#(that would have had far reaching implications and fucked up everything)

[c-l-y-d-e]

10 minutes until I log out of my work computer and fuck off for 9 days ❤️

[tastesousweet]

roommate!hamzah x reader . . .

summary: little headcannons i have ab these 2!!! they’re just friends of course (wink)!!

a/n: hiii i’m slowly working on hamzah requests, ty to those who send them in for me <3

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . tends to do his morning routine without a shirt on (grabbing coffee, feeding the cats, sitting on the balcony while responding to texts he’s put off for far too long)

it’s never bothered you because you’re rarely awake early enough to know of it. yet one morning hamzah is mortified by your hook up from the night before, awake and attempting to crack jokes with him as he pours the remaining orange juice into a soft magenta-stained mug that a girlfriend had gifted you last christmas.

hamzah's eyes give a silent glare at both the audacity (of this random man who's decided to parade around the kitchen that is fifty percent his in nothing but those loose boxer shorts!) and out of disgust (he'd unfortunately heard a lot of last night's... action from his room down the hall and he hates that he now has a face to associate with the trauma).

there's a awkward tension that is clearly not reciprocated by the brash and flamboyant guy leaning against the fridge door with a smirk.

hamzah keeps his arms crossed over his own bare chest, stood next to the coffee machine- and for once he’s actually annoyed by the slow frequency of the coffee's stream and the accommodating, overwhelming smell. but he's starting to think it must be your fling’s presence that's causing everything around him to feel a bit violating.

“ummmm….” he’d delay with a deep exhale, unsure how to end a conversation he never asked to begin

the guy would take a long sip of orange juice, “i’m just wondering like, how long have you two lived together? she didn’t even tell me she lived with anyone so— i mean, it’s not everyday you see a girl hot as that living with some guy!" he pauses, "oh…wait, come on man you had to have hit by now…” he babbles on and hamzah stares blankly, stifling a laugh when it comes to the last assumption.

“man, i’m just tryna’ enjoy my breakfast…” hamzah wishes he’d never left his bedroom so early.

the guy nods his head, “yeah…yeah i get that. i should get back to y/n and stuff. she sleeps kinda heavy, huh?”

hamzah nods absentmindedly, sipping his black coffee and making his way out of the kitchen, “guess so…” he stops and looks back at him with a look of slight disgust, “next time at least put some pants on dude, cmon.”

later that day hamzah tells you about it and you laugh so hard you almost fall off of the soft brown couch. “oh my god!!!!” you laugh through your words, “was your masculinity challenged?! did you feel threatened?? maybe he was trying to eye you up- you were practically naked...” you have a grin that makes hamzah subconsciously grin with you, forcing him to overcompensate due to your implications.

"absolutely none of those things?! what the fuck??? no. he was a fuckin' dog, even asked me if we've..." hamzah stutters a bit while gesturing between the two of you.

your face is shocked first as you both silently gesture between the two of you, occasionally making more grotesque and sexual movements to which you both begin to laugh. "no way! that guy has nothing but mush for brains."

hamzah bites his inner cheek harshly, tightening a grip on the circle pillow in his large arm, "yeah..."

you keep your gaze on your fingers fidgeting with the couch before a smirk inches onto your face and your head slowly turns towards hamzah.

it still surprises him how nervous you can make him with something as simple and intriguing as your eye contact, so he flusters up a bit and sputters a soft laugh, "what?" he reaches for the remote on the coffee table to distract himself.

you hum to yourself and pick up a mini twizzler from the small candy dish in the center of the table before plopping yourself down, resting your head on the pillow sat in hamzah's lap.

hamzah attempts to keep his demeanor intact as you snuggle yourself into comfort (so much so, your tiny spaghetti strap on your loose sleep top falls down your shoulder in beautiful imperfection).

you struggle with attempting to unwrap the red candy before hamzah eventually offers to help, "y'want me to do it?"

"please?" you nod and shift to look directly up at him rather than the tv.

"mhm..." he easily uses his teeth to open it, "and i'm taking a piece for my hard work."

"uh huh, sharing is caring"

not only does hamzah feed himself a peel of the twizzler, he holds a piece above your mouth which you take from him with a giggle, "mm, thank you"

hamzah's eyes almost explode when he wakes up a week later to see you making yourself a smoothie clad only in a bra and silky sleep shorts. you'd laugh at him and tell him he's so fragile and he'd claim you're trying to steal his thing while covering his eyes dramatically.

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . you like to play harmless pranks on in good spirits and post on your close friends story , calling it “hamzah hijinks”

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . helps you cook or bake whenever you find a new recipe to try out on pinterest— at times they're even filmed and treated as competitions between you and mandy versus hamzah and martin

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . finds it difficult to not have a crush on you when his audience constantly tells him otherwise

there are plenty of shipping posts that come from your appearances and mentions on his channel but from your attitude hamzah's convinced you must not be aware of them or are truly that unbothered by anyone's opinion

clips such as you wiping flour from his cheek to which he joked, “okay stop it now, you know that really ignites my mommy issues”

or when you guest starred on a patreon episode of the podcast, adding small tidbits to the conversation while petting blue and eating a strawberry popsicle. leading hamzah to over reach and pet blue with you randomly, which many fans found cute— like you were a family

or whenever martin would bring you up and hamzah would immediately focus on what he says afterwards— many viewers have concluded he’s obsessed with you

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . now edits his youtube videos in the living room with your legs draped over his shoulders so that you can watch and help him when necessary (but mostly because of your abundantly clear physical love language)

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . thinks it’s really sweet that you can find a piece of him in any and everything without trying

“so i was out…”

hamzah leans his forearms against the island counter with a grin and his headset shifted from his ears (you interrupted his gaming and told him to come see you afterwards but he insisted on pausing for you) “uh huhhh??”

“andddd… i found a cute small shop and guess what they specialize in?!!!!”

“what??!!!”

“custom sonny angels!! so i got one for each of us.” you smile wide, “it’s crazy i just showed them a picture of us and they based the outfits on it. look at them!!!”

hamzah opens the box and finds the two small figures; one garnering his iconic nap queen hoodie and the other in one of your cute red babydoll tops. his mouth is wide for an extra second, “oh my god it’s us as lil’ babies” he laughs, “that’s so fucking cool, how much did you pay for this?”

“don’t worry about that. while i was waiting for them to paint those i also got you this nice green shirt from urban i just like this shade on you.” you held up the shirt and hamzah hugs you gently thanking you again with a short kiss to the top of your head.

“now lemme see what you got for yourself.”

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . surprisingly finds you hiding away in the en-suite bathroom during a party you’re both hosting

“i didn’t think you would be in here??” he says while shutting the door behind him and taking a seat next to you on the bathroom floor

“i’m surprised to see you in here i lost you somewhere between martin showing up and that group of girls whisking you away.” you genuinely joke.

hamzah chuckles and scratches the back of his neck, “yeah it’s really not like that— i’m really not like that.”

“i know you.” you smile at his oddly nervous face.

“why’d you end up in here?” he sighs and gives your side a soft tap of acknowledgment.

“i thought i just needed to use the bathroom but then i started to find myself way happier alone in here than out there right now.”

“i feel that. i don’t know if half of those people even know this is my house.”

“i know most of them don’t know this is my house.”

hamzah laughs and lets his head hang into the open space of his bent legs, to which you take the opportunity to steal his hat from his head, plopping it on top of yours.

“come on bruh, that was supposed to cover up this mess!” hamzah jokes referring to his wildly curly hair.

“it’s far from a mess hamzah, please.” and when he turns to you, you cradle his head with both hands, scratching softly at his scalp to help revive his hat-hair.

he stares at you kindly, “mm’hold on let me see it,” he gently pulls your hands away and stands to look into the mirror. “oh my god it’s fucking horrid.”

you stand up to defend as if you crafted his hair yourself, “stop it! it looks fine,” you lean onto your tip toes to fluff it a little more, “i like it like this,”

“oh really?” he exaggerates a lift of his eyebrows and manages to catch your eye in the mirror for a second before you look away bashfully.

“hey! don’t get all shy now,” he looks behind him and confidently wraps his arm around you and pulls you close, “it’s okay. i like yours like this,” he smiles and you roll your eyes playfully.

“‘m not gettin’ shy!” you wrap your arms around his lower torso and bury your head in his chest before you pop the question, reaching up to whisper in his ear, “did max bring you more weed??”

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . hotboxes your bathroom with you, making sure to bring any snacks from the crowded kitchen for the munchies that will undoubtedly come afterward

this is one of the few times you’ve got a real good look in hamzah’s eyes.

the bathroom reeks of weed and the two of you (mostly you) decided that sitting face to face was far better than side by side. it was silent for a while before you felt the need to speak about his eyes.

“did you know your eyes aren’t black?” you ask.

hamzah shakes his head slowly.

“well they have the tiniest brownie-brown to them but you’d only know if you’re like this close,” you jokingly move close enough to touch your noses together.

hamzah looks over your entire face, realizing he’s never been this physically close to you before. you glance at his lips then to his glossy red eyes.

“you smell like coconut cookies,” hamzah smiles.

you sit back on your calves, across from him with his legs crossed, “i think it’s my shampoo,” you play around with a few strands.

“yeah?”

“yeah,” you nod before sitting up again, resting your hands lightly on his thighs to hold yourself up, “do you wanna do something?”

he stares at you for a moment, “like what?”

“do you trust me?” he finds that your eyes glimmer extra when they’ve got that certain puffiness and widened pupil combination.

“yeah, ‘f course, but what are we doinggg?” hamzah drags unseriously.

“just shhh,” you smile and reach for his arm behind him, slowly bringing his cold hand up to your soft cheek. “is that okay?”

hamzah sends a silent nod.

“okay,” you breathe and bring your face closer to his.

hamzah’s mind is so boggled. he can’t believe any of this; he’s completely struck by awe and tangled in your sweet cherry stem of affection. he thinks you’re a special kind of girl; one with an attitude both sexy and innocently loving. so infatuating that he’s realizing he can’t kiss you, not here, not when you’re high and thinking irresponsibly.

not when there’s a chance that you’ll wake up tomorrow and not remember it, or worse ask him to forget about it for your sake.

not when your friendship lies directly on that line.

“mm, yeah we really… shouldn’t…” he takes pauses between his words, it almost physically hurts him to see you that stunned by his words with your face still safe in his palm.

you’re completely flustered and blink your eyes a few times before retreating from his space, “oh… fuck, i’m so sorry that was-”

“it’s not like that- it’s more like, not right now. later?” he scrambles for a response as you’re trying to keep yourself from drowning in embarrassment.

“mhm sure yeah, i’ll be back.” you give a forced smile and leave him alone on the tile floor.

ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . you wake up the morning after a house party and find in your bathroom tub with a sharpie mustache above his lip and a pink post it note that read: “GOODNIGHT SUGAR!!! BEST PARTY EVER - Martin :D” written in a barely legible scrawl

[frantic-fiction]

Secluded Evening 18+

(GIF: leopardmuffinxo)

Astarion x F!Reader, Astarion x Tav

Warnings: 18+ MDNI pretty much pure smut, fluff, nipple piercings, nipple play. Skinning dipping, unprotected sex, Late Act 1 Astarion

Summary: Astarion catches reader during a midnight swim. Playful flirting becomes physical. Basically, my take on reader and Astarion's first time in act 1. There is way more implication of Astarion's real attraction for reader, not just a manipulation tactic.

Word Count: 2.8k

The shadow curse land is just a few days west, and a sickly feeling has crept through the camp. The party is on edge, fighting a constant headache as you attempt to mediate the tension in a group of solid personalities during highly stressful events. Shadowheart and Lae’zel are at each other’s throats, bickering and pulling daggers when either sends a quip in the other's direction. Karlach is still burning hot despite her upgrade, and with Dammon already far along the path, all you can do is promise to get her to Baldur’s Gate as quickly as you can. Wyll is fine, but he’s Wyll, so that’s not surprising.

Gale, however, might be the one pushing your buttons the most, or at least he is testing your patience past your limit now. “Tav, I don’t believe I have to express again how important it is to acquire a magical artifact soon.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, and you get the sudden urge to whack him over the head with the book you held unread in your hands. “I will be glad not to have to feel my chest be ripped in two, but I will repeat: if I do not consume an artifact, I will die and level the general vicinity with me.”

You push off the log, slamming the novel down. Level-headedness has been one of your strong suits. It’s the main reason you found yourself leading these misfits across the kingdom. You can keep your cool under the most extreme sources of stress, but everyone is just annoying you today.

“Look, I get it. You need a shoe to chew on, or you’ll go boom. But guess what? I have given you every spare artifact I have to give. Our coins are down to silver and copper. So unless you are willing to chomp down on the stupid circlet you just ‘had to get,’ then you can suck it up and wait until we reach another town.” By the end, you’re yelling, and Gale looks like a kicked puppy. The rest of the camp has turned to look at your outburst. You burn with regret for everything immediately.

You reach out a tentative hand, “Gale, I didn’t—”

“No, you are absolutely right. Apologies for my inconvenience. I hope you enjoy the rest of the night, Tav.” He quickly returns to his tent and pins the flaps close.

Sighing, you rub your hands down your face. You feel terrible; Gale’s condition is excruciating, and you hate to be unable to get him something to alleviate the pain, but your supplies are down to the bone. “Fuck,” you breathe, picking the book back up and storing it away.

“I must say, my sweet, I could get used to this more dominating personality of yours. It certainly gets me excited.” Astarion practically purrs in your ear. You turn face to face and stumble back slightly at his proximity.

Brushing your hair behind your ears, you avoid his eye contact. A warmth spreads across your face. “Oh, I'm sure,” you smirked, clearing your throat and recovering quickly.

It was a game between you two, ignited on the beach with a knife to your throat. Harmless flirts, playful banter with no attention to go further. Attraction is thick, but neither dares to press in this dance.

He crowds into your space. His nose practically tickles yours. He plays with your hair, fingers tangling in the locks. His face dawns an emotion of concern. “Darling, I’ve noticed you’ve been very stressed these last few days.”

His breath fans your face. You grab the edge of his shirt. “I think it would be a good idea to release some tension. Some alone time, maybe?” His pointer finger traced the bone of your jaw.

You smirk and pull away, trailing your hand up the contours of his chest. “You're right.” His wicked grin widens like a cat playing with prey. “I think I'll call in early and have a night to myself. I hope you will be okay hunting tonight.”

When you were scouting the perimeter, you stumbled across a small alcove. It was breathtaking. Several willows enclosed a small lake, water beautifully sparkling in the sun. You love swimming and have been thinking about the lake ever since. You occupy yourself with finishing your book until the sun sets. Once the camp settles for the night, you grab your pack and sneak your way out to the forest line.

Astarion’s grin drops, and his arms go limp. You slip away, lifting the edge of your tent. “Thank you again. Do you mind telling the others as well?”

He glares knowingly, and with a wink, you drop the flap and sit on the floor. You gather your supplies: a change of clothes, your only towel, and your washing bag.

The lake isn't too far, and before you know it, you're there. It's different in the moonlight. Fireflies buzz around the cattails, the willow branches sway softly above the water, and frogs croak on lily pads. You set a blanket to place the rest of your stuff around, quickly tossing your clothes off and wading into the water.

