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lortsyall · 1 day ago

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Echoes of Eywa's Child.

chapter 4.

(Neteyam x Human!Reader series)

author's note: Happy New Year, everyone! I hope 2025 brings you everything you wish for and more! I had a blast writing this chapter, and I’m so excited for you all to dive into it. But, as always, my exams are calling my name, so I’ll be back when I can. In the meantime, enjoy this chapter! ✨

Pending…Pending…

Date: August 17th,2174.

Location: Sully Marui,High Camp,Mons Veritatis,Hallelujah Mountains,Pandora.

Time: 1:28AM.

The stars always had a way of making me feel small. Not in a bad way, though—more like I was part of something much bigger, something infinite. My father once told me which one of those stars was Earth. He’d pointed it out during one of our rare quiet moments together, his voice low and steady, full of memories he didn’t share often.

“That’s Earth,” he’d said, his hand resting on my shoulder. “Where I came from. Where humans come from.”

I remember staring at the tiny dot of light, so far away, and thinking how strange it was that my blood carried a piece of that place. That tiny, distant star was supposed to be part of me, part of my story.

But I never felt it.

I never wanted to feel it.

The idea that I was part human always left a bitter taste in my mouth. It wasn’t shame exactly, more like... rejection. Like if I didn’t think about it, it wouldn’t be true. I could just be Na’vi. Fully Na’vi. The son of Toruk Makto, the son of the People. Not this... mix, this in-between thing that didn’t quite fit anywhere.

I think that’s why her words hit me the way they did.

“I don’t belong here,” she’d said last night, her voice so quiet it was almost swallowed by the darkness around us.

I understood that. Too well.

I’d felt it the moment we arrived in Awa’atlu, surrounded by the sea clan with their skeptical eyes and quiet whispers. I’d been the golden boy back in the forest, the future Olo’eyktan, the one who had it all figured out. But in the reef, I was a stranger. A fish out of water. Literally.

For the first time in my life, I wasn’t enough. Not strong enough, not skilled enough, not... enough.

I’d see it in their eyes sometimes, the Metkayina. That subtle shift when they looked at me. The respect was still there,yet the feeling lingered. Like I didn’t quite belong, no matter how hard I tried.

And now, here I was again, caught between worlds.

She reminded me of myself back then. That restless energy, that sharp defensiveness. She was trying so hard to figure out where she fit, just like I had. But she didn’t see what I saw in her: a spark, something unyielding, like she’d find her place no matter what it took.

That scared me, I think. The way I found myself wanting to be part of her story, wanting to help her figure it out. She wasn’t like anyone else I’d met.

She was... different.

And that terrified me.

Because I didn’t know what to do with that. Didn’t know how to handle the way my thoughts kept circling back to her, the way I noticed every little detail about her. The curve of her lips when she was annoyed. How she got so mad at me when I saved her,and I couldn’t help but feel amused,thanks to her fiery nature.

It was distracting, and I didn’t like being distracted.

I sighed, running a hand through my braids as I stared up at the stars again. The night was quiet, the village still. Somewhere in the distance, the soft hum of the forest blended with the faint whispers of the breeze.

I told myself to stop thinking about her. We’ve known each other for what,a few weeks?That is,if you count the fact that I didn’t see her for some time after the first ambush when Eywa sent the atokirina her way.

I need to focus. To focus on the tasks ahead, on my duty to my people, to my father. But it was harder than I wanted to admit.

Because she wasn’t just in my head anymore.

She was under my skin.

The morning came not with the rising sun but with the familiar pull of duty, a rhythm as natural to me as breathing. Sleep had been fleeting, fractured by restless dreams and thoughts I didn’t care to name. It wasn’t unusual—restlessness had been my companion since the day we left the Omatikaya forests for Awa’atlu. But today, it felt different, heavier somehow.

As the first hints of light crept over the trees, I stepped out of my tent, the cool morning air brushing against my skin. Tendrils of bioluminescence still lingered, fading with the approach of dawn.

I made my way toward the ikran rookery, my steps purposeful yet unhurried. Na’la was already awake, perched on a high branch, preening her bright green and blue feathers. She chirped as I approached, a sharp, almost impatient sound that made me smile.

“You’re eager today,” I said in Na’vi, running my hand along her neck. Her scales were warm beneath my palm, and she tilted her head toward me, demanding more attention.

“Na’la, we have work to do,” I murmured, though my tone was more affectionate than scolding. I untangled the leather reins and checked the straps carefully.

A familiar voice broke the quiet. “You talk to her like she’s your child.”

I turned to see Lo’ak leaning against a nearby tree, a teasing grin plastered across his face. He had the kind of ease about him that I envied sometimes, like the weight of the world hadn’t yet found a way to settle on his shoulders.

“And you talk like you’re not late,” I shot back, raising a brow.

Lo’ak laughed, stepping closer. “Father’s been asking about the perimeter check. You’re supposed to report in after.”

“I know,” I replied, securing the final strap on Na’la’s harness. “I’m heading out now.”

Lo’ak’s gaze lingered on me, his grin fading slightly. “You didn’t sleep again, did you?”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, brushing off his concern.

“You’re always ‘fine,’” Lo’ak muttered, crossing his arms. “One day, you’re going to have to admit you’re not perfect, bro.”

“I’ll let you know when that day comes,” I replied, swinging onto Na’la’s back. “Now, are you coming, or are you just here to criticize me?”

Lo’ak chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ve got my own tasks, thanks. I have to go over some strategies with Za'ruk for the next ambush. But try not to overthink everything, alright? You’re worse than Kiri sometimes.”

I ignored his jab, giving Na’la the signal to take off. The rush of wind and the sudden burst of speed cleared my mind, at least for a moment. The forest spread out beneath us, an endless expanse of green and blue, dotted with the faint glow of the morning’s first light.

As we approached the eastern perimeter, I scanned the ground below, noting the subtle signs of movement among the foliage. A small group of hunters was already out, their bows slung across their backs as they moved with practiced precision.

I landed Na’la near the group, dismounting with a fluid motion. The lead hunter, a tall Na’vi named Ayzek, approached with a nod of greeting.

“Neteyam. Oel ngati kameie,ma tsmukan.” he said, his voice steady,as he greets me in the Na’vi way. “Everything’s quiet this morning. No sign of activity from the Sky People.”

“I see you,brother.Good,” I replied, glancing toward the horizon. “But stay alert. They’ve been quiet for too long.”

Ayzek nodded again, his expression serious. “We’ll keep watch.”

I spent the next hour moving along the perimeter, checking for any signs of disturbance. The forest was eerily peaceful, the kind of quiet that always felt like the calm before a storm. Yet the storm never came.

By the time I finished, the sun was fully above the trees, casting long shadows across the ground. I guided Na’la back towards the village, my mind already shifting to the next task on my list.Grandmother asked me if I could gather some herbs for her,so I got to work.

I found the plants I needed, bending low to carefully pluck the delicate leaves. The task was simple enough, but my thoughts kept returning to the conversation we’d had last night. She had been so guarded, so closed off. But underneath that was something more—something I couldn’t quite put into words. It reminded me of the way the forest was sometimes: unpredictable, wild, full of life, but also dangerous.

As I landed back at base,I made my way quickly to my grandmother’s tent, the familiar scent of herbs and smoke greeted me. The Tsahìk was seated cross-legged near a low fire, her hands deftly mixing a paste in a stone bowl.

“Grandmother,I see you." I said, bowing my head respectfully.

“Neteyam,” she replied without looking up. “You are late.”

“My apologies,” I said, kneeling beside her. “The perimeter was secure.”

She finally looked at me, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “And yet your mind is elsewhere.”

I hesitated, unsure how to respond. My grandmother had a way of seeing through me, of pulling truths I wasn’t ready to confront.

“There is much to think about,” I said carefully.

Her gaze lingered on me for a moment longer,a small smile making its way on her face before she returned to her work. “Your father has asked for you. Go to him when you are done here.”

I nodded, rising to my feet. Her words stayed with me as I made my way toward his marui. There was always something to think about, always something to do. But lately, my thoughts kept returning to her—to the human girl who didn’t belong here, yet somehow felt like she might.

For now, though, there was work to be done. And work was the one thing I could always count on to keep my mind in check.

The low hum of the base was the only sound besides the soft padding of my footsteps as I made my way to my father’s marui. My mind was still spinning from the conversation I’d had earlier, the one that had gotten under my skin more than I wanted to admit. I wasn’t sure what it was about her that kept pulling my attention, but the more I saw of her, the harder it was to ignore the strange pull.

I rounded a corner, barely glancing up before—

Bam!

I felt the impact hard in my chest as she collided with me, sending a jolt through both of us. My body instinctively moved to catch her, but she was already stepping back, muttering under her breath.

“Dammit,” she hissed, her hand flying to her left shoulder, massaging the spot she’d rammed into me. “Fucking hell, watch where—”

Her voice faltered mid-curse as her eyes flicked up to meet mine. Wide and startled, her gaze locked onto mine, and for a moment, we both froze. The air between us thickened, silent except for the faint hum of the base and the echo of her earlier words.

“Neteyam?” she said finally, her voice softer now, tinged with surprise.

I blinked, the initial shock fading as I took her in. Her cheeks were flushed—whether from embarrassment or irritation, I couldn’t tell—and her lips were slightly parted as if she wasn’t sure what to say next. Fucking hell, she’s so pretty.

“Syulang,” I said, letting out a breathless laugh and easing into a grin. “Are you trying to get me killed?”

She straightened up and let out an exasperated sigh. “Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” she muttered, then huffed in frustration. “I swear, I need to be more careful. My brain’s on autopilot lately.”

I chuckled, the sound breaking some of the tension. “No harm done. You sure you’re okay? That was a pretty solid hit.” I asked, studying her face. The frustration from earlier had softened, but I couldn’t help noticing how much more relaxed she looked.

She rolled her eyes but smiled faintly. “I’ve had worse,” she said, rubbing her shoulder one more time before she gestured vaguely down the hall, a little too animated, her voice picking up speed. “I was actually heading to Unit 2—kind of a weird place, but cozy enough. I’ve already taken some blood samples, nothing too fancy, you know? Just figuring out some things with the new enhanced Avatar technology and—” She paused, blinking as if she hadn’t realized how much she was talking.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away from her. She was talking so fast, her words tumbling over each other like she was on a mission to distract herself, or maybe... distract me. She was so different from the defensive girl I had bumped into last night in the common room. Either way, I could feel my heart rate picking up in the strangest way.

“Blood samples?” I repeated, trying to focus on the words, though I couldn’t stop staring at how her lips moved when she spoke. “What... kind of samples?” Did I really just ask what kind of samples? Am I a fucking idiot?

"Oh, you know,” she said, waving her hand dismissively, “baseline stuff. Standard variables. I can’t really get into the fun experiments until I have a solid foundation to work with.” She grinned like she was sharing some inside secret, and for a moment, I found myself completely captivated by the spark in her eyes.

She was so different from anyone I’d met. So...alive, in a way I couldn’t quite explain.

“Right,” I said, quieter than I intended, distracted by the way her hair caught the faint light. “You’re settling in, I see?”

Her laugh was soft, disarming. “What else am I supposed to do around here? Besides, I’ve got to keep busy or else I’ll start thinking too much about... everything else.”

The way she said everything else stirred something in my chest. It was in her tone, the way her words seemed heavier than they should have been. I didn’t want to push, but I couldn’t stop myself. “What do you mean, everything else?”

She hesitated, a fleeting expression of vulnerability crossing her face. Like she hadn’t meant to let that slip. Then, with a small shrug and a half-smile, she answered, “It’s nothing, really. Just... adjusting. I know I’m not exactly welcome here, but I don’t have a lot of options right now,do I?”

Her voice softened toward the end, her posture shifting slightly, as though the weight of her words had finally settled on her shoulders. My eyes caught the way her fingers tugged at her cuticles—a nervous habit I’d seen around before. It was subtle but telling, the kind of gesture that hinted at something deeper bubbling under the surface.

She’s anxious... huh.

“I get it,” I said gently, my voice dropping in volume as though I didn’t want to break the fragile moment between us. “It’s... a lot to take in. But you’ll find your place. In time. You just have to trust the process.”

Her eyes flickered toward me, and for a second, something unreadable passed through them—an emotion too layered to pin down.The look lingered just long enough to make my chest tighten before she glanced away, letting her gaze drift to the floor.

That’s when I saw it again—the same vulnerable look she’d had last night. The mask she wore, the one that made her seem sharp and untouchable, slipped just a little. Beneath it was something raw, something almost fragile.

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but the words seemed to catch in her throat. Her lips pressed into a thin line before she let out a soft sigh. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she spoke. “You’re right,” she said, her voice quieter now, thoughtful but distant, as if she was speaking more to herself than to me.

I didn’t press her, even though the pause felt heavy with unspoken things. I could sense the struggle she was having, the way she weighed every word like it might tip some precarious balance. Instead, I let the silence stretch between us, offering her the space to decide what she wanted to say—or not say.

But even as her eyes stayed fixed on the floor below, her fingers had stopped pulling at her cuticles. A small thing, but I noticed.

And just like that, the moment seemed to waver, as fragile as a thread. She stepped back, her attention shifting toward the path. “Anyway... I should get back to the lab. I’ve still got a ton of data to go through.”

I watched her pull away, feeling a sudden, inexplicable tightness in my chest. There was no reason for me to feel like this, no reason for the way my feet wanted to follow hers even as she moved further away. I don’t even know her that well.

“Yeah, okay,” I muttered. “I’ll see you later?”

She glanced back at me, her lips curling into a small smile. “Actually,” she said, a mischievous,yet shy glint in her eyes, “how about we meet in the common room tonight,around 11? You know, talk more. Like last night. I could use a distraction.”

Her invitation—casual, but somehow intimate—had my heart beating faster than it should have. For a split second, I wasn’t sure if I should be relieved or panicked. There was something about her that pulled at me in a way that I couldn’t control. But I nodded anyway.

“Sure. Tonight. I’ll uh…I’ll see you there.” I said, my voice quieter and more shy than usual.

Her smile lingered for a moment, her gaze soft and warm, before she turned and walked off down the hall. I couldn’t stop watching her as she disappeared into the distance.

The moment she was out of sight, I exhaled sharply, trying to calm the racing thoughts in my mind. What is wrong with me?

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. Between the two of us, something was changing—something I wasn’t prepared for. And I didn’t know whether to embrace it or run. But all I knew for sure was that I’d be in that common room tonight, just like she wanted.

Whatever happens then, I’ll deal with it.

I stood there for a few moments after she walked away, my mind swirling with the unexpected tension that had sparked between us. It wasn’t like me to get so... flustered. I wasn’t some teenager caught off guard by a fleeting glance or a playful smile. But the way she spoke, how she was so full of energy now that she was in her own element, and how the words seemed to flow out of her like she couldn’t stop herself—it made me feel... unsteady.

Shaking my head to clear the thoughts clouding my mind, I turned on my heel and continued my path toward my father's marui. There was no time to be distracted right now. I had duties to attend to, responsibilities I couldn’t afford to ignore.

I hadn’t been on my way for more than a few minutes before the weight of the moment caught up with me again. She had asked to meet later—tonight—and I hadn’t expected it. I had thought maybe it was a fluke, a casual comment. But the look in her eyes, the sincerity of her words, made it clear she meant it. And despite everything, part of me wanted to meet her. Wanted to see what would happen when we spoke more, when we spent more time together.

But now wasn’t the time for that. I had bigger things to worry about.

I reached my father’s marui, the familiar earthy scent of the woven structure greeting me as I stepped inside. The dim light of late morning filtered through the arched openings, casting intricate patterns over the floor. My thoughts were still scattered, each one vying for attention like a restless storm.

Dad was already there, sitting cross-legged at the center of the room, his posture as straight as ever, exuding a quiet authority. A map of the surrounding territories was spread out before him, his fingers tracing lines and markings that detailed our fragile hold on this land.

“You’re late,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with mild reprimand. He didn’t look up; he didn’t need to. His tone carried enough weight.

“Sorry, Dad,” I muttered, lowering myself to sit across from him. The woven mat beneath me felt rough, grounding. “Got... distracted.”

At that, his eyes flicked up, sharp and discerning. Concern flickered briefly in his gaze, though it was hidden beneath his stoic exterior. “Distracted?” His brow furrowed. “You’re still thinking about those reports from yesterday?”

I almost laughed at that—those reports were the last thing on my mind—but I stopped myself, shaking my head. “No, not exactly.” My tone was too neutral, betraying nothing of the whirlwind in my head. The lab, the ambushes, the strange pull I felt toward her—all of it churned within me, just out of reach.

Dad’s gaze lingered for a moment, his keen eyes assessing me. “You’re sure? Because…whatever’s bothering you, we need to stay focused. We’ve got more problems than just the RDA and their new push for territory.”

“I know,” I said, nodding quickly, trying to appear more resolute than I felt. “I’m focused, Dad. It’s just...there’s a lot going on right now. Everything’s changing so fast, and I don’t think I’ve caught up yet.”

For a moment, silence stretched between us. Then, to my surprise, his expression softened. He leaned back slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “You know,” he began, his tone uncharacteristically reflective, “I’ve been where you are. When I came here as a human. When we moved to Awa’atlu, to live with the Metkayina. I felt like I was walking into another world,every single time. Everything I knew was stripped away. For the first time, I didn’t know where I fit.”

I blinked, taken aback. My father—so steady, so unwavering—had felt that way? I’d never heard him speak like this before.

“You?” I asked, skepticism coloring my voice despite myself.

He smirked faintly, but his eyes remained serious. “Yes, me. I was used to being in control, to knowing my role and what was expected of me,especially here with the people. Our people. But there, among the Metkayina... I was an outsider. Not to mention,back when I came here to Pandora,almost everyone looked down on me because of my…condition. I had to learn everything from scratch, adapt to a way of life that was completely foreign to me.”

“And you found your place eventually,” I said quietly, as though seeking confirmation.

“I did,” he said with a slow nod. “But it wasn’t easy. And it wasn’t always clear. Sometimes, finding your place isn’t about fitting in. It’s about carving out your own path, even if it’s not what you expected.”

His words settled heavily in the air between us. They were meant to reassure me, I knew, but they only seemed to magnify the doubts I hadn’t yet voiced.

“What if I’m not sure where I belong anymore?” I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it. I could feel the regret seeping into my bones almost instantly.

My father’s gaze softened, and for a moment, he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a lower, more intimate tone. “You’re my son, Neteyam. You’ve always been destined to lead. But leadership isn’t about having all the answers. It’s about making the hard choices when no one else will. And right now, you’re needed. By your family, by the clan. Don’t forget that.”

I nodded, his words hitting their mark. The familiar weight of responsibility settled on my shoulders again, grounding me even as the unease within me continued to churn.

“Got it,” I said, standing up, summoning a conviction I didn’t truly feel. My legs felt heavy, as if the weight of every expectation was dragging me down. I am so, so tired. The kind of exhaustion that seeps into your bones, that lingers even after the day is done. But I couldn’t let it show, not now. Not in front of him.

I glanced at my father’s face—strong, unwavering, the image of everything I was supposed to be—and felt the pressure tighten around me like a vise. I can’t let him down. I can’t let anyone down.

“I’ll handle it, Dad,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me. I squared my shoulders, as if straightening my spine could bear the weight a little better. “I’ll take care of everything.”

But even as I spoke the words, they felt hollow, as though I was pouring from a well that had long since run dry. The weight of responsibility, of duty, of always being the one everyone relied on—it was crushing. Yet I swallowed the heaviness, shoving it down where no one could see, because that’s what was expected of me. That’s what I had to be.

“I know you will,” he replied firmly. “Now, let’s go over those raid reports from the Aranahe. Priya said Etuwa mentioned something important about their movements.”

We spent the next hour combing through the maps and plans, dissecting strategies and weighing risks. By the time we finished, my head was spinning with logistical details, but the unease hadn’t left me. It clung to me, stubborn and unrelenting.

As I stepped out of the marui, the mid-morning sun had risen higher, casting dappled light through the canopy above. The air felt thick with possibility and tension, the kind that promised change.

