushes to amend. "Something within reason, of course."
"Whatever, weirdo. Fran already asked me to third wheel." You turn, the pleats of your skirt glancing against the itchy stockings covering your legs. "But I'll keep you in my back pocket. Just in case."
You leave him speechless at the entrance of your dorm and focus on sprinting across campus to class, certain your professor won't excuse your tardiness even if you name drop his favorite student.
It's barely a week since the festival when you find Isaac seated in your usual lunch spot. A bench wraps around one of the quad's tree, thick foliage perfectly and completely shading his crossed legs for precisely twelve more minutes. His hand curves around an apple, a red delicious, which you've found to be anything but.
"May I join you?" his voice is melodic and high. If you knew anything of his moods, you'd wager he is in a good one.
You halt in front of him and note how sunlight cleaves the empty spaces on both sides of his form. If you sit beside him, one half of your body is sure to tan, leaving your complexion uneven. Between the changing seasons, the shade dwindling the longer you belabor this interaction, and your makeup allowance, you literally can't afford to account for any extra sunlight.
"Only if you give me back my spot."
He doesn't ask or argue. He doesn't require you to explain the physics of how your skin tone shifts with the seasonal angle and distance of the sun, the chemistry of how your pigmentation sits between two different shades of your favorite foundation thus your having to mix them just so as your tan wears off, and the economy of how you have to budget to the exact penny of the babysitting money you earned over the break for your summer and winter makeup. Limbs can be covered up with your uniform and weekend clothing. Your face, however…
He simply slides to his left, sun dappling through the leaves and highlighting the chocolate of his iris. You unceremoniously plop beside him, primly setting your tray on your lap. "Thank you for helping me and my sister. If my father caught wind that she still entertained the affections of local boys, normies… Let's say it wasn't pretty the first time he found out."
"Yeah, no worries. We had fun. She missed you, though. Said she tries to get you to have fun, too. Mister all math, no play."
His mouth twitches. "She knows I'm working on something very important."
"Whatever you say. I've got no horse in this race."
"What race do you have a horse in?"
You almost want to spill that Nevermore isn't at all like it was sold when you enrolled. A place for outcasts of all kinds is pretty alike to every other place you've been. That you plan to focus on quietly finishing out your senior year and moving somewhere where, at the very least, more people look like you and you don't stick out like a sore thumb. But you don't. You keep what's personal to yourself. "Once I think of a favor to ask for, I'll let you know."
You think you almost spy the glimpse of a smile before he tamps it down with the purse of his lips. "Fair enough. Except… I need another favor."
"Gee, I thought maybe you just enjoyed my company." What you mean to come across as sarcastic rings hollow and a little bitter in your ears that even you grimace. "What now?"
As he explains that his mother's birthday is on the horizon and he needs to get a gift from a shop in Jericho but can't afford the time away from his lab, he rolls the apple between his hands. He kneads the skin, softening the fruit beneath. When he finally bites into it, the flesh is soft and bruised and you wonder if that's how he likes his food. Tender and easy to give. Two things you've never been.
When he wipes juice from his lips with the back of his hand, you zone back into his words. "If I give you the cash, can you get a gift and bring it back to the tower so I can put a personal touch on it?"
"Do you know what she wants?"
He cuts his gaze to you, an unnervingly charming grin sharpening his face. "I trust your judgement."
Noting your time to eat in your shady spot is diminishing, you pick a handful of red grapes from a cup on your tray. "You planning on racking up multiple favors, or should I settle for one giant, extravagant ask?"
"Never settle." Digging his free hand into the pocket of his striped slacks, he hums. "And…dealer's choice?" He slips a few crisp twenties under your carton of orange juice and grants you a cheeky, closed lipped smile before departing.
It goes like this for much of the semester. He finds you at the oddest times and the strangest of spots, asks for you to take his place in social settings, and you pretend to resent each request. Even when, bleary-eyed and shaking off sleep, you stumble out of your dorm to find Isaac sitting with a textbook on his knees like he'd waited patiently all night for you to emerge... All in all, you don't hate it.
When Gomez and Morticia aren't staplegunned to each other, they welcome you into their cold embrace. Hanging out at fencing practices gives you the perfect setting for drafting essays. Something about the grunts of exertion, the clang of metal, and the heightened atmosphere of almost violence as background noise really helps you focus. Morticia, seeing through your reticence and stark lack of extracurriculars, asks if you'd like to join the planning committee for the Rave'N. And you do.
You fit the void left behind by the older Night sibling so well you almost forget about him in between his haphazard appearances.
But as the night of the dance bears down on the Nevermore campus and surrounding Jericho, you feel the urge to retreat and isolate, return to your cocoon of safety. The dreams have started up again, silent screams waking you in the middle of the night, faces you barely remember, carnage that hasn't happened yet. You don't regret any of the friendships you've made, but you haven't been diligent when it comes to grounding and meditating with the little free time you have now.