It's not as cold as expected, but you still gasp at the initial sting. You adapt quickly and soon dive fully, submerging into the fresh water. You stay underwater; ears plugged, giving a warped vibration through your head. Once your lungs begin to burn, you surface and gulp air.

“Well, isn't this just a coincidence?” Astarion chuckles, standing at the shore with pale forearms crossed over his chest. “I was just out on my hunt when I came across such a delectable treat.”

You bite your bottom lip, pulling your hands back and forth, sucking water in and out around your form. “Well, now that you've found me, what do you plan to do with me?”

You move onto your back and float, exposing your entire front half to his eyes. The water on your skin chills in the air. Your nipples pebble, and you hear a groan.

Floating in the water, you close your eyes. It's quiet momentarily before a large splash startles you and you're pulled under. You kick instinctually, and Astarion grabs your foot and drags you closer.

His strong arms circle your waist, and you resurface. You smack his chest. “You asshole.”

He laughs, and before you know it, you're laughing too. You sway in Astarion's arms as he carries you deeper into the lake. Grabbing a flower floating in the water, you begin to pick some of the limp petals. You look up and slide the flower into his hair. It's adorable.

Astarion pinches your chin and pulls your face close, staring deep into his eye. There are no words; you feel the line shatter when the reality of what's happening sinks in. There is no performance in his eyes. No formulaic flirtatious lines or sexy words. What is happening? You don't know, but when he crashes his lips to yours, you really fucking want to find out.

It's like a rubber band. The kisses open the damn, and soon your legs are wrapped around his hips. One hand threads through his pale curls, the other encircling his neck.

Astarion breaks from your lips and trails sloppy kisses down to your neck. "I have waited long enough to ravish you, my dear,"

And then you are moving; he's quickly wading through the water, not once removing his lips from your throat. You know it will bruise, and the idea of another mark of his sends heat lower down your body.

You sigh when Astarion nips your neck, pressing you down on the blanket. Wet skin slides against damp skin. Grabbing his hair, you pull him back up, capturing his lips. It is messy, sloppy, and all too much to handle.

You arch up, pressing your breast against his chest. He pauses, and you whine when he pulls away.

"What are these?" Astarion practically growls, pinching your hard nipple. You gasp his name as he twists the small metal bar through the nub. He grinds his hips against your leg. He's hard, his cock presses against his stomach.

"Jewelry," you moan, clutching his shoulder. "They make me more sensitive."

"Oh, my naughty girl," he lowers to take your neglected breast into his mouth. His skillful tongue sucks your breast, his hand paying equal attention to your other. Feeling a scrap of his fangs, you let out a cry of ecstasy, rolling your hips, seeking any source of friction.

Astarion pins your hips down and pulls away from your breast with a wet pop. "No, no, my sweet. I think you have not been fair keeping least lovely tits from me. I can't remember ever seeing such unique body modifications." He gives a sharp bite to your breast, just deep enough to pierce the skin.

Droplets of blood beaded to the surface; it was quickly lapped up with his tongue, a groan crawling its way up his chest. He slips one of his legs under yours, and his hips slide his stiff cock between sopping wet folds. You choke out his name, and his mouth moves to the other breast. "I think I'm owed a bit longer exploring such a beautiful chest."

"My, my, you're so responsive. I could spend hours pleasing you with my tongue." Astarion trails his tongue up between your breasts, eyes boring up into your flushed face. "Just imagine the delightful words I could pull from your beautiful lips as I lay between your thighs, playing your exquisite body like a bard's violin."

Your breath is uneven, panting while Astarion takes his time lavishing your breasts. Soon, your nipples are on fire, swollen from the ruthless attention Astarion has provided. Tears sting your eyes. You are desperate for anything, nothing; you are not sure, but you are moaning and pleading up into the night air. All available skin was victim to your desperate fingers.

"Starion, ugh-please, they're too sensitive." You tug at the small hairs at the nape of his neck. His lips tug the metal bar just enough to pull another cry from your lips. He releases your breast with a wet pop.

You bite his neck (almost the same spot he uses to feed from you) and all semblance of his control dissolves—you're back on the blanket in a show of Astarion's speed. Air was knocked from your lungs. "Fuck, my dear," Astarion grinds against you coating his cock in more of your juices. "I believe we've waited enough time to enjoy each other. So, I think I fuck you, deep and slow, until you can only scream my name. And if you're lucky, spend the rest of the night pulling lovely whimpers from your over-sensitive cunt."

His husky voice purred in your ears. Your thighs clench, arousal dripping onto the blanket. "Star," you breathe out, grabbing his face and crashing your lips together. Teeth clashed, and tongues fought for dominance. Wrapping your legs fully around Astarion's slim hips, you roll up. Using his distraction as leverage, you twist your hips and maneuver the two of you.

Astarion is now on his back, curls silver in the dark, and his eyes are wide with shock. You comfortably sat on his hips, hands pressing on each of his pecs. "You have my full permission to do that, but if you don't fuck me right now, I will be taking care of myself in my tent." Lips are back on his before you chuckle in his ears. "We have teased each other for months. I think it's about time you do something about this pretty boy."

Astarion doesn't leave a moment to respond before he impales you with one deep thrust. Your nails dig into his shoulders. Astarion grabs your calf, raises your leg, and sets a brutally slow pace.

You were matching each of his thrusts with a roll of your hips. Your mouth at his chest and throat, sloppily leaving kisses and spit on his pale torso. "Ug-fucking Gods, you so tight," The sounds of skin slapping against skin and collective cries of pleasure break up the quietness of the lake.

Astarion presses his forehead to yours, breathing in your whimpers of ecstasy. The force of his thrusts is jostling your breasts; your nipples rub against his cold skin.

The moans roll off your tongue; you put a hand into his hair. "A-astarion fast…faster," you choke, snaking a hand between your conjoined bodies to rub small circles over your clit. The warm tightening coils in your lower abdomen. "P-please, Star."

"Beautiful." Astarion's pace picks up, his balls slapping against your pussy. He quickly pushes your hand away and replaces your fingers with his own.

He doesn't need to be asked twice, and the cold pierce of his fangs digs into your throat. You choke on gasp, hips stuttering. Astarion is dragging, mouthfuls of your blood down his throat, his fingers picking up pace, rubbing tight circles on your clit.

The coil is tightening, and soon, you cannot form words outside of Astarion's name between pleases. "Oh, my sweet girl, so lost on my cock. I...fuck...I know it feels good."

He pinches your left nipple again and you whimper. "Your body is exquisite. I won't be able to last much longer, my love." His voice is hoarse, and he rambles between frantic ruts. He presses his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply.

Astarion presses kisses and licks to the hollow of your throat. He is asking for permission, and you quickly press him closer. "Yes, please," you groan. All the sensations Astarion was giving you were becoming too much. You were quickly approaching the edge.

The pain mixes with pleasure, and it's too much. Tears prick at your eyes. You ticken around hos cock and a rumble ruptures through his chest. He takes a few more gulps before pulling away. Astarion's tongue licks, ensuring no waste of your blood.

As soon as he pulls away from your neck, he's pushing his tongue into your mouth with a quick thrust—the metallic tang of your blood mixes between your mouths. "I'm close," you breathe, running your nose against his. Your panting, feeling like no breath can satisfy your burning lungs.

His thrusts are becoming sloppy, devolving into more grinds of hips. His fingers drag over your clit in tight, fast circles. "Me too," he's just as breathless, hips stuttering with pleasure. "Come for me, darling, let me hear you."

It's like your body was waiting for his honey-slick words to give you permission. Because the moment those words leave his devilish lips, you snap. You scream his name, legs pulling him close.

You didn't expect post-sex cuddles from Astarion, but gods, you could fall in love with this man if you weren't careful. But would that be too bad? To fall in love? You kiss his collarbone and pull your towel over the majority of your body.

With one, two, three more deep thrusts. Astarion comes with a breathy moan spilling deep into your core. You two lay there, tangled in each other's body. Hearts are pounding as you breathe each other's air.

Astarion pulls out and rolls to his back. You curl onto his chest, laying your ear over his silent heart. He plays with your hands and peppers kisses over your hairline.

You wish to stay the night in his arms right here, just having him hold you. But Astarion stiffens slightly when a shiver rolls through your body. It's like the bubble of serenity pops. Astarion is quick to remove himself from you.

"I don't believe cuddling wet and naked with a vampire is good for one's health." He's pulling his clothes on. And reluctantly and with shaky legs, you follow his lead. Astarion is quiet on the walk back, lost in thought. He plays with a coin mindlessly.

You don't push, knowing Astarion better than to pry. So you let him walk you to your tent. And just as you move to duck into your bed for sleep, Astarion grabs your wrist.

You turn and look up into his scarlet eyes. His expression is hard to read; his confusion, hesitancy, affection, and anger are fluidly behind his eyes. They could all fit, but nothing seemed to reflect Astarion's eyes. "I…" He pauses, thumb rubbing the back of your hand. He opens his mouth again but clicks it back close. Astarion searches your eyes as if they held the answer to his unspoken question.

Astarion doesn't seem to find what he's looking for because he shakes his hand—pressing a light kiss to the apple of your cheek. He drops your hand reluctantly. "Have a good night, my dear,"

Then he's gone, leaving you alone, the tingle of his lips still lingering on your skin. Your fingers trail across your cheek, and a small smile stretches your lips. Yeah, you could very easily fall in love with that man. Maybe you already have.

Okay let me know what you thought? I haven't written smut in forever and have never been super confident in it.

If you liked this how about checking out my other two Astarion pieces.

Happy Birthday **** Reoccurring Nightmares

[cherrychilli]

18+

Eddie Munson x flexible! reader, AFAB reader, allusions to PIV sex

Eddie finds out you're double jointed.

A/N: This one's super self indulgent because I'm very bendy and I felt like writing about it. Also they smoke weed but everything's consensual✌️

"C'mon, there's gotta be something about you I don't know already", he prompts after another smoky exhale, blunt pinched between his thumb and forefinger. It wisps out into the evening air beyond the back doors of his van, opened out to overlook a moon dappled lover's lake.

This is what the conversation had dwindled down to after having spent the whole day together, most other talking points already stretched thin by now.

Usually you would have considered the question more carefully but now that your intuition's been dulled by his stash, you search through the foggy corridors of your mind for an answer like you're feeling around for a light switch in the dark.

Eddie has been your closest friend for the better part of five years now and you weren't exactly a closed book by any means which made coming up with something all the more difficult.

Most of what comes to mind feels too mundane to mention so you pass them over in favor of searching for something that might pique his interest.

"Hmm, I'm kind of double jointed I guess", you slowly recalled, too mellowed out to realize the kind of implications something like that might carry to a man like Eddie.

But where there should have been raised eyebrows and a lascivious curve on his lips you find his eyes narrowing into a puzzled little squint instead as he looks at you from where he's leaned against the back of the driver's seat.

"But we've only had one", he turns the joint in his hand over to examine it closer as if a second one might be hidden somewhere underneath.

Maybe you'd given him too much credit.

You roll your eyes at him playfully, leaning closer on your hands and knees to pluck the joint out of his hand and take another puff. The weed might have made him a little slow and sluggish to fully comprehend your what you'd just shared with him but not enough to prevent him from sneaking a peek at your cleavage from this angle.

"No Eddie, it just means I'm flexible. Like, a little more than most people", you return to your side of the van, leaning back against the side door with your knees pulled up to your chest.

"So, like the splits?"

"More than that"

"More?", his eyes go wide and you can see a hint of redness bordering his sclera, certain the same tinge is present in own eyes too.

"Yeah, like check this out", you hand him back the last of the joint for him to finish off and put out. Holding up your left hand, you fold your thumb into your palm and gather the rest of your fingers with your right hand, slowly bending them back beyond what he thought to be your limit.

The unnatural arc might have unsettled anyone else but not Eddie and you begin to giggle when his face lights up instead of twisting into a wince.

"Shit, does that hurt?"

"Nope", you start to beam a little, letting him take your hand in his when he reaches for it eagerly.

Carefully, he manipulates them, making them bend in all kinds of ways; touching your thumb to your forearm, pushing the first joint of each finger back as far as possible.

"Oh that's fucked", he smiles big and wide as if he could gladly spend an entire day just messing around with your fingers.

"What else can you do?"

His impress fills you with a new kind of high, one much more heady than the weed and you fail to resist it now that you've gotten a taste.

"Mm, I can get my legs behind my head too", you shrug, this time much more aware of what you're divulging.

"Seriously? both of them?", he manages to ask calmly enough though you can almost feel him buzzing under his skin like a cicada about to take flight.

"Yeah, don't even really have to stretch to do it"

His jaw tenses, his normally expressive face unreadable before he quietly asks, "can I see?"

Oh this is dangerous. You feel like you're entering uncharted territory in your friendship but you like the look stirring in his eyes too much to deny him.

"Maybe just one", you offer, thankful that you're wearing your cotton shorts today instead of something denim.

Sitting criss cross on the old blanket he uses to carpet the back of his van for smoke sessions, you slip off your flip flops and place both hands on your right foot. With your left hand cradling the ball of your foot and your right hand gripping your heel, you begin to lift your leg up past your chest.

The underside of your thigh which he only gets to secretly ogle on days when you're dressed like this is bared to him as you get your calf over your shoulder, no trace of pain or discomfort on your face. Dropping your right hand, you duck your head slightly to maneuver your foot over it with your left hand then it's done. Your foot slips into place behind your head, heel nudging the nape of your neck. You're able to straighten up to look him in the eye, shooting him a wink while you wiggle your toes.

"There. Not so hard", you can't help but show off, drunk on the stunned look etched on Eddie's face.

And then his eyes trailed lower.

He does it quickly -- a mental snapshot that he'll file away for later. He memorizes the way your shorts have ridden up, so tight around your core he can make out the print of your underwear and the shape of your cunt beneath the stretched out fabric, wishing he could rip the stitches of the offending material apart and fit his tongue there instead.

Pleased with your display, you untangle yourself smoothly, limbs returning to their rightful alignments as Eddie takes a few seconds to blink himself out of his thoughts. His entirely non platonic, downright debaucherous thoughts.

"Woah that was...wow", he settles, pressing his lips together before his motormouth revs up and he lets out something he'll regret. 'You're like a sexy stretch Armstrong', nearly makes its way through but he's able to bite on to it and swallow it back down just in time.

"You're the first guy I've ever shown that to", you laugh but it comes out a little weak now that you're processing what you've just done.

"Seriously? what about Mark?", he asks, face scrunching up slightly like the name left a bad taste in Eddie's mouth.

The mention of your last ex sobers you up even more. "No, I never told him", you tell him simply, smothering down a laugh. The truth was Mark's idea of kinky was leaving the lights on so you never brought up your little contortionist act, afraid it would be too much for him to handle.

"Don't think he would have been into it", you tell Eddie instead and he looks back at you, deadpanned.

"What?"

"Sorry I just find that really hard to believe", he clears his throat, barely disguising his own interest.

The silence that follows has a certain weight to it. It's a familiar kind of weight that you've felt before on days when you're alone with Eddie and the line between friends and something more begins to blur. The weight of possibility.

"Always wanted to try it", you add, hoping like hell that you haven't misread that hungry look in his eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I don't know just seems like it could be...fun?", you shrug, a not entirely successful attempt at appearing nonchalant because you've begun to sweat. The van feels far too small all of a sudden which doesn't make sense because you're nowhere near as close as you would like to be with the boy who's seems to be stuck on what to say next.