And tonight, I would talk to her. Maybe then I’d start to make sense of the storm inside me. Maybe then I’d begin to understand what it was about her that had shifted my entire world off its axis.

The soft glow of the lamps in the common room greeted me as I pushed open the door, expecting to see her sitting at one of the tables, waiting for me like we had planned. But the room was empty, save for a few scattered papers and a faint hum in the air. The silence felt heavier than it should have, and I couldn't help but feel a small knot form in my stomach. Had she changed her mind? Was I being too... eager?

I stood there for a moment, my gaze flicking from one corner of the room to the other, my thoughts racing. It wasn’t like her to ditch without saying something. She didn't seem like that kind of person. My hand lingered on the doorframe as I considered the possibility that I’d misread her intentions. Maybe she just didn’t want to talk tonight.

"Great," I muttered under my breath. "Did she forget, or did I get the time wrong?"

I lingered for a minute, debating if I should just call it a night, but something told me to check on her. Her room wasn’t far, and I figured it wouldn’t hurt to swing by.

When I reached her door, I knocked softly. "You in there?"

There was a pause, then her voice came through, muffled but annoyed. "Yeah, come in."

I stepped inside and found her sitting on her bed, one hand digging into her left shoulder with an almost pained expression. Her hair was loose, framing her face, and she looked… tired. Not just physically, but like she was carrying something heavy.

“What’s going on? You okay?” I asked, stepping closer, my voice laced with concern.

She sighed, brushing a strand of hair out of her face as she gave me a weak smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t meet you in the common room. My shoulder’s acting up, and I couldn’t drag myself out of bed.”

My brows knit together in a deep frown, the memory of her earlier bumping into me flashing in my mind. “Did you… did you hurt yourself when you bumped into me today?”

“What?” she asked, her expression confused before shaking her head quickly. “No, no, I—”

Her words trailed off, and for a moment, she hesitated. The confident, sharp-tongued girl I knew seemed to falter, her smile fading into something more vulnerable. Then, with a frustrated groan, she dropped the façade altogether.

“...Gah. A long time ago, I had an accident at the gym. Lifted before I warmed up and messed up my shoulder pretty bad,” she admitted, her voice quieter now, almost reluctant. “I got it fixed back on Earth, but sometimes it still flares up. I think it’s the pressure here, the mountains, the Flux Vortex. Everything feels heavier, and sometimes it just… hurts like hell.”

Her honesty hit me like a wave, and I found myself at a loss for words. For all her fire and wit, there was a fragility to her I hadn’t expected.

“Why didn’t you tell someone?” I asked, confusion—and maybe a hint of frustration—coloring my voice.

She sighed again, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the blanket covering her legs. “I don’t like people fussing over me, okay? It’s… embarrassing. Makes me feel weird and emotional. And when the pain gets bad, I turn into a total asshole. Groggy, snappy, all that fun stuff. Trust me, you wouldn’t want to be around me then."

I tilted my head, smirking. "Paskalin, I’ve seen you pissed off at me for saving your life. I think I can handle snappy.’"

The term of endearment fit her so well, even better than syulang. She wasn’t delicate like a flower, something to be admired from a distance or sheltered from the wind. No, she was something else entirely. She had a resilience, a sharpness under her sweetness that reminded me of the wild berries that grew deep in the forest. Small, vibrant, and full of flavor, but with a tang that lingered.

Paskalin.

The word rolled through my lips like a whisper, soft and unassuming, yet it carried so much weight. Sweet berry. It was her—unexpected, unapologetic, and impossible to forget. Every interaction with her left a taste, something unique that stayed with me long after she was gone. She wasn’t just something pretty to look at; she had depth, layers, and a wildness that drew you in.

Calling her syulang like I did when I bumped into her wouldn’t have done her justice in this moment. She wasn’t fragile or fleeting. She was vibrant, alive in a way that commanded attention without trying. Paskalin. That was her.

And the more I thought about it, the more I realized the name wasn’t just fitting—it felt like it had been waiting for her all along.

That made her laugh for real. For a moment,I could feel she didn't want to admit that I had saved her life. "...Okay, fair point. But still, it’s annoying as hell. Plus,I told you,I don’t like people fussing over me. I don’t want to seem like I’m trying to get attention.”

“Too bad,” I said firmly, moving closer and sitting on the edge of her bed without a second thought. Gosh,these beds are small. “You’re stuck with me now.”

She blinked at me, momentarily surprised, before letting out a soft, genuine laugh. It wasn’t the sharp, sarcastic sound I was used to—it was warm, unguarded. It made something tighten in my chest.

“Great,” she said, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “Just what I needed—Prince Charming to the rescue.”

I smirked, leaning back slightly but keeping my gaze steady on her. “I’m serious, though. You shouldn’t have to deal with this alone. You don’t have to.”

She rolled her eyes, but I could see the faintest hint of gratitude in her expression. “Yeah, yeah. You’ve made your point.”

We spent the hour or so talking about the dumbest things—stories about the douchebags at her college back on Earth, our childhood memories, and random jokes that had us both laughing so hard my ribs hurt. To my surprise,it was so…natural. At some point, we decided we were starving, so we raided the common room for leftover snacks,and munched on them on the floor. It felt more comfortable sitting on the floor,given our…size difference.

I watched as she shifted uncomfortably, rubbing her shoulder again. I remembered how my grandmother used to massage my chest after I got shot, easing the tension on my back and helping the muscles heal. Before I could second-guess it, I asked her.

"Uh… do you want me to try something?" I asked, scratching the back of my neck.

She raised an eyebrow. "Try what?"

"My grandmother taught me a massage technique. It’s supposed to help with muscle pain. Worked for me when I, uh… got hurt." I didn’t elaborate. I couldn't open that part of myself to her. Not yet,at least.

She raised an eyebrow, skeptical,the sass dripping from her tone. “What, you suddenly moonlight as a masseur now?”

“Shut up and turn around,” I said, rolling my eyes.

She snorted but complied, sitting cross-legged on the floor and turning her back to me. I positioned myself behind her,trying to remember the technique. As soon as I started kneading the tight muscles,she let out a long,low groan of relief.

My ears twitched,and I fought to keep my focus. It’s just a massage. Relax. But fuck,the way she was melting under my touch wasn’t helping.

“Holy shit,” she muttered, her voice muffled. “That feels… really good.”

“You’re tense as hell,” I said,trying to lighten up the mood. “Do you ever not carry the world on your shoulders?”

“Ha ha,” she deadpanned,though her voice was softer. “Keep going. Don’t stop.”

We stayed like that for a while,her groaning softly and me trying not to die of embarrassment. But somewhere in the rhythm of it,I realized something. We were becoming…friends. Real friends.

“Where were you when I needed this back on Earth?” she asks,a tinge of amusement present in her voice.

“Probably trying not to fall out of trees,” I said, grinning.

She laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “You’re terrible.”

I chuckled, though my face felt a little warmer as her laughter turned into soft groans of relief yet again,which weren't exactly helping me stay focused as my mind started drifting to other places.

I froze for half a second, my face heating up before I forced myself to focus. "Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. I charge for this kind of service."

She laughed, the sound muffled by another groan. "How much? I’ll pay whatever you want if you just keep doing that."

I couldn’t help but laugh as well, shaking my head. "You’re ridiculous."

"So are you," she shot back, her voice softer now. "Seriously, though. Thanks. I don’t... I don’t usually let people help me with this kind of stuff."

"Why not?"

She hesitated, then sighed. "I guess I don’t like feeling... vulnerable. Weak."

"That’s not weak,though." I said, my hands still working on her shoulder. "Just like your people have that saying. It’s human. Or,you know,whatever."

"Yeah. Or whatever." she said,her tone sarcastic,yet I could hear the faint smile in her voice.

We stayed like that for a while, the room quiet except for her soft breathing and the occasional sarcastic remark from her when I hit a particularly sore spot. By the time I finished, her shoulder was noticeably less tense, and she looked… lighter, somehow.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice softer than usual. “I mean it.”

“Anytime,” I replied, meaning it more than I realized.

Her eyes lowered suddenly, a flicker of vulnerability creeping into her expression. “I guess... sometimes it’s hard for people to understand. They either see me as the tough, independent person,because that’s what I want them to see. Sometimes,I show them my softer part and I’m usually taken advantage of when I act like that. But… I’m not invincible,you know?”

I felt a knot tighten in my chest at her words. She was tough. She was smart. She was so much more than she seemed to give herself credit for. “You don’t have to apologize for being real and vulnerable,” I said, my voice low and reassuring. “You’re allowed to feel the way you do. You’re not alone here.”

She looked up at me, her eyes softening a little as she took in my words. “I didn’t realize how much I’ve been hiding. I guess it just gets... exhausting sometimes. Pretending that everything’s fine when it’s not.”

I couldn’t help but feel a wave of empathy wash over me. I knew that feeling. The pressure of always having to be strong, to always hold it together, even when everything inside you was falling apart. I had been in her shoes, more times than I cared to admit.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” I said, meeting her gaze with a kind of sincerity I wasn’t sure I’d ever expressed before. “I know we haven’t known each other for long but…I get it. You’re not the only one trying to find their place. Sometimes, it’s easier to hide behind walls. But you don’t have to do that with me. Not anymore.”

For a moment, she just stared at me, her expression unreadable, and then something shifted in her eyes. Maybe she saw the truth in my words, or maybe she just needed to hear them. Either way, the tension in the room seemed to ease, just a little.

“I’m not great at this whole... opening up thing,” she said, letting out a weak,quiet laugh. “But I think... maybe it’s worth trying. Right?”

I smiled at her, feeling something warm blossom in my chest. “It’s worth trying,” I agreed. “And maybe, we can help each other with that. Maybe we can even be friends.”

She raised an eyebrow at me, an amused smile tugging at her lips. “Friends?” she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice,but I could see the excitement behind her wide eyes. “You sure you’re up for it, Neteyam?”

I said, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “Of course I’m sure. Better yet,I’ll even make sure you don’t murder anyone with your mood swings.”

Her lips twitched into a smile, and she rolled her eyes, but I could see the appreciation in the small way her shoulders relaxed. “You’re a real charmer, you know.” she muttered, though there was no heat in her words.

“Hey, I’m just speaking the truth,” I replied with a grin. “The world needs more of me, I’m just saying.”

She let out a laugh, the sound a little strained but genuine. “Maybe one Neteyam is enough. I don’t know if the world could handle two.”

“I think you’re just jealous,” I teased, nudging her good shoulder lightly with my elbow.

She snorted, shaking her head. “Please. I’d rather be in pain than deal with your ego any more than I have to.”

“Fair enough,” I said, giving her a mock pout. “I’m trying to be helpful here, and you’re rejecting my kindness.”

She smirked. “I’m rejecting your sarcasm. But thanks... for listening. And for not running off the second I started talking about how much of a pain in the ass I am.”

I didn’t know why, but that made me feel warmer than it should’ve. “You’re not a pain in the ass. You’re... pretty cool, actually.” I paused, then added, “Pain or not.”

She raised an eyebrow at me. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in, like, an hour.”

I chuckled. “Well, I’m happy to help.”

Slowly,we fell into a comfortable silence. The soft glow of the dim light casting shadows that danced gently across her features. The faint hum of the base filled the silence, but I barely noticed it. My attention was entirely on her.

She was leaning back on her palms, her head tilted slightly upward as she stared at the ceiling. Her hair, unbound and free, pooled around her shoulders and down her back like an ocean of soft waves. The light caught the natural sheen in it, creating an almost halo-like effect around her head. The strands seemed to ripple with her every subtle movement, and I couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly beautiful she looked—like a moment frozen in time, raw and unfiltered.

Her face, partially illuminated, carried an ethereal softness under the subdued light. The curve of her cheekbones, the delicate arch of her brows, and the faint shadow of her lashes against her skin—all of it felt magnified in this quiet, intimate moment. Her lips, slightly parted, caught my attention for a beat too long. Full and natural, they had a way of drawing my gaze without her even trying.

The dim light softened the sharpness of her features, making her look almost dreamlike. Her doe-like eyes, though unfocused as they traced patterns across the ceiling, seemed deeper somehow, like they held an entire galaxy behind them.

Her shoulders were relaxed, but there was a tension in the way her hands pressed into the floor, grounding her. The fabric of her loose shirt shifted slightly as she breathed, the neckline dipping just enough to reveal the faint outline of her collarbones. It wasn’t intentional—nothing about her ever seemed forced—but the simplicity of it only made her more alluring.

I watched as her chest rose and fell with each breath, the steady rhythm hypnotizing me. Her posture gave her an air of quiet confidence, as if she was completely at ease in this moment. Yet, there was a vulnerability there too, something that made her seem so real and tangible, like the delicate balance between strength and softness.

She shifted slightly, her fingers curling against the floor, and the movement was so subtle, so natural, it sent a strange thrill through me. I realized then just how intently I’d been watching her, how I couldn’t seem to look away. Every little detail—the way her hair framed her face, the soft curve of her lips, the calm yet restless energy she carried—was pulling me in, bit by bit.

This was dangerous—this pull she had over me, so effortless, so natural, yet so completely overwhelming. It wasn’t just her beauty, though that alone was enough to make my thoughts scatter. It was the way she existed in this moment, unguarded and unassuming, as if she didn’t even realize how much space she took up in my mind.

And yet, the longer I looked at her, the harder it became to remember why I shouldn’t. Why I shouldn’t let my mind wander to the way her hair cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall. Why I shouldn’t think about how her lips, slightly parted, seemed to invite thoughts I had no business entertaining. Why I shouldn’t dwell on the way she held herself—with a mix of strength and vulnerability that made me want to learn every story, every scar, every smile.

It wasn’t just attraction; it was something deeper, more insidious. A seed of something I couldn’t quite name yet but knew would grow if I let it. She was starting to take root in my thoughts, her laugh, her voice, her endless curiosity all lingering in the corners of my mind long after she was gone.

I found myself breathing as if the air between us had grown heavier. Something was shifting in me—something I hadn’t expected, something I wasn’t sure I wanted. This wasn’t part of the plan. She wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan. And yet, she was becoming impossible to ignore.

The way she sat there, so perfectly unaware of the effect she was having on me, made it all the more dangerous. Because every second I spent watching her, every detail I memorized—the slight tilt of her head, the rhythm of her breathing, the way her fingers tapped absently against the floor—was another step toward something I couldn’t afford.

I wasn’t so sure about my loyalties anymore. That’s the thing with humans. They have a way of making you question everything.

And still, I couldn’t stop myself. Couldn’t stop the way my chest tightened every time she moved. Couldn’t stop the thoughts racing through my mind, each one more foolish than the last.

She was becoming a gravity I couldn’t escape, a quiet pull drawing me closer with every breath. And as I stood there, caught in the silent orbit of her presence, I realized with a sinking clarity that I was falling. Slowly, maybe, but undeniably.

Her voice brought me back to reality, soft and melodic, like a breeze stirring the stillness of the night. I hadn’t even realized how lost I had become in my thoughts until she spoke, her words cutting through the haze and pulling me back into the moment.

I blinked, forcing myself to focus on her. She was still sitting there, leaning back on her palms, her eyes flickering to mine.

“You know,” she said, staring up at the ceiling, “I think this might be the most fun I’ve had in weeks.”

“Glad I could be of service,” I said, tossing a piece of fruit into my mouth.

Our conversation was then cut short by Norm as he stumbled in, half-asleep, rubbing his eyes and muttering something about needing stronger coffee around here, while we were sprawled on the floor, mid-laugh. We froze as his gaze landed on us, his sleepy expression shifting into one of confusion.

“What are you two doing?” he mumbled, scratching his head.

Never one to back down from an opportunity to tease,she turned to him. “Star gazing,” she said, deadpan, despite the fact that we were indoors.

Norm squinted, clearly too tired to argue. “Right. Well, carry on. Just… keep it down.” He shuffled over to the kitchenette, grabbed a glass of water, and disappeared as quickly as he’d arrived.

As soon as the door closed behind him, we burst out laughing again. I rolled onto my side, clutching my stomach. “Star gazing? Really?”

She grinned, unrepentant. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Shaking my head, I let the laughter fade and leaned back against the floor, staring up at the ceiling. The quiet hum of the outpost settled around us, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt completely relaxed. In a moment of confidence,I turned my head to look at her.

She turned her head to look at me as well,her cheek resting softly against the cool floor, and for a moment, I couldn't tear my gaze away. Her hair fanned out around her like a halo,tendrils spilling in all directions, catching the dim light in a way that made her seem almost otherworldly. In that split second, I was completely entranced, my heart doing a strange, sudden lurch in my chest. It was like everything around me went quiet, and all that mattered was the sight of her there, so effortlessly beautiful. I swear, my heart physically skipped a beat.

"You're staring," she said, her voice teasing, with a smirk playing at the corners of her lips.

I blinked rapidly, forcing myself to pull my eyes away from her. "Was not," I mumbled, but my voice betrayed me, the words coming out a little too quick, too defensive.

"Totally were," she shot back, poking me in the side with one finger, sending a small, unexpected jolt through me.

I let out a quiet breath, glancing at her with surprise. Her playfulness was so unexpected, and it threw me off balance more than I cared to admit.

"As if," I muttered, a small laugh bubbling up despite myself.

She smiled then, a small, genuine smile that seemed to warm the room, making my chest tighten in ways I couldn’t name. There was something about the way her expression softened, something that tugged at me. That simple, unguarded smile made the space between us feel both impossibly close and unbearably far, all at once. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt exposed under her gaze, and I didn’t want to look away—didn’t want to lose the moment.

"Okay, enough deep shit," she said with a dramatic flourish, flopping her back onto the floor like she’d just completed an intense workout. "Tell me something dumb. Like… what’s the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you?"

I groaned, instantly feeling the weight of the question. "Oh, come on. That’s not fair."

"Fairness is overrated," she teased, smirking at me as if daring me to resist. "Come on, spill. I know you’ve got something good."

I sighed, running a hand through my braids, already regretting this conversation. "Fine. When I was like… ten, I tried to impress this girl by climbing a tree. Thought I was being all cool and smooth, y’know? But then I fell right out of it and landed in a pile of… well, let’s just say it wasn’t dirt."

She burst out laughing immediately, clutching her stomach like she couldn’t control herself. Her laugh was so contagious, I found myself cracking a smile, even though I was still cringing at the memory. "Oh my god! Please tell me she didn’t see the whole thing."

I grimaced, leaning back against the floor, trying to escape the embarrassment. "Unfortunately, yes. And she never, ever let me live it down."

She wiped a tear from her eye, still laughing uncontrollably. "Okay, your turn. Ask me something."

I thought for a moment, a mischievous grin slowly creeping onto my face. "Alright. What’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever done to impress someone?"

She groaned and covered her face with both hands, clearly regretting her decision to play along. "Oh, you’re evil. Okay, fine." She sighed deeply, as if preparing to dive into the depths of embarrassment. "When I was fifteen, I had this huge crush on a guy, and he was obsessed with some TV series, so I… painted a triquetra on my wall in black paint to impress him. It’s like… a triangle symbol, I don’t know how to describe it."

I stared at her for a moment, speechless, before I couldn’t hold it back any longer. I burst out laughing, leaning forward in disbelief. "You’re kidding."

"Wish I was," she said, her voice muffled behind her hands, but I could still hear the faint edge of humiliation in it. "He didn’t even think it was that impressive, and my parents thought I was in a cult."

I doubled over in laughter, clutching my sides as the ridiculousness of her story hit me. It was almost too perfect. The image of her—who could be so effortlessly composed and sharp—doing something so… ridiculous to impress some guy was too much for me. I could barely breathe, still laughing so hard I thought I might pass out.

We kept trading stories like that for a while, our voices rising in fits of laughter, each ridiculous tale more outrageous than the last. By the time we realized how late it was, the sun had already begun to rise. Its soft glow filtered through the windows, casting long beams of pale light across the room, making everything feel a little softer, a little quieter.

"Shit," she said, looking around in sudden realization. "We pulled an all-nighter???"