The morning of the dance, you're shaken awake by your roommate. Francoise's dark eyes and sleep-wavy brown hair loom over you, her hands firm on your shoulders, your pajama sleeves bunched in her palms. The mist of your nightmare fades and you scuttle back against your headboard, carefully retreating from her grasp. "I'm so sorry," you mumble, trying to gather your bearings. You're in your bed in your dorm at Nevermore Academy. There is no present danger.
You're not the one who dies.
You delicately wave her away with some half-lie about a bad dream, but Francoise's sympathetic gaze follows you as you excuse yourself to the shower.
"I'm here to collect on my favor, and it's a doozy."
Isaac looks up from his microscope and deftly switches out specimen plates. "I wondered when you'd come a-calling."
"God, you are such a geek," you remark, almost ready to retreat and forget this whole thing.
He takes the snipe in jest, amusement warming his face. He pushes his dark curls out of his eyes and leans down to the microscope lens. "You've got about three minutes before your audience grows by two. Stonehearst and Orloff will be back soon."
"I need you to be my date to the Rave'N."
Whatever he expected does not fall in the realm of the words that tumble off your lips. He short-circuits, blinking unseeing at whatever specimen is before him. Then he straightens and looks, really looks at you across the tables separating you from the other.
Instead of showering, you crossed campus in your sleep shorts and sweat dampened t-shirt to find Isaac. You saw figures moving about the Science building on a Saturday, so you figured he'd be doing extra credit hours like the nerd he is. You didn't get far into this train of thought before reaching the classroom.
You continue, "As per the planning committee, namely Morticia, all committee members have to bring dates to the dance. I don't really want to go to the dance. And I thought that you probably wouldn't want to go either. It might be-"
"I'd love to go to the Rave'N with you," he interrupts. By the terse line of his lips and heavy brow, he's serious. The unexpected earnestness in his words lends you to immediately take it as mocking. Over that last several weeks, however, his outward condescension has given way to a genial countenance. You try not to mistrust it.
You nod once and, with your heart in your throat, you bolt out of the science lab before you can embarrass yourself further.
The bustle of the Rave’N down below doesn’t reach you high in the sky in Iago Tower. With the lower windows cracked open, the only sounds carried along the wind are the hoots of owls and caws of tittering crows.
The dance has gone on for about an hour, and you've yet to make your entrance with your date. Morticia will likely give you the cold shoulder when you do show, but plans changed. Isaac met you at the entrance of the decorated hall but, before awkward compliments could be shared, he somehow anticipated your impending anxiety attack. Swiftly, he guided you away for some fresh air. While you don't consider a stuffy old tower of giant cogs and stacks of books "fresh", the distance is calming.
Isaac rounds a machine, pushing the sleeves of his white button-down to his elbows. Gratitude floods you at the realization that he hasn't yet pressured you to leave what you know is his sanctuary. You've visited his lab a few times, but tonight he showed you his secret entrance through the organ in the music room. You don't know him well enough for the kindness he's shown you this evening, but you're thankful for it nonetheless.
"You're a psychic, right?" his voice cuts through the air. He tinkers with a lump of metal a few yards away. You nod. "Which kind?"
“Well, no one’s confusing me with a dove.”
He tilts his head in confusion, and in your silence you allow him to sort out the obvious. Once his expression shifts, his mind calculating attributes added together to equal the same conclusion as your own mental equation, you continue. "I've never had a vision where it wasn't someone dying."
Somber, he pushes out a weighty exhale. "That fucking blows," he admits, a statement that finally matches his age. And here, you were starting to believe Isaac was possessed by an old man from the 1950s. "Is it only people you know?"
"Only people I've touched."
Digesting the information, he glances down at the contraption in his fist. Isaac steps closer and deposits it on a table within reach. "Have you seen how Gomez dies? Morticia?"
"She was elated when she asked. And Gomez just…doesn't."
"I always knew there was something eternal about him…" Then he looks up. "Francoise?"
There's a grave steadiness in the way he says her name. He's thought about his sister's mortality quite a lot. "Unfortunately."
"What about me?"
You bristle, clearing your throat. "I've never touched you." Keeping your distance from him has become a fairly new challenge and one not without effort.
He extends his hand to you, palm up, blue veins threading through his taut forearm. You scoff, "You don't want to know. No one ever really wants to know."
"I've built my own heart and survived the heart transplant. I think I can handle it."
Despite his confidence, you hold your crossed arms tight to your bodice. Your voice is small when you say, "What if I don't want to know?"
A bloated pause later, he drops his eyes to the floor and his waiting hand follows.
He spins away from you, and for a split second you wonder if you've worn out his kindness. But after a moment of him rummaging in a dark corner, he returns with folds of rubber. He lays his find out on the table and takes a step back.