Call it a leap of faith or call it a huge fucking mistake but you decide to take the plunge and ask him the question that's been beating on the inside of your cranium like a hammer on a nail.

"Eddie, would it be weird if I ask you to-"

"Yes", he answers quickly. Resolutely.

The swiftness of it hurts like a guillotine coming down on your heart -- shot down before you'd even finished the question so you swallow down your regret like a throatful of gravel.

"R-right. Yeah I know it was stupid of me to even try to-"

He doesn't know where he went wrong until he sees your bottom lip tremble and the confidence you'd worn up until now completely strip away, realizing you've mistaken him eagerly jumping the gun for flat out rejection.

Eddie's hands come down on your shoulders as he bolts up to kneel in front of you, shaking you to shock the tears away before they have a chance rise and turn your eyes glassy.

"No! I mean yes, it's not not weird but I don't care because YES, I want to um, do that with you… is what I meant"

His grip eases up but his eyes stay wide to read your expression, chest no longer feeling like an anvil had been dropped on it when a smile breaks out on your face, the kind that feels like it could reach beyond his ribcage and touch his heart.

"Really?", you ask, somehow understanding him perfectly. If there was anyone who could make sense of Eddie's nonsense it was you.

"I mean, if you want to...", he leans closer when he catches you looking at his lips.

"I do want to", you lean in too, hands smoothing up his chest, bringing your lips closer to his.

For all the effort he put into keeping his unfiltered thoughts from spilling out it's just his luck that he stumbles over the very last hurdle before the finishing line.

"Oh my god I'm going to fold you like a pretzel"

It's so abrupt and silly and just so Eddie that you can't help but laugh, dropping your head. His lips skim your forehead and he laughs too, both of you holding each other, locked in a giggle fit until it tapers and subsides.

When you do look back up the heat that had been there before his gaffe returns tenfold. "Maybe leave the dirty talk to me", you place a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in for a proper kiss.

[livwritesstuff]

It’s late in the day when Sam Owens first approaches Eddie.

Eddie is sitting in a lawn chair on the edge of Joyce and Hopper’s backyard in Hawkins, Indiana, and sort of trapped there ever since his and Steve's daughter Moe had dozed off in his lap a little while ago.

For the record, Eddie and Steve don’t live in Hawkins. They’d have to be insane to stick around after everything this hole of a town put them through, never mind willingly choose to raise a child there. No, Hopper had bullied them into making the trek home to celebrate Moe's first birthday (Jesus H. Christ, she's one) and by the looks of how crowded the yard is, he'd done the same to practically the entire rest of the Party too.

Eddie isn't actually trapped either. It's true that he doesn't really want to tempt fate by waking Moe up from a nap that he and Steve had sort of resigned themselves to skipping that day, but he could get up if he wanted to. He's a whole sap in his big age of thirty-six though, and extremely aware of how quickly Moe’s first year of life had flown by. He'd be a damn fool to not relish in these moments, when Moe is a baby still, when she's little enough to fall asleep in his lap like this.

So he's sitting and he's letting his mind wander down whatever rabbit-holes it ventures upon because he's not just a sap these days, he's getting retrospective too.

Twenty years after all the shit that went down in his Hawkins, Eddie considers himself a secondary character in it all (even though it hadn’t felt like it at the time – that’s for fucking sure). 

Honestly, he'd really only been involved in about five days out of several years of that shit – not in the know yet for the first part, and unconscious for the end of it – secondary character stuff, in Eddie’s opinion (and as a two-time published novelist, he’d be the one to know).

It's probably for the best, to be honest. He barely survived even the secondary stuff — with a mostly-full picture of everything that happened over those three years he feels pretty positive that if he’d gone through anything more he wouldn’t have been so lucky. 

And these days, in July of 2002, he’s feeling pretty lucky too. 

“Doc,” Eddie nods as Owens takes the empty chair beside his own.

Owens is another one of these secondary characters in everything. Owens is…Eddie isn’t sure who Owens is, to be honest. A doctor in some capacity, he's fairly certain, and also a scientist too in some capacity given how he’s still in Hawkins doing research on all that shit — and he roped Dustin into it too (though as far as Eddie can tell, Dustin is a more-than willing victim in it and goddamn thrilled to be taking over his work someday too).

Someday soon, Eddie would wager, because Owens is well and truly reaching retirement age – he probably should have retired already, honestly, but Eddie can also sort of see why it might be difficult to step away from the kind of work he’s spent his life doing.

“Mr. Munson,” Owens greets him in return. Eddie watches his eyes flick down to Moe for a moment, “Or is it Pops these days?”

“That’s Steve, actually,” he replies, tipping his head in the direction of Steve, who’s standing at the grill with Hop (they’re listening to Dustin ramble about something and wearing matching beleaguered expressions).

Owens seems to understand the implication, because his only response is another one of those wry smiles and an exhaled laugh.

“Well, congratulations either way. I was very happy for you when I heard the news about the adoption.”

“Still keeping tabs on us after all these years?” Eddie asks, mostly joking because he knows the answer is yes. He knows they’ll have eyes on them for the rest of their lives for one reason or another (which he’s nearly made his peace with by now).

“Well, old habits die hard,” Owens replies somewhat tiredly, “Or something to that effect.”

Eddie doesn't really have anything to say in response, so he opts to say nothing, instead running a hand over Moe's hair — it's getting long these days, not quite long enough to style yet but long enough that she shakes her head to get it out of her eyes and knocks herself off-balance which is so so cute.

“I’ll admit," Owens continues after a while, "When I first met you, this isn’t where I thought you’d end up.”

“Yeah, you and me both, Doc," he laughs, because it's true.

“What I mean to say," he pauses, "It suits you.”

Moe chose that moment to finally stir, snuffling a bit as she lifts her head and looks at him with those beautiful brown eyes of hers.

"Good nap, bug?" he asks quietly.

She responds with a bleary, "Dada" (which she had only just started saying a few weeks ago and it goddamn kills Eddie every single time) as she nuzzled her cheek against his shoulder.

He hears Owens let out a soft chuckle.

“You’re really milking this, bug," Eddie says as presses a kiss onto the top of her head, "I think he gets it.”

[starkeysprincess]

ooo i love that the worst punishments for reader are related to her need to please him. she misbehaves, she gets edged but never that final reward of cumming, she disrespects him, she doesn’t get the privilege of his cum inside of her. he uses that dynamic against her but makes up for it afterwards (referring to the other anon). i like the implication that he never does “vanilla sex” with the women he doms but does with her, but she doesn’t even realize it because it’s still so overwhelming for her after not getting to cum at all the day before. it lets him pretend that he isn’t aware that he never wants to let her go 🤭

as for what to discuss next… maybe a fluff break of little moments that have him more and more wrapped around her finger? or perhaps spanking, with his hands or something else 👀 i think he’d like to see her ass red and welts forming on her body as much as he likes her tied up and helpless

(ps, dom rafe anon can be ❤️‍🩹 if no one’s taken it yet, for when i’m camped in your asks again 🙂‍↕️)

i'm gonna talk about the fluff moments + the spanking hehe <3 all my other dom!rafe thoughts are under the tag ‘stargazing’ + links for everything are at the bottom of this ask !

also he only does "vanilla sex" with her cause he's quite literally already obsessed with her but she doesn't realize that cause she's too overwhelmed from not being able to cum the day before. he's so obsessed with her to the point that if he got hard and she wasn't there to help him, he wouldn't be able to get off but that's just what i thinkkkkkkk

for spanking, i think dom!rafe has two preferences for how he spanks her. i think his kinky lil ass would have a leather flogger, which she's seen a few before in sex toy stores (she had to meet her needs somehow before she met him) but she didn't know what they were actually used for until she met him and god, the sound the genuine leather makes when it meets the flesh of her ass as it leaves wilts across the soft flesh is like music to his ears.

his second preference is using his hand, which is by far, his favorite way to spank her. it gives him more control and he loves the feeling of his hand coming down on her ass but nothing makes his cock twitch more than seeing her ass all red with his handprint etched onto her skin. he can't help but knead at her plump cheeks to soothe the stinging sensation.

now, onto the fluff moments that make him more and more wrapped around her finger. it would be the smaller moments that really get to him. moments like after her being so worn out from him fucking her, she cuddles into his chest and falls asleep, something he isn't used to at first, he would hesitantly wrap his arms around her but he realizes how much he enjoys her being in his arms.

another moment would be when he wakes up and she's gone, he got out of bed and assumed she left while he was asleep, which makes him reach for his phone as he heads to his kitchen. before he can send her a text, he looks up to see her back facing him and she's wearing nothing but his shirt as she dances around his kitchen, making breakfast.

he's never had a women he's been with stay the night, let alone, cook him breakfast. he can't help but him smile to himself and he can't help but lean against the wall, his arms folded across his chest, admiring the way she moves around as she cooks.

taglist ✦ rafe masterlist ✦ stargazing (thoughts) tagging: @oceandriveab / @babygorewhore / @drudyslut / @rafesthroatbaby / @rylie-m / @maiiuelle / @lilacheavenn / @hallecarey1 / @heartsforvin / @sturnioloshacker / @xxbimbobunnyxx / @redhead1180 / @eddieslut69 / @eternalbuckley / @kisses4angel / @hyperfixationgirl / @emilysuperswag / @flvredcas / @rafeinterlude / @ihe4rttwd / @starkeysheart / @peterpan-neverfails / @nemesyaaa / @starkeyisthelastname

[gatorlovebot]

read my other king!simon blurbs here.

simon was never really one to listen to his court. his advisors were mostly there for show because simon did what simon wanted, as simple as that. his advisors and men could give their opinions and guidance all they wanted but simon was the king, no one else. ultimately he was the one that made the decisions.

but sometimes he did listen to them, sometimes because he actually agreed with what they were saying or to just get them to shut up when it came to more inconsequential things. but this, to you, did not seem that inconsequential.

the castle had been preparing for the arrival of the royal family from the south for weeks. the visit was for political purposes, the southern king wanting to form an alliance with simon. simon wasn’t too concerned when it came to the far away kingdoms. when he first took the throne his main concern was power and domination, waging wars with kingdoms to gain more rule and land. but now, as he was getting older, he was more focused on ruling his kingdom. visits from other royals were few and far between but they were still big affairs.

from the day you had become appointed to stand by simon you had heard talks of him taking a wife, his advisors attempting to persuade him to share the throne with someone else, potentially another royal, to grow the kingdom. but simon stood firm in his decision over the years to never take a wife, especially not another royal. he could never picture a union with another royal being genuine, especially when his advisors kept assuring him he didn’t even have to like his potential queen, they were more concerned with the political implications. but simon didn’t care about politics or gaining more power, when it came to a wife he wanted someone to love, someone to love him, someone to be proud to stand next to.

but the day before the southern royal family was set to arrive you felt like alternative timeline.

“she’s beautiful, she’s educated, she’s young, and she has no prospect as high as your caliber, your highness.” simon’s advisor spoke of the king’s daughter, the princess.

you’re alarmed, this conversation isn’t going how they usually do. when simon’s men bring up potential wives for him, he usually shuts down the conversation immediately. just protest after angry protest until eventually his men just drop the conversation entirely for the next few months. but for whatever reason this time around simon seems curious about the whole thing.

“what did you have in mind?” he asks, and you try your best to hide your shock but you can imagine your eyes look like they’re about to bulge out of their sockets. he can’t be fucking serious.

and his advisor seems shocked as well, “well, your majesty, we thought that we would start simple since this isn’t something you usually do. a walk around the royal gardens, and then if that goes well, maybe a lunch. just the two of you.”

simon ponders it for a few moments and your body goes tense and rigid in that time. “sounds fine to me.”

your jaw drops.

“well done, then, your highness. the southern king has approved of this potential courting, so everything is set.”

you tried your best to get out of it, why would simon need you to accompany him on his little courting date? but, you were expected to accompany him to everything and without a valid excuse there was no way of getting out of it. you walked a respectable distance behind simon and the princess, along with one of simon’s guards. you tried to not look at the way they easily strolled through the gardens, arm in arm in, tried not to listen to her angelic giggle as she laughed at simon’s awful jokes, even one that he had told you earlier that morning. but you couldn’t help yourself, they were the only thing you could focus on.

it all seemed like such a cruel joke, making you question what you had done to deserve this. you let your emotions get the best of you as a tear falls down your cheek. you quickly reach up to wipe it away. “here,” the guard directed, holding out a handkerchief.

although the gesture was kind, you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed about the whole thing. “oh, thank you, it must be the pollen getting to me.” you tried to convince.

his smile told you otherwise, “no problem, my dear, no need for explanations.”

when the princess and simon halted further up the path of the gardens so she could lean over to smell one of the flowers, the guard nudged you with his elbow. he extended his arm out to you and you took advantage of the connection, linking your arm with his, feeling grounded for the first time since stepping out into the gardens.

it wasn’t very appropriate, physical touch with one of simon’s guards, but it was ultimately harmless. the guard was just being considerate of your feelings, which you couldn’t help but indulge in. and if you held onto the guards arm even tighter when a sour look crossed simon’s face when he spotted the two of you out of the corner of his eye, well that’s nobody’s business.

[jesterofcringe]

I can't take it anymore- Is that an exit door? [Liminal space au] Natalie x Reader

this follows the rules of the backrooms except i have no idea how the backrooms work and didnt feel like writing the entities so its liminal spaces instead :3 i love writing cringe can you tell also people who sent in requests im working on em now they'll be out soon 😋👍 ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

★It all started because you were messing around with Natalie and it, once again, got you two in trouble.

★It started with a shove, which turned into a couple of light punches, which turned into a whole play fight. 

★Natalie pushed you hard enough to knock you over, and in trying to save yourself you instinctively grabbed her shirt and the both of you went crashing into the wall.

★Except you didn’t.

★The two of you fell for far too long, as if the wall was never there. Finally, you landed with a splash, your entire body submerged in water.

★You had crashed into a wall, and now you were submerged in water. Because that totally made sense.

★In a panic you scrambled to your feet, rubbing the water out of your eyes. When you opened them, you saw you were in a subway system, water flooded up to your knees.

★Everything got more confusing the more you made an effort to understand what was going on.

★Natalie’s hand shot out and grabbed your arm, “Are… are you seeing this too??”

★“Yeah…” You nodded slow “…I think so.”

★“Subway station, balls deep with water?”

★“Mhm.”

★“Could we like, be hallucinating the same thing?”

★You kicked up the water, splashing her, “Would we be able to feel a hallucination?”

★A heavy silence blanketed the two of you as you shivered and tried to figure out what the hell just happened.

★“Fuck.”

★Natalie started to walk away from you, and you instantly followed after her.

★“Where are you going?”

★“It’s freezing. Hallucination or not we can’t just stay here.”

★She reached back and offered you a hand, which you took in one of your own. Somehow, her fingers were colder than the water.

★Ever since then, nothing really made sense anymore. 

★At the end of the subway there was a door. A door with a faint glow around it. That was the only thing that stayed consistent. A door was always there and it always brought you somewhere new, no matter how different than the last. After the subway station it was a movie theater. Following that was a shopping mall, and an empty parking lot after that one. The doors brought you just about anywhere. You had seen more Walmarts than you cared to admit.