"Looks like it," I muttered, stretching as a yawn escaped me. I was exhausted, but in that moment, it felt like the kind of tiredness you could sink into, not the kind that dragged you down. The kind that comes after a night spent with someone who makes everything feel a little lighter.

She groaned, glancing at the clock and then back at me, her expression still a mix of disbelief and amusement. "We seriously need to stop doing this. I don’t know what’s worse: the fact that we stayed up all night or the fact that I actually enjoy it."

I chuckled softly, rubbing my eyes. "We’ll deal with that later. But right now, I’m pretty sure we both need coffee."

She shot me a grin, her eyes sparkling even in the early morning light. "Coffee sounds like a good idea. Let’s go make some bad decisions."

I helped her up, my hand steady as I offered her a small, teasing smile. But as soon as she stood, her eyes widened just slightly, and I couldn't suppress a chuckle at the look on her face. In that moment, the difference in our heights felt more pronounced than it ever had before.

Her gaze flickered up to me, a little self-conscious, and I could tell she was probably calculating how much taller I was than her. I couldn’t help but find it amusing—the way she looked up at me like I was some towering figure.

We both began to walk toward the kitchen, and her voice rang out, light and easy, bouncing off the walls as we moved through the quiet, stillness of the morning. “Thanks for tonight, Neteyam. For real. I didn’t think I needed this, but… I did.”

I turned my head to look at her,a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You don’t have to thank me,” I said. “I had fun too.”

She laughed lightly. “Fun, huh? Even with my bitching about my shoulder and my terrible jokes?”

I smirked. “Your jokes are pretty bad. But the shoulder thing? I get it. Everyone’s got their stuff. Doesn’t make you weak.”

As we walked side by side toward the kitchen, her words hung in the air, a soft echo I couldn’t quite shake. I didn’t think I needed this, but... I did.

Something inside me shifted. The usual weight of responsibility and expectations that always seemed to press down on me felt a little less suffocating in that moment. Maybe it was the simplicity of her gratitude, the way she didn’t try to hide the vulnerability in her voice. Maybe it was because I hadn’t felt this light in a long time—not in a way that wasn’t tied to duty or obligation.

I glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at my lips, and despite the teasing, there was something different in the way she looked at me. It wasn’t just the playful glint in her eyes or the way she always managed to make me feel like I was part of something bigger than the chaos of my life. No, this was something deeper—something that cut through the layers of expectation that had built up around me for as long as I could remember. It was like she saw me, really saw me—not just the son of Toruk Makto, not just the Olo’Eyktan-in-training, not the perfect older brother everyone expected me to be. She didn’t see the role I played or the image I projected for the world. She saw the person beneath it all.

She saw me beyond the weight of duty, beyond the endless training, beyond the constant pressure to be something I didn’t always know how to be. She saw the guy who almost lost his life to a bullet, the one who had doubts and scars that no one else seemed to notice. She didn’t flinch at the messiness of who I was or what I’d been through. She felt it, without even having to ask.

And for a split second, I wondered if maybe I was finally starting to feel seen too—really seen in a way I hadn’t allowed myself to be in so long.

The connection we’d shared over the past few hours—the jokes, the quiet moments, the easy conversation—had slowly started to weave something between us. A thread that was pulling tighter with every passing minute. And it made me realize just how much I didn’t want it to unravel.

I turned my head, watching her laugh, that light sound filling the space between us. There was something magnetic about her presence, something I hadn’t expected to find. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but she had a way of making everything else fade into the background.

“You’re annoyingly good at this whole ‘being supportive’ thing,” she said, her words almost a whisper, but they hit me harder than I expected.

It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that sort of compliment—being the strong, reliable older sibling had earned me a reputation for being the go-to guy when things got tough. But hearing it from her? It made me want to be better, to actually be the kind of person she thought I was. It made me want to do more than just live up to expectations; it made me want to live up to her expectations.

I chuckled softly, the lightness of the moment easing some of the tension I hadn’t realized I was carrying. "Comes with the territory of being the older brother. You learn to deal with people's shit." I said, shrugging casually, though I wasn’t so sure I believed it myself.

“Wow, way to ruin the moment,” she said, rolling her eyes, but there was a playful edge to her voice.

But as we reached the kitchen, I realized something else too. I wasn’t just the older brother anymore. I wasn’t just the guy everyone turned to. In that space, in the quiet moments we shared, I felt something else stirring inside me—something I hadn’t let myself feel in a long time. Something that made my chest tighten and my thoughts race, but not in the usual way. It wasn’t pressure, or the weight of a thousand expectations—it was something lighter. Something hopeful.

And as we both stood there, exchanging the last of our banter, I couldn’t help but wonder if this—this—wasn’t just about being supportive. Maybe, just maybe, I was starting to feel something more. And it terrified me.

But for the first time in a long time, it felt like something worth chasing.

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royalreef · 2 years ago

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@biteyourcrush replied to your post:

Love wins~

LOVE WINS!!!! And the wall that she has burst through, kool-aid style, to kiss her wife, her ul’kiha, her most beloved, loses.

#Glory and Gore || IC #biteyourcrush #Every time I catch a little break I'm dying to escape || Aaravi x Miranda ( biteyourcrush )#(( she is so happy and she is going to maim her fucking dad #(( and run around in her happy little circles #(( as is the style of fish zoomies

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lilbroscvnt · 2 months ago

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You spend months begging mommy to get you a dog, you tell her you'll take extra good care of it. That you'll walk him, and feed him and play with him.

She finally gives in and gets you a big pretty doggy, a mastiff

He's such a big sweetie and likes to play fetch and run circles in the back yard and you couldn't be happier

A couple days after you get your big doggy mommy tells you it's time to walk him, you go down an old trail that no one uses and your having so much fun walking your new doggy

Then mommy starts talking to you about how boy doggies have extra special needs to keep them happy and she tells you to get on the ground

You're confused but mommy knows best so you do as you're told

Mommy tells you about how your, big pretty boy is an "intact puppy" and how he needs a girl doggy to help with his "special needs" but since you don't have a girl doggie it's your job to take care of his "needs"

Mommy reaches under your pretty skirt and pulls your panties down around your ankles, your scared but mommy knows best so you don't say anything

Then mommy leads your big, pretty doggie over to you. You look back and you see something new, something pretty and red and so, so big between your doggies legs

Mommy tells you to keep your eyes forward so you do, your doggie jumps up on top of you and you almost collapse under his weight but you manage to stay up

As soon as he's on top of you your doggie starts rutting into your tight, cunnie. your scared but mommy tells you it's ok, he finds your wet hole with his big, doggie cock and thrusts in immediately

His doggie cock is so, so, so, so big, it's perfect too big and it feels incredible hurts so, so bad, you start crying but mommy rubs your cheek and tells you it's ok and that if you wanna have a big doggie you have to take care of him properly

His big sharp claws tear up your back and sides, and his big doggie cock thrusts in one last time and then you feel it get bigger, mommy tells you it's how boy doggies keep girl doggies from getting away when they're done,

When his big doggie cock grows you feel your insides get all warm, something starts coming out of his doggie cock and it's warm and gooey, and so, so incredible icky, when he's done he gets down and stands behind you panting, his big, pretty doggie cock still knotted in your tight, little, cunnie

Mommy wipes the tears off your cheeks and tells you what a good job you did and what a good girl you are

You can't wait to take care of your big, pretty doggie again

#k9 cock #k9 k!nk #d0ggy kn0t #z00philia #4gepl4y

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rafeschicana · 3 months ago

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𐙚˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡ ˚ daddy’s girl 𐙚˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡ ˚

dad!rafe x mom!reader

read more of this family here🤍

your favorite reality tv show played in the background as you lay out on the floor playing with your 10-month-old daughter. “those sensory skills are amazing ari girl” you cooed as she stacked the colorful rings on the rock-a-stack. she clapped her hands placing the last one. “ouuuu good job baby!” you joined in on her happy claps.

“wanna go again?” you cracked up as Ari stared at you waiting for you to knock the toy over. reaching over you knocked the toy over with a theatrical “woahhhh” ari full on belly laughed, her tiny legs and hands kicking excitedlyly. “is that funny mi amor” you giggled as you flooded her with belly kissies.

ari’s laughter died down as she listened to the front door knob jiggling. already getting into a crawling position forgetting all bout her toys. ari knew who was strolling through that door and it made her very excited. “who is that baby?” you grinned running a soft hand down her back.

“is it dada?” you gasped when rafe came through the door shopping bags in hand. ari’s squealing was precious, rafe’s head quickly veering around towards the both of you. “my babies were you waiting for daddy?” rafe grinned as he locked the front door back up. ari crawled up to him in what felt like seconds. your babe had the zoomies whenever she saw her papa. her babbles non-stop as if she was informing rafe alll about her day. rafe bent down placing a quick kiss onto her forehead. “one second baby let me go put these groceries down then ill give you and mama all the loving okay?”

ari’s lip quickly constructing in a pout. “aww baby you gonna make daddy cry stop” rafe quickly ran to drop the groceries onto the kitchen counter. ari was now full on sobbing as you soothed her. “baby, daddy is coming in a second” you giggled as she suckled on her paci. “where's my girl?” rafe came back around the corner arms open wide. “she’s such a daddy's girl” you laughed as rafe gently scooped her from your arms. her head instantly resting in the crook of his neck fiddiling with his chain.

“c’mere mama” he rasped. stepping forward your front met his chest. “you smell good” you smiled. lips meeting his in an intimate kiss. his free hand stroking gentle circles on your lower back. pulling away from the kiss when his hand gradually moved down giving your ass a squeeze. “you're so sneaky” you giggled.

“Ari baby if your mama keeps walking around looking this good” rafe licked his lips eyeing you up and down. “you might just get a little sibling sooner than later” ari's tiny hand moving towards her dad’s mouth covering it. “i don't think she wants to share you just yet!” you smirked squishing her cheeks between your fingers “isn't that right baby?” both you and rafe busted out in laughter as ari clapped her hands.

#rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #dad!rafe cameron #dad!rafe #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron fic

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rafesangelita · 2 months ago

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⋆˚✿˖° scare actors in a haunted house weren’t the only thing that made bambi!reader scream.. in which you and rafe accidentally stumble into an empty room while running away from a group of ‘killer’ clowns.

warnings: haunted house setting, slight teasing, ft. topper and kelce, getting chased, dirty talk, fingering, quickie, unprotected sex, semi-public sex

a/n: this is a collab fic w/ my mootie @fae-of-prey & my first ever collab on this account <3 please go check out the fic she posted to see the prompt i gave her 🤍 happy early halloween!

w/c: 1.6k

“rafe, i told you i didn’t want to do this!” you cried, clinging onto his arm as you two neared the doors of the haunted house. he took your hand in his, an amused expression playing on his face as your heart pounded in your ears. “baby, you’re with me. absolutely nothing could happen to you, ‘swear.” rafe reassured you, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. it didn’t help in the slightest when one of the scare actors crept up on you in the line, tapping your shoulder before screaming in your face. rafe, along with topper and kelce all laughed, your cheeks heating with embarrassment.

rafe saw a flash of hurt cast over your features, quickly shutting up his friends as he pulled you to his side. “alright, how about this; you walk through this haunted house with me, and i’ll finally take you to that pumpkin patch, ‘sound good?” you looked up at him, a pout on your lips. “..and you have to dress up as whatever i want you to be for halloween.” you added, both of you moving up in the line. refraining from cursing under his breath, rafe agreed. “alright it’s a deal.” he nodded, both of you locking pinky’s. soon, you two were at the front of the line, a man with a clipboard stood outside of the doors.

“if you could please look over this waiver, we need the signatures of all participants before allowing anyone inside.” rafe signed the waiver without hestation, passing the clipboard over to you. “you didn’t even read it..” you whispered, looking over the paper. obstruction of vision, flashing lights, small spaces, nothing too bad. you signed your name, giving the clipboard to the man before he opened the door for you and rafe. “have fun!” he shut it behind you two. you clung onto rafe, your boyfriend holding onto you tightly as he guided you through the dark room.

“you’re alright, just keep walking.” as soon as you took a step, a man in a grotesque mask popped out in front of you and rafe before allowing you two to go down the hallway. “i can’t even see anything!” you screamed, nearly tripping over your own feet. rafe cursed under his breath as he helped you balance, his hands holding you tightly to his side. “fuck, i didn’t think it was going to be this dark.” he looked around, your eyes shining with fear as a weeping lady started making her way down from the end of the hallway. “i think we should run.” you gripped rafe’s fingers, your heart pounding with every step she took.

just as rafe was going to agree, the lady in a bloodied white dress bolted towards you two, a piercing scream leaving her lips. “they’re coming!” you and rafe flashed each other a look, a metal door creaking open to your right. before you could turn, a pair of hands grabbed you by the back of your dress, the death grip you had on rafe’s arm making him tumble inside the room with you. “shit!” rafe fell, dragging you down with him. just as you two were getting up, the lights turned on, your eyes widening as you realized you and rafe were surrounded by at least eight clowns.

rafe eyed the various weapons they carried. from baseball bats with nails, to bloody chainsaws, he swallowed thickly at the menacing sight. “alright, this is a little scary now i can’t lie..” you whimpered when they started circling you two. “you only have one chance to get out.. make it count.” just then, they made way for you and rafe to run through a set of double doors, their heavy footsteps clashing with the cement flooring as they chased after you and rafe. the lights were flashing rapidly, making everything look as if it moved in slow motion. “y/n! over here!” rafe shouted, reaching for your hand.

you grabbed onto him, a gasp leaving your lips when you two ran past a sign that said ‘employees only’. “wait! i don’t think we were supposed to turn in here!” you were panting, looking behind you as rafe broke through the door. “who cares? at least we lost them.” he laughed, pulling you inside the dimly lit room before twisting the lock shut. he flipped the light switch on, and instead of being surrounded by clowns this time, you two were surrounded by racks of costumes. “yeah, we’re definitely not supposed to be in here.” you sighed, watching as rafe plopped down on a chair in the corner of the room.

taking a moment to inspect your dress, you grimaced as the once sparkling white material was now dingy and stained, your shoes matching the mess. “i look disgusting..” you whispered, your skin damp with sweat. rafe looked up, his eyes scanning down your figure. “no you don’t.” he scoffed, motioning for you to sit on his lap. you obliged, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as you took your seat. “what made you want to wear a dress for a haunted house, hm?” he pressed his nose against your neck, his hair tickling your skin. you giggled, resting a hand on his chest as you shrugged.

“just thought it would look nice..” rafe hummed, pressing a kiss to the underside of your jaw before you felt his fingers slip underneath the fabric of your dress. “what are you doing?” you caught onto rafe’s ministrations, your eyes darting around the room as his fingers inched closer to your underwear. “we’ve done it everywhere else.. why not add the annual ‘kildare haunted house’ to the list?” you gasped softly when he started rubbing you over your panties. instinctively, your thighs opened for the man at your side, your head falling on his shoulder while he continued rubbing hard circles onto your clit.

“rafe, what if someone walks in?” your cheeks heated at the thought. “they’re not.. will you please stop worrying and just let me take care of you?” you swallowed thickly, nodding as he brought your leg over his thigh so you could straddle him. “it’s not my fault you look so fuckin’ pretty every time we go out somewhere.” he said through gritted teeth, hiking your dress up around your waist. finally taking your lips with his own, you whimpered when you felt him move your panties to the side. “being scared gets you this wet?” he slid a finger between your folds, his digit gliding with ease.

you hummed, your hips moving to grind on his hand. “being chased seems to turn you on..” he teased your entrance, “at least now i know i could chase you around tanneyhill and if i catch you, i could do whatever i want to you.” you moaned at his words, the idea igniting a fire in your belly. “that sounds good?” before you could reply, you felt rafe’s finger slide into your soaked cunt, a half-scream falling from your lips at the delicious stretch. “fuck, bambi,” he smiled wickedly, using his other hand to hold your dress out of the way, “you’re gonna let everyone know we’re in here.” rafe laughed.

you didn’t care at this point, your eyebrows knitting together as rafe pumped his digit in and out of your needy pussy. despite you buzzing with pleasure, your clit ached to be touched, the lack of friction making you whine. as if reading your mind, rafe unzipped his pants, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance before you sunk down on him, both of you letting out a moan. “even with fake blood on you, you’re gorgeous.” rafe wiped away a red streak from your cheek, his eyes swimming with lust as you moved on top of him. “thank you.” you hiccuped, grabbing onto his shoulders for leverage.

rafe’s hand snaked down between you two, his thumb stroking your sensitive bundle of nerves as he whispered filthy obscenities in your ear. “ride that fucking cock, baby. show me how bad you want it.” you cried out, your nails digging into his skin as he sped up the ministrations on your clit. the sound of your juices squelching with every movement of your hips turned rafe on beyond belief. within minutes, rafe felt his release approaching, your own high not too far away as you started trembling in his arms. your thighs burned for some relief, rafe could tell by the way your hips stuttered that you needed a break.

“rub your clit for me, bambi.” he guided your hand down to where his thumb once was, locking his arms around your waist before thrusting up into you at a brutal pace. you squealed in pleasure, both of your orgasms hitting each other at the same time. “son of a bitch..” rafe hissed as he spilled into you, your walls milking him for everything he had. you bit into his shoulder, the stinging sensation making him pinch your thigh. “oh my god,” rafe’s chest rose and fell with each breath, “are you okay?” you nodded weakly, resting your head on his shoulder.

rafe got both of you up, the two of you examining yourselves in the full body mirror to make sure you two looked presentable. “so i was thinking.. what if you dressed up as woody from toy story and i’ll be little bo peep?” you fixed your dress, batting your eyelashes up at him. once rafe fixed his belt, he flashed you a glare. “jesus christ, y/n..” he shook his head. “you promised!” just as you were going to clasp your hands together and beg, the door knob started rattling. “open the fucking door, man!” rafe recognized the voice immediately. “it’s locked, dumbass!”

“is that kelce and topper?”

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aakeysmash · 2 months ago

Text

christmas shopping, matching pajamas and family discounts

college!sukuna masterlist

"Why are we here again?" college!sukuna huffs from next to you for the umpteenth time.

"Stop acting like a little bitch. You asked me that 20 seconds ago, Yuuji is acting better than you," you hiss out, glaring at him. It's true though: the kid is trotting right in front of you two, not a care in the world, while his caretaker is currently dragging his feet on the pavement you're walking on.

"And you still didn't answer, fucker," he barks back, grimacing, kicking a little rock.

"Yes, I fucking did! I told you this morning we were going Christmas shopping! You never listen to me," you start, jutting your lip out and trying to play the victim. You know he hates it when you do it. "Maybe I should tell Yuuji how his big brother hates the idea of going shopping with him," you provoke, whispering so that only you and him know what you're talking about. He scoffs, offended.

"Liar. Don't you fucking dare-"

"Are you two fighting again?" whines Yuuji, turning around and pouting. You and Sukuna glance at each other before shaking your head at the same moment.

"No, we're getting along so well," you force yourself to smile.

"Yeah, she said she's so glad I'm accompanying her. Matter of fact, she said she's going to offer us lunch," Sukuna continues, an evil glint in his eyes when he hears you gasp.

"I did not-"

"Really?! Yippie!" screams Yuuji, coming to hug you violently. You stumble back, gritting your teeth, and reciprocate the hug while narrowing your eyes at the grinning tattooed man in front of you. He knows you're not able to say no to his brother.

When Yuuji runs inside the mall, you push Sukuna's shoulder, mumbling "bitch". He just chuckles, then boldly gets you close by placing one open hand on your lower back. You know he's just going to tease you, so you put both hands on his chest to fight back, trying to put some distance between you two, but the place is crowded and everyone is looking at you. A woman passes by you and looks at you weirdly, so you stop wriggling in his grasp, and he delicately pushes you even closer. You're chest to chest, his breath fanning over your features, grin ever present on his face, enjoying how you look pissed out of your mind. From the outside, it looks like you're hugging each other, when in reality he just puts his mouth on your ear to utter "Never play with me, baby. I know how to drive you mad," then frees you and walks behind Yuuji with his hands in his pockets, not turning back to see if you're following him or not. You're seething.