Gloves. Black and much thicker than the ones you use when concocting a hair mask. "Those keep me from getting electrocuted up here, but they might work for your purposes, too."
They've seen better days with singed tips, extend all the way up to your elbows, and fit loosely around your fingers. With a layer of protection between you and the world, you feel like you can breathe for the first time in years.
"Ya know, I thought my dress was missing something dramatic," you quip, a tightness in your throat loosening.
"It is…a pretty dress." He isn't wrong. It's white, as the theme dictates, with a tame amount of sparkly accents, fits your frame far better than your uniform, and came with your luggage from an old school for a dance you never went to. "And you’re all done up. You should take the chance to show off."
You shiver, your social anxiety piquing momentarily, but you steel yourself. "I'm keeping the gloves on."
"Oh, I was hoping you would." He breaks first, his mouth lifting into a smile, and he extends his hand again.
You follow.
Contrary to your assumption, Morticia Frump does not give you the cold shoulder. That's just her normal body temperature. She is otherwise thrilled you shook off your reservations about attending, so you get to see yours and everyone else's handiwork. With her loyal paramour by her side, she is even more delighted to see you arm-in-arm with the "ghost of Caliban Hall". For the resident death-obsessed goth, she sure views life with a rosy tint and you admire that about her.
Francoise is over by the punch bowl too busy slow dancing to an upbeat song with a normie, whose name escapes you. He's, like, the third guy to catch her eye this semester alone.
When the DJ switches to a ballad, Isaac's hand grazes your waist and he leads you to the dance floor. You're both careful to keep a layer of fabric between you, his hands over the prickly sequins of your dress, your gloved hands on the shoulders of his too-big khaki sports jacket.
"I won't pretend to understand what it's like to live with a power like yours, but everyone I know is enamored by you. They hardly care when I'm gone."
Your cheeks warm at the admission, and you thank your complexion and the strobing lights that the flush isn't obvious. "When you're used to seeing the worst things, that's all you start to pay attention to because ignoring them can be the difference between life and death. But with Francoise and Gomez and Morticia, I see a lot of good things, too. Or rather, I can glean good from the bad."
Even saying it softly out loud under the cover of saccharine lyrics about love everlasting, you find the sentiment maudlin, but it's not without its merits.
“Usually, I like whatever Francoise likes. And she liked you. But then I spent some time with you myself and I came to the conclusion…what's not to like?”
You tilt your head as you take in his profile. It’s clear he holds his younger sister in high regard. Try as he might to bury the compliment, you take it anyway. “I don’t care what they say about you. You’re not so bad.”
“Wh-what do they say about me?”
You slip into a teasing grin. "Oh, horrible things! Dreadful stuff."
He sniffs, lifting his nose with an air of propriety. "That's okay. I plan on outliving them all anyway."
Your smile falters so infinitesimally that he doesn't notice. Much like the machine he fashioned for Professor Orloff, the ticking thing in his chest can't last forever. And a part of you grows louder by the day hoping that maybe - it will.
When his jaw dips, his attention returning to you so you both can continue this banter you so enjoy, you surge onto your toes to kiss him. He isn’t thrown off balance but his fingers tense like hooks where they lay on your hips. In the moment, nothing changes - as the visions tend to plague you in your sleep. Isaac doesn’t respond so you ease back to meet his imploring gaze.
“I thought you didn’t want to know.”
“...that’s not why I did it.”
His mouth forms an “O”, eyes lowering. He’s rarely one to be stricken speechless, so, when his chin bobs encouragingly, you lean up again and his lips meet your own. His grasp tightens around your middle, him dragging you flush against him. His touch is not unlike how he holds his fruit, needy and possessive, readying for his bite.
He parts, his cheekbone sliding along yours. “You’re not afraid of what you’ll see?”
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, but I was going for soft!Daemon so I don't think there are that many warnings this time.
Summary: Daemon comes to visit you at Godsgrace, the seat of House Allyrion, in Dorne. Kind of an AU in the sense that Rhaenyra isn't the object of his love, nor his motivation for "ending his marriage" to Rhea. 2.6k words
From the request here - romantic Daemon inspired by the song "kalam eineh" (Words of his eyes) by Sherine. I was able to work in a few lyrics as well ("the one whose eyes the moon envied" and "get lost in his beauty").
a/n: Dorne is a very big place and all of the houses are as different as the Northern houses. So as I write more Dornish!reader fics I start to see them uniquely in my headcanon. Godgrace is on a river from what my research tells me, so I think it worked out perfectly that Sherine is Egyptian. I've dropped some Egyptian elements into Godsgrace and that's how it is in my head now. (If there was a face claim for a location think Thebes/Luxor landscape.)