★That wasn’t even the weirdest part. No matter where you were, there was absolutely never any people. Entire amusement parks, attractions moving and all, completely abandoned by human life... Did humanity vanish, or did you?

★“Do you think the rest of the yellowjackets are looking for us?

★It was a random ass question. The last door you guys passed through led you into a gas station and the two of you were in the middle of stuffing a backpack you found with as much resources as you could. Despite thinking Natalie's question was somewhat out of the blue, you couldn't deny the fact that you had been thinking about the same thing.

★“I hope so.”

★ She tossed you a pair of flashlights and a candy bar, “What do you think they’re saying about us?”

★“Probably think we ran away and got married in secret.” You shrugged as you attempted to stuff some bubble gum in the front pocket.

★“At this point we may as well," She ripped open a bag of fruit gummies and offered you some, which you politely declined, "It’s not like we’re ever gonna get out of here.”

★You didn't appreciate the implications of never finding your way out, but you didn't mind the idea of becoming somewhat romantic with Natalie, even if it was due to the fact you two seemed to be likely to die together whether you were romantic or not.

★It was hard to keep track of the days. If you had to guess, it had been a few months. It felt a lot longer than that, though. Time was sort of distorted, although the first few weeks you were obsessed with trying to track how long the two of you had been trapped. Natalie was able to tell the whole concept of time was starting to drive you a bit mad, and the next time the doors brought you some place high up she chucked her watch as far as she could so you would stop staring at it.

★"What the hell Natalie! We needed that!"

★"Knowing the time isn't going to get us out of here! You staying sane, will!"

★You had to really get lucky with the places you ended up. Sometimes you went without food for weeks, sometimes you ended up in places with enough resources to provide for the next eighty years. You never stayed even though you knew you should. You were absolutely desperate to get out. Natalie on the other hand, came to terms with the whole thing surprisingly quick. She was very level headed, her calmness rubbing off on you whenever you started to work yourself up.

★“You’re delusional dude, you need sleep.”

★“I don’t wanna sleep, we need to keep going.”

★“We can keep going tomorrow.”

★“But-“

★“We. Can. Keep. Going. Tomorrow.”

★There was a time you ended up in an elementary school when the both of you were exhausted. You were both too tired to realize you had been walking through the same place every time you found the door. When you eventually did realize it after the third time, Natalie said fuck It, and you ended up spooning on the couch in the front lobby of the school.

★[The next morning the door you passed through led you to a mattress store. You didn’t know who you wanted to kill more, the doors or Natalie. The cuddles were pretty nice though, so you couldn’t stay mad at her.]

[thewalkingwillowtree]

Safe Haven

Series Part Listing Found Here

Neteyam x Original Na'vi Female Character

Summery: Seeking refuge, Xilä and her father venture to the lands of the Omatikaya clan, in the hopes that the Toruk Makto would be generous in allowing them to stay. This is her story about not only finding her strength, but finding love. 

Warning: This story contains smut, violence & abuse (please don't read if these topics will affect you)

Some characters have been aged up. Neteyam in particular is 24.

Xilä is my own creation.

Warning! Gentle reminder about my previous warnings y’all. This part is heavy handed on the violence and mentions of blood. Also, very brief mention/implication of suicide (not any of our MC’s).

~

Part 17- Vengeance

The feast was almost over and Xi was running out of time. She had run through every possible scenario in her mind on how to get out of what was to come…what Su’ko had planned for her.

Eywa.

Help me.

She stared out at a sea of pity, losing count of how many Na’vi were scattered about the cave. Li’ona had always been a massive clan, and while they were far fewer in numbers now, there was still a shocking mass.

Whatever RDA base or ship the Li’ona people had scavenged was evident. There was a plethora of human made objects dispersed all over the large cave. Everything from rusting ship parts, to vehicle seats- their padding spilling out from its torn upholstery to even those tiny, bright coloured sticks the humans used to clean their teeth.

In her peripheral, the glint of Su’ko’s staff caught her attention. It had a sharp pointed blade which she was sure could pierce skin easily…if she could just reach it.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ her mind mocked, ‘you wouldn’t make it very far…even if you killed him.’

A frantic shout for help interrupted her thoughts. The distressed form of a man appeared, hysterically yelling about his dying father and Xi recognized him from his cloak.

He had been one of the men who’d accompanied Su’ko- one of his rouge warrior's who’d held her down as they forced her to watch her father be strung up.

Xilä observed that most of the clan merely blinked in his direction, almost as if it were a usual occurrence.

Was no one going to help his father?

Did they have no healer?

When no one came forth, she grabbed her chance. “I can help! Let me help, I am a healer!”

Well...as good as one.

All eyes landed on her, and Xilä held her breath as she waited for Su’ko give his permission. Instead, he fisted her hair painfully, titling her to face his menacing glare.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I-” she licked her lips nervously, “but I can help.”

“Su’ko…chief, please,” the man begged.

Su’ko’s gaze darted around at his clan, they were all watching in interest now, waiting for his response. Relenting, the Li’ona leader released her with an annoyed nudge.

“Go,” he ordered, tossing the end of the chain for the man to lead her away.

Deep into the cave and far from the rest of the clan, she followed when he entered an alcove. It was warm and reeked of stale sweat and urine. The rattling of the rusty chain around her ankle pierced the quiet of the dim space and Xi wondered for a split second if she’d been led into a trap.

Peering through the darkness, it took her a moment to make out a shifting lump on the ground. Said lump made her jump when it suddenly gave a loud, wheezing cough.

Rough hands dragged and pushed Xi to her knees, barking, “Do something! He’s dying!”

Xilä shot the man a foul glare over her shoulder. “My hands are still bound! I cannot work like this.”

He hesitated, but then the sound of another cough made him quickly cut the ties off her wrists.

As she rubbed the raw skin uncomfortably, she said, “I need light, water, and medicine if you have. There was supposed to be some in the sack that-”

“I’ll get it,” he snapped before dashing off, pulling the length of the long chain with him which rattled rather loudly before it tapered off, making her hastily extend her leg so she didn’t go lurching behind wherever it disappeared to.

Once the chain stopped, she shifted onto her knees and waited until another round of hacking from the ill figure ended. “Hello,” she tried.

“H’mdell, leave me.” The voice was harsh, hoarse and drenched in age.

“He- he’s gone to get a few things…I’m Xilä, I’m here to help. Do you mind- can I check your vitals? I’m a healer,” she whispered as calmly as possible.

“Xilä…I don’t know any Xi- wait…Muiä’s girl? Is that you?”

At his question she shuffled closer, wincing at the twinge in her ankle. “Yes,” she replied shakily. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Bah. I am fine. Only dying a slow and painful death. Why are you-” he broke off into another fit.

Xi pursed her lips when the elder’s breath quickened. Her brow furrowed when she took note of sweat glossing his heavily aged face yet he was swamped with what looked like three layers of worn leathers.

She reached out and pressed two fingers against the flat of his wrist, sharply inhaling when she felt his ice cold skin and faint beating pulse.

“When was the last time you ate or drank anything?”

H’mdell entered just then, bathing the room in warm light with a flame he secured into the rocky wall. He grunted a garble of words as he tossed a hefty medium sized sack at her. It was a mess of random herbs, tonics and instruments her father had stolen from the Omaticaya.

With the light, Xi swallowed her horror at the clear sight of the face staring back at her. The elder was gaunt, skeletal-like to be exact.

“He needs food, and clean, drinkable water. When was the last time he had anything?” she asked his son as she siphoned through the cloth bag, hoping it held what she needed.

“Not for days, he refuses- the stubborn fool,” the man replied with a pointed glare at his coughing father. “Do something already!” he bellowed at her, causing her to flinch and drop the container of powdered kyntser she’d been holding when he raised a threatening hand.

“H’mdell,” the elder rasped, “leave us. Su’ko will not be happy if you are late for your watch again. You know what happened the last time,” he said with a weak nod to the man’s left hand.

Xilä bit her cheek when she saw two missing fingers- only a thumb and index finger was left.

H’mdell simply grunted in response. Taking hold of the end of her shackle, he wedged it tight around an odd heavy scrap of metal that looked to be part of a machine. “Fix him. I’ll kill you if you don’t,” he threatened before finally leaving for his watch duty.

Waiting a few breaths, Xilä moved slowly as she tended to the elder who she learned was called Askadu.

Contrary to growing up in the deadlands, Xi had never really been given the freedom to roam the clan. Being overly sheltered, it was her first time actually seeing most of the unnamed faces.

The quiet and distance from the rest of the clan- distance from Su’ko specifically, gave her time to think, to plan.

Askadu stared at her the entire time, calculating gaze never leaving her face as she poked and prodded his ribs and stomach, ear pressing against his bony chest before she began to meticulously combine ingredients into a mortar and pestle.

“Why have you returned?” he eventually asked, surprising her.

“I have not returned,” she snapped, “I was taken from my home…against my will.”

“And just where is this home of yours?” he snarked. “Save the bruises, you look well kept. Sunkissed skin if I ever did see…no longer flesh and bone like the lot of us,” he commented, appraising her choice of clothing- or lack of, through cloudy gray eyes.

“The Omaticaya took me in. They are home.”

“The Omaticaya? Have you come from the Blue Flute clan then? The legendary Toruk Makto’s?”

“Yes,” she replied, pausing her stirring to frown at his genuine surprise and need of this information.

“That is not what Su’ko told us,” he muttered to himself faintly, but she heard it all the same.

Interesting.

They both fell quiet again, lost in their own thoughts as she continued to fret over him, giving him a slew of ill tasting remedies, then cleansing and treating his open bed sores as best as possible.

“What is it like?” he asked. “The forest.”

She pondered for a second before responding, smiling in memory. “It’s beautiful, something from a dream…The forest, it’s always alive, it glows, thrives and there’s forever something new to discover. I've lived there for some time now, but... I don’t think I’d ever get used to how wonderful it is”

“Hm.”

“Askadu,” she started, encouraged by his question to ask her own, “what happened to these lands? Why has Eywa forsaken Li’ona? You must know for sure. I heard it was once a place that all other clans would envy.”

The elder gave a dry laugh that ended in a fit of hacks and heaves. “Oh it was. It was,” he said as if remembering. “One could only assume my dear. I’m sure you’ve heard the theories. I’d gander it was greed and hate that brought us here, however.”

“How so?”

“Corruption,” he said ominously. “We once had all we could ever want…but then a drought came, far worse than any we’d ever encountered before. Instead of planning and conserving, we wasted…hoarded, took it all for granted by being selfish and unkind to our own. And when the lands became sparse, the evil awoke.”

“Evil?”

He fixed Xilä with a meaningful glare. “Hunger and thirst can turn any soul into an unrecognizable beast… beasts so wicked they no longer care, they no longer feel… they no longer exist… We can guess all we’d like, play the victims to make ourselves feel better, but it is no great secret why the Great Mother truly deserted us…We were our own undoing.”

Askadu breathed heavily and Xi wondered when was the last time he spoke this much, she offered him another sip of the slosh his son had brought.

It took everything within her to not rush this, to not make it obvious what she was doing, but she needed to gain his trust, and fast.

“Tell me child, has Eywa led you here to be part of our end? I can sense that our time here has run its course. You are here to join us then?”

A shudder ran up her spine at his chilling words. She shook her head slowly, grip loose on the cloth she’d been dabbing to his skin. “Eywa has nothing to do with me being here. I was taken against my will, remember? My father,” she sucked a breath, “he made a deal with your leader. And now Su’ko says he will claim me.”

“Ahhh, does he? And does he know you are already taken by an Omaticaya bastard?” he pondered in amusement, weak fingers lifting to flick at the chord of beads in her hair she’d been fidgeting with every now and again- Neteyam’s gifted beads precisely.

“Hmmm. You are tainted, but I suppose he wouldn’t care though, no? Gone were the days when one whore was enough for a man. Loyalty holds no meaning here anymore.”

Ignoring his vile words, Xilä couldn’t wait any longer. She was ready to strike, ready to put her plans in place.

With a glance behind her to make sure they were truly alone, she softened her voice, “You clearly don’t agree with the way he is doing things then. Help me, Askadu. Please.”

Askadu laughed. “Afraid you will end up like the rest then?”

“What do you mean? There were others? What happened to them?”

"They are dead," he replied nonchalantly, "Su'ko can be a...brutal lover."

Xi swallowed a wave of nausea. "Then help me."

Askadu turned angry. "I am afraid there is nothing I can do- and do not be fooled girl, I am no better than the animals out there. I will not fight for you- couldn’t even if I tried. I have already accepted my fate.. Maybe it's time you do too.”

“No. No I refuse to give up. And I don't need you to fight for me, no that's not what I'm asking. It's something else…please. Don't you want the last thing you do in this world to be something good? Help me, Askadu."

A stifling silence gave way for the grunts and hoots echoing through the walls of the cave.

“Tell me something, your mate, he is… what? A warrior?”

Xi frowned but answered all the same. “Yes. One of the greatest. He is the clan’s future Olo'eyktan,” she said proudly.

Askadu froze in shock before schooling his features. “Kin of Turok Makto… My my, see how you’ve risen,” he mocked. “He will be coming for you then? I can’t imagine having you taken away from your mate sits well with him- with the clan. How sure are you of this?”

Thumb and forefinger pressing into her beads for good measure, she nodded. “I’m sure. He’s coming, my husband is coming.” She knew it in her heart, there was no doubt.

“Very well. If I were to...help you," he bit out as if he'd eaten something vile, "I want something in return.”

Xilä’s relief was prominent. “Yes, of course. What would you like?”

He nudged his head to the medical sack. “Give me something strong to take, something that will do the trick quickly.”

Not understanding, Xi merely blinked at the bag.

Askadu rolled his eyes. “Your mate is coming for you, Xilä. Do you think he will simply walk in alone and take you without a fight? When the time comes, I will die on my own terms. So I’ll say it again. Give. Me. Something. Strong.”

~

A deep moan escaped Neteyam. “Fucking hell,” he murmured against Xi’s lips.

She giggled at his reaction, grin wide and proud. “Was that good?” she asked. “Yeeeah that was good,” she teased with a smirk, seeing his heated gaze, “I’m getting better at this kissing thing, I think.”

“Now who’s getting cocky?” he laughed in response, ducking down to suck her bottom lip into his mouth.

Her thighs squeezed his sides in response when he properly claimed her lips again, unable to help himself as his palms caressed as much free skin as they could without crossing that very thin line of inappropriateness.

Xilä, the greedy little thing, whined when he teased her in return by keeping his lips purposely closed. She bit his bottom lip in impatience, allowing for their tongues to dance passionately.

But then he was taking charge from her once more.

Neteyam tasted.

Inhaled.

Devoured.

She gave and he took.

They kissed until they were both bursting and lightheaded. Breaking apart, his lips trailed across her jawline and down the arch of her neck, desperate to stay close- addicted.

Since they’d recently started this dangerous game, it was getting increasingly difficult to stop each time.

He sucked at her pulse point, a spot he’d quickly come to realize was overly sensitive and prone to produce the most intoxicating sounds from her lips if he worked it just right.

Encouraged by her wanton moan, he did it again, and again, and again, practically feasting on her sweet smelling skin- tail happily thumping behind him while she gasped and panted as she clung to him.

Neteyam felt drunk off of her returning affections. He loved when her hips would begin to roll on their own, as if seeking more but not knowing what. He loved how her fingers would grip the skin of his back, his nape, his biceps, egging him on with breathy whines and mewls.