"Oh my God, Yuuji, look at these!" you swoon over a pair of pajama pants. They're a soft brown, decorated with little green Christmas' trees and little reindeers, a bright red Merry Christmas! on both knees.

"It's a set!" squeals the kid next to you, grabbing the sweater right on top of the piece of cloth you have in your hands. You both notice at the same time that the set comes both in adults' and kids' sizes. "Can we take it?" he asks you looking up, puppy eyes activated. Your heartstrings are pulled so tight you feel like you could implode if you look at his face for a second longer.

"Of course we can, I thought it was obvious," you say excitedly, grabbing his hands and jumping up and down with him in a circle while he laughs, smile on full display and brown eyes squeezed shut happily.

Sukuna, who has kept watching his phone for the majority of the time you've been inside the mall, raises his gaze when he hears your laugh mingled with his brother's. If you had been looking at him in that instant, you would've seen the brief soft glimpse that passed on his whole face when he took in how happy you both looked together. When you turn around, though, he's already schooled his features to appear bored.

"Are we done?" he yawns.

"Would you like to match with us?" you ask him, at the same time. You scowl and he scoffs.

"Hell no, girl. I'm not with whatever stupid shit y'all are doing," he says, trying to act tougher than what he actually feels like. Seeing you being kind to the only person in the world who shares 100% of his genes makes him feel things he doesn't want to acknowledge right now.

"You're a party pooper, 'Kuna," Yuuji mumbles, frowning. "Can we still match? I really want us to match," he adds, shily, looking at you. You're shocked. His cheeks are getting redder the more you gawk at him. "Sorry, you can say no-"

Your kiss on his cheek resonates all around the ally you're currently staying in. "Of course I want to match with you. We don't need your evil brother, Yuuji. Let's go try them on," you sweetly say, taking his hand and walking away from Sukuna, not before flipping him off. Yuuji is so giddy that he follows you like he's walking on clouds, his face slightly hurting from how hard he's cheesing.

Sukuna just stands there, baffled and even a little offended. He stiffens, noticing he still has his phone in his hands. He's so fast with it he's the first to remain shocked by his own actions: he hears the click of his camera and looks at the pic he's just taken, feeling his chest heavier than it's ever been. It's a beautifully taken pic, where you and Yuuji are squinting at each other, hand in hand, laughing. He turns off his screen, shakes his head and catches up to you. You're going to give him a headache if you continue being like this. Or a heart attack. Or both.

"Hello, what can I do for you?" the nice old lady at the checkout says.

"Hi, we'd like to take these two pieces," you kindly respond, handing her the pajamas you and Yuuji just tried on.

"Let me see... oh, we actually have a family discount on this! Is the daddy not going to take anything?" she innocently asks, looking over at your older roommate.

"Yo, I'm not his-"

Your eyes almost fall out of your sockets. "Ah ah ah! Silly us! We forgot his one! Just give me a second," you interrupt a scowling Sukuna, covering his mouth with your hand before he can finish his sentence, dragging him away. Yuuji gives the old lady a confused look, to which she responds with "Young parents these days," shaking her head.

"You're going to take the fucking matching set, Sukuna, and you're going to like it," you seethe, still dragging him away (well, it's more like he's letting you drag him away). You hear how he's trying to talk behind your hand. "Don't piss me off. I'm going to pay less to get more, and you're going to listen to me. Go." You ignore him and he raises one eyebrow, looking you up and down, before biting your fingers. You yelp and let him go, scowling. "I said go! And act like you care about me when we get there, we're a family until the discount tells us so!"

"Okay, ma'am," he grins down to you, wiping his saliva from the corner of his mouth with a slow movement, his gaze lingering a bit too much on the way you're panting.

"Move! Take your size and let's go! Yuuji is waiting for us!" you push him, rushing back to the cashier.

"Oh, you were really fast. I thought you were going to argue with the way you rushed away," she says when she sees you come back, surprised. You nervously chuckle, telling her how you were already planning on buying one for Sukuna, you just forgot. "That would be 20.99$."

While you're swiping your card, you suddenly feel engulfed by heat. Sukuna positions his hands on your waist, giving you a half hug from behind while simultaneously giving his best confident grin to the old lady in front of him.

"Yeah. I just like when she bosses me around a bit, if you know what I mean," he says, sultry, winking at the cashier who is chuckling behind her hand, embarrassed, waving him away.

What the fuck? You initially try not to stiffen, then relax and give her a shy smile, and he squeezes you a bit closer. You melt on his chest, feeling hotter than you've felt all day. He's so comfortable. He brushes his lips near your ear and makes sure you hear the way his raspy voice is all around you. "And I do, baby. I really do."

#college au #sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna jjk #jjk x y/n #jjk fics #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic

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pucksandpower · 11 months ago

Text

Theories of Relativity

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: you don’t need TikTok theories to prove that your relationship is a dream come to life, but it doesn’t hurt when your boyfriend passes all of them with flying colors

The Olive Theory

When you love someone, you have to be willing to make sacrifices and compromises for them (even if those sacrifices are something small like pretending to hate olives just so you can give them to your olive-loving partner instead)

You sit across from Charles at the long dinner table, smiling as he animatedly recounts the race from last weekend. His hands wave through the air, punctuating his story as he describes the final lap battle with Max down to the last corner. You’re only half listening though, too distracted by how handsome he looks in his dinner jacket, his tanned skin glowing in the low light of the restaurant.

As Charles pauses to take a sip of wine, you lean in and whisper, “I wasn’t really watching the race, I only had eyes for you.”

Charles chuckles, his nose crinkling adorably. “Oh really? So you missed all the action then?"

You shrug, trailing a finger down his arm. “What can I say, I find you far more interesting than the other cars going around in circles.”

Charles opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by a mechanic sitting a little way down from you. “Oi Charles, why do you keep picking all the olives out of your salad?"

You look down, noticing the small pile of olives Charles has stacked onto the edge of his plate.

Charles glances at you, a faint blush rising on his cheeks. “Oh, um, I’m not a huge fan of olives.”

The mechanic frowns in confusion. “But I’ve seen you eat olives before. You always get them on your pizza.”

“I, uh ...” Charles stammers, clearly flustered.

Under the table, you squeeze his hand reassuringly. Charles looks at you and you give him a small nod.

“Well, the truth is,” Charles says, turning back to the mechanic. “I actually love olives. But Y/N loves them even more than I do. So I pick them out of my food to give to her.”

You smile softly at Charles, warmed by his thoughtfulness. The mechanic chuckles and shakes his head. “You two are so cute it’s almost gross.”

Charles just grins and pops an olive into your mouth. “Anything for mon amour.”

You crunch the olive happily, then lean in to give Charles a quick kiss on the lips. “People who say chivalry is dead have simply never met you.”

The conversation moves on, flowing from racing to travel and everything in between. Under the table, your fingers stay intertwined with Charles’ the whole time.

After dinner, you all head outside into the cool night air. Charles’ team members head off towards their own cars, calling out goodbyes.

You snuggle into Charles’ side as you walk towards where his Ferrari is parked. “Thank you for the olives,” you say. “But you really don’t have to deprive yourself on my account.”

Charles wraps his arm around you, pulling you close. “I want to though. I like making you happy.”

You stop next to the car, turning to face him. Running a hand down his chest you say, “You know what would really make me happy right now?"

“Hmm?" Charles murmurs, his eyes drifting down to your lips.

You grin mischievously. “A stop for gelato on the way home.”

Charles laughs and opens the car door for you. “Anything for you, mon cœur.”

The Bird Test

If you say something that could be deemed insignificant and your partner responds with genuine curiosity, that’s a really good sign that your relationship will last a long time

The Brazilian sun beats down as you wander hand-in-hand with Charles along the edges of the Interlagos circuit. It’s the day before qualifying, and Charles brought you out to the track in São Paulo to share the grid walk with you.

You stroll slowly, enjoying a rare private moment together during the hectic race weekend. Charles points out details along the track — the tricky off-camber Turn 3, the sharp left-right complex at Turns 5 and 6, the long full throttle blast down the back straight.

You love seeing him so in his element here, his passion for racing evident in his voice and gestures.

As you round Turn 12, heading down the home straight, a flash of bright blue in the trees catches your eye. Gasping in excitement, you grab Charles’ arm and point.

“Look, a hyacinth macaw!”

Charles follows your gaze to the large, vividly colored parrot perched in the branches. “Wow, that’s amazing! I’ve never seen one outside of a zoo.”

You bounce on your toes, thrilled at the sighting. “Aren’t they gorgeous? That bright blue is unreal. Macaws are pretty rare around here, I can’t believe we spotted one!”

Charles smiles at your obvious delight, then turns back to observe the macaw with curiosity. “What do they eat?" He asks. “Fruit, like other parrots?"

“Yes exactly!” You reply eagerly. “Mostly palm nuts and acai berries. And they need a huge range of territory, something like 80 square kilometers.”

As you chat more facts about the brilliant bird, Charles listens attentively, asking more questions and commenting on its beauty. His genuine interest and engagement makes your heart flutter happily.

Eventually the macaw takes flight, its bright wings flashing blue against the trees as it disappears into the forest.

“Incredible,” Charles murmurs, watching it go. “What an amazing thing to see.”

He turns back to you, eyes shining. “Thank you for pointing it out, I never would have spotted it myself. I love seeing you so excited teaching me about something you’re passionate about.”

You step closer, looping your arms around his neck. “And I love that you always listen and want to know more, even if it’s not about racing.”

Charles wraps his arms around your waist, smiling tenderly. “Of course, your passions are my passions now too. I want to know everything that sparks that beautiful light in your eyes.”

The Orange Peel Theory

A partner’s willingness to perform small acts of service is indicative of a healthy relationship

Early morning sun filters into the kitchen as you sip your coffee, still wearing the oversized Ferrari shirt you slept in. Charles stands at the counter across from you, freshly showered and humming to himself as he browses his phone.

Setting your mug down, you grab an orange from the fruit bowl and start to peel it. Or at least you try. The tough rind puts up a stubborn fight, your nails scraping uselessly against it.

“Ugh, I hate peeling oranges,” you grumble after a minute. “Whose idea was it to make the peel so impossible?"

Charles glances up with a sympathetic smile. “Here, let me.”

He takes the orange from your hands and deftly digs his thumb into the top, effortlessly tearing the peel away in one long curl.

You watch in admiration as he strips the rest of the orange until it’s completely naked and ready to eat.

“Voila,” Charles presents it with a flourish. “One perfectly peeled orange for mon ange.”

“My hero,” you grin. You go to take it from him but Charles playfully keeps it out of reach.

“Ah ah, allow me,” he says. Holding your gaze, he gently pulls apart one glistening segment and brings it to your lips.

Happiness bubbles up in you at this sweet, unexpected gesture. You let Charles pop the orange slice into your mouth, savoring the bright citrus burst.

“Delicious,” you murmur. Charles smiles and leans in to kiss you softly, his thumb brushing a drop of juice from your lower lip.

One by one he continues to peel the segments and feed them to you, interspersing each with tender kisses that taste of orange and love.

You close your eyes blissfully, letting the sensual ritual relax you. Charles takes his time, not rushing. He knows this is your favorite part of the morning, stealing these private moments together before the busy day sweeps you both up.

When the last segment is gone, Charles kisses you again, deeper this time. You loop your arms around his neck, melting against him.

“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” you whisper when you finally separate.

Charles nuzzles your nose with his. “You may have said it once or twice. But I never get tired of hearing it.”

You lean into him contentedly. As always, his thoughtfulness and care warms you from the inside out.

Peeling an orange is such a small act but the meaning behind it speaks volumes. Charles knows your quirks and preferences, and cherishes these little opportunities to make your day brighter.

The little things that mean everything.

You’re still musing dreamily about this when Charles tips your chin up. “Where’d you go just now?” He asks with a curious smile.

You shake your head, focusing back on him. “Just thinking about us. And how perfectly you peel my oranges.”

Charles laughs. “Well I’m glad to be of service. I know how you hate getting orange string stuck under your nails.”

He kisses your fingertips one by one. “Can’t have anything marring these beautiful hands.”

You scrunch your nose at him. “Oh yes, I need to keep my hands soft and dainty in case a prince comes along to propose.”

Charles squawks in protest and tackles you against the counter, fingers digging into your sides to tickle you mercilessly. You dissolve into helpless giggles, swatting him away.

“No no, stop! I take it back!” You gasp.

Charles relents, holding you close and nuzzling into your hair. “Too late, you’re stuck with me now,” he murmurs, kissing your temple.

You snuggle into him contentedly. No fantasy prince could ever compete with the reality of Charles.

The Invisible String Theory

An invisible string connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance (the string may stretch or tangle but it will never break)

The living room is filled with laughter and happy chatter as you and Charles sit surrounded by both your families. Your wedding is only two days away, and his mother suggested gathering everyone together one night for reminiscing and quality time.

Looking through old photo albums is proving to be hilarious and heartwarming. Baby pictures, school plays, family vacations — memories preserved to embroider the story of your lives before fate brought you together.

Charles smiles wistfully as Lorenzo shows an album from their childhood. “I wish my godfather and father could have met you,” he says softly. “They would have loved you so much.”

You take his hand, leaning your head on his shoulder. His lost loved ones are always close to his heart.

Your mother passes an album to you with a smile. “Oh this one is from our trip to France when you were five! So many cute little Y/N photos.”

You roll your eyes but obligingly open the album, Charles peering over your shoulder. You flip through pictures of your younger self building sandcastles on the beach, wearing a hilariously large sun hat, beaming gappily with missing front teeth.

Charles grins down at you. “Adorable. I can’t wait for our kids to-”

He stops abruptly, staring down at the page. You follow his gaze to a photo of your family in Nice, taken in front of the Le Negresco hotel. And there in the background, almost out of frame — four familiar figures walking down the promenade.

A young Charles holds the hand of a teenage boy you immediately recognize as Jules. On Charles’ other side, his father Hervé carries a toddler Arthur.

Your breath catches sharply. The families fall silent around you. Charles’ fingers tremble slightly as they trace over the image.

“Of course we went to Nice often,” he whispers. “I had no idea ...” His voice trails off, thick with emotion.

Arthur cranes his head to see. “Is that us? With Papa and Jules?" He looks between you and Charles with wide eyes.

“Almost twenty years ago,” Lorenzo marvels. “And your paths were already crossing.”

Pascale wipes at her eyes, grasping Charles’ other hand tightly. “It was meant to be. Some invisible string tying you together even then.”

Charles’ fingers tremble as they trace over the image. For one brief, impossible moment, it feels like you’re all together — you, Charles, Jules, Hervé. Preserved in time, intersecting at the crossroads of past and future.

Though you never met in life, somehow you were all bound in that instant, tied by invisible strings of destiny. Strings that would one day guide you and Charles to each other.

It’s only a photo, yet looking at it you feel Jules and Hervé’s presence like a bittersweet embrace. As if across the years, they’re saying we know you. We love you. We’re so happy for you both.

You stare down at it, this captured moment of impossible synchronicity. A glimpse of the thread that wove itself silently through your lives until the day it finally drew you together.

Charles meets your eyes, his own shimmering with tears. Without words, you know he feels it too. The impossible link stretching back through time. Proof you were always meant to find each other.

He pulls you close, kissing the top of your head. “I believe that with all my heart, we’ve always been connected somehow.”

“Soulmates,” you whisper.

You cling to him, overwhelmed with certainty. Through accidents of time and geography, missteps and milestones, your story was always guiding you here.

Meant for each other. Destined, even then.

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2tarbell · 3 months ago

Note

vanilla birthday cake — send some dialogue 4 a short drabble with rafe + any of my !readers

mean!rafe + crybaby!reader “i don’t wanna know”

HAKSJSKSJKS

MEAN!RAFE + CRYBABY!READER ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

participate in my bday celebration!!!

rafe had had just about enough. he wasn’t very patient to begin with but he was trying to be better — for her.

his poor little girlfriend that had a never ending supply of sorrow and tears. normally, around him, she was content as could be. and he was happy to indulge her and be the one to soothe her when external factors hurt her sensitive heart.

but she just wouldn’t stop crying.

today, she had to have set a new record. whimpering away next to him while rafe tried to get some work done on his computer. she knew better than to interrupt him when he was working, but crybaby just needed some attention. some love.

what if he was all quiet ‘cause he realized how annoying she was? what if—

“okay, what’s a-matter?”

her watery eyes flickered up to his deep blue and thundering ones.

rafe stared at her impatienty — fingers poised as if about to start typing. but his eyes held a question in them. an intensity that makes crybaby shrink into herself, eyes shifting and babbling for an answer while her shaky hands played with the buttons on her shirt.

“wha—? oh, um, s’nothing…”

not a good liar, but even worse at holding eye contact. rafe huffed and closed the laptop abruptly. he spread his legs further, setting the device somewhere beside him. she could be so difficult sometimes.

“kid, you’re over there, sniffin’ and shit — what’s the problem?” his voice was gruff and low, but so familiar and comforting in its own way. running a hand over his buzzed head in a way that always sent her heart racing.

“well, uh, i— i jus’— um…” the stuttered words came out clumsily, not a coherent thought in her head as she stared wide eyed at him. tears began to well anew.

“okay, okay— shut up. i don’t wanna know anymore, jus’— c’mere.”

god, she looked dumb with that look on her face. all frozen and tense as he tries to coax her closer. like a deer and a hunter.

rafe tilts his head to the side, a small smirk settling on his lips. he sees the moment she relaxes; eyes still wet and lip still trembling but she’s scooting closer nonetheless.

he scoops crybaby into his lap, strong arms circling her and pulling her into his chest. rafe sighs like it’s hard work — but the concerned furrow of his brow says otherwise.

she’s still sniffing, nuzzling her face further and further into his chest as she straddles him. trying to disappear fully into his warmth and affection. it’s like just being in his arms sends her into a daze. it’s made worse by his hand pulling her chin up, forcing their eyes to meet.

“what’s wrong, baby?”

her rafe. that soft mumble only she’s privy to. his gentleness entirely reserved for her, for her moments of need. yet, she loves when he’s mean to her — in that dirty, knowing way he is. when her heart just feels so heavy and she doesn’t wanna think anymore. she craves that fuzziness only he can make her feel, a warmth pooling in her underwear. she needs it.

her voice is meek and barely audible when she huffs, “i jus’— today was so—”

rafe rolls his eyes, but tugs her closer. pressing firm kisses to her hairline and letting her ramble on about all the hard things she went through. she doesn’t register his wandering hands. it’s only when his fingertips are breaching her lace panties when she finally notices how he’s pushed her skirt up.

“hmf— rafey—”

her slickness makes a groan vibrate through his chest, fingers pressing forward until he’s prodding at that spongey spot just right. crybaby is hiccuping and sniffling again — eyes pitifully squeezed shut from the intrusion.

“shuddap, let daddy do this, yeah? getchu to stop whinin’ for once.”

based off this little thing i wrote!!!

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intromortal · 4 months ago

Text

ENHYPEN OT6 PUSSY EATING HEADCANONS.

⚠︎ nsfw, mdni. pussy eating well ofc, mirror sex for hee and noo, lovey dovey jay, jake is just nasty, oral m!rec for jake too, fingering, squirting, use of toys, pussy slapping and brat taming for sunghoon, pinching and clit biting for noo, jungwon is desperate, overstimulation

HEESEUNG | is a weak man when it comes to your pleasure. he would do anything in his power to hear your pretty sounds, he will do anything to see you writhe and shake underneath his weight, so gorgeous for him when your eyes roll all the way in the back of your skull and your plump lips part in pleasure when he’s working his magic on you. so don’t be surprised when he wants you to enjoy the sight too! getting you on your knees and facing a mirror as he spreads your ass cheeks open, relishing in the way your greedy little cunt clenches even without him doing anything to it. loving the way your body jumps forward slightly when he spits on your hole before completely digging in, hot tongue relentlessly fucking into your heat. he would be so messy, a mix of his spit and your juices just running down his chin and getting all over his sheets. he’d be grunting in pleasure and mumbling against your cunt to keep your eyes on yourself baby, literally working himself up by just thinking about how gorgeous you must look as you get near your orgasm. he gets so needy for your release he grabs your hips and fucks you back on his tongue, so harshly and fast your arms just collapse because it feels too good. poor little thing, your face smushed against his sheets as you get all your pretty makeup and drool on it, hee turning you into a dumb little slut with his tongue only.