A warm breeze wafted onto the balcony where you and Daemon sat. The sun sank low against the horizon. The river in the distance shone with golds and pinks. A falcon screeched nearby. You turned from the gorgeous view of the Godsgrace river oasis to look at your Prince. He sat, reclined, opposite you. You slid your toes up the inside of his leg, teasing him. He stroked the top of your foot, your ankle, up your shin. Your smooth skin reflected the light of the setting sun much as the river did. Daemon slipped his fingertips under the hem of your thin skirt. The contrast of his pale hand under the bronze fabric was delightful to you. This Northern prince, so accustomed to clouds and darkness. Such a dreary land he came from.
You watched him as he looked out over the Greenblood river. It would be so easy to get lost in his beauty. His hair, his eyes, his mouth, everything about him was entrancing to you. You glanced back out at the river, the people going about their evening paying no attention to the lords and ladies so high above them. Birds circled above fishing boats as the nets were pulled in. Lights began to flicker in windows across the city. You smelled roasted meat and fresh baked bread on the warm air. You would have to dress for the evening meal, if you didn’t request it in your quarters.
“Did you come only because the fool Prince Martell forbade it?” You were genuinely curious. “Or because of your brother?”
“You know that is not the reason,” he spoke softly and continued to stroke your leg. “Their approval means less to me than you think.”
“You risk much coming to Godsgrace.” You wiggled your toes against his thigh.
“It is a fair price,” Daemon replied.
“Surely you are quite rested now, my love,” you goaded. “It is a long journey up the Greenblood, but not so tiring that you would ignore me.” You flashed your eyes at him. They were nearly the color of burnt umber in the fading light. Soon your maids would light torches and candles in your chambers. You would hear them through the diaphanous curtains that hung in the entry of the balcony. Though they would never dare to disturb you, even if you had your Targaryen on the floor in front of them.
Daemon turned his violet eyes toward you, finally pulled from his thoughts. Gods, you thought, even the moon could envy those eyes! The last pink of the sunset caught on his silver hair as it swung freely about his face, tendrils caught in the breeze.
“Quite rested,” he smirked as he spoke. He slipped his hand behind your knee and, reaching forward, grabbed your other leg and pulled you, bodily, to him. Your chair legs screeched against the stone floor as you threw your head back and laughed. When he had you where he wanted you, he smoothed his palms up the inside of your thighs. You rested your bare feet on the seat of his chair on either side of his legs. He pushed your skirt all the way up to your waist as he stared into your eyes. His thumbs grazed the creases of your thighs and you sighed.
“The journey was too long, but certain hindrances are now resolved,” his voice was low and quiet. “I am no longer married.”
You raised an eyebrow at these words. You trailed your fingertips down one of his forearms.
“I hope that it was painless, my prince,” you both knew the mocking of his title was not malicious. He was not your prince and you enjoyed reminding him of that. “You know, you could have stayed in Godsgrace and I could have sent one of my women to dispatch the issue quickly.” Your grin was knowing, yet seductive. Daemon’s response to Northern morality was curious to you. He didn’t want his wife, but could not bring himself to have another while she lived.
“I did not say I did the deed,” he tried not to smile. “Only that it was resolved.” Oh, he was deliciously vile when it suited him. You chuckled at this.
“Well, I had no trouble with the situation,” you grazed his thigh with one foot. “I needed only your devotion, not your marriage.”
“That you will always have, my lady,” he replied as he sank to his knees in front of you. You moved your foot to his shoulder, the other still in his chair, as you languidly spread your legs to make room for him. He looked up at you again, catching your eyes with his as he kissed your thigh, then your belly. You stroked one hand over his silky head as he lowered it and kissed the dark hair between your legs. You heard him inhale, smelling you, and you became even wetter.
Daemon licked the full length of your slit and paused at your pearl. He circled it with the tip of his tongue and you gripped the arms of your chair. He slid an arm around one thigh to steady you. Then he grazed a finger through your folds, finding your entrance quickly, as if he knew your geography by heart. He teased and didn’t slide inside you yet. He used two fingers to circle your opening, almost matching the rhythm of his tongue on your clit. Your hips rocked. You tried, and failed, to get his fingers inside. He stilled you as much as he could and continued for a moment that felt like an eternity.
When he finally slipped his fingers into your wet heat he sucked on your clit and your hands flew to the back of his head. You moaned and pushed against his mouth. You thought you felt him chuckle. You didn’t care. You ground your hips on his mouth and fingers.
“Daemon,” you whispered, as that was as loud as you could manage. “That’s it, just there. Please.”