Only kissing.

That was the rule he’d set when they’d started this…and of course, he fucking hated it. He knew she did too. He knew that even though she was inexperienced, she was ever eager and always begging for more.

They were both fools though. The only kissing rule was beginning to blur. Hands began to roam further each time, bare skin was tasted and Neteyam, was always painfully rock hard by the end. Hiding it from her was becoming a task of its own nature.

The snap of a twig broke him from his spell, making him dart his head up and around at the forest surrounding them.

“What is it?” she asked, trying to see over his shoulder from their splayed position he'd rolled them to, but unable to since his heavy torso prevented her.

Neteyam listened for a few beats then jerked his chin. “Just a hexapede, over there, see?”

“Oh,” she gasped, “Teyam, it’s the same one we saw a few weeks ago. Look! She had her baby!”

Xi pushed at his chest so she could sit up to better see the knobby legged baby following its mother.

He grumbled, but shuffled out from his spot between her thighs to lean against a thick root of the tree they were lounging under. While she stared in awe at the two creatures, Neteyam took his fill of her. He wished he had a camera to save this moment forever.

She was beautiful, ethereal.

Skin glowing from the illumination around them, she was all soft lines, bright eyes and everything that was good in his entire world.

A sudden rush of overflowing affection that he’d never felt before made his heart leap.

Love…?

Love.

He waited for that thump-thump beat of panic over his realization…but it never came.

And then just as fast as that warmth of feeling showed itself, it was suddenly dampened by reality.

“What?” she asked with a little huff, amused when she’d caught him staring.

‘I love you,’ he thought. ‘But I’m not supposed to…’

“Nothing,” he said instead of the truth, “come here, sweetheart,” he begged quietly and albeit needy- a side of himself he’d never known existed.

‘Damn her.’

Pulling her into his arms with a contented sigh, he nuzzled her cheek and kissed under her jaw affectionately, feather light with hidden meaning, far more intimate than their usual “heated or passion” filled kisses.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to fall in love with her.

For now he’d take what he could get, he’d pretend that there was no deadline- no pressing demand waiting for him to deal with. But fuck if it didn’t hurt to think that he’d have to give her up.

But what if he couldn’t? What if he didn’t want to give her up? He was in love with her…soul wrenchingly in love.

‘Damn her.’

“Don’t make me do any more drills today,” she pouted as she snuggled further into his arms, thighs draped over each of his from when she’d plopped into his lap.

“No?” he chuckled, playing with her hair. “What do you want me to make you do instead then?”

“This, just this right here,” she sighed happily, hugging him around his waist as her cheek made a home on his chest. “Please.”

Another thing that made him secretly happy- she was much more comfortable with initiating physical contact now.

Recently, and on more than one occasion, she’d forgotten they were in public, and while he’d pretend to be upset and mumble under his breath to remind her, he loved when she’d light up at seeing him, loved how she’d plaster herself in his arms or seek him out- just to be close, just to be near him in any way possible.

“Alright, fine. Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to her hair while his arms tightened around her in return, “whatever you want.”

Neteyam tried to force himself to reign in his desires but thoughts of “What if” ran wild in his mind.

Maybe he could try to persuade the council to give him more time?

Maybe Xi would say yes if he asked to court her?

Maybe…somehow, someway she’d become his mate, his wife?

Neteyam shook his head, he didn’t want to get ahead of himself, he’d have to figure it all out later.

But for now, out here in their own world... he could pretend that she belonged to him just as much as he belonged to her…

“Son, you should get some sleep. You’re gonna need it,” Jake advised, chasing away Neteyam’s vivid memory.

He pursed his lips beneath the thick leathered mask that hid his face as he heard his father approach. “Dad-”

“Don’t give me that. It’s been days, kid. You haven’t been eating either and it’s got your mother worried sick. You’ll be of no use to Xi if you’re sleep deprived and weak as shit. We’re gearing up to infiltrate these savages tomorrow with no clue what to expect. I suggest you get your ass to camp, eat and get some fucking sleep, because so help me, Neteyam, I will pull rank and not allow out there.”

“Yes, sir,” Neteyam muttered dutifully, reigning in his annoyance yet knowing his father was right all the same.

He tore his gaze away from the vast, crimson tinted horizon he’d been staring at for the last hour and trekked down the stony mound, back to their camp of warriors- tail limp between his legs like a chided kit.

Casted by the shadows of the night, their makeshift shelters were hidden amongst a rocky valley. They were close, and having come such a long way, they’d stop to rest and recover for the night.

By tomorrow, they would finally enter the deadlands. Norm’s trace on the aircraft had died two days ago. He prayed to Eywa that it wasn't a bad sign, but suffice to say, they had a general idea of where they were heading by now.

So much happened in the past couple of days.

They didn’t leave home immediately after their update from Stephan. Strategy meetings were held, weapons and provisions for the journey were assembled, and every seamstress, weaver and capable sewer worked tirelessly to equip all warriors who were about to set out.

And thank Eywa that they had.

The heat had been a surprise to them all of course. They hadn’t even reached the “deadlands” officially per say, but yet a simmering wave had them all scrambling to cloak and cover themselves in protective wear.

Neteyam stared at his own covered feet as he walked. They were a nuisance in his mind, but they were a necessity. Who was he to complain?

His boots were sturdy and well insulated. Sal had made them, having stayed up for almost half a night before she tackled getting Jxo’s done.

And Jxo- well, warrior or not, there was no talking the man out from going with them. Neteyam had never seen his mother-in-law look so fragile when she’d learned this. Sal had hugged him tight and begged him to bring her husband and daughter back in one piece.

Their fleet flew for what felt like an eternity to him- days of travel that had his muscles sore, tired and aching. He glanced at the mess of tangled ikrans some feet away. Buddy and Journey in particular were entwined as they slept, and if it were not for their contrasting colours, Neteyam wouldn’t know where one began and the other ended.

Journey, the poor thing seemed to sense what was wrong. She was a stubborn beast, refusing to stay behind, nipping at his feet and tail until he surrendered and released her from the enclosure he’d been trying to lock her in.

As he forced himself to swallow a couple bites of food and swigs of water, Neteyam peered around at the tired eyes of the men and women so ready to fight by his side.

They were here for him, for Xilä. He had to say something…he needed them to know how much it meant to him.

With a heavy heart Neteyam made his way to the center of their makeshift encampment. He didn’t have to do much or wait too long for all to fall quiet and give their full attention.

“I can not help but feel such gratitude in my heart for each one of you. It's not lost on me, the sacrifices you've all made– leaving behind your families, your comfort and the warmth of your own bed. And for that sacrifice, I want to express my deepest thanks. Your willingness to endure this journey with me, it speaks volumes… My Xilä, my mate. Thank you for helping me get her back home.”

“You’d do it for any one of us,” Tasam called out with a firm nod, arms folded as he stood tall.

“Xilä is Omaticaya. Of course we’d fight to get her back,” W’aote chimed in.

“She is our future Tsahìk!”

“We are with you brother.”

One by one masked faces called out to him. His heart swelled, wishing Xi were here to see. Neytiri approached him where he stood, clasping their hands together as she murmured her own heartwarming words.

Later that night, while most caught some sleep, Neteyam sought out his brother who was one of the few keeping watch.

“Hey,” Lo’ak murmured in greeting, scooching across to allow Neteyam a seat on the high, flat boulder he was perched on.

“Hey.”

“What’s up?”

Neteyam plucked out his lucky dagger to fiddle with. He smirked at its still flower patterned painted handle, he couldn't find it within himself to remove Tuk's artwork.

"I need a favor…a big one," he asked as he twirled the blade skillfully, making flips and spins with practiced ease.

“Yeah, bro. Anything.”

“Dad’s right, we planned as much as we could, but we don’t really know what we're heading into… either way, I know it’s going to be a fight, I don’t expect there’d be no blood shed…” he adjusted the heavy cloak that kept him protected from the heat- it was ridiculously uncomfortable, that and the fucking pants. 

“I’ve made up my mind on how I want this to go down. We’re sticking to the plans in place of course but… I need you to prioritize Xi for me.”

Lo’ak frowned. “Bro-”

“I want you to find her as soon as you can and get her out of there. Keep her safe. If Stephan’s ship is secure when we get there tomorrow, take her there.”

“Neteyam, the plan was that you would-”

“Please, Lo’ak… I need you to do this for me. Just get her as far from that place as possible. No matter what. I need you to promise me.”

Lo’ak swallowed deeply, glowing eyes set on his brother’s hidden profile. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, I’ll do it.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re planning something, aren’t you?”

Neteyam bit the inside of his cheek and shrugged. “They fucked up. So now they're all going to pay.”

~

A miserable three days had passed before it finally happened.

And oh how it happened.

Between Xilä and Askadu, the whispers were spread throughout the clan- the truth, things they didn’t know, things that had been deliberately kept from them.

It started with a sly comment that earned her a backhand from the person who’d brought her a “meal”, someone’s leftovers consisting of rock-seed beans that had been mashed into a paste.

An underhanded comment to Askadu’s son, a sassy comeback to Vhin who had pulled on her hair hard in retaliation, and the best of best- a tear filled conversion to the cave’s known gossiper, a woman named J'ahki.

Those small seeds of doubt were planted and spread throughout the clan, creating hushed huddles and intense pockets of conversation- tension and anger building amongst the Li’ona people.

They doubted her words at first, which was naturally understandable. But the Na’vi of Li’ona were a demanding folk. They had a code- and sure they treated each other worse than shit, but they believed in their chief- the man who’d fed them lies.

Xi’s plan was simple- create chaos and wait them out. If she couldn’t fight them physically, she’d get them where she knew mattered.

Get them to turn on themselves, or better yet- Su’ko.

She didn’t know exactly how long the journey had been by the aircraft- she’d been unconscious for most of it anyway. She also didn’t know the exact number of days she’d been taken from home- from Neteyam, but she knew how long she’d been in this dreadful cave.

Three days, and now judging by the change of the guard she’d come to memorize, evening had come…evening bringing the third night.

Three days and three nights of miserable, piss poor living conditions and lack of food, water and sleep.

It was the nights that had her worried the most. Xi had refused to close her eyes in fear of anything happening to her while she slept.

Askadu had played his part too in helping her however- not just spreading rumors also. Overplaying his illness when needed so that she could stay at his side during the day was more than she could ask for. She could tell that it irked Su’ko.

The first night she’d been lucky, having the opportunity to care for the elderly man. The second night however, Su’ko had every intention of moving ahead with his plan.

And so, she’d been dragged through the clan kicking and screaming, putting up a hell of a fight until they reached his personal alcove. She scratched the fuck out of his face, kneeing him right in the balls when he'd gotten her pinned.

His roar of pain and anger was deafening when she gained the upper hand by biting down on his ear, holding firm. Xi was feral, she clamped onto the flesh until blood coated her mouth and tip was ripped right off.

When Su'ko had stumbled back, hands cupping his gushing injury, his eyes were wide in disbelief? Shock? Fear? Xi didn't care, she simply stood to her full hight, spat the tip of his ear and a mouthful of blood right at him, stance widening as she readied herself for another round.

Su'ko had gone livid, blade pulled from his hip with every intention to kill her she knew.

But as luck or fate or Eywa would have it, a land quake erupted, rocking and shaking the entire cave with a powerful vengeance. Dust clouded the air and rubble fell from the ceiling as people scrambled in screams of terror.

Xi had been abandoned, still chained and unable to escape even if she wanted to. Instead, she curled into a ball beneath the scrapped sheet of metal she’d been shackled to.

On that night, three of Li’ona’s people died.

When all went calm again, Su’ko had his ear tended to by an overly worried and all too happy to help Vhin. Then, he and many others worked tirelessly at the cave’s entrance, desperately trying to clear away the rocks and rubble that had filled their only way out- trapping them from the outside.

And then came tonight.

The night it all went spiraling.

“SU’KO!”

From what she now called, “her seat” a ledge a few feet above the rest of the clan, but lower than Su’ko’s, a shackled Xilä watched as an angry Na’vi hostilely approached the Li’ona leader who’d just entered the cave.

Xi prayed that her plan had finally worked. She didn’t think she’d be as lucky again tonight since just before he left, Su’ko had threatened to claim her upon his return, then kill her for her actions.

“You’ve been keeping secrets from us, oh mighty leader,” the man snarked sarcastically.

Su’ko and his band of warriors had just returned from their all day hunt, which unsurprisingly, by the look of things, wielded only two measly skinny dirt-vermin.

“I’d watch my tone if I were you, Balynn. What is this about?” Su’ko asked, already on the alert as he noticed the accusatory glares scattered around the cave, some not as obvious while others were blazing in blatancy towards him.

“The girl, Su’ko…Talk is,” he turned and shot her a loathsome glare with a pointed finger, “she’s an Omatikaya’s whore. She’s fucking claimed by Toruk Makto’s boy.”

“Lies!” Su’ko roared, baring fanged teeth as he dropped his kill to step forward.

“She told me so herself,” Vhin chipped in unhelpfully- hip cocked and arms folded, “what does it matter though, Balynn? Su’ko makes the ru-”

“Silence bitch. It matters. All of you. Fools!” he hissed at the leader in particular. “Don’t you know what this means? She is Omatikaya!  Taken… claimed before Eywa. They see her as one of their own.”

By the look on their leader’s face, realization seemed to dawn upon him, he caught what the man was trying to say. Su'ko fiddled with the bandage that was poorly administered to his ear, face morphing into a pained wince before he was masking it again.

Xi thought he was one tough bastard. He hadn't even taken anything for the pain.

“We should just kill her!” someone called out.

“String her up!” another yelled.

“No!” Balynn bellowed. “If you kill her, they’ll kill us all. They have a fucking army! I should know! I fought with them against the wicked ones years ago! They have weapons, demon made weapons! Faster, and far more deadly than an arrow.”

An echoing dread of silence rippled through the cave.

“Give her back,” Balynn seethed, “you have to.”

Su’ko’s jaw ticked- anger clouding his face. “I don’t like the way you’re questioning my authority, old man. You know what happens when I’m dishonored. Maybe I should string you up instead.”

“You fool. String me up all you like. But just know, it is you who will be the end of us all! They won’t let you keep her- they won’t let you keep your life!”

“Then a war will be upon them… we will fight! We will not let them enter our lands!”

A deafening roar of cheers and hoots ensued at the prospect of war, causing Xilä to swallow nervously. She didn’t want anyone from her clan getting hurt over her- especially Neteyam.

“They don’t need to know she’s here, though. They would leave if they see that. Just kill her, she is a waste anyway,” Vhin suggested, lust filled eyes falling on the man who was so keen on keeping Xilä. “Let me do it, Olo'eyktan,” she volunteered eagerly, hand reaching for the knife attached to her hip, "I could do it quickly, or slowly if you prefer-"

“No. Leave it!” he snapped. “We feast,” Su’ko ordered, clearly trying to distract and derail the conversation.

“And just what will we feast on?” a woman questioned. “Those vermin will not make a dent in our stomachs. You promised us food Su’ko, a bountiful.”

“Exactly! Where’s the rest of the food, Su’ko?” someone else demanded. “You never said that the sack you brought back was from the Omatikaya either.”

“How many other lies have you told us?!” another accused.