JAY | always loves to eat you out, but he enjoys doing it particularly when you’re tired or you’ve had a rough day. he loves pampering and taking care of you, and it’s no different when he lays back and urges you to get on top of him with that signature lopsided smirk of his. he’s so gentle when he slides his hands all over your thighs and ass, caressing them with such care, his eyes glimmering as he encourages you to fully sit on him, to let him take care of you, angel girl. his movements would be so slow, agonizingly so. he wants you to just put all your weight on him and relax, let him worship you like the goddess you are in his mind. he’d keep his eyes closed, savoring every single moment too as he slides his tongue along your slit, gently circling your clit a few times and humping the air when he feels just how responsive you are to his touch, no matter how slight. totally slides his hands up to your lower back and hips, the contrast between his rough hands but careful grip sending shivers through your entire body, especially when he parts from your heat for a second to just whisper how much he loves you, how much he loves this cunt and how good you taste, before diving back in and rocking your body back on forth on his tongue until you make a mess all over his mouth.

JAKE | is so fucking nasty. he would spend every waking hour between your thighs if he could, and he does try. it gets to a point where sometimes you feel a little bad, you want to return the favor but everytime he just asks for you to just let him eat your cunt once more? you don’t seem to get that he does this for his pleasure too. he just loves your pussy and her taste so bad.

still, you also want to pleasure him. so why not suck his cock while he eats you out? the best of both worlds! and he becomes absolutely obsessed with it. just shamelessly thrusting his hips up into your mouth as he groans and moans and pants against your wet hole. he’s just so happy you let him eat you out as much as he wants now. he loves sucking on your clit, making downright obscene sounds, while fingering your cunt open with his thick and long digits, always challenging you to fit more and more. you’re so drenched sometimes he thinks he could fit his whole hand inside you. would literally hold your legs around his face after you come, because it’s still not enough. so into overstimulating the shit out of you, to the point you’re not even really sucking his cock anymore but doing something closer to gagging on it as he fucks your mouth. don't even think about squirting in his mouth because he will fuck it back inside you and try to get you to do that again. just insatiable.

SUNGHOON | is a lot more meticulous when he’s stressed or irritated. he likes to use every single toy he can think of on you, especially when he’s eating you out. there’s vulnerability in letting someone else pleasure you like that, and he loves to make sure you never forget that. making you hold your own legs so you’re bent all nicely for him, giving him the freedom of doing absolutely anything he wants to you. his bushy eyebrows furrowed as he keeps his eyes on your tits, your pretty clit delicious in his mouth as he sucks on it while slowly inching one of your dildos inside your hole. because of course, you think you’re so slick owning all of this nasty shit. well he can use that better too, he just knows your body so well. slowly teasing the toy in like he would his own tip, making you beg just for some stupid plaything like you would for his thick cock. and if you did anything to make him mad like the slutty brat you are, don’t even think about letting your legs go for even a second, no matter how good his mouth feels. because he will stop and strip your peak right under you. opting instead to land repeated slaps right on your clit, telling you that’s all you’ll get, cum like this and show him you're sorry, show him how good you are. and you do. you squirt around nothing, soaking your own hands that are still holding your thighs open, tight little hole convulsing like it’s begging for anything to fill it up. and while hoon is finally calming down and going back to your usually loving boyfriend, he thinks he just might give it something for real this time.

SUNOO | is another one who loves making you watch yourself in a mirror. but, differently from heeseung, he makes you sit on his face instead. there's something about making you watch yourself give up dominance to him even when you’re on top, with every chance to just grab his hair and ride his face right at your disposal and yet still choosing to let him toy with you however he wants. will absolutely pinch the skin of your thighs or just straight up bite your clit until you put all of your weight on him. he loves teasing you by nibbling everywhere on your thighs until you’re so turned on you’re gushing on his face and begging for him to please just give you what you want. his movements would be so fast, but so calculated because he just knows all of the little things that have you creaming around his tongue in no time, his nails digging and leaving indents on your fleshy thighs whenever you squish his head between them. not to stop you but to encourage you to squish as hard as you want. he fucking loves to be left breathless under you, never once coming up for air until he has you coming all over his face when his nose touches your clit, knowing he’s so gonna make you lick it all off after.

JUNGWON | got his first taste of pussy with you and it just woke up a dormant demon inside him. he’s obsessed with making you cum like this, and he’s fucking filthy with it too. so talkative during it, switching between his tongue and fingers because he just can’t shut up about how good you taste, how you’re squeezing his fingers so good… fuck, will you squeeze his cock like that too? he’s always expecting you to talk back to him even when he knows you just can’t. not when his tongue is so deep inside you, literally slurping every single drop of your slick like it’s precious nectar he needs to survive. you’d never believe he got so good in so little if you didn't know just how much time he spent between your thighs ever since he tasted you for the first time. he gets so needy, and whiny. so worked up when you grab his hair and guide him exactly where you want him. he starts humping the bed under him, his languid hips matching how his tongue is working inside you so good. and he cums like that too, begging for you to come again, and again and again right with him. he’ll get rid of his boxers and get right back to work, making an absolute mess out of your sheets as he tries to match the time of both of your orgasms.

#enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen hard hours #heeseung smut #jay smut #jongseong smut #jake smut #jaeyun smut #sunghoon smut #sunoo smut #jungwon smut #⤑ hee #⤑ jay #⤑ jake #⤑ chels papa #⤑ noo #⤑ won #⤑ hard hours

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honestsycrets · 2 years ago

Text

starved | [miguel o'hara x reader]

❛ pairing | new papi!miguel x new mami!reader

❛ type | oneshot: explicit content

❛ summary | peter says he's sex-starved. he isn't. he's just... adjusting to less time with his wife.

❛ tags | breastfeeding miguel, lactation kink, slight pregnancy kink, touch starved, pissy miguel, spanish is not translated, mention of violence, some cursing, f!reader.

❛ sy’s notes | written as per poll request! thank you everyone who voted.

Miguel likes to work.

Or, he thinks he likes to work.

The fate of the multiverse and all that boring ass bullshit. Peter has heard it all, twice, thrice over. What he knows is what he sees. What he sees is an overworked man running through anomaly files, sending out orders, and not spending time where it really mattered.

“Is that who I think it is?” Peter’s annoying ass house slippers flapped over the ground by Miguel’s feet. Peter’s hands rubbed together, sparking little bursts of heat between his palms. “It is! Mireya!”

Mireya, the newest addition to his small family. She was nestled comfortably in the crook of one of Miguel’s muscular arms as if it were the safest place in the entire world, suckling on what was left of a bottle of breastmilk. Miguel turned to place the empty bottle down on his desk. Peter followed, peeping over Miguel’s arm at her. Despite Miguel’s reservations, her bright brown eyes bored Peter with interest. She cooed at him. “Can I hold her? Let me hold her, it’ll be great! Aw look, she has curls.”

“My daughter isn’t your doll.”

“Look how pretty, she’s just like her mami. All sunshine and dimples and--,” Peter reached forward, easing his scrawny hands under her plush little arms and picking her up. Miguel’s hands fell onto his hips, shifting weight from one foot to the other, glancing down at his feet expectantly. “You know, for a new dad, you’re grumpier than usual.”

“Peter.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he bobbed back and forth, spinning in a circle. She giggled the kind of laugh that was all sugar, making Peter grin even harder. “I mean, wasn’t Mireya your idea? Are you-- y’know?”

“Y’know?”

“Sex starved,” Peter whispered like it was a great, terrible secret. As if in this vast space of silence, someone might catch his words and convict him because of them. Miguel’s half-lidded eyes slid against one another, held for a second, then spread open in an annoyed flick. He fluttered his gloved fingers at Peter to hand Mireya over.

“I’m just saying if you need a night alo--”

“I don’t. I’m not sex-starved.”

He waved him off. His eyes fell on his daughter, boring back up at him with those beautiful eyes he had waited so long to see. He shifted his weight from one leg to another, lulling her back into her late-night slumber, cradled against his chest.

Sex starved, he said. What a shocking joke.

His room was no place for a child. It was perpetually dark, dimmed for his sensitive eyes. So, at the end of the day, Miguel had your room to return to. A real home, one with more than a ratty run-down chair and a lifetime of regrets. A home that he couldn't make alone. Miguel pressed past the bedroom door where he found you overcome by sleep. Just like Mireya in his arms.

He turned his gaze down to Mireya once more, her soft and squishy body a vision of peace. Tiny fists balled up over her belly as she slept in her soft velvet onesie. The whole world in his hands: the start of a happy little family. Only right now, it didn’t feel so happy. Those were the cycles, the push and pull of life.

Tonight would prove to be another silent night with his thoughts. His chest swelled with a rush of air, bunching up his shoulders as he moved to the adjoining room to set Mireya into her warm crib. Torn from his warmth, her palms stretched out, ready to wail. Miguel placed his hand along the wooden rail, his stomach flopping into throbbing anxiety in his stomach. She could wake you up. "Shh," he set his finger in her tiny palm. Mireya’s small hands rested listlessly around her head. The wail never came.

“Mi vida,” your sleepy voice fell over his ears, a gentle caress. He longed to hear it from your lips again. “Is she already asleep?”

“Sí--” he glanced over his shoulder, catching just a sight of one of his favourite little slips. Dusty rose with delicate lace details. He studied the edge of the gown, flowing over your thick thighs as you walked. Shock.

“You look beautiful." You looked down at your soft belly, a mincing smile pulling at your lips. He knew you were nervous, the way your hands obscured your plush belly. Mesmerized, his finger fell away from Mireya's soft grip. Peter's words echoed in his mind, a deep annoyance. It made his skin crawl, this growing annoyance in the acknowledgment that he had no sex in weeks, months. He took a step forward.

“I hope she doesn’t sleep through the night. My breasts are full,” Your fingers skimmed the taut skin. The glint of your wedding band invited him forward as if… you should be his tonight. You were his wife-- and though he didn't expect you to give him relief, he missed you. Miguel dipped his head, stroking the sore muscles of his neck.

Are you, y'know, sex-starved?

“When does she ever..." he couldn't help from saying. He grazed his fingertips over the swollen skin of your breasts, glancing from the skin to your deep, shy eyes. His breath thinned, realizing that you were disengaging, too scared to look him in the eye.

“She does, Miggy,” you breathed. His jaw worked, annoyed. “Lately. You’d know if you came home at night.”

If it was lately, he had no knowledge of it. Every lab screen he pulled up, every status report from Lyla, and every silent night in the lab, obsessing over how his little girl was doing-- he missed it. He should be coming in more often, crossing the threshold of work to family life. His hand cupped the underside of your breast. You winced, embarrassment working on your face. You pushed his hand away, likely feeling exposed by his touch on your tender skin.

“Does it hurt?” He leaned down, mingling his smoky, musky scent with your delicate one. He leaned in to place a soft, open-mouthed kiss along your neck, the warm pulse of your skin against his plump lips.

“Miggy, you’ll wake her up.”

Your fingers laced in his before you pulled him out of the room with a click of the door. He settled his hand on the middle of the door, sliding his hand up your waist, the soft fabric crinkling over the movement. He glimpsed a look at your soft panties cupping your round ass. “Miggy, I… I can’t. I’m tired.”

Of course, you were tired-- He underestimated how much work you took on in her care. He willed the wisps of his desire to snuff out. The distant flicker of hope followed promptly after. Maybe, one day, you would want him again. It wasn't today.

“Ya veo,” he suppressed his frustrated growl, wrinkling his forehead. “Another time.”

It wasn't the next day. Or the one after that. Or the one after that.

The anomaly whirled along a cobblestone street, exploding in a cloud of dust and stone. Its many black dipped hands flickered, dulling into little more than a negligible tremor of their limbs. Everyone else noticed the complacency that came with loss of consciousness. Miguel did not.

Miguel sauntered forward, dragged it by its muddy boots out from the crumbly remnants of the wall, and whirled it into another. It wasn't moving. It was done, tired, exhausted. He didn't care, his large hand encompassing its tendril hair and smashing it over the dusty floor. A violent crack, crack, crack of its head scratched his inert need to destroy something, anything, anyone. It fell from his hands with a slump. Miguel spat a bit of blood to the side, his cheek chewed raw under the tension of the moment.

“You need to take Peter up on that offer.”

Miguel stretched his neck one way. Then the other.

“We’ve been over this,” Miguel grumbled, hiking the pummeled body over his shoulder. It gushed blood, streaming into a diluted pink with the downpour of rain. A simple contusion, Miguel said. It was just a contusion. And a concussion. Maybe a gash or two. It would heal if the thing woke up. “I don’t need help.”

“You thrashed it, whatever it was,” Jess said pointedly. Miguel’s finger ran across his watch. The air was stale without an acknowledgment of Miguel’s churning temper, growing into a churning tempest by the passing minute. He stared long and hard through his mask. She drew out the silence as she waited for his response.

“It’s a contusion.”

The portal whirled to life before them in a slurry of vivid color, an unforgiving abyss. Jess slumped her bike with weight on one thigh, hand on her belly. The longer Miguel stared at her, so full and pregnant, the more he was reminded of you. He pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no use-- he saw visages of you everywhere he looked.

“Doesn’t look like any head contusion I’ve seen,” Gwen slid into the portal. His lip curled, annoyed by the obvious objection to what he was saying. If they would let it go-- he could go on about his life, wait for this obsession with his sex life to abate. Wait for you to come back to him.

“You can’t keep taking out your—“

“I am not sex-starved!”

“Convincing.” Jess sped into the portal.

Miguel soothed the stress out of his forehead, opening and closing his palm, a current of energy coursing through his palms. They picked— and they picked— and they picked at him. At some point, he was bound to explode. He only hoped you wouldn't be in his way when it happened. He whipped the anomaly through the portal and followed after.

On the other side of the portal, there was Peter— again. Cooing with his hands on his daughter— again. His dark mask faded away, his suit wicking water off his frame. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he located you beside Jess and Gwen. You nudged its crumpled body with your shoe. He didn’t often feel ashamed of his actions. Usually, they were necessary. Something was wrong, your face pinched and curled in disgust. He felt the string of your disapproval pulling through his arms, a slight, incriminating tremor flickering through his finger. He willed it away.

“What did you do to this poor thing?” you turned to Jess, a click-click-click off your tongue. He’d hardly call it poor. “It’s overkill.”

“Girl, ask your husband,” Jess folded her arms, reclining on her bike.

“Mi Miggy?” you went to him. You leaned over, pecking his cheek with a terribly insulting kiss, tickling his jawline. He swallowed. Blinked. Then frowned and brushed off your fingers, finding the care misplaced. You could care for an anomaly but didn't care to ask him how he felt. What he needed. Your voice wilted that sunshine quality, dropping almost to a whisper. “¿Qué te pasa, Miggy?”

“Nothing.”

“Miguel--"

“I said nothing!” He knelt down, grasping its ankle and dragging it down the long, drab hall that stored a variety of anomalies. A line of blood soaked the floor, swerving after his rumbling steps. You took a step forward, snatching his wrist between your fingers. He whirled around, a tremble on his lips firmed out into an unforgiving glare. You let up the pressure on his wrist, allowing him to spin his hand free. “Déjame en paz! There is nothing shocking wrong!”

Mireya cried. So did you.

The admittance that Peter was right wasn’t one that Miguel was about to make openly.

Although he showed up that night, as you informally requested, the night proceeded awkwardly. There was no talk over dinner, not as he watched you feed his little girl, swaying by the window of the enormous city below. As you gazed into the sea of twinkling lights, Miguel came up behind you. His palms encompassed your slight shoulders, moist against your exposed shoulders. His naked chest grazed your back.

"Are you going to apologize?"

Why should he have to? If anyone listened to what he was saying-- he wouldn't be in this mess. Still, Miguel steeled his face. He placed a mincing kiss on the top of your head. His voice thinned out, barely a feather on his lips.

"I snapped."

"You did a lot more than that. You scared her."

You let him sit with his regret until you fell asleep. He debated returning to the lab or his room to try again tomorrow. But he knew his wife. You were attentive to everything that he did. You might take it as a sign of his disinterest. After minutes turned to hours, he breached the door and slid into your bed when he was sure you were asleep.

When his eyes coursed over your figure, he realized all he missed. It was too long since he felt the warmth of a real kiss. Not the brief pecks on his lips as he rushed out the door to help Jess or Gwen or any other number of spiders demanding his attention. He missed the warmth in your eyes, the way they turn into crescents with a happy smile or jaunty laugh. He longed for that sensation of your fingers combing through his hair, taking your time and curling his fluffy hair behind his ear, eyes trained on his alone in a sea of spiders. That… sensation of being the only one that you wanted.

Mireya was that for you now. He longed for it every time he came into the room, seeing you sway with his child in your arms, cradled against your breast, feeding her into a restful sleep. What he thought was a mere seed of jealousy turned out to be a terrible beast, tendrils of resentment that you can’t see what he needs. He needs you. And it isn’t his beautiful Mireya’s fault, no. It’s his.

Instead, he lay there with his palm wretched around his cock, soaked in the artificial lubricant, throbbing into his hand. He remembered his words that night. A begrudging -- Mami, give me a baby-- and how well you took him. Your body seemed to know what he wanted, swelling with his child after a few weeks. He buckled into his palm, cranking around the base and swirling up to his leaking tip, bubbling with his need. He circled his finger over the head, swiping the fluid away.

“What are you thinking about?”

Miguel paused, sweat crept down his thick throat over his broad chest. He shuddered under the weight of your silken words. His hand coiled around his cock in one more jerk, somehow accepting that he had been caught.

“Are you thinking about me? Or is there someone else?”

"Someone else?" he breathed. His lips dropped into a frown, agitation simmering to a boil. It cooled when you looked at him-- but really looked at him. The bed shifted under your weight, ruffling pillows aside. You hoisted your legs over his body, pushing his cock against your soft vulva and his stomach, breasts pushing into his face. So close that Miguel inhaled the uniquely sweet smell of your milk obscured by thin lace.

“Why would I have anyone else?” he asked, his chest distantly aching. His gaze tracked from one breast to the other. He stole a glimpse at your face, stricken with shyness. The slight pout of your lips, eyes refusing contact. “Do you even want me?”

Undoubtedly yes.

“You don’t come to see me. You don't fuck me. You don't even--"

"You're always tired."

"But you could wake me.”

“Could I? To deny me again?” It hadn’t meant to come out so passive-aggressive, but with the natural inflections in his voice, he knew you could read him like a book.

“Oh, papi," not that soft voice. He might hope again. "I always want you.“

Hmpf. Debatable.

“Even when you’re jerking off in my bed. Or couch.�� You slid your pink tongue along your lower lip, guiding your body against his. The wet draw of your juices over his dick drew his sharp scarlet eyes to the sight, knocking your stiff clit with his dick. For a moment, his words failed. He should have known you would watch him.

“Is that why you're so... angry? Because of me?" He made a small noise, barely a huff. You drew his hands to your full breasts, obscured by a thin layer of fabric. This time, he smothered a groan in his chest. How pathetic, he thought, to be moaning from something as simple as your firm breasts back in his hands. What was he-- twelve? "Have I been neglecting you, Miguel O’Hara?”

“Yes-- you've neglected me,” he murmured, dragging the lace underneath each breast, knocked together by the straps of the fabric. He melded your breasts again between his hands, massaging the sore skin. His thumps flickered over your nipples, stiffening them into peaks. With a small pinch to your breasts, milk dribbled over his fingertips.

"I won't do it again," he wondered if you missed his touch by the full, grateful hum of your lips, your palms disappearing into his dark hair. You coursed along his dick again, eliciting another piteous noise of longing from his throat. "I promise."

“Hm," was the only agreement. "What a mess,” he teased, not bothering to look at you. It had the desired effect, your shoulders shyly bunching up, the cute pout of your lips, warmth in your cheeks, quivering eyes. He loved it when you looked so fucking shy, so vulnerable, and all for him. "You're leaking all over my hand."