He rubbed his fingertips against the spot that drove you wild, fighting against your clenching muscles. His tongue resumed its circling movements, but with a slightly quicker pace. Your breathing was becoming shallow and the sounds you made came deep from your chest. He pumped his fingers harder into you, knowing the pressure you needed to reach your climax. Your toes curled on his shoulder. You let go of his head, gripped the arms of your chair again, and your body curled forward as your climax overwhelmed you. You yelled his name, moaned incoherently, and then laughed. He hadn’t stopped, tongue still lapping causing your thighs to twitch. You playfully pushed at his forehead to give you peace.
You leaned forward and cupped his face in your hands. His expression wasn’t playful, as yours was. The look was full of something akin to admiration. You kissed him, roughly. You licked yourself from his lips, his tongue, and moaned into his mouth. He reached up and tangled his fingers into your hair at the nape of your neck, letting some of it loose from the pins that held it in place. Without much grace, he blindly began to release your hair from its confines.
Daemon broke your kiss and began to stand up. You let your fingers trail down his body as he did. You grazed your fingers over his pants, deliberately avoiding the hardness straining the fabric. He pulled pins and a comb from your hair, tossing them on the floor with abandon. You looked up at him, a playfully displeased look on your face for the carelessness he showed for your jewelry, and shook out your hair. It fell in near-black waves down your shoulders and back.
“I need you,” Daemon breathed. His eyes were dark with lust. Still looking up at him from your chair, you pressed your palm over his erection. His eyes nearly closed. His chest rose and fell, trying to maintain his composure. You pressed just a little harder. He grabbed your wrists. It didn’t hurt but made it evident that he couldn’t be teased this evening. You stood, your wrists still in his hands. You raised to tiptoes and pulled at his bottom lip with your teeth. Your eyes narrowed in defiance against being so restrained.
“That’s enough!” He threw you over his shoulder. You squealed and laughed, kicking your feet and pounding your fists lightly against his back. Your laughter bounced off the stone walls as he carried you through the curtains into your chambers. You pushed against him, raising your head to look at the two startled maids, and laughed harder.
“Let me go!” You giggled and kicked your feet but he only held your ankles as he walked you to the bed. You heard the two girls scamper from the room, giggling and twittering.
Daemon dropped you lightly on the bed. You were breathless from laughing. He smiled down at you, but that look was back. What had changed since he had gone North? Your laughter faded into giggles, which in turn faded into quick breaths as he knelt on the bed and kissed his way up your feet, calves, and thighs. He began to unfasten the ties of your skirt at your waist and you helped him with the small buttons of your delicate top.
He licked and kissed the curves of your exposed belly. He nuzzled his nose between your breasts, then kissed each of your nipples. You played with his silky hair, enjoying watching him worship you. When he reached your neck and jaw you began tugging on his shirt, pulling it toward his shoulders. He straightened long enough pull it over his head, then bent down to your mouth again. You kissed him back, hands gripping his neck, stroking his shoulders, down his biceps.
Daemon moved with you, still kissing, as you began to sit up. You gently pressed his shoulders back and guided him to lay down. You straddled his thighs and began pulling at the laces of his pants. He groaned at the pressure of your fingers. You stroked his freed cock, watching your hands move slowly. You enjoyed making him wait but you couldn’t wait any longer. You released him and begin to remove his breeches. Once you had both struggled with that for a moment, you trying not to giggle during the endeavor, you climbed up him and placed yourself on his belly. You could feel his cock pressing against your buttocks. You leaned forward and kissed him and he cupped both of your breasts in his hands.
You lifted your hips enough to reach between you and guide him into your wetness. He growled and squeezed your breasts a bit harder. Slowly, you took him inside you. You raised up, allowing him to keep his hands on you, and pressed your hands against his stomach as you rocked your hips. You took his cock as deep as you could. Gradually, at first, then setting a gentle pace that brought sweet sounds from Daemon’s lips. You leaned forward slightly, finding the angle you needed. He moved his hands, one to your neck, one to your hip. As you settled on a rhythm, he began to match you, thrusting upward slightly each time you rocked back on his cock.
You let your head fall forward, you hair sweeping forward, framing your face and his. Your fingers curled against his chest. You kept this pace as long as you could before your cunt began to ache with the beginnings of your climax. You slowed and Daemon took over. Gripping both of your hips, he fucked up into you, harder than you had been able to manage. His grunts made you squeeze around his cock. They were wonderful sounds that only increased your need for him.
You rested your face against his, pressing your cheeks together. Neither of you could stay quiet. Your name fell from his lips as fluidly as the curses he uttered. His fingers dug into your hips as he pulled you down onto each of his upward thrusts. The sound of flesh against flesh, lewd and satisfying. Your bodies glistened with sweat in the torch light. You wanted to open your eyes and look at him but the pleasure was too great.
“Yes, please, Daemon,” you whined in his ear. Your lips drug across his cheek as you searched for his mouth. You tried to kiss him. Instead you panted and moaned against his mouth. As your climax began the wave that would drown you, you heard his voice, much calmer than yours could have been in that moment.