Su’ko blanched at the questioning, face growing enraged as the crowd grew rowdier towards him.

An uproar of agreement and disagreement ensued. Pointed fingers, bared fangs, curses and dangerous threats flew left and right. Weapons were drawn as one by one the few still seated got to their feet.

“Where’s the rest of the water and the medicine?”

“You gave us scraps!”

“Hoarding the rest for yourself, are you?”

“You’ve lied to us! You swore your truth to this clan!”

“Lies! All lies!” an elder roared. “You are no better than that bastard T'shteyo!”

It was finally happening.

The chaos…

She and Askadu had succeeded in their plan.

“SILENCE!” A man roared. “Listen…” he said ominously, ears perked as his eyes found the cave's entrance.

And in that very moment, when all had gone quiet did they all hear it…a chilling sound from the distance. The blaring call of a horn that warned of danger…grave danger.

Wide eyes and panicked expressions replaced the hostility from before, all attention falling to their leader as if he held the answer, as if waiting for instruction.

Hurried footsteps had them all tightening their grips on the handles of their weapons.

“Su’ko!”

“Su’ko!”

The entire clan watched as a panting young man- no, boy raced through the entrance- exposed face pale in fear. The teen was probably one of the last to be born of the Li’ona people.

“Chief, there are people entering the boarders,” the boy declared, fire in his eyes as if excited for the prospect of a fight. “A lot of them."

Su'ko pounded the end of his staff against the ground. "Gather your weapons, round up the beasts, we ride out before last light!"

As the clan followed his directive, he marched toward Xi and grabbed her by the face, fingers and thumb sinking painfully. "Petal, your precious beloved will die tonight. I will string him up beside your father and watch as wild beasts feast on his corpse."

Xi's eyes squinted in amusement. "You're afraid. You reek of fear," she spat through clenched teeth.

His nostrils flared.

"Su'ko! Let's go!" someone called, pulling his attention away.

Su'ko paused, untrusting eyes wavering at Xi's words. "Dhgu!" he summoned his second, "Come with me, I have a plan."

~

“Get him down from there,” Neteyam ordered without emotion.

“Ugh, he reeks!” Lo’ak’s face squished in disgust at the sight of T’shteyo’s pitiful form being cut down from a high jagged rock. “Damn, I wonder how long he's been up there. His own people sure fucked him up… Is he dead?”

“I hope not,” Neteyam muttered, causing his brother to shoot him a mildly alarmed look.

The rest of their fleet hung back while a small group had broken away to investigate “the body” a scout had spotted.

T’shteyo forcefully peaked through squinted eyes- skin burnt and raw. “Wa-water…w-water,” he pleaded through blood cracked lips.

Neteyam crouched in front of the crumpled heap of limbs, head tilted as his arms hung lazily between his thighs.

“Where is my wife?”

“W-wat-water.”

“Where. Is. My wife,” he growled again.

“P-pl-please,” T'shteyo sobbed, bloodied fingers crawling at the dirt, reaching towards Neteyam’s feet in desperation.

“This?” Neteyam asked, revealing his own personal pouch which was secured to his hip. He uncapped it, removed his mask and took a long slow drink. He gave a satisfied sigh in delight, “Refreshing.”

Tears welled in T'shteyo’s eyes at the sight.

“Tell me where my wife is and I’ll consider giving you a sip.”

The man licked his lips. “They t-took her. Su’ko a-and his men.”

“Where?”

“Plea-”

“WHERE!”

“Past the village. T-they said s-something about a cave,” he rasped. “That’s a-all I know.”

Neteyam turned to his father who nodded, words not needing to be said. At once the Olo'eyktan ordered two scouts to fly ahead and check the area.

The sound of his name being called had him standing once more. “What is it?” he asked his approaching father-in-law.

“I’ll do it,” the elder said with a jerk of his chin in T'shteyo’s direction.

“Jxo, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I have to…I need to,” he urged.

Neteyam hesitated. He’d been imagining this moment for days now- the moment he was finally able to kill the bastard who’d taken his mate. But Jxo, he guessed probably did need this more than him.

“Alright,” he relented, moving to the side so that Jxo could take his place. Curiously, he stood back and observed the elder’s actions.

Jxo tossed a waterskin and a parcel of food at the man before him. He waited patiently as T'shteyo scrambled without a glance upward, finishing both the water and the small meal within seconds.

“You...” T'shteyo said in shock, noticing Jxo for the first time.

“Me.”

“What are you playing at, old man?” he asked untrustingly. “Did you poison me?”

“Poison?” Jxo mused. “Oh no no no. That would be too kind of me, don’t you think? Too lenient…I just didn’t want you dying of thirst or starvation. Not while you and I have much to discuss.”

“Bro,” Lo’ak whispered to his brother, “what’s he up too?”

“No idea,” Neteyam murmured back as he too watched from the sidelines.

“Do you know what I do for my clan?” Jxo suddenly asked T'shteyo, gravelly voice calm and cool as he stooped and pulled out a rolled leather case from his pack.

“What?” T'shteyo was looking at him as if he were insane.

“I’m a woodworker. Have been since I was a boy…followed in my father’s footsteps actually. Anything you could possibly think of, I can create,” he said, “but you see carving, carving is my specialty,” he smiled- and Jxo rarely smiled, “lots of intricate work, detailed,” he emphasized as he unrolled the leather case to display an array of pointed and sharp tools and instruments.

T'shteyo’s face paled, realization drawing upon him at Jxo’s words. “Don’t-”

“Don’t what? Don’t hurt you? Don’t make you suffer? Don’t cause you pain?” Jxo asked. Face marring an angry expression, he leaned closer. “Xilä may not have my blood but she is my kid -my daughter. And you hurt her! You made her suffer, caused her pain…sold her as if she were fucking nothing!”

“N-Neteyam!” T'shteyo cried, pleading eyes falling to him, but Neteyam’s face was blank- void of any emotion as he watched on.

"He's not going to help you...see, like him, I know everything. Oh that's right, don't look so surprised. That's why I said we have much to talk about..." Jxo titled his head, scrutinizing the man, "You have physically and emotionally scarred my little girl since she was brought into this world. Did you honestly think you would get away with it?"

“Xi-Xilä, Xilä!” he whimpered then.

Neteyam was on the man before he could blink, knife drawing blood as it sank inches into his throat. “You don’t get to say her name,” he spat, murderous eyes ablaze, “You did this. I warned you, I even spared your life once. Not again. Now…now you pay.”

Crimson drops formed a small pool in the dirt between them and Neteyam had to force himself not to slit the man’s throat. “I’d kill you right this instant…but Jxo’s right…you don’t deserve a quick death.”

He shoved the pathetic Na’vi away, turning in time to spot the scouts flying back towards them.

When they’d been informed about the location of the cave, Jake began to round up the rest of their fleet, going over last minute strategies once more to include details the scouts were able to provide.

“You should go. I’m going to be here a while,” Jxo said to Neteyam as he fished out a sharpening stone and started to run it along a hooked-nose knife. “Page in when you get my kid.”

Hesitating for the second time that day, he sighed, “Alright then.” Neteyam signaled to three men. “Stay with Jxo while we head out. Once he’s…” he cleared his throat and averted his gaze when Jxo suddenly began to test out a flat headed chisel against a random rock- the blade sinking into it with ease, “once he’s finished, head back to Stephan’s ship. We’ll meet you there.”

“Neteyam!” T'shteyo cried again, fear crippling him as Jxo calmly tied a leather apron to his front, humming a tune cheerily as if it were just another day of crafting.

Neteyam shot T'shteyo one final blank stare. “You better pray that she’s alive… May we never meet again,” he said, before turning to stride towards their fleet.

“Bro,” Lo’ak shook his head, keeping pace with him, “remind me to never piss off Jxo, because I swear, your father-in-law is one scary motherfucker.”

~

Li’ona and Omatikaya.

Each side faced off- sixty feet between them as they glared and hissed at each other.

Neteyam and his father strode forward and met two Li’ona men half way, keeping them at a distance.

“Remember, let me do the talking,” Jake murmured to his son.

“Got it.”

There were no pleasantries exchanged, no signs of respect or polite greetings.

“You are not welcomed in these lands!” one of the men hissed. “Leave now, or we slaughter you all!”

Jake merely blinked, attention set on the second man instead- the one with the bloody bandaged ear. “My name is Jake Sully. Olo'eyktan for the Omatikaya. We mean no harm unless you don’t cooperate.”

“Jakesully, the mighty Toruk Makto…there is no need for you to be here! You and your Omatikaya filth must leave at once,” the same man sneered.

“Well we wouldn’t be here if you weren't holding one of our own captive.”

“There is none of your kind here!”

“Now that’s just not true now, is it? My daughter-in-law, Xilä, hand her over,” he ordered, once again addressing the second man.

“Why do you keep looking at him, I’m the one talking to you!”

Jake smirked behind his mask. “Because he’s the one in charge…it’s Su’ko, right?” he revealed, surprising the two men who tried to fool them. “Let’s not stall this out any longer. It’s quite simple actually. Hand Xilä over, and we’ll leave. That’s the second time I’ve asked. There won’t be a third.”

Neteyam zeroed in on Su’ko, fingers itching for the blade on his hip. The man clocked this and barked a laugh, finally speaking for the first time.

“So you’ve found me out then. Dhgu and I were just having a bit of fun. I admit you are far smarter than I was expecting Jakesully.”

His gaze fell on Neteyam again. “You must be the mate my new bitch keeps moaning on about…” He cocked his head to the side as if sizing him up. “She’s a feisty little thing, isn’t she?”

That was it.

Wait for the signal be dammed.

An audible crack broke the tension and pain bloomed across Neteyam’s knuckles from the sheer force of the blow he’d administered.

Su’ko dropped like a sack of yovo fruit, stunned eyes on the three men above him as if not realizing what just happened, mouth gushing crimson through his face covering.

With a simple press to the choker around his neck, Neteyam calmly said three chilling words that sounded through every person’s ear piece…

“Kill them all.”

And then all hell broke loose.

Both sides charged.

Jake attacked Su’ko’s goon just as Neteyam lurched toward the man himself.

The clans clashed in fits of knives, guns, teeth, fists, spares, guns, bows, arrows.

It was a bloodbath.

Brutal.

Savage.

Deadly.

Through the bodies who’d joined, Su’ko, the slimy filth, somehow managed to flee from Neteyam’s clutches.

Neteyam was intercepted when a Li’ona male threw himself at him. He fought off the fool with ease, blade piercing through his chin, sprinkling blood as it was ripped out.

Striding through the battle, Neteyam gained speed and gave chase. He was not going to let Su’ko escape.

The bastard was surprisingly fast and headed straight for a line of dead trees.

Coward.

Catching up to him, they attacked at the same time, knife clashing with spear. Their strikes were vicious in a song of snarls and grunts and curses, movements fluid and deliberate, flowing almost like a practiced dance.

Neteyam poured out every bottled up fury and frustration, vengeance flowing through his veins. He couldn’t kill T'shteyo, but this was as close as he could get.

Xilä flooded his mind.

Every bruise, every tear, every ounce of pain and hurt she’d endured at the hands of these lands, at the hands of its people.

This was his revenge for her.

He gained the upper hand when Su’ko stumbled and, lucky dagger pulled from the sheath on his chest, he plunged, and twisted.

Su’ko garbled in shock, blood trickling out from his lips and down his chin.

“For Xilä.”

Plunge.

“My mate.”

Plunge.

“Wife!”

Plunge.

“Mother of my future children.”

Plunge.

“Omatikaya’s destined Tsahìk.”

Plunge.

“And the woman who brought you to your end.”

Su’ko’s body dropped with an echoing THUD around the dead woods they were in.

Panting, Neteyam stared at the corpse without an ounce of remorse.

It was done.

~

Vhin seethed as her people were slaughtered. It was all that girl’s fault, that stupid, stupid girl!

She fled the battle and returned to the cave with only one intention.

“You little whore!” Vhin screeched, causing Xilä to freeze from her frantic task of trying to escape her chains.

She watched wide eyed as a knife wielding Vhin advanced on her.

“We should have just killed you in the first place!”

Xilä dodged her sloppy swings with practiced ease, but could only do so much as the chain became tangled beneath her. “Vhin, STOP!”

The woman laughed like psycho, reminding her of her overly disturbed father. “Su’ko is slaughtering your fucking mate as we speak! We’ll cut off his head and string him up for the beasts to feast on!"

An animalistic rage flooded Xilä’s mind where all she saw was blood. And with a roar of blinding anger, she attacked. This time not to subdue, not to block…but to kill.

In Xi and Vhin's tussle, the knife fell to the floor. The both dived for it crawling and kicking in a fit of limbs. Vhin managed to reach it first but Xi fisted her hair and slammed her face into ground.

Vhin screamed in pain as Xi wrestled the knife from her and forcefully tried to drive it into her face. They both strained and struggled as inch by inch the blade came closer and closer to Vhin’s face.

SPLAT!

Xi blinked as warm liquid speckled her face and neck. Her grip on the blade loosened, jaw falling open as she stared at the arrow embedded in Vhin’s temple.

What...?

Head snapping to the inflictor, there stood, with their bow was, “Leati!” Xi cried.

The warrior smirked, “You were taking too long to kill her.”

Scrambling away from the dead body she was still leaning over, a relieved sob escaped Xi.

Leati grumbled when Xi flung herself at her, hugging her tightly, but her annoyance simmered the instant they broke apart.

“Xilä…” she trailed off, taking in the horrifying way she looked. Shaking her head, she tugged on her wrist, “Let’s get out of here.”

“I can’t, this chain won’t budge!”

“Fuck,” Leati swore, kneeling to see if she could help.

“Leati, watch out!” Xi suddenly yelled as a rock went flying, missing the warrior’s head by inches.

“He’s dead! You killed him!” H’mdell, stalked towards Xilä. “He’s dead! What did you give my father?!”

Xi blanched…Askadu actually did it then...

Leati did not hesitate, she attacked like a flying banshee, leaping at the hulking man in sheer brutality. The two went stumbling off the short ledge in a fit of kicks and punches making Xi’s chest pound in worry.

“Xilä!” she heard someone call from a distance.

“Xilä!”

She hesitated to answer, it could have been anybody…

“XiXi!”

“Lo’ak?!”

He found her within seconds, relief etched in his eyes. “Oh thank Eywa. Xi, we gotta go, come on!”

“I can’t.” She showed him the chain, and he cursed.

“Here, stretch your leg out and block your ears,” he instructed as he lifted the large gun strapped to his chest.

With one precise shot, the chain was broken. “Let’s go!”

“Wait, what about Leati?!”

“She’ll be fine,” he assured, pulling her with him, giving her no other choice but to limp along.

They ran the length of the cave, bypassing dead bodies and still fighting Na’vi. Lo’ak led them to the edge of the entrance, tugging her behind a boulder, so they were hidden when a pair of Li’ona men came running in.

He turned towards her, ready to tell her their plan of escape but suddenly noticed. “Where’s your shit? You can’t go out there like that!” he hissed, momentarily ignoring her cuts and bruises to instead focus on her lack of boots and cloak.

“They stole it from me.”

“Oh those fuckers,” he huffed. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Xi watched as he crawled away. Then, in less than two minutes he was back, beckoning her over eagerly. “Alright, the coast is clear, in you get,” he directed, untying his cloak to open it wide for her to share it with him.