“I’m-- sorry,” you flushed, “It… happens.”

“Mhm, you're full,” Miguel flicked his pink tongue along your stiff, fat nipple, drawing it into his mouth with a suckle. Sweet milk soothed his tongue. He hungrily drank it up, shifting his other hand back to angle his cock at the entrance of your core. A hand left his thick locks and jerked to his broad shoulder, stabilizing your hips down to sink onto him. Blood welled to the surface with your claws scratching piteously along his sunkissed skin. With a bit of resistance, he slid perfectly into your body, just like he always did. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips against your breast. It was somehow different-- the tug and stretch of his cock-- as he fucked the mother of his child. Maybe it was all in his head. “Shock, you’re gorgeous on my dick.”

“Miggy--”

He shifted to the other breast, his hands nearly stapled on your hips, encouraging you to do the work. Your warm milk slid into his mouth, down his starved throat. The pleasure of knowing he was draining you of your milk was tempered with the ever-present fact that soon, you’d have his spunk in your belly again. Your hips flushed, drawing around in quick circles, flushed with his pelvis. Small waves of pleasure grew in your belly. Your stiff clit glided against his skin, again, and again with the undulations of his hips. You felt pinned between his mouth and dick, restricted in movement, but all his, devoured by his need.

“Come here, mi hermosura,” Miguel released your breast from those lush lips, sliding his tongue along his lips to catch the remnants of your sweet milk. He slid down along the pillows, flushing your chest to his, and propped his legs slightly for a better angle. His muscular arms wound around your back, cock pumping into you with renewed vigor. He knocked against your cervix in this position, holding you fast and tight in his arms. You nestled against his sweaty chest, accepting his thrusts so well.

“Miggy-- I’m not-- on anything.”

“You're breastfeeding, close enough,” he mused in your ear as though it were a joke.

You might have argued with him if you weren’t so blinded by that fantastic juddering of his hips. As it were, pleasure rocked all thoughts of birth control out of your mind. Miggy, an ever-present lover, groaned as he held out through your orgasm milking and soaking his swollen dick in your cum. Not a moment later, Miguel forced a long stroke of his dick inside your cunt, reaching his climax buried deep in your tremoring walls. You squeezed him tight, milking him dry of his orgasm until it all faded into fuzzy pleasure. You sighed as his arms loosened, warm and full of Miguel after so long. His soft dick slipped free, cum oozing onto his thighs, but he couldn’t be bothered to deal with the mess.

He set a kiss on the top of your head, then your forehead, and eventually snatched your lips in a warm kiss. You could taste the sweetness of your milk on his tongue and flushed. Your head dropped down on his chest, listening for the gentle whining of your daughter. It was silent but for the intermingling of your heaving breaths.

After all the issues: the disappointment, the fighting with Peter and Jess, Miguel couldn’t help but chuckle. All it took was jerking off in your bed. He should have known-- you never did like to be left out on his fun. You were always a jealous lover, even at the threat of his own hand.

“Hm? Why are you laughing?”

“Peter said I was sex-starved."

“Well," you glistened a smile, kissing along his jaw. He huffed. "He wasn't wrong."

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florencebirdsong · 2 months ago

Text

Trick or Treat

Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

summary: with Agatha away planning a trick, Rio decides to have a little treat

tags: mentions of slapping, marking, biting, possible dub-con at the start regarding Rio as she uses magic, fingering (r & Rio receiving), praise kink, cunnilingus (Agatha receiving), bondage, bunny pet name

authors note: when you’re only intending to write a quick one shot but the lesbians won’t stop playing tug-a-war

masterlist | ao3

You hum quietly along to the old radio as you continue stitching. Agatha has yet to explain her need for a blanket covered in such a wide variety of runes but as her familiar you are happy to help anyway.

You’re currently in a slump hobbies-wise and needed something to distract you while your mistress is away.

It’s Halloween Eve, which means she’s currently tormenting her victims into a corner so she can begin her real trick at the witching hour.

A fond smile graces your lips as you move onto the next rune. Agatha may complain about what the modern world has done to Samhain but that doesn’t stop her from enjoying herself immensely. You can already feel her anticipation through the bond and can’t wait to bask in her wicked glee when she watches her prey realise the trap they’ve fallen for.

Being able to fully bathe in the feeling is one of the reasons you don’t join her. The other is how long she likes to celebrate her victory when she comes home to a ready and wet pet.

The back door slams shut and you jump, needle piercing your finger. Blood oozes from the wound and you frown as the rune it’s resting against greedily drinks it up.

You pull your finger away with a quiet tut and poke the unrepentant rune with the sharp point of your needle. Instead of releasing the blood, it sucks up the drop still clinging to the metal.

You sigh. That’s going to make the empowering stage much more annoying. Balancing is already hard enough when every rune starts at the same level.

Another door slams, this one closer, and you frown. The back door could have just been the wind but you can’t even tell which door that last one was. The cabin isn’t exactly big.

You pierce the current rune you’re working on so it doesn’t get any ideas and slowly lower the blanket. You can still clearly feel Agatha through the bond. She isn’t hiding from you and is still a fair distance away which means this isn’t her playing a game.

Rapid footsteps have you shooting to your feet with your hands raised. You may not have the powers of a full-fledged witch but you are the familiar of the most powerful witch alive and this is your home.

The footsteps stop at the door to the living room and then start to go around. Through the wall. They continue to circle the room as you try to think. Some sort of ghost, probably, but you can’t feel anything. Your mistress is a spirit witch, you have more of an affinity with it than most. You cast your magic and when that doesn’t show anything you begin muttering spells under your breath. Also nothing. Does that mean it isn’t a spirit? The footsteps reach the front porch and you decide it doesn’t matter. You bolt for the back door, where the sounds had originally started. You make it through one room before she appears in front of you. Dark hair, purple eyes, green jacket.

You freeze. Your Mistress’ magic sings at the sight of her but the animal part of your brain screams run. You don’t get the chance to take a single step. She has you trapped between her a second after you see her.

You’ve been Agatha’s familiar for long enough to know Lady Death. But only ever in spirit. A vague awareness that she’s there. Agatha is the one she talks to. For her to not only show herself but be in her physical form? For her to touch you? Your heart is going to beat out of your chest.

“Bunny, it’s so good to see you again!” she says with a big smile. “Is your mistress not home?”

You rapidly shake your head. Your panicked breaths reinforcing how tightly she’s pressed against you.

“Aw, what a shame,” she says, looking delighted. “I really was hoping to see her.”

Her hands climbs up your sides and you desperately try to wriggle free. You can barely move at all.

“Feeling shy?” she asks innocently.

You’re too panicked to respond. You can feel Agatha worriedly looking down the bond but you don’t know how to respond. The clear intention behind Rio’s touch is breaking some very big rules, but that’s what a large part of her and Agatha’s relationship seems to be about. You manage to send a jumbled weird-fine-what do? down the bond which doesn’t do anything to ease Agatha.

“No need to call her,” she says and nudges your chin up. “I can take care of you.”

Her nose runs down your neck. You tense as you feel her get close to the familiar mark. Agatha’s mark. Anyone other than her touching or interfering with it results in quite a lot of pain for both parties. She pauses just above it and her hot breath has you squirming again. Something warm and wet touches just below it and you freeze.

Rio’s gives your familiar mark a long, slow lick. What should burn sends waves of pleasure through you instead. Your eyes roll back as you moan and buck into her.

Only Agatha should be able to get such a response from your mark. The fact that Rio can means-means something that’s too hard to work out with her sharp teeth scraping over it.

You whimper and instinctively bare your neck further. Her laugh is low and her breath hot against your skin.

The bond flares as Agatha’s presence fills your mind. No doubt looking through your eyes for who dared touch her pet. You force them open and on to Rio, who is still sporting the same grin. The teasing look in her eyes isn’t for you. They never leave yours as she gently brushes her lips against yours. Agatha, consciously or not, urges you forward and you lean into it willingly.

Rio pulls back with a victorious smile. You have to shut your eyes. Agatha isn’t pleased at being so easily played and between that, her own lust and yours it’s too much.

Agatha breaks the connection to your sight with a snap. She’s still close but her emotions aren’t being directly shoved on top of your own anymore.

Rio nudges your head back up to bare your neck. You can feel her anticipation rolling off of her in waves. She practically vibrates with it. You whimper when you realise she’s going right back to your mark. She teases around it, working you up until she finally laves that last bit of attention on it and you’re limp and pliant in her arms. She eagerly begins sinking her teeth into the skin around Agatha’s mark. You don’t know enough about Rio and Agatha’s relationship to know which end it will send Agatha over, pure possessive rage or insatiable lust, but you can already feel the explosion growing with every step closer she gets.

Rio’s nails trail up the delicate skin of your inner thigh and you try to close your legs with a whine. You can’t with her pressed against you.

One more swipe over your familiar mark has your legs opening for her. All thought of resistance gone as the ancient magic lulls you into an obedient, pleasure-filled haze. Rio slips her hand under the waistband of your pants.

“I can see why Agatha likes this so much,” Rio murmurs as her fingers delicately circle over the wet spot forming on your panties.

You can feel Agatha getting closer and closer. Her emotions invade the bond more and more. Indignation, anticipation, pure lust. It has your hips rolling against the light pressure Rio is giving you.

Rio’s fingers move to your clit and she has you mewling for her by the time Agatha slams open the door. You can feel the way her magic pulses, inside you and against your skin, and it has you moaning.

Agatha tears Rio away from you. You whine at the loss, something that would have earned you a slap if Agatha’s hands weren’t full.

Agatha slams Rio against the apposing wall.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she growls. Her emotions are still wild and the fight between possessiveness and hunger has your knees weak.

“Enjoying Halloween,” Rio says innocently. “I thought I deserved a little treat and that you,” she leans her face closer to Agatha’s, “Would enjoy a little trick.”

“She’s mine. Find your treat somewhere else.”

“Like under your skirt?” Rio smirks. You can feel the anger and desire grow within Agatha. “She responded so well to me, didn’t you bunny?”

She peeks over Agatha’s shoulder and you nod without thinking. It’s not entirely your fault. Touching the familiar mark in such a way is designed to flood you with the desire to please.

Agatha reaches through the bond and tugs you to your knees.

“Behave,” she snaps. The new position means you can squeeze your thighs together without falling. The tiny bit of pressure squeezing your sensitive clit has you grinding. “That is not behaving.”

You can’t stop yourself. Agatha enters your mind to find the source of your disobedience. All she finds is a lust-filled haze.

“Aw, did Rio touch my mark? Is that what turned you into such a mindless bunny?“ she says with mock sympathy as she advances on you.

You whimper up at her with pleading eyes. It’s a mistake. Moving your head clearly shows your mark, and the way it’s covered in Rio’s own.

Anger flashing down the bond has you barring your neck to her and the dark desire that hides beneath it makes your mouth water.

“That’s quite a sight, pet,” she says with a smile that stretches too wide. “It’s a miracle you aren’t dead on the ground.”

Unable to think enough to respond you continue to stare up while panting. Not wanting a dumb doll just yet, Agatha eases some of the fog from your mind.

Thoughts are still form slow and it takes you a few moments to realise she wants a response.

“It felt good,” you whimper like she doesn’t already know.

“Oh?” she reaches down and grips your chin. “Are your loyalties so easily swayed?”

Anger claws at you. Your devotion to Agatha is complete. The familiar bond only cemented it.

“You know that’s not how it works,” you snap. Agatha looks at you with mock shock at your outburst.

“Then how does another bring you such pleasure, bunny?” she asks. You swallow. Such a dangerous question when it comes in regard to Rio. But not answering will be much worse than telling the truth.

“My feelings mirror my mistresses’ own,” you force out quietly. There’s more nuance than that to the bond, you don’t become a copy of her, but it’s true enough for what happened.

Her eyes flash just like you knew they would.

“I think that’s enough talking,” she moves her hand from your chin to your mark and presses down. Bliss bursts from the contact. It travels to your brain and down to your soaked cunt. Your eyes roll back. Your hips continuously move as you seek just a hint of pressure. Agatha kicks your thighs further apart to prevent you from getting any. “Naughty pet, telling secrets. Your mistress will have to teach you a lesson, won’t she?”

You whine, wanting to beg for mercy, but there’s barely her name in your head let alone a full thought. Before Agatha can continue, Rio breaks free from Agatha’s hold. She swings Agatha against the opposite wall with her magic. Agatha collides with a dull thud that has you trying to get up automatically. Your limbs are still weak and your brain fuzzy. It’s easy for Rio to push you back down.

“I sought out your pet for a bit of fun, Agatha. Not to be put in a corner,” she kneels in front of you and gently cups your face. Her thumbs smooth gentle circles over your cheek. You melt into it. “Your mistress is so mean, you poor thing. Trying to punish you for something that’s her fault.” One hand slides to the back of your neck and into your hair, gently scratching. You make an agreeing noise to get her to continue.

Agatha’s indignation is clear through the bond but it feels so far away. So much attention on your mark has you floating and Rio’s soft touch isn’t bringing you down.

“Why don’t you let me help, bunny?” she says as she gently guides you to lay down.

You make a noise of confusion. This feels like your mistress but not, and only your mistress can have you in such a way. You try and move her hands away but she shushes you. You try to close your legs but teasing fingers running up your inner thighs has them opening again.

It shouldn’t feel so nice when your mistress’s presence is further away. You follow the bond and turn your head. Agatha’s pupils are blown and her breaths heavy. Her magic makes no appearance and she isn’t using the bond to force some clarity into your mind to stop Rio.

“I promise to be nice,” Rio whispers as she slowly raises your shirt. Her cool touch feels so good on your overheated skin that you can’t stop her. “Let’s continue where we left off.”

Her hand slips back into your pants to your wet panties and she begins circling your clit again. You mewl quietly, eyes finding your mistress again. She’s leaning forward in her restrains and her tongue darts out to wet her lips.

You whine when Rio’s fingers disappear. Your panties disappear along with them and the chill air makes you shiver. Her fingers find your clit again and your legs spread wider.

“There’s a good bunny,” Rio says and the praise has you arching. “Such a good familiar.” Your body shudders. The bond has only increased your reaction to praise, especially when related to your behaviour as a familiar. “I wonder,” Rio says curiously. Her spare hand finds your mark and she presses down hard enough to have you going limp. Her other hand doesn’t stop. “You’re such a good girl,” she says. The heat curling around your core immediately snaps and you cry out as it flashes through you. You twitch and press into her hands. Rio laughs. “It really does make you so sensitive, huh Bunny?” her fingers circle your mark and you whimper pathetically.

“That’s enough,” Agatha says, finally using her magic to break Rio’s own.

“Is it? I haven’t finished enjoying my treat yet.”

“You know better than to break my things.”

“I guess I’ll have to do my trick then,” Rio disappears but you can feel her as clearly as you do Agatha. It’s strange to be connected to another in a way. You aren’t sure how much you like it. She isn’t your mistress. Still, a tug from Rio has you trying to stumble to your feet and a tingling sensation has her distinctiveness fading.

“What are you doing?” Agatha asks as she steadies you. She’s right next to you. You frown and look towards the other presence. Why was she calling you from over there? You can’t make your lips work. Agatha uses the bond to brush against your mind. “Interesting trick, dear. But it won’t change who she belongs to.”

Oh, Rio was the other presence? But it doesn’t feel like Rio. It feels like your mistress. If it was her, wouldn’t Agatha be more angry? It doesn’t make sense. You just want her fingers inside of you.

Rio cackles and you’re pulled out of Agatha’s arms. The walls pass in a blur but you’re caught in a warm embrace before you begin to panic. Arms wrap around your waist and her chin rests on your shoulder. You eagerly lean back into the feeling of your mistress. She’s cooler than she usually is but you don’t mind with her skin against yours.

Frustration and delight flow through the bond and you nuzzle her neck to try and help soothe her. Since her head is on your shoulder you end up nuzzling her cheek instead. She purrs. It relaxes you further. Your eyes flutter shut.

“Rio,” mistress says warningly from far away.

“It looks like she wants to come with me, isn’t that right bunny?” she asks from right next to you.

Yes, you send clearly through the bond. Of course you want to go your mistress. Fingers find your chin and nod for you anyway.

Agatha growls and you feel magic wrapping around you again. It only pulls you for a second before it stops, her arms tightening around you. You don’t know why she’d send you away but you don’t question it with her so close.

She summons you through the bond and you try to press even more tightly against her. A frustrated growl. Hands creep under your shirt again and you shiver. Nails lightly scraping along your ribs before fingers find your nipples. They squeeze and pinch and pull. A hot mouth finds your neck and begins sucking, thankfully giving your oversensitive familiar mark a break. You moan and arch into the touch, desire licking through the bond.

Fingers slip into your soaked core and you desperately grab her wrist. Just for something to hold on to. You’re too fuzzy to do much more than take it.

You end up on your toes, back arched and mouth open with needy gasps. The building pleasure is much calmer with no touch to your mark. Mistress’ fingers pump into you lazily, her fingers curling as you get closer to the edge.

“Be a good bunny,” she murmurs against your skin. “Come for your mistress.”

The warmth crests and pleasure runs through you. Desperate, needy sounds escape you as you grip her wrist tightly and grind down. Mistress doesn’t seem to mind, her other hand still groping your breast.

You slump against her. She gently pulls out and holds her hand up, slowly opening her fingers so your cum stretches between them. You turn to try and hide your face in her neck.

“So messy,” she says. Her desire burns bright in your mind.

“You’ve had your treat, Rio,” your mistress says with a gravely voice. “And now you’ve played your trick. Time to give her back.”

“Why don’t you come and take her?”

The disorientating feeling of teleporting envelops you. Arms wrap back around your waist to steady you.

You’re in the kitchen, facing the door. Which mistress slams through. Your bond bends and the presence of your second mistress disappears. You turn your head to find Rio. Mistress summons you and you try to squirm out of Rio’s hold. It’s as successful as the last time. Arms that were safe turn cage. You push at them but they don’t budge.

Rio teleports you again and you stop pushing her arms to cling to them. The door handle turns and Rio does it again. She lets go this time and you wobble for a moment before falling forward. Your bed is there to catch you. The comforter is soft against your hot skin and the mattress cradles your sore muscles. You feel your mistress appear in the room but neither of them reach for you so you don’t bother to turn.

A body slams into wood and Rio moans loudly. Agatha is growling too lowly for you to understand but Rio’s teasing response ends in a gasp. You want to see but your body is so heavy, the haze making you sink down now that everything has stopped.

Wet sounds fill the room and Rio’s moans indicate that your mistress has won. You force your eyes to stay open, wanting to see what Agatha dominating looks like from the outside. Pushing yourself up onto shaky arms you manage to turn over. You can only see part of Agatha’s face and the movement of her hand but Rio is in full view. There’s still a teasing smile on her face but it’s slowly morphing into one of pleasure.

Rio’s mouth falls open as Agatha does something with her fingers and her smug look disappears as her eyes drop to Agatha’s mouth. The want in them has heat licking through your pussy again. One leg moves to wind around Agatha’s waist and her hands grips her shoulders. Agatha says something you can’t make out and Rio’s head falls back against the wall. Two thrusts later and she’s moaning, holding tight to Agatha as she comes. You watch in awe as Death unravels at the hand of your mistress.

Death is still panting when Agatha pulls out, her eyes hooded.

Agatha raises her soaked fingers to Rio’s mouth. You’re surprised at how willingly she takes them. Rio’s dark gaze never leaves your mistress’ and you watch in fascination as her throat moves. Rio sucks as Agatha pulls her fingers out and you swallow at the noise.

“No kiss?” Rio asks as she licks her lips.

“After stealing my familiar? No.”

“Pretty please?” Rio gives an exaggerated pout and bats her eyes.

“You’ll have to make it up to me first,” Agatha winds her hand in Rio’s hair and slowly pushes her to the floor. Rio never breaks her gaze as she gets on her knees.

She reaches up and undoes the button on Agatha’s pants before slowly pulling down the zipper. Mistress’ face is indifferent but you can feel her need flickering down the bond. It grows with every inch of skin Rio reveals.

Rio slowly pulls Agatha’s pants down before kissing Agatha over her panties.