“Look at me.” You did. He didn’t stop fucking you, but he held your gaze with those perfect eyes. “I love you. I would kill for you. I would kill anyone who kept us apart.”
Something in his eyes, not just his words, was your undoing. Your climax spread over you at the same time as it curled up inside you. You squeezed your thighs against his hips, almost stopping his movements entirely. You bent to him and kissed him, moaning and sighing, as you came.
Suddenly Daemon’s large arms encircled you and in your delirium you could hardly notice that he was moving you. You clung to his shoulders as he somehow, and gracefully, managed to lay you on your back. He had not pulled out. You wrapped your legs around his hips and ran your hands into his hair.
Daemon fucked you without restraint. You were coming down from your climax but your cunt gripped him tight and he grunted with each deep thrust. He shifted his weight to one hand and deftly scooped one of your legs into the crook of his arm. You bit your lower lip and looked up at him. He was watching you.
“Touch yourself,” he panted. “Come on my cock again.” His smile was enough to convince you, if his words hadn’t been.
So you did. You rubbed your fingers quickly, and in time with his strokes. When you were close again, you arched under him, head thrown back, Daemon’s mouth on your exposed neck. Then he pressed his hips against you as hard as he could. His cock buried completely inside you as he came. Your cunt spasmed around him and you both felt his seed fill you as your climax peaked. He cursed and tried to gently lower your leg. Your body shook and you were unable to help him. He chuckled and kissed your forehead.
As he slowly pulled out and away from you, you mewled and groaned, closing your thighs and squeezing them together. Daemon lowered himself down next to you, on his side. He rested his head on your chest. You smoothed his hair away from his forehead in a long stroke down to his back and sighed. You let your hand rest on his shoulder. He held you close to him.
The cool night breeze wicked the sweat off your skin. The torches guttered slightly. You wrapped one leg over Daemon’s. You wanted every part of your body touching his. You breathed in his smell mixed with your own and the dusty sweetness of Godsgrace coming in through the curtains.
“No one will come between us,” Daemon whispered against you.
“I know, my love, my dragon” you replied, lips brushing against the top of his head.
The sun had set and, perhaps, the dark was what he needed. In the light of day The Rogue Prince was rakish and disreputable. But at night, with you, he could shed that facade.
~Chapter 6~
As Sandra gained her detention for the day, this time for her hair being...rather larger than life, she gazed out of the dirty windows in the dimly lit hallways. She never did understand why blacks were seen as 'inferior' and whites were supposedly better.
Heck. She could think of a few great examples where that logic fell through, but that was neither here nor there. When she finally reached the detention room, down the hall where the 'assistant principle's' office was, she heard a rather familiar voice.
"Yes do you know where I might find her?" A smooth, animated like voice echoed against the walls. Saucy's eyes grew to the size of dinner saucers, Corny! She couldn't believe he was here...why was he here?! Her hair had been picked to perfection yet she could not shake the feeling of embarrassment she was developing. Not embarrassed of her afro, that was never the case, embarrassed because she knew it was seen as unkept so people would stare. That. That is what she was embarrassed about. She quickly ducked into the detention room, her back against the door as her chest heaved with...joy? Excitement? Fear? She couldn't pinpoint it exactly but if she had to pick, it might be all three.
"Why you all shaken up Saucy?" Her big headed little brother chuckled as he grooved to the jams on the radio. She shook her head, taking her seat at the "teacher's" desk. She tapped her nail along with the instruments.
"Sandra?" The melodic voice traveled to her ears causing her head to the door, seeing...Corny. "Mr.Co- Corny." She stood up from her seat, dusting her her dress off, "What brings you here? Oh you must be looking for Amber or Tracey, they are on the other side of the-" He quickly shakes his head, "No no, I'm actually here for you. I wanted to talk to you but I couldn't wait until the show. I hope that's alright." He grabbed her hand, looking into her eyes
Sandra couldn't believe it. He actually wanted to see her. "Well I- I don't mind at all, what is it that you need from me?" The man started but in walked Link Larkin and Tracey Turnblad, having their own little conversation. "You didn't have to do that, Link." He shrugged his shoulders as if it wasn't a big deal, "Hey, no prob." He surveyed the room, watching all of the teenagers dance and jive to the tunes, "Besides, looks like a cool scene down here."
Saucy decided to hold off on the conversation and slowly but surely, let go of the man in front of her, walking over to Tracey and embracing her, "Hey Trace, I'm startin' to think you like coming to see us in here." They both giggled in sync and broke the hug. The bell rang and Seaweed, with Penny right behind him, "Listen, man, you ain't gotta stop now." As he spoke, Saucy made her way back to Corny, "How about you come with us? My ma is having a little get together at the store, I don't think she'd mind." A smile grew across his face accompanied with a nod, "I'd appreciate that very much Ms.Stubbs." Corny grabbed the eldest Stubbs' hand, laying a gentle kiss on the back of it.