She was lifted off her feet before she could blink and then Lo’ak was moving like lightning.

He dodged past the body he had just taken out and skirted around two females who were locked in hand to hand in combat, then out into the darkness of stifling heat. Within seconds, they were in the air as his ikran came flying out from nowhere.

Xilä curled into Lo’ak and tucked in her feet. She worriedly peered down at the raging war below for merely a second before Lo'ak was pushing her head down. "Don't look," he whispered.

When he knew they were about to approach the jagged rock, he kept her firmly locked with a gentle hold. He didn't want her to see in case Jxo was still at work on her father.

Good thing too, because when he spotted them, he grimaced at the sight. From as high up as they were, the sheer volume of T'shteyo's vibrant red blood was a stark contrast to the dull, dusty ground.

Jxo was not playing around…

They made it to the ship in no time. Stephan, a medic and two guards were there to greet them. Lo’ak carried her into the aircraft where she collapsed from fatigue, adrenaline wearing off, leaving her weak and aching.

“Drink up XiXi,” her brother-in-law said softly, pressing the sprout of a water pouch against her lips.

She drank greedily.

Lo’ak’s throat bobbed as he finally observed her. She looked like she’d been through hell. He gently brushed the back of her hair when she’d finished and slumped forward to lean into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get here sooner,” he murmured.

“It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re here now.”

“He’s right,” Stephan said, butting in. He gave her a sheepish expression from his seat on the floor opposite them- head bandaged and arm in a sling. “I’m sorry I didn’t try harder…do more.”

Xi shook her head, a smile peeking through to let him know it was okay. She had no words, so she hoped it conveyed how grateful she was of him.

The medic had just begun to attend to her bloody ankle when she asked anxiously, “Lo’ak, is Neteyam okay? Have you checked in with him?”

“I haven't yet. But don’t worry, he’s fine.”

“Can you go make sure? Please? My husband is-”

“Will be fine,” he said firmly.

“But-”

“Xi, I made him a promise. Me being here. I’m honoring that promise.”

“You need to stay calm,” the medic interrupted, adjusting something on the beeping machine she was hooked up to.

But worry only made Xilä’s pulse roar just as fast.

“Hey,” Lo’ak murmured softly, taking her hand in his own, “Xi, everything will be okay.”

“Lo’ak…I don’t want our people to get hurt… especially my Ne- I’m here. I’m safe. They can stop and come back now…tell them,” she urged. "Tell him!"

“I can’t do that, Xi…”

“They’re going to kill them all, aren't they?”

“What do you think? If the roles where reversed, tell me.”

She pursed her lips. “I think, I think if Neteyam was in my position…I think I’d do the same thing too.”

“Well, there you have it. Now, please try to stay calm. Getting worked up won’t help him right now. Okay? It's Neteyam, come on Xi, who do you think taught us everything he knows?”

An uncontrollable huff of a laugh escaped her. Xilä nodded, then forced herself to take a deep breath.

~

Jxo and the three warriors accompanying him were the first ones to arrive.

Xilä broke down the minute the elder wrapped her up in his arms. They were both a mumbling, sobbing mess as they reunited. Xi didn’t even care that his cloak was coated in fresh blood that stained her already filthy clothes and skin.

“What are you doing here?” she asked through a blinding grin.

Jxo shrugged and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I may not be a warrior, but I know my way around a good blade,” he joked.

They stayed wrapped up for who knows how long, seated in a corner of the cool ship until she began to nod off- body aching and begging for sleep.

Only when the early hours of the morning finally dawned did they hear the cries of ikrans.

The bay doors opened and Xilä stepped as far out onto the landing as she could, searching the crowd of returning warriors for one in particular.

Relief flooded her when Leati was spotted unharmed.

Meanwhile, Neteyam, one of the last to land, was doing the same.

Through the parting bodies, he caught sight of her instantly and a flood of emotion lodged in his chest. She was a bruised and bloody mess, and still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

In quick strides as soon as she was within arms reach, he lifted her into his arms. Legs locked around his waist, forehead and noses pressing into each other as their gazes locked- intense and reassuring.

“Baby- oh fuck. Please, please tell me this is real.”

“I’m here. I’m here, it’s me.” Xilä tugged his mask free to cup his cheeks, “Oh Eywa, you’re just as handsome as I remembered.”

They both laughed, teary eyed and choked up. And unable to stifle it, a sob escaped him.

“Please don’t cry. We’re both here. We’re both fine.”

“C’mere.” He’d barely brushed her lips when she pulled away.

“I’m filthy,” she whined.

“I don’t care.”

And then he was claiming her lips, keeping her locked with a possessive grip on the back of her neck, and uncaring of their cheering audience as their tongues and teeth reunited.

Journey squawked loudly from above them, landing clumsily as she vied for attention. Neteyam walked them out a few steps from under the ship’s covering so she could greet her ikran.

The mountain banshee nipped at Xi’s hood making her laugh.

“Xi…”

Her husband was kissing her again, pouring out every ounce of emotion he could this time.

A drop of liquid splashed Neteyam’s cheek, and then another. And another.

They broke apart, matching frowns lifting to the sky.

Rain.

With a roar, the skies opened, showering them with sweet sweet rain as thunder rumbled in the distance. Xilä’s jaw dropped, palms reaching out to feel if she’d been imagining things but no.

Eywa.

Hoods were shrugged down and grins went wide as the Omatikaya people celebrated.

“It’s raining,” she whispered in awe as droplets fell down her cheeks. She inhaled sharply when she met her husband’s intense stare. “You’re really here. You came… for me,” she murmured, index finger tracing the soft flesh of his lips.

“Always. I'd move mountains if I have to. I love you Xilä Sully. So fucking much. You should know that by now,” he whispered, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I love you too,” she sniffed, rain masking her tears.

“What do you want, baby?”

“I want to go home,” she said through trembling lips.

“Yeah, okay,” he murmured, “Let’s get you home.”

“But wait…Kiss me first.”

He nodded, smile cracking wide as he leaned in. “Whatever you want sweetheart, whatever you want,” he said, claiming her lips once more. 

~

I’m rushing to post this since I have an early appointment. So I may or may not come back to post a proper AN.

But as always, you know what to do lovelies :)

Seriously hope y’all enjoyed this chapter.

Tags: @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @granddearduck @riatesullironalite @strawberri-blonde @earthling55 @innercreationflower @duckworthbean @gyuventure @btsiguess-kpop @blkmystery @neteswife @luvteyams @isnt-itstrange @erenjaegerwifee @faatxma @ivysully @bakugouswaif

If you'd like to be tagged or I forgot you by accident, please let me know.

[marthawrites]

The Gift That Keeps Giving

Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 3.8k+

Can be read as a one shot but reads best as part 2 to A Gift for the Queen (pls be kind it was the second thing I wrote ♥)

About: You've happily stayed with Daemon and Rhaenyra since her birthday. They have a little game up their sleeve to play with you.

Includes: Explicit sexual content!! *takes a really deep breath* involving typical canon incest, M/F/F content, p in v, female masturbation, pussy slapping, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), forced orgasm, orgasm denial, overstimulation, some degradation, manhandling, crying, adult language, and aftercare. With a sweet ending. WHEW. That's a mouthful. Idk friends there's a lot going on here and if I missed anything I apologize!

Note: Hello lovely reader! I'm not in charge of your imagination, but I write with the implications that Westerosi men go in raw and are uncut. Do with that info however you like. As always, reader is nondescript! Huge shout out to my girl Eliza who is just fucking awesome and I love her. This has been stewing in my brain forever and I finally was able to get it out. It's filthy. Please, enjoy! ♥

-

While it wasn't home, Dragonstone remained lovely. What made it even more lovely was the attention Rhaenyra bestowed upon you during the early mornings and late into the evenings. The Black Queen, despite (or perhaps in spite of) the neverending amount of responsibilities she had, had an insatiable taste for pleasure.

Her body showed all the signs of motherhood: faded stretch marks, widened hips, heavy breasts, and a soft cushion of fat around her middle. If she was beautiful before, deemed "The Realm's Delight" by her uncle-husband, then she was even more so now. Motherhood fit Rhaenyra. And in turn she was a good mom, too. 

You couldn't imagine how she balanced everything on her plate. Being a caring mother, a Queen against an upsurer king, a wife… How?

Daemon and Rhaenyra, like many in their ancestry, could only be sated by the fire of a fellow Targaryen. Twin flames from somewhere deep and ancient in the earth. Together they burned. You were certain it was the passion they shared in their intimate moments that kept them in check; a contained bonfire instead of rampant wildfire.

The Rogue Prince, still standing by what he said the first night you shared with them, had yet to let you have his cock. "Whores aren't deserving of my seed." As much as you savored every second of pleasure with Rhaenyra, you ached for him.

Doing as you were told, you sat in one of their chairs and were allowed to merely watch as Rhaenyra rode her husband until sweat sheened on her skin and her legs shook from exertion. It was torture. Daemon had a beautiful cock. Thick, solid, and forever eager to be wrapped around his wife's needy cunt; seemingly as many times as she'd like. And there you were. Both of your legs draped over the arms of the chair to expose yourself wide open, fingers fucking into yourself at the show, unable to reach the kind of climaxes Rhaenyra experienced. Your fingers were half useless despite their best efforts.

"You're being awfully quiet over here," Daemon crooned, walking over to you once he and his wife were finished. Sweat sheened on him too. "Is your Queen fucking her prince so boring?"

You'd been far from quiet. A blush had taken home in your cheeks and your folds glistened with evidence of orgasm. "Never boring," you breathed in reply, looking up at Daemon from beneath your lashes.

He tutted and swatted your hand away from your center. "You are. Perhaps you need to be reminded just how loud you can get." Bringing two fingers up to your mouth he pushed past your lips until his Targaryen signet squished against the corner of your mouth. He smirked at your eager acceptance. He planted his other hand upon the back of your chair, eyes keen on you.

Were your gag reflex any weaker it would have stuttered around his abrupt intrusion. The shadow of his bulk looming over you caused a whine of anticipation to escape your throat, vibrating around his fingers.

He pulled them out and a lewd little line of spittle broke between your lip and the tip of his finger. 

"My prince…," you purred, heart thumping wildly beneath your flushed chest. "I do think I need to be reminded. I haven't had a cock in sooo long… my fingers can only go so far. They are much smaller than you." Unintentionally – or perhaps wholly intentionally – your hips squirmed in a silent beg for any sort of attention he might give you.

Dark amusement swelled his pupils. "Small and pathetic," he said sardonically. "Can you even reach where you're begging to be touched?" With his question he delivered a quick smack to the fullness of your spread cunt. 

You yelped, surprised, eyes popping open as a second slap followed. "A-ah!" Your legs closed in an attempt to shield yourself from his touch.

"Play nice with our sweet girl," Rhaenyra chimed from the bed. Amusement laced her words too. "We want her to be eager to play later. Isn't that right, husband?"

Flicking your attention to the marital bed you saw that Rhaenyra didn't look up or anything else – content to lay and relax in bliss for a few moments longer before getting ready for the day.

Daemon sniggered, one big hand easily parting your legs open. You weren't squeezing too hard, merely had your thighs pressed together to keep yourself protected from further taunts. "That's right," he replied to his wife over his shoulder before turning his gaze back to you. “Our favorite, and prettiest, whore.”

The weight of his gaze sent your own pupils swelling. You smiled at his praise. “Always happy to be in service of my Queen. And King.” The Prince Consort liked it when you called him that. He liked it even more when it spilled from your pretty lips in a beg for him to fuck you – a gift he still hadn’t given you. Most, though, he liked it when you and Rhaenyra half whispered it on your knees between sharing his cock.

A third slap was delivered to your cunt and you barely managed to muffle a startled whimper behind a bitten lip. “How quickly do you think you could come on my fingers?” He tilted his head in question, eyes still sharp on yours. In the same motion he squeezed the back of your chair for extra support while pushing two calloused digits into your yearning center. He knew right where to find that delightfully sensitive spot along your walls. He sought it and abused it. And, to make matters all the more lascivious, his thumb worked your clit in tandem. “You won’t get a second chance, girl. If you wish to come, then come. Now.” His pace was brutal. And wonderful. He had no shame when it came to pleasure; the obscenity of the wet slaps from his finger fucking sent you over the edge quickly.

The coil of pleasure in your belly snapped with all the force it had been wired with; a straining haste that left you gasping as if Daemon’s hand were wrapped around your throat. A moment ago you were merely under his gaze. Now, your thighs squeezed his forearm as bliss washed over you in hot waves of desperation. You whined a string of moans so sweet it sent the towering prince to near purrs.

“Say thank you,” he said, pulling his fingers from your clenching depths.

“Thank you, my prince.” 

That is how Daemon and Rhaenyra left you for the day. Alone to do as you please; eager for their return. Duty called and kept them away until after sundown.

-

“Will Daemon not want to be present for this, your Grace?” You were barely able to whisper between heated pants. 

Rhaenyra had propped pillows beneath your backside to give herself a better angle to your soaked core. Her arms were looped around your thighs so she could support herself upon her elbows. She was happily face down into you with her ass up and pointed to the door. Slowly, she lapped, and slowly, she sucked, seeming to be more than content to have you as many times as she pleased. Your fingers curled in her soft hair. It was in a single haphazard braid and you didn’t feel guilty for messing it up anymore than it already was. 

A playful hum vibrated against your folds. “Even in this room I am still the Queen. If my lord husband isn’t happy with what he sees upon arrival, then, well…,” she paused, thinking. “I suppose he won’t get to play.” She returned her attention to you and your eyes rolled closed at the skill of her mouth. 

Just on the edge of your pleasure, right before you were flung into the crest, the door opened and Rhaenyra looked over her shoulder to see who would come in so rudely. The peak she’d been working you towards was gone in an instant. If you were lucky, it wouldn’t take long to reach again.

“Sȳz bantis, ābrazȳrys,” good evening wife, Daemon said softly in High Valyrian – their ancestral language a thing you still couldn’t understand. “Emare kirimves?” having fun He asked with a quirk of brow.

“Kessa,” yes she replied, grinning.

By now the door was latched and locked behind him. “Ȳdra daor ivestragī nyke keligon ao,” don’t let me stop you he said and he stepped further into the room and began to disarm and undress.

Were these two ever not horny? You thought privately to yourself. Almost daily, and sometimes multiple times a day, they coupled. You’d witnessed firsthand their sex life was far from boring – and that’s only what you’ve seen! Surely you hadn’t witnessed all that their passion could bring. 

“Ziry's mazilībagon, valzȳrys,” she’s set, husband Rhaenyra said with a glimmer you hadn’t seen in her eyes before. Her attention turned fully to you, then, a smolder behind her vibrancy. “Tonight it’s my turn to watch,” she cooed, delicately kissing your sensitive bud in departure.

A shudder ran through you at the combination of her words and lips. Could she really mean…? Was tonight the night you’d been waiting for since arriving at Dragonstone with the Rogue Prince? Excitement shot through you as Rhaenyra moved from the bed to the chair you normally sat in. Even fully nude she looked like a queen should. Poised. Regal: a glimmer of something mischievous or unhinged – perhaps both – right there behind her eyes.