“Teasing isn’t going to get you what you want,” Agatha warns. Rio gives a long, slow lick over the panties in response but doesn’t push it any further. She magics Agatha bare and immediately dives in.

Agatha moans and holds a hand out against the wall to steady herself. Rio isn’t easing into it. You can feel the corresponding waves of pleasure from every lick, swipe and press of her tongue. She sucks and Agatha’s other hand shoots out, head bowed. A finger teases her entrance but a flash of purple has Rio’s hands back in her lap. She huffs but doesn’t attempt again, moving to hold onto Agatha’s thighs instead. When Agatha said Rio has to earn it she meant it and you watch as Rio does. Her head constantly bobbing, lips making messy sucking sounds, the feeling of her running over Mistress again and again.

You want to touch but don’t dare risk Agatha’s ire with Rio turning onto you.

You can feel her orgasm building through the bond although she doesn’t allow it to show. Rio still hasn’t looked away from her face.

Rio scrapes her teeth against Agatha’s clit and the feeling of Agatha’s orgasm floods you. Agatha grinds down on Rio’s face as she prolongs her high. You watch as Rio digs her fingers into Agatha’s thighs and give as good as she gets.

Agatha slows to stop as her high ebbs and jealousy runs through you as you watch Rio lap up the mess dripping down your mistress’ thighs. You haven’t gotten to taste either of them.

Agatha leans heavily against the wall as her legs continue to shake, she doesn’t take her eyes off Rio. A deep satisfaction fills her.

Rio rockets to her feet, head popping up between Agatha’s arms and kisses her. Instead of gripping Rio’s hair like you expect Agatha cups her face and melts into her. It works to Rio’s advantage.

She uses Agatha’s moment of weakness to force her to the floor. You watch with wide eyes as she climbs on top of her and pins her down. You push yourself up onto your arms so you can see them. You’ve been on top of Agatha before but never like this. Not with the control Rio has.

Rio makes Agatha kiss her. Her hand moves to Agatha’s neck and squeezes. The way your mistress gasps has you squeezing your thighs together.

Your desire is too loud and your mistress notices you. Her magic fills your mind. You beg to keep watching but her magic flows through the bond, encouraging you towards sleep. You try not to pout at not getting to see Agatha in your usual role but your eyes slip shut anyway. Pretending to sleep won’t work with you so connected and her magic coaxes you that last little bit towards unconsciousness. You slip into it just as Agatha breathes her first moan

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lilacqiqis · 1 year ago

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A/N:Uwaaa first actual post on this blog!! I'm excited and hopefully you guys (3 people) will like it <3-Mod Lilac

Hair playing (ft. Naruto, Kakashi, Hinata, Itachi, Sasuke. GN!reader)

tw: none

More under the cut

🌙 It's no shock that Naruto loves being affectionate in every way possible, having his hair played with is one of his favorite activities!

🌙 Pat your lap and he'll get the signal instantly, rushing up to you and putting his chin on your thighs with that iconic smirk.

🌙 Give his scalp a few scratches, it's comforting to him. His hair is oddly soft despite him seeming like he has a shitty hair routine... Wonder what his hair care routine is? "Heheh, I don't really have a routine... I just dip my hair in the hot springs and call it a day!" Maybe the hot springs has some kind of magic imbued in it?

🌙 Sometimes, Naruto will play around with your hair. He's a goof, and ends up messing up your hairstyle or tugging too hard... He'll apologize with a crooked smile, so don't get too mad at him <3

🌻 Kakashi doesn't mind it when you play with his hair. It's nice, actually. Reading his book while you run your fingers through his gray locks... It's a peaceful moment he'll cherish.

🌻 He'd also like if he was pressed between your thighs while you played with his hair, so do the man a favor and indulge him a little. It's nothing inherently sexual... Kakashi just likes your thighs.

🌻 He loves falling asleep on your lap while you mess with his hair. Perhaps you can take his vulnerable sleeping state to pull down his mask... Nope. He'll catch your wrist and stop you before you get the chance to. Perhaps he has a special sixth sense for that...

🌻 Sometimes, Kakashi will tie your hair for you (if it is long enough to tie). It's a small act of affection, but it's sweet regardless. He isn't exactly one to play with your hair often, but sometimes he'll grab a strand while you're talking and twirl it between his fingers.

🦋 Hinata is such a sweet girl, letting you do what you want as long as it makes you happy. And if playing with her hair makes you happy, then she's more than willing to sit down and let you run your fingers through her hair.

🦋 She doesn't mind at all if you randomly play with her hair, she's glad you like her hair so much! Who wouldn't though? Her hair is silky and long, absolutely gorgeous. She takes extremely good care of it and her hair has a soft scent of lavender.

🦋 If you ever asked, she'd help you do your hair. Hinata enjoys brushing your hair, but if you prefer it messy she's fine with that too.

🦋 Tie her hair and do different hair dos! She'll love it, a pink hue on her cheeks as you braid or curl her hair. Even if you suck at it, Hinata will try to compliment you regardless on your skills.

🌹 You want to play with Itachi's hair? Go right ahead, darling. If it makes you happy... Itachi is happy too. He'll untie his hair and crouch down to lay his head on your lap, letting you do as you wish.

🌹 The look he gives you while you run your fingers through his strands is so... Soft. He enjoys your touch, being as touch starved as he is. He'll run circles on your thigh with his hand, giving you the sweetest smile.

🌹 Let him pamper you as well, he loves taking care of you and making you feel good. Itachi will return the favor with soft kisses as he motions for you to lay in his lap.

🌹 King of scalp massages, the way he runs his hands through your hair is comforting, he doesn't care if your hair is crunchy either the man persists. Please don't tell him no, he's just so eager to make you comfortable and happy, it makes him twice as joyful. But if you really don't like it he'll stop, not wanting to go against your wishes.

🌱 "What? No, don't touch my hair."

🌱 Proceeds to get mad when you say it's okay. Sasuke really expects you to pressure him so he can pretend he hates it 😭. If you do pressure him however he'll grumble and say "Fine. I'm only letting you do this because you'll just keep pestering me."

🌱 Acts uninterested as you play around with his hair, but he is ecstatic on the inside. He won't admit that ever, not even to himself, but this makes him feel extremely comfortable.

🌱 I don't see Sasuke as the type of person to play with your hair, and he's probably refuse if you asked him to. What a spoiled boy... Don't worry, he'll get more soft as time goes on.

#mod.lilac.writes #naruto x reader #naruto uzumaki x reader #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi x reader #hinata x reader #hinata hyuga x reader #itachi x reader #itachi uchiha x reader #sasuke x reader #sasuke uchiha x reader #naruto headcanons

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theonottsbxtch · 2 months ago

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FORGOTTEN BIRTHDAY | OP81

an: happy birthday @iimplicitt everyone go and wish her a happy birthday! this is a little piece for you that will make you sadder that you're not in a relationship with oscar but it's a gift from me to you, ily <3

wc: 3.5k

The morning sunlight seeped through the thin, linen curtains, casting soft patterns on the wall, and she stirred, blinking her eyes open as she felt the familiar warmth against her back. Oscar’s arm was wrapped around her waist, pulling her close, his steady breathing a gentle rhythm against her neck. She could feel his lips brushing soft, lazy kisses along her shoulder, the way he always did when he thought she was still asleep.

For a moment, she simply lay there, soaking in the quiet closeness of it all. The fresh scent of Oscar’s cologne and the warmth of his body made her feel safe, cherished. She allowed herself to close her eyes again, smile lingering on her lips as he tightened his hold just slightly, burying his face into her hair, his fingers gently tracing patterns along her arm.

It was her birthday.

She’d woken up with a flutter of excitement, the way she always had since she was a little girl. There was something magical, something undeniably special about the feeling of a day that was just yours. And now, waking up like this, wrapped up in the warmth and the love of someone who’d stolen her heart—that feeling should’ve been even stronger.

But as the minutes ticked by and he continued to kiss her in that quiet, thoughtful way he did each morning, not a single word was said.

Maybe he’s just distracted, she thought, feeling the slight tug of disappointment. After all, the season was coming to an end, and she knew how focused he got, especially in the days before a race. Formula 1 demanded so much of him, and she respected that. He’d been there for her in ways she hadn’t even dared to hope for, bringing more joy and care into her life than she could have ever asked for.

But... not even a whisper of "happy birthday"? Not a hint, not a knowing look in his eyes?

She felt him shift behind her, his hand slipping up to brush a strand of hair from her cheek, his thumb tracing her jawline with that same tender familiarity. His lips pressed gently against her neck, a sleepy hum in his throat. He felt so close, so utterly devoted, and yet...

He’s just busy, she told herself, letting out a soft sigh. It’s probably the last thing on his mind.

She sighed softly, stretching in his arms, and he pulled her a little closer, his lips brushing her forehead in that sleepy, casual way of his. His eyes were still half-closed, hair tousled, but there was a lazy smile on his face as he woke up with her.

“Morning,” Oscar murmured, voice rough with sleep, his thumb tracing slow circles along her hip.

“Morning,” she whispered back, trying to keep her tone as normal as possible. She didn’t want him to sense that she’d been holding her breath, waiting for him to say… well, something. A small “Happy Birthday, love,” maybe, or even just a knowing smile, some hint that he remembered. But he hadn’t. And it was clear now that he wouldn’t.

“So,” he yawned, shifting his legs under the blankets, “today’s kinda busy. Lando and I have this thing at the sponsor’s studio. Some shoot for a promo video, I think. They’re calling it an ‘inside look’ at race prep or something, but really it’s just us standing around talking, I’m pretty sure.” He chuckled, rubbing his eyes. “They’ve got us doing all this media stuff lately.”

“Oh, yeah?” she replied, forcing herself to smile. “You’ll be a natural.” She reached up to run her fingers through his hair, hoping he’d look at her, maybe even catch her eye and give her a hint that he hadn’t forgotten after all.

But Oscar only nodded, giving her a sleepy grin as he leaned back, stretching his arms above his head. “And you? Got a day at the office, right?” he asked casually, as though it was any other day of the year. “What’s on your agenda?”

She took a breath, trying to keep her voice light. “Yep, just the usual. A couple meetings, and I’ll probably have to cover for someone at the desk. I’ll be out by five.”

He nodded, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Sounds like a good day. We’ll both be back around the same time, then.”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling faintly. “Guess so.”

She got out of bed, pulling her robe around herself and heading to the bathroom, where she stared at her reflection, trying to shove away the hollow feeling that was starting to settle in her chest. She should’ve been used to this by now, she told herself. Oscar’s schedule was demanding; he barely had time to stop and breathe some days, let alone keep track of something like a birthday. Besides, she knew he cared for her deeply—his warmth in the mornings, his texts at odd hours when he thought of her, all the small ways he showed her mattered so much more than one day of the year.

But as she brushed her teeth, tied her hair back, and headed into the wardrobe to pick out her work clothes, she couldn’t quite shake the disappointment. She wanted to laugh at herself for caring so much. It was just a birthday.

Yet the more she tried to pretend she was fine, the more her heart kept slipping. She threw on her blouse and slacks, fixing her makeup with hands that were just a little less steady than usual, and made her way back into the bedroom, where he was now scrolling through his phone, probably checking the texts from his manager.

“Have a good day, okay?” Oscar said as she slipped on her shoes. He gave her a small, warm smile as he leaned over, pressing one last kiss to her cheek, his hand resting on her shoulder as if to linger with her a moment longer.

“Yeah. You too,” she murmured, giving him a faint smile as she grabbed her bag, willing herself not to linger, not to let herself feel anything other than grateful for the morning they’d shared. She gave him one last glance, catching his gaze as he looked at her, that usual warmth in his eyes. And then she turned, heading out the door, whispering to herself that it didn’t matter. It wasn’t important.

The office was buzzing when she walked in. As soon as she stepped through the door, her coworkers greeted her with bright smiles, some even standing up from their desks to call out, "Happy birthday!" There was a small pile of gifts on her desk, wrapped in cheerful paper and bows, and a few balloons taped to her chair. She felt herself smiling genuinely for the first time that morning, warmth flooding her chest as she set her bag down.

“Oh my gosh, you guys,” she laughed, cheeks flushing as she picked up a card signed by everyone. “This is too much.”

“Nonsense!” her friend and desk-mate chimed in, appearing at her side with a cupcake topped with a single, brightly coloured candle. “You deserve all of this and more. We all know you make this place actually run.”

She chuckled, feeling the warmth and kindness radiating from the team. As she took in their gifts—a handmade scarf from the coworker who crocheted on her lunch breaks, a small box of her favourite teas, a lovely journal for her ever-growing stack of notes—she felt touched, genuinely happy. Her coworkers hadn’t forgotten; in fact, they’d gone out of their way to make her feel special.

But there was still that empty space in her chest. A quiet, lingering ache as she glanced at her phone, hoping to see a message pop up on her screen. Maybe Oscar would text her between shoots, or send her a voice message—just a quick “Happy birthday” or even a simple smiley face. Something that would tell her he’d thought of her.

Yet as the hours passed, her phone stayed stubbornly silent, aside from the usual work notifications and a few birthday messages from friends. She knew that he didn’t text much during the day, that his shoots and meetings usually stretched longer than he liked to admit. But part of her had hoped that, just today, he might make an exception.

At lunch, her friends surprised her with a small cake in the break room. They sang to her, a little off-key but with a lot of heart, and she found herself laughing along, feeling incredibly lucky to be surrounded by such warmth and care. She tried to push aside her thoughts of him, to keep her mind off the absence of his message. He’s busy, she told herself, taking a bite of cake as her friends chatted around her. It’s not a big deal.

Still, every time she felt her phone buzz in her bag, her heart leapt, just for a moment, and each time, she couldn’t help but feel the sting of disappointment as she realised it wasn’t Oscar. It was as if her heart was doing a balancing act, teetering between gratitude for the people around her and that quiet ache that her mind kept insisting wasn’t fair to feel.

As she stepped out of the office and into the cool evening air, she felt the weight of the day pressing down on her. She’d kept a brave face, laughed at all the right moments, and soaked up every bit of love her friends and coworkers had poured into her. But now, alone with her thoughts, she felt the ache returning, stronger than before. She wanted nothing more than to go home, slip into a hot bath, and just let herself feel it all—the disappointment, the loneliness, the hurt she’d been pretending wasn’t there.

As she walked up to her building, she noticed his car wasn’t parked out front. Somehow, that felt like a small blessing. She was grateful for a few quiet moments to herself, to feel everything she’d been holding back all day.

The apartment was dark and quiet when she stepped inside, the air still. She kicked off her shoes, leaving them haphazardly by the door, and shrugged her bag off her shoulder, not bothering to turn on any lights as she made her way down the hallway. She was so drained, and all she wanted was the familiar comfort of their room, a place where she could let her guard down completely.

When she pushed open the door to the bedroom, though, she stopped short.

There, spread across the bed, was a beautiful assortment of gifts wrapped in elegant, colourful paper, with a cluster of balloons tied to the foot of the bed. She blinked, her eyes taking in the soft glow of fairy lights that had been draped over the headboard. Each balloon had a photograph attached—moments from their time together, candid shots from races, vacations, cosy evenings at home. Her heart clenched at the sight, an overwhelming mix of disbelief and relief filling her chest.

And then, as if on cue, Oscar stepped out from the closet, a tiny cupcake in his hand, a single candle flickering on top. His face was lit by the candle’s glow, a quiet, tender smile on his lips as he looked at her, his eyes warm and full of a love that nearly undid her.

“Happy birthday,” he whispered, voice soft but full of so much feeling that it made her knees weak.

She stared at him, her eyes filling with tears as she let out a shaky laugh, feeling a rush of emotions she could barely contain. “I thought… I thought you forgot,” she managed, her voice breaking as she took a step toward him, her hands trembling. “I thought you were too busy, that… that you didn’t remember.”

Oscar’s face softened, and he closed the distance between them, setting the cupcake on the nightstand as he reached out to pull her into his arms. “Forget?” he murmured, holding her close, one hand coming up to stroke her hair as she let out a small, choked sob into his shoulder. “How could I ever forget your birthday? I’ve been planning this for weeks.”

She clung to him, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as she finally let the tears fall, letting herself feel everything she’d been holding back. He held her tightly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back, letting her release every ounce of doubt and hurt she’d felt throughout the day.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered between soft sobs. “I just… I thought maybe with everything going on, it slipped your mind. I didn’t want to feel that way, but I… I couldn’t help it.”

Oscar pulled back just enough to look at her, brushing away a tear from her cheek with his thumb, his gaze filled with understanding. “I get it,” he said gently. “I wanted it to be a surprise, to make it perfect. But if I’d known it would make you feel like this…” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering there as he held her close. “I would’ve done it differently.”

She shook her head, a tearful laugh escaping her. “No, this is perfect. It’s… it’s everything. I just didn’t expect it, and I guess I didn’t realise how much I wanted it.”

He smiled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You deserve to feel special today. Every day, really. I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise.”

She smiled up at him, feeling the weight on her chest finally lifting as she took in the warmth in his eyes, the quiet thoughtfulness of every detail around them. Oscar reached over, picked up the cupcake, and held it between them, nodding toward the candle.

“Make a wish,” he murmured.

She looked at him, her heart swelling as she realised that her wish had already come true. But still, she closed her eyes, letting herself make a small, quiet wish before blowing out the candle.

When she opened her eyes, he was still looking at her, his own gaze soft and full of a promise she could feel without words.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, her fingers tracing over the colourful wrapping paper, feeling almost shy with him watching her so intently. It was like every small, careful detail had been planned with her in mind, each gift waiting patiently for her to unwrap it.

The first package she reached for was a familiar shape—a shoebox. She unwrapped it slowly, her heart catching in her throat as she lifted the lid to reveal a pristine pair of black Dr. Martens. She laughed, a soft, delighted sound, running her fingers over the leather. “You remembered,” she murmured, looking up at him with a grateful smile. “I was saying just last week that mine were about ready to fall apart.”

“I know,” Oscar grinned, hands in his pockets as he watched her. “I was pretty sure you’d been trying to ignore the hole in the sole. Figured it was about time for an upgrade.”

She smiled, warmth spreading through her chest as she slipped the boots aside, reaching for the next gift. It was a neatly wrapped package, smaller and heavier, with an unmistakable shape. She tore away the paper, her breath catching when she saw the cover—the first book in her favourite series, one she’d read so many times that the copy on her shelf was practically falling apart. But as she opened the book, her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, her fingers tracing over the author’s signature scrawled inside the cover, a small message addressed just to her. She flipped through the rest of the books in the series, each one signed with a personal note. “How… how did you manage this?”

Oscar sat down beside her, looking a little smug but mostly just pleased with her reaction. “You’ve talked about those books more times than I can count,” he said with a small shrug. “I figured I’d reach out to the author’s team, see if I could make it happen. Took a little convincing, but… worth it, I think.”

She looked up at him, eyes shining with gratitude and awe, feeling like her heart might just burst. “It’s… it’s perfect,” she said softly, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

He smiled, brushing a thumb over her hand as she picked up the final box, smaller and elegantly wrapped in deep blue paper. She carefully peeled it open, lifting the lid to find a delicate necklace nestled inside. It was simple and beautiful—a silver pendant with both of their initials engraved on it, entwined together in a tiny, subtle script. Her heart swelled as she held it up, running her fingers over the cool metal.

As she admired it, he reached up and pulled something out from under his shirt—a matching necklace, with the same delicate initials. The pendant hung just over his heart, a quiet, constant reminder of her that he must have been wearing all day.

Her chest tightened, and she felt a tear slip down her cheek as she took it all in, the thoughtfulness, the care he’d put into every detail. She reached over, cupping his face with trembling hands as her voice broke.

“You wore it all day,” she whispered, her heart so full she could barely speak.

Oscar smiled, reaching up to cover her hand with his. “Of course I did. You’re with me everywhere I go,” he murmured, his voice soft. “No matter how crazy the schedule, or how many days I’m away… I wanted you to know that you’re always with me.”

She melted, letting herself fall into his embrace, her head tucked under his chin as he held her close. She felt like everything she’d worried about, every bit of doubt that had crept in throughout the day, had simply vanished, replaced by a love so real and constant she didn’t know how she could have ever doubted it.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice muffled against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against her cheek.