Apparently, as Saucy was getting her groove on with Mr.Collins, Link, Penny, and Tracey had also been invited to this funky shindig, but if anything Link was worried about their neighborhood. Penny and Tracey on the other had were elated!
"I've never been to North Avenue before," Link scratched the back of his neck nervously, "Uh, well, would it be safe?" Sandra couldn't help but chuckle at him, she wondered if he knew that's how they felt everyday.
Seaweed looked over at his sister, looking Corny up and down before smirking, "San, tell cracker boy to calm down. He ain't got nothin' to worry about." Saucy walked over to the blue vest wearing boy and pat him on the shoulder, "It's all cool, y'all will be just fine."
Right next to them, Penny made her way towards Tracey, a wide grin plastered across her doll like cheeks, "Wow! Being invited places by colored people!" The black and white haired girl reciprocated her friends emotions, "It feels so hip!" They squealed in excitement while Saucy and Seaweed gave each other a look as if they were communicating to one another. The boy started, "I'm glad y'all feel that way," His sister wrapped an arm around his shoulder, "'Cause, uh, not many people do, y'all know what I'm sayin'?" She turned her head around to her peers, the people she's know since childhood. Each and everyone of them were different, her brother included, yet to white people they were one in the same.
They all lifted their heads or nodded along, a strew of, "Yeah that's right." "Mhm!" "Don't we know it"'s rang through the class room.
Saucy shook her head, turning back to their caucasian counter parts as her brother began, "Heeeeeeey! I can't see why people look at me and only see the color of my face!"
Saucy nodded along with him patting him on the shoulder while stepping in front of him then extending her pointer finger up to the air,
"Ah yeah, and then there's those who try to help God knows, but always have to put me in my place." She slid next to her brother so they could both address the group,
"But we won't ask you to be color blind," They began to shuffle along the floor, feet tapping rhythmically. Sandra didn't notice it yet, but Corny's eyes hadn't let her since she began talking, how could he? The girl was just so..enchanting, but he also knew her and her brother's word were true.
"Cause if you pick up the fruit child, you're sure to fiiiind."
"The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice." Seaweed leaned his head on Saucy's shoulder in a playful manner, as if he wasn't speaking the truth, "I could say it ain't so but darlin' what's the use?"
Saucy jokingly pushed Seaweed off of her, now finally making eye contact with Corny,
"The darker the chocolate, the richer the taste." She left him with a wink before returning to her sibling as the spoke together,
"And that's where it's at! Now baby run and teeell that."
The students behind the waved at them like church mothers do at the end of a Sunday server, "Run and tell that!"
The began walking out of the class room because they knew in fact this conversation was going to take them longer than they had,
"Hey, yeaaaah!" Seaweed strutted down the hallway, knowing that no one but the janitors was here.
"I can't see why people disagree, Each time I tell em' what I know is true, oh no," Saucy turned around, grabbing Corny's hand, pulling him along with her as her brother broke in once again, "And if you come and se the world I'm from, I bet your heart is gonna feel it tooooo!"
Tracey began shimmying along with Seaweed while Link and Penny stood back, taking in all of the information being given to them.
Seaweed, turned to face Trace, his new found friend of many differences, yet she did not view him any different than her. "I could lie but baby, let's be bold, vanilla can be nice but if the truth be told!"
Saucy broke away from Corny, her brother embracing his sister as she addressed everyone, "Blacker the berry! The sweeter the juice!"
The children began running out of the double doors, out to the "grassy" area where the bus came to pick them and Saucy began to shuffle in the grass, "I could say it ain't so but darlin', what's the use?"
The Stubbs boy had made his way over to the slightly taller red haired girl, gazing up at her with a look all too familiar to Saucy, "The darker the chocolate, the richer the taste!" Saucy rolled her eyes, grabbing her brother by the collar, yanking him back towards her. Not because she disapproved of what he was doing, heck, she was on the same boat as him, but she didn't what him to get hurt, like she was fixin' to do.
"And that's where it's at! Oh baby, baby, run and teeeelll that." Once again, the response was echoed amongst the teens who pranced around, right along with Saucy and Seaweed.
Finally they had arrived to the bus stop waiting patiently, still engaging in such a riveting conversation, in Sandra's opinion. From her peripheral vision, a brown skinned girl bouncing over to the two of them, the youngest Stubbs sibling. In the back ground, Amber Von Tussle could be heard yelling, "Link! Link Larkin!" Yet it was not acknowledged, not even by Link himself.
"Oh y'all this is our sister, Little Inez, say hey baby." Sandra kissed her sister on the top of her head, smoothing out her bangs then letting her go.
"Mr.Collins? What are you- Hey! I know Tracey Turnblad! Good for you girl you got on the show!" Seaweed patted her on the back as Tracey pipped up, "Well you better be next!" Inez's head got a little higher as she thought about it, Saucy knew that she'd been dreaming of the day she could dance for a real audience, she just hoped she'd be there to see it.
"Ya got that right!" Seaweed broke in and ushered everyone to back up, all but Saucy moved because she knew exactly what was about to happen and she couldn't help but jump in. "You better show em' girl!" The eldest sibling got into ready stance, waiting for her sister to lead the way as the other began to form in the back of them.
"I'm tired of coverin' up all my pride!" Inez began to move in a way, not even Tracey had seen before, she was amazed! "So give me five on the black hand side!"
"I got a new way of movin' and I got my own voice!"
"So how can I help but to shout and rejoice!"
Inez grabbed her siblings' hands, bouncing about like a rubber ball that had been shot out of a football stadium, passionately speaking, "Oh the people 'round here can barely pay their rent! Then try to make a dollar outta, fifteen cents!" The bus had pulled up and opened its doors, all of them including Link, Tracey, Penny, and Corny hopped on, intently listening to the young girl,
"But we got a spirit money just can't buy, It's deep as a river and soars to the sky, to the sky!"
They hadn't even taken their seats because of how excited they all were. Saucy help onto the chair back, stabling herself as she made eye-contact with suit wearing man in front of her, "Hey! I can't see the reason it can't be the kinda world where we all get our chance!"
"The time is now! So we can show 'em how, so turn the music up and let's all dance! "
In this moment, Sandra took this opportunity to sit neck to Corny, her hand now on top of his and a soft grin on her face, "Cause all things are equal when it comes to love."
Seaweed's hand came down on his sister's shoulder, startling her as his head came between her and the slick haired man next to her, "Well that ain't quiet true, when push comes to shove!"
"The black the berry! The sweeter the juice! They say it so but darlin' what's the use. The darker the chocolate, The richer the taste!"
Seaweed grooved his way towards Penny, gyrating and shimmying in all the right ways that caught her attention.
"And that's where it's at! Now baby, baby, baby, run and telllll that!"
~As the bus went through the suburban neighborhood, the scenery began to change significantly from wide houses, to tall apartment buildings that look like they have been in use for a while. Men, women, children, heck even dogs were out on the streets, dancing, singing, laughing, or just having a grand ol' time~
One by one they all filed out, some going home, some prancing to the store, others staying right there. As Seaweed hoped out of the bus, he gave Johnny some skin and began making his way to Penny Pingleton. Slowly, he took her blowpop out of her mouth, winking at her and putting a two fingered kiss on her lips as she fell back from excitement.
Tracey and Link looked at one another before quickly rushing to her aide.
Hello! I want to write stories or drabbles. Anything really but I struggle with staying on one 'topic' when I have so much freedom and ideas going through my head.
Feel free to request something that you would want me to write and I'll try my best to deliver and make it good.
I'm very multifaceted/have a wide range of interest that grows every month.
My main interests at the moment:
Kpop- Bangtan Boys (BTS), Stray kids, Tomorrow x Together, Enhypen, Black Pink, and more
Rapper- Icespice, Nicki Minaj, Megan Thee Stallion, Blueface, NLB Choppa, NBA YoungBoy, Kendrick Lamar, And more
Singers- Rihanna, Beyonce, Halsey, Taylor Swift, Katie Perry, Olivia Rodrigo, JVKE, Sabrina Carpenter, and more
Movies/series (kdrama as well)- Too many to mention LMAO
TV shows (kdrama as well)- Same here
If you just ask, I'll let you know if I can write for them. E.g; Q: "Do you write for/about John Wick?" A: Not yet because I haven't watched the movies (don't @ me plz)
Angst, Fluff, Comfort, etc
I'm iffy ab writing smut so that's on hold for a bit maybe suggestive will be the furthest I go. Also for texts ff I'll have to find a good spot that works on this old phone.
POC friendly (I myself am a WOC), I'll try to be as gender neutral as I can unless request to do gender specified. As stated before I am a WOC meaning I am also a (cis)female so it'll be a bit of a challenge to write for other genders but I'll give it a chance.
I'm sorry if this is all over the place, I'm writing this early in the moring. I drunk some coffee to finish up some work so I'm trying to use this energy for something else. If you have any questions lemme know (don't ask anything weird plz)
Also you can call me "Lala" "Lolly" "LaLo" "Lalolly" or whatever (might change my username anyway)
Hobie x Afro-mexicana!reader who's aesthetic is Mexicore
(Mexicore: The combination of Indigenous Latine/Mexican culture and alternative/scenemo/goth subcultures - created by Pierce The Veil - example of the fashion from @zamber_lamber on TikTok pictured as I am unable to find any afromexican examples online)