Daemon, now nude, wordlessly beckoned you over. He stood at the edge of the bed: every burn and scar of his seasoned warriors' body on display in the low light of their room. You obeyed with barely any other thought in your head. The same glint as his wife's shown in his face. You were nothing but a play thing for them. A pretty little bird for them to clip and make sing. If Dragonstone – their room – were your cage, you cared little. Who would ever complain about being in service to the Black Queen and her Prince Consort?

"Kiss it," he said evenly, a bite of sternness behind his tone.

He wasn't yet hard. Even his flaccid manhood made your thighs clench. It was as handsome as the rest of him and you wasted no time in trailing warm kisses along his cock, reveling in the sensation of him growing harder beneath your attention. "Gonna let me have it all for myself tonight?" You asked, pumping along his length with a spit-slick hand. Your kisses were open mouthed and wet, tongue accompanying here and there.

"Be a good little whore and quit teasing. If you want it hard then make it hard. Stop this playing," Daemon sneered down at you, pinching your chin between thumb and forefinger to turn your eyes up to him. "Have you had a good day lazing about like a spoiled cat?" Head tilted with his question, traditional silver tresses catching moonlight. "No thoughts in your pretty head… daydreaming about being bent over and fucked. How does it feel to haven't anything to fret over?" A mock laced his tone – bitterness and amusement alike.

You merely smiled up at him. Taunting. "Boring…," you replied before taking his tip between your lips. He tasted warm and salty. Your head bobbed forward and backward as you worked him up the way you knew he liked it. Musk filled your nose and your core instantly clenched. You wanted nothing more than to have him thrusting in and out of you: claiming you, taking you, using you for his pleasure. And if you were lucky, Rhaenyra would join too.

He laughed dryly. "A spoiled little bitch." He twitched in your mouth. By now his cock was fully hardened and slobbery; your eyes glassy from need and strain. Whether prompted by your words or a wave of lust, he grabbed the sides of your arms, squeezing harshly, and maneuvered you around to his liking.

Before you could put it all together, you were on your hands and knees atop the bed with Daemon looming behind you. His cock seared your skin. You gasped wholly surprised and wanton as you looked up to where Rhaenyra still sat and watched; purple eyes alight with wickedness. "Your Grace…?" You asked, spine bending down tantalizingly to prop your ass firmer against the Rogue Prince. Lust consumed your blood and you gripped the plush bedclothes, cunt throbbing with anticipation.

"It's time for you to have your fun. And for me to have mine," she replied, lips pouting in a smile before flashing her teeth in a delighted expression. In her hand she held a phallic shaped object and you knew exactly what it was. The base portion that was meant to be held sparkled with an array of dazzling cut gemstones. Rubies, sapphires, emeralds. The toy the Black Queen meant to fuck herself with gleamed with enough wealth to buy youself a comfortable new life – and yet for her it was merely another thing. An object to use for pleasure as her husband fucked her sweet little pet. She looked at Daemon with a tilt of her head, her body lax and open for the voyeuristic experience. Whatever was shared between them was private, meant for only husband and wife, and Rhaenyra bit her bottom lip in anticipation.

Daemon’s hands gripped your hips and your heart thumped to a new high. Somewhere in the back of your mind you wondered how many other women – or men, if the rumors you'd heard of the dragon prince were true – were in this position before. Words couldn't even form on your tongue. All you could manage was a sultry connection with Rhaenyra as your eyes stayed on her. Eager. Excited. Fucking elated. 

She began circling her clit right as Daemon lined himself up with you. His tip was swollen with as much need as coursed through you, and he pushed himself into your saturated core. 

Immediately your jaw slackened with a lusty gasp. He was so big, and so thick, and so hot, that the air was forced from your lungs. He pushed deeper and your eyelids fluttered, fingers gripping into the smooth quilts. With a final flex of his hips and thighs, he was fully hilted into you. 

The weight of his torso fell over your back. "If I were any smaller you'd be loose around me, whore," he hissed by your ear, one big calloused hand palming up the length of your spine until it reached the back of your neck. He held you there, mindful of his finger placement, before dragging his hips backwards. 

You barely had time to miss the delirious stretch of him, because when he snapped forward into you, an unrestrained moan shuddered through your form. "O-oh! Yes, Daemon, please…!"

He grunted as his grip tightened around your hip, fingers sinking into the soft flesh that padded there. "Was it your Queen who got this cunt so wet? Or was it me?" He asked, the slaps of his pelvis against your asscheeks quickly filling the bedchamber. The natural clench of your body had his already hot blood boiling. The desire to relentlessly pound into you for his own high and pleasure clouded his mind. As much as he'd love to give into that primal part of himself, he wouldn't. There wasn't any fun in that. At least the kind of fun he and Rhaenyra were after.

"Both," you barely managed to say. He'd hardly been fucking you for longer than a few moments and already he had you cockdrunk and ready to drool into their expensive bedding. His pace and pressure hit you at all the right angles. You’d been with Rhaenyra and Daemon exclusively for a couple moons now, and you hadn’t the satisfaction of a cock in that time. The backs of your legs tightened. Your toes curled.

A dark laugh vibrated out from Daemon. "Look at you... already dazed out on my cock. Little slut. You don't get to finish yet," he said with a firm slap to your backside, pulling out and leaving you empty right before climax could wash over you. "Watch your Queen's perfect cunny take her toy." Pulling you by the hair at the back of your head, he turned your attention forward as he slid into you once again. His pace, while still as powerful, was slower this time. His balls slapped against your clit to add another level of obscenity to the lewdness of the night’s event.

The denial of your orgasm seemed to spur Rhaenyra on even more than she already was. The smooth leather wrap of the dildo shone with her slick. Her hips rolled in tandem with her wrist, and both were accented by her pants and whimpers of solo bliss. Pleasure relaxed her face. She grinned at both of you.

Wonderful tension coiled in the pit of your belly. Warm, and tight, and tingling, echoes of it reverberated throughout your entire body and your eyes closed with the sensations. Daemon’s grip hardly laxed, yet you still found the strength to push back against him to meet his thrusts. It was maddening. Beautifully maddening. Something – perhaps nothing – changed in his pace and the embers he’d been stoking threatened to combust. “I’m gon–... fuck, please, my prince… Don’t stop!”

Instantly, he pulled out of you and stopped. The entirety of his length was shiny with your arousal; even the hair of his groin was damp with you. He laughed when you turned your head over your shoulder to glare at him with wetted eyelashes. “You should see yourself right now. Pathetic.”

Rhaenyra’s ministrations grew hotter and sloppier, climax seeming to threaten her as well. Unlike you, she didn’t have anyone controlling the reins. The Black Queen gave into her pleasure and allowed orgasm to take her. Panting, shuddering, and glowing, she was lovely in the throes of her peak.

The squelching of her bejeweled toy sent Daemon half-feral. He flipped you over on your back, leering down at you as he squished your thighs flat against your breasts. You were bent in half and each thrust led him to the deepest parts of your cunt. You half screamed behind your hand, jolts of white hot ecstasy webbing throughout your senses as he fucked you. “Cover your mouth again and I’ll fucking smack you,” he huffed between throaty growls, relishing the sight of you and his wife alike. She was fucking herself again, greedy for more.

This had to be part of the game they were playing. The build up of your peak only to be denied at the last second… what a cruel thing to do. Emotion swam in your eyes until they were glassy from unshed tears. “Please let me come!”

Again, he pulled out from you. Again, you glared with a half sob. The muscles of your legs shook and your scalp felt fuzzy. He wasn’t going easy on you and you wondered how long he could do this before he drowned beneath a crest too. Tears pricked from the outsides of your eyes to roll behind your ears. He almost lost it right then and there. “No,” he smirked coldly. Muscles flexed and tightened as he positioned you up on your knees: his front to your back, you facing Rhaenyra, one arm holding you flush to him as the other gripped your hip. “She likes it when you cry. Let’s show her more of those pretty tears, hm?” He rasped by the shell of your ear, pushing into your overly sensitive center.

A sheen of sweat covered Rhaenyra. The fingers of her free hand played with her clit now, too, edging her bliss as long as she could.

Daemon palmed your breasts and squeezed your nipples. His pace was near brutal now; sweat slicked between your bodies through the control and exertion. “Gods… it’s too much! Please, your Grace, my prince…!” You begged through broken moans. Just as your body began shuddering against Daemon’s, he stopped all he was doing and let his cock slip out of your bullied walls. You sobbed fully this time. Tears fell down your face. Desperation washed over you. They were cruel – both of them – never had they strung you along like this.

“Poor sweet little whore. Begging and crying. It should be your Queen you’re begging to. Let’s give her one more orgasm, yeah? Then maybe she’ll let you finish on your prince’s cock.” 

As if together, Rhaenyra’s self-driven thrusts matched Daemon’s as he began taking you yet again. You couldn’t think straight. Could hardly keep your blurry eyes open. You cried out whimpered moans of their names and begged through broken syllables. It was too much. All of it was too much. Daemon’s cock felt so fucking good it took everything you could muster to not give in to your body’s primal desires.

Fresh tears clumped your eyelashes. Rhaenyra found her second climax at the sight of them. Her chest heaved with the force of it; soft abdomen rolled with the release. Creamy slick coated her dildo and her actions finally slowed before stopping; core too sensitive to take anymore.

“Come now, girl,” Daemon cooed, fingertips swiping and circling over your clit. You didn’t need to be told twice. Once your orgasm took hold of you, you nearly blacked out with its intensity. Never in your life had you experienced something like this, and if you weren't already teary you would have cried real tears with the release of such a high build up. 

Your gripping and convulsing walls were too much for the Rogue Prince, too, and he barely pulled free from your depths to release his seed into the air. Ropes of it landed atop the bedding – white against the dark material – and he groaned like a beast at your back. 

You slumped forward, wholly spent, and Daemon carefully moved from behind you. Laying on your belly you looked between Daemon and Rhaenyra, laughing. "Seven Hells… maybe next time there could be a little warning?"

Sweat and sex hung in the air and it took all of you a few moments to gather yourselves from the fervor of shared passion.

"That takes some of the fun out of it though," Rhaenyra answered after a few moments as she walked to you with a clean washcloth. She had a silk robe wrapped loosely around her. She bent to kiss your forehead. "You did very well for us tonight, little dove. If you truly wanted it to stop, you know all you needed was to say something."

"I know," you replied, cleaning yourself up. "Thank you."

"My lord husband wasn't too rough with you, was he?" She asked sincerely.

You laughed again and shook your head. "No, your Grace."

He smirked at your answer, as did Rhaenyra. "Good," she said. "We can all remember that for next time."

The three of you finished cleaning up with light-hearted chatter and soft touches. Afterwards, wine and a late night snack were shared. When sleep finally overcame you, all of you were a tangle of limbs and silk in the big bed.

-

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider a follow and reblog as I have plans to create and share more writings ♥

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[captain-mj]

The Cure

Did this to break my writer's block. It semi worked? 09 SoapGhost with some possessive Soap and self destructive Ghost

Lot of implications to bad things in here, but nothing is really explicit.

Soap knew a few things about himself. He was territorial. Not possessive. There was a difference. Things were his. Sometimes that included people. 

Like Ghost. It wasn’t that he was Ghost’s Captain and therefore Ghost was his Lieutenant, though that didn’t help. People were welcome to get near Ghost. Maybe try to catch his attention. But the moment their grubby hands would get close. Reach to grab Ghost and take him away, Soap bared fangs. 

It helped that Ghost himself was not one to let others have him. Ghost was not terrible. Sometimes he would take his mask off or allow people the honor of his company. People were never allowed to ask though. Allen had been stupid enough to ask for Ghost to remove his mask and Ghost still refused to take off his mask around him. 

Soap got to ask though. 

Soap got to ask for Ghost to strip in front of him. To bare himself and let Soap’s greedy, dirty hands grope him. As far as Soap knew, he was also the only one allowed to fuck him. And Ghost was such a good boy. Always willing to take whatever in bed. Soap got to do whatever he wanted to him. 

Tied him up, praised him, degraded him, so far his record was getting three orgasms out of Ghost, a slightly low number but it had been a manner of not having anymore time rather than Ghost telling him to stop. He was an angel that Soap loved to ruined. Seeing those giant brown eyes staring at him. They always had a vaguely blank look in them until Soap got him close, then it was hazy. Something so deep right there but unreachable. Soap wanted to. He wanted to find out what made Ghost tick. Rip him to shreds and find out what his insides taste like. 

Make the jokes about him being a middle child or that he joined the military too early. Maybe it did fuck up something in his brain, constantly having to share. Never able to call his things his. 

So yes, he fucked Ghost like he’d never get to again and left so many marks on him under all those clothes that every time Simon moved one of them reminded him that he belonged to Johnny. 

And that was his mistake. Clearly. He got so caught up in possessing Ghost, he forgot that at his core, Simon, was… fractured. There were deep cracks, not just in his skin and flesh, but also in his psyche. There were deep rooted issues that had to be touched Lovingly. Soap had to have a gentle hand at times. To trace the cracks and tell Simon it was okay until it really was. 

“Go ahead and punish me.” Ghost begged, holding him tight. His throat is bared and he’s unmasked. Stripped down.

Soap frowned. This is one of those times. He messed up. “Why would I punish you, Simon?”

“The mission failed.”

“That doesn’t mean you deserve to be punished.”

Ghost hit him. Not hard. Just a faint thumping against his chest. “I do. I do. You’re always rough when missions go wrong. Just punish me already.”

Soap winced. “No. No, mi chuisle. It’s not punishment.”

Ghost leaned into him and buried his face in his neck. He tried to press himself into him. To shrink as much as he could. “Please. I need to turn it off. I need everything to turn off.” He started to scratch at Soap’s clothing, desperate and wanting. 

Soap hesitated but gave in when Ghost looked up at him like that. “Alright. How about we take it slow, yeah? Let me take care of you.”

Ghost nodded. “Alright. Please. I’ll be good. I want you. I want you so bad.” He mouthed at Soap’s throat until Soap backed him against his desk. 

“Always are. Always perfect.”

“No, I’m not. Awful. Terrible.”

“You’re a gorgeous man, Simon. I tell you every chance I get.”

Ghost shook his head. “Not talking about my appearance, though that’s rather retched too. I meant my personality. Don’t know how you can stand me. Plus I’m a fucking baby during sex. Can’t fucki-”

Soap learned early on that Ghost could not be reassured like this. Only distracted until he was in a better mindset. Then Soap would tell him how much he liked him. For now, he sank his teeth into his shoulder, feeling him groan and arch into him. Ghost was already undressed, so it was easy to start to touch him. He had him on his desk with his legs around him in moment. 

Soap let his gear stay on because he liked how it made Ghost seem a little smaller. He still had that inch of height, but no longer looked as bulky. His gloves came off though, relishing the feeling of Ghost’s bare skin. 

“Do you want to try to make me finish four times tonight? I won’t tell you no. Or you can slap me. I know you li-” 

Soap cut him off again. He kissed him to shut him up. No. Ghost deserved special treatment tonight. Gentle hands. Loving touch. 

Soap used more lube than usual to open him up. He started talking him through it. Telling him before he pushed in any further and making him swear it didn’t hurt at all, rewarding him with another when he was honest for him. “Good boy. Such a good boy.” 

Ghost started to flutter his eyelashes. His eyes looked wet, but Soap knew from experience that it was impossible to get tears “I promise I want to be.”

“You already are. So sweet, just for me. So tough for everyone else, but you can be nice and soft right here and now.” Soap