He kissed the top of her head, his fingers threading gently through her hair. “I love you, too,” he said, holding her tightly, as if he’d never let her go. “Happy birthday, love.”

She pulled back from his embrace just enough to look up at him, her eyes shining with warmth and gratitude. Oscar met her gaze, his hand lifting to brush a stray tear from her cheek, his fingers lingering softly on her skin. And then, without a word, he leaned in, closing the distance between them as his lips met hers in a slow, tender kiss.

It was soft at first, a gentle, lingering touch filled with all the emotion of the night. But then his hand slid up to the back of her neck, pulling her just a little closer, and the kiss deepened, becoming something more—a quiet, passionate promise that said everything words couldn’t. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as she poured every bit of her love and gratitude into that moment, feeling his warmth surround her, grounding her in a way that only he could.

When they finally pulled back, breathless but smiling, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, pressing one last soft kiss to her forehead. “Alright,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Let me run you a bath. You’ve had a long day, and you deserve to relax.”

But she shook her head, her hand slipping into his as she gave him a gentle smile. “No, not now,” she whispered, and he paused, a look of confusion crossing his face.

“Are you sure?” he asked, tilting his head, his thumb brushing the back of her hand.

She smiled softly, tugging him gently toward the bed. “I just want to cuddle,” she said, her voice a quiet, warm confession.

Understanding dawned in his eyes, and his expression softened as he nodded, his lips curving into a smile. Oscar climbed into bed with her, pulling the covers over them both as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. She snuggled into his chest, her head resting just over his heart, listening to its steady, comforting rhythm as his hands traced soft patterns along her back.

They lay together in the quiet, wrapped up in each other, their legs tangled and their breaths in sync. He held her with a gentle strength, his fingers weaving through her hair as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. It was perfect, this quiet intimacy, as they sank deeper into each other’s warmth, finding solace in the simple, tender closeness.

“I don’t need anything else,” she murmured, her voice muffled against his chest. “Just this.”

Oscar tightened his hold on her, his lips brushing her temple. “Then this is exactly what we’ll do,” he whispered.

the end.

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gilverrwrites · 7 months ago

Text

Fake Dating tropes with (some of) the birds and the bats. Ft. Babs, Bruce, Dick, Duke, Jason, Kate, and Tim.

GN!Reader, ≈200-250 words each CWs: None graphic mentions of sex, none-graphic injuries, none -graphic mentions of drugs, intentionally minipulative behaviours.🩷

Barbara

The two of you weren’t exactly not dating. Attached at the hip, making goo-goo eyes in person and inappropriate comments over the comms line when apart; it was obvious to anyone with eyes or ears that something was going on there, you just hadn’t put a name on it yet. It’s something the two of you had made plans to nail down and discuss during your sort of but not really a date-date tonight.

But you had only gone and got yourself shot during what should have been a simple trip to the bank. It wasn’t life-threatening, but you’d been rushed off in an ambulance, you’d need surgery, a lot of meds, and months, if not years of physio to get your arms back into shape.

Barbara didn’t know that at the time though, she’d been panic-stricken from the moment she found out. Emotions getting the better of her, brain running at 100 miles a minute as she rushed to the hospital.

“Partners and family only.” The nurse had told her. And without hesitation, she’d responded: “I am their partner.”

Her lie paid off, allowing her access to your bedside, as well as a full update on your status. There wasn’t another face in any universe you would have rather seen upon waking up from surgery. Now you just had to keep up the appearance of being a married couple until you were discharged, maybe longer.

Bruce

It’s a well-organised and thoroughly thought-out publicity stunt. Bruce needed someone new on his playboy roster, and you needed the media to circulate literally anything other than the less-than-flattering leaks that had been sold to them without your consent.

All you had to do was follow the itinerary. A couple of soft launch social media pics, a few whispers to the looser-lipped socialites of your circles, and some ‘private’ candid photo ops of the two of you dating:

Snuggling under the shade of an oak tree in Gotham Park, wearing matching caps and sunglasses that do little to hide your identities as you read a shared copy of Romeo and Juliet together.

Sitting in his car, in the parking lot of Big Belly Burger, munching on an unseemly large order of burgers and fries together. Nobody questions why the previously tinted windows of Bruce’s car are now clear.

Intimately and provocatively embracing, tastefully half nude on the balcony of your uptown apartment. The press didn’t need to know that you’re actually renting an Airbnb for the weekend, for exactly this purpose, and nothing more.

Everything was carefully planned, right down to the T for maximum impact and minimal effort. The only thing that hadn’t been accounted for was one, or both of you catching feelings in the time you’d spent together.

Dick

He’s never been able to say no to you, you know it, he knows it. So when you ask him in an act of desperation to be your fake-boyfriend for your ex’s wedding he’s quick to inform you that this is the dumbest idea he’s ever heard, and that he’s 110% on board.

He takes you shopping for matching outfits, picks you up on the day in Bruce’s flashiest car, suprises you with something pretty, compliments you loudly and romantically at every chance and won’t take his hands off you all the way through the ceremony. He's attentive and outwardly passionate. Not only is he playing the role of the world's best-ever (fake-)boyfriend, he’s making sure everyone in the vicinity knows you’re a (fake) couple.

It’s during the reception when that funny feeling really starts to settle in. The hairs on edge, butterflies in your belly feeling. Maybe it’s the happy, romantic atmosphere, the soppy music, the way his hands sit so perfectly on your hips as he sways you round and around on the dance floor. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you with those mesmeric blue eyes but damn if you don’t want to kiss him, right here, right now.

Duke

It was a stupid idea, and his family would give him so much shit if when they found out, but you’d argued that “we’ll never know if it might actually work unless we try” and that had sold him on giving it a go. Even if he thought about calling it off at every turn.

What was the stupid plan, and why was it necessary? Well, your ex was dating his crush, and you’d figured fake-dating might redirect their attention to the two of you. And if not, no harm done, right?

Big harm done. Over the next few months, Duke and yourself had spent most of your free time in close proximity. Sharing clothes, food, and ‘plan-related’ intimate details about each other. When you weren’t together you were glued to your phone, awaiting his texts, refreshing his socials.

Somewhere amongst all the dinner dates, and ‘strictly-business’ public making out sessions, your plan worked; his crush took notice, how could they not, Duke was perfect.

Your ex did not. Not that you cared, you’d moved on, to someone who was about to become equally as unavailable.

Jason

He was trying to infiltrate an infamous drug ring so he could take it down from the inside and needed someone in the know who could double as arm candy to sell his story. You’d already been trying to get your foot in the door for weeks now, but lacked enough street cred for them to take a chance on you. It only made sense that you would join forces.

For a while it’s fun, hanging off his arm, letting his hands roam your body freely, loud-whispering all the things you wanted to do to him for anyone to hear. You really enjoyed pretending to be his devilish trophy partner. You enjoyed the nights where it wasn’t pretend even more. But all good things must come to an end.

He served his purpose of getting you where you needed to be, but now he was getting a little too close to building a compelling case against the ring, you couldn’t let that happen, you had much bigger plans for it.

What? You’d promised information, not loyalty.

Kate

You’re both socialites with fairly large internet followings who run in the same circles. Your relationship has always been that of friendly acquaintances until a photographer snaps an innocuous photo of you both entering the bathroom at the same time and the media goes crazy.

Despite putting out very clear, separate statements, clarifying that there is nothing going on, your respective followers grab the ball and sprint with it until you both innocently start to play along. Leaving flirty comments on each other selfies, acting appalled when the other is rumoured to be dating someone else, tagging each other in scenic snaps that could be considered romantic: graffiti hearts, colourful sunsets, starry skies from the candlelit table of a wine bar.

It’s completely harmless of course, it’s all a joke, until it’s not. Until you actually find yourself flustered by her comments, really wishing she was sharing your dinners, until you brace yourself and send the first DM.

Tim

He really is the whole package. Handsome, hardworking, dedicated, polite, and as smart as he is rich. You can understand why your grandma was so excited, calling you from across the country to confirm if you were the mystery person spotted out and about with Bruce Wayne’s second youngest. You hadn’t lied when you’d said yes, you’d just neglected to tell her that you were only friends. You figured it would get her off your back about finding a nice boy for a while. It kind of felt nice, talking to somebody other than yourself about your big fat crush on him and in your defence, you hadn’t expected things to escalate so quickly.

One minute she’s bragging about her grandchild’s new boyfriend to the ladies in her swim aerobics class, the next she’s booked a flight to come and visit so she can meet him.

If you’d known what she was planning you would have confessed, but she’d already forked out the cash for her plane ticket so you swallowed your pride and begged Tim to help. He wouldn’t even have to do much, just spend the weekend nodding and smiling at an old woman’s stories and then he could reap the rewards of your eternal gratitude. You’d promised 6 months of undisputed lording it over you and a lifetime of freshly made cold brew.

Smile and nod, that’s all you expect, but apparently, that was too easy. Tim just had to make what was already an embarrassing situation, a million times worse. ‘Perfect grandson-in-law’, your ass.

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claireswhisperings · 3 months ago

Text

birthday sex

paige bueckers x fem!reader

synopsis: why not treat your girl on her birthday?

warnings: NSFW! oral (p!receiving), tribbing, choking, praise

w/c: 2.4k

masterlist

the music is blasting through paige's speaker, and the laughs and giggles of the team fill your ears. in honour of paige's birthday, a much-needed night-in was proposed, and after a little bit of drinking, your girlfriend certainly feels celebrated. the girls all piled into her, jana, and allie's dorm earlier today, decorating the place, ordering in dinner, and enjoying their time together.

paige takes two shot glasses, and turns to you with a smile plastered across her flushed face. "bottoms up, come here." she hands you the shot, both of you grimacing when the liquor hits your tongues.

"happy birthday baby," you pull her in for a kiss, ignoring the teasing remarks of your teammates. she pulls away to kiss your forehead, and pull you in by the waist to rest her chin on your head, while you watch kk and morgan argue on live, while sarah serves as moderator.

"you know, allie and jana agreed you can have the dorm to yourself," you say, nodding towards the door. paige smiles down at you, asking, "and what do you have planned for us tonight?"

“a little something to treat my girl tonight,” you lean up to kiss her softly. “well then we’d better hurry up and get the place to ourselves,” she teases, deepening the kiss.

you laugh and shove her away slightly, pulling her back towards the girls so you two can say your goodbyes. "have fun!" allie lets out, hugging you both. "not too much please!" jana adds, cackling at the glare paige sends her.

after many goodbyes and happy birthday's from the team, you and paige usher everyone out of the dorm, and she promptly hurries you into her bedroom. her lips press onto yours with fervor, hands gripping your waist to press your body against her. your tongue slides into her mouth, earning you a small groan from paige.

your hands slip under her shirt, fingers rubbing softly at the bare skin as she flexes her stomach at the feeling. you deepen the kiss, and slide her shirt above her chest, momentarily disconnecting your lips from hers to let her take it off. she throws it on the floor, pausing to smile and admire the way your eyes rake over her arms and bare chest.

"knew you’d check me out," she says in a teasing tone. you roll your eyes at her words, allowing her to pull you onto the bed and into her lap. you pull her in for another kiss, fingers tangling in her hair as she lets out a small moan at the feeling.

"need this off of you," she mutters into the kiss, pulling at your shirt. before you can react, she's pulling it off of you, making quick work to remove your bra. her hands rub at your waist, lips pressing against yours where she whispers out, "been waiting all night for this."

her lips drag onto your jawline, sucking faint marks into your skin. you throw your head back slightly, enjoying the feeling of her lips against you, and her hands feeling up every part of you she can reach. the pads of her fingers massage your tits, and paige leans down to circle her tongue over one of your nipples as more moans fall from your lips.

you grind softly against her lap, revelling in her mouth as she switches tit, running her teeth over it for a second before wrapping her lips around your nipple. as good as that feels, tonight is about her, and all she can do is occupy herself with how you're feeling.

you push her shoulders back, stroking her cheek when she pouts up at you. "come on baby, tonight is about making you feel good," you move, allowing her to shift up a bit so she can be relaxed on the pillows, and climb back onto her torso. "and why can't i return the favour early?" she teases, fingers playing with the hem of your shorts.

"you're not convincing me of anything else bueckers," you lean in to kiss her once more, "tonight i need you to feel good." you feel her smile against your lips at your words, and her body fully relaxing under you.

you reach your hands in the band of her sweatpants, pulling them off along with her boxers, leaving your girl bare underneath you. her legs part underneath you, and you grind against her, the hem of your shorts brushing against her clit.

she's squirming under you, rotating her hips to match your movements. soft begs escape her lips, whining for you not to tease since it's her special birthday. your hand drifts down to her clit, softy rubbing circles, before moving down to tease her hole. she throws her head back in pleasure, becoming frustrated that you were still partially clothed.

"fuck, i need these shorts off of you too," she paws at them, a little too lost in the pleasure she's already feeling. you slide your shorts off quickly, throwing them to some corner of her room.

paige's eyes drag up and down your body, tilting her head to look up at you and leans up to pull you in for a soft kiss. "you're so beautiful, the best birthday gift i could get," the laugh she lets out trails off into a moan when you grind against her abs. she can feel how wet you are against her stomach, and flexes underneath you.

"lay back baby," you command against her lips. paige pushes her body back against the pillow, fingers trailing over your neck to push you further down her body. you leave hickeys as you continue downwards, stopping at her tits.

her nipples are perking up from her arousal, drawing your mouth to them as you tease her, drawing out frustrated moans from her lips. "baby no teasing, not tonight," she moans out, gasping slightly at the end of her sentence when your fingers tease her cunt.

"you have to tell me what you want, paige," your words send vibrations onto her nipple, and she arches her back into you. "fuck, i want your fingers, your mouth, anything. please," her moans are turning more breathless the more needy she becomes.

you smile against her tits, leaning up to press a kiss on her lips, before continuing your hickey attack on her chest and stomach, slowly making your way down to where she's begging you. she's so fucking wet after all your teasing, and you can't help but teasinly run your fingers up and down her slit. she clenches around nothing, anticipating the feeling of your fingers inside you.

"who got you this wet baby?" you can't resist hearing her words fall so quickly from her mouth. "you did, it's always you," her arm drapes across her eyes, and she arches her back when you blow air teasingly against her clit.

paige's thighs find their way around your shoulder, pushing you into her cunt. you allow her to do so, attaching your mouth to her clit. you eyes close when you finally taste her, letting out a moan that paige can feel vibrate against her. her hands fly down to your head, pushing you further into her.

her hips grind against your face, riding your tongue when you push it inside of her. her thighs close around your head, blocking out her sweet whimpers and praises. you wrap an arm around her thigh, teasing her clit with the tip of your finger, while you let her move your head, and ride her tongue just how she likes.

after all your previous teasing, she's already so close to cumming. when you slip your finger inside her, curling upwards with the movements of her hips, she speeds up the movements of her hips, begging you to add a second finger. your movements speed up the faster she rides your face, lips attaching to her clit.

she cums on your face with a cry of your name, loosening the grip she has on your head, and slowly relaxing her thighs when you coax her orgasm out of her. paige's head slumps backwards into the pillow, gasping out while she comes down. you press kisses to her thighs, slowly removing her fingers when she's done.

her body writhes under you when you climb back up to kiss her face, mumbling praises into every bit of skin you can reach. "you did so good baby, you think you can give me a few more?" you feel her nod against you at your words. "after that, i swear i'll take however many you'll give me," she laughs, stroking your cheek with her thumb, and pressing a kiss against your lips.

you move between her legs, parting them slightly to make room for you. she tenses when your stomach brushes against her cunt, letting you a small moan when you lift up her right leg, and push it against her chest. "you gonna ride me?" her lips curl into a smile when you lift your right leg to pay across her, hovering your pussy above hers.

she pulls your lips against hers, laughing slightly when you let out a "figured i'd give you a show tonight." you lean back, making eye contact with a slightly fucked-out paige, lowering yourself onto her pussy.

you both let out moans at the contact, the feelings of your clits bumping each other proving to be almost overstimulating. you grab onto her legs to stabilize yourself, grinding down against her even more, and you throw your head back. you'd been so wet all night seeing paige, and getting to taste her again, that the feeling of her wet cunt against yours nearly made you cum.

paige watches you from below, eyes trained on your mouth that's open slightly to let moans slip past your lips, all the way down to your bouncing tits in front of you. "you feel so good baby, so good on top of me," she moans out, hands reaching up to find their place on your tits, tugging at your nipples slightly.

the feeling draws your attention back on paige, nearly cumming when you see her face, tongue lolling out of her mouth slightly, her own tits bouncing with her thrusts. you remove one of your hands from her legs, wrapping your fingers around her throat for balance, and applying slight pressure.

she throws her head back, moaning out at the feeling, as her eyes glaze over slightly. "i'm so close baby, keep going," she groans when your fingers squeeze tighter. "fuck me too, i'm gonna cum on your pussy," your head rolls back, mouth hung open as you finally cum.

she grips your hips harshly when you cum, grinding down harder on her as she cums from the feeling. your orgasms wash over you both, and you let out cries of one another's names. your movements slow down as you both come back, eventually stopping.

paige feels the corners of her eyes well up with tears at the overcoming feeling of two intense orgasms, hands falling to stroke circles into her thighs to ground herself. you push the loose strands of hair back from her face, softly moving your thumbs across her cheeks to soothe her. "you doing okay baby?" you're out of breath by now, watching a satisfied smile spread across paige's lips.

"never been better, i promise," you wipe the tears from her eyes, manhandling her body so you're both laying down side by side, one leg swung over her waist. you hold her face in your hands, fingers pulling her closer to you as she moans against your lips. "do you have one more left in you?" you whisper against her mouth. "oh fuck yeah," she breathes out, pulling you in for a more desperate kiss.

you're both lazily kissing, basking in the aftermath of your orgasms. you can feel her grind into your thigh slightly, and you feel her push her thigh between your own. you're both letting out soft moans against each other's lips, sinking back into her comfortable sheets.

paige pushes her tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss as she holds your face. her hips move harder against your thigh, and you feel her moan out against your lips. "paige, hold on," you break the kiss to reach into her drawer and pull out her favourite bullet vibrator.

she lays back on her side, watching you turn it on and dip your hand under the bed sheets. you push her lips against yours, slowly rubbing the vibe on her clit in circular motions. she moans out at the feelings, grinding down onto it.

your motions are teasing, drawing out moans and whimpers from your girlfriend. "fuck i'm gonna cum soon, please don't stop," she whines out, hips writhing against the vibe as she moves more erratically. her moans are becoming more breathy as she gets closer to cumming, barely able to kiss back as her mouth opens slightly.

"please, please, i'm cumming i can't-" she cums before she can finish her sentence, a high pitched moan leaving your girl's mouth as she finally cums for the third time that night. you suck marks into her neck as she comes down, allowing her to collapse into her bed in relief. you toss the vibe beside you, reaching over to stroke her back in comfort.

"did so good paige, always do so good for me," you whisper in her ear, feeling her head rest fully onto your chest as her breathing slowly returns back to normal.

"could never have asked for a better birthday," she teases, kissing your cheek. "hmm next year, it'll be even better," you laugh, detangling your limbs so you can clean her up. you sanitize the vibe, placing it back in her drawer, and soaking a cloth with warm water to clean her up.

paige lets out soft moans when you clean her up, still very sensitive from her night. the exhaustion is getting to her, and by the time you finish up and get back into bed, she's mostly asleep. you pull her head into her chest, letting her rest her entire body weight on you.

you press kisses on her head, and whisper soft praises while kneading at her shoulders and back, relieving all the tension. she slumps into you, slowly relaxing into your arms. you think she's asleep, until she speaks up.

"on your birthday, you'll be getting even better treatment. i promise you that," her words are soft against your neck, a certain reminder that she'll keep her promise.

#claireswhisperings #claires works #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers fic #paige x reader #paige bueckers fluff #uconn wcbb #uconn #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #happy birthday blondie #but actually i hope she has an incredible day she deserves it 😭😭😭😭

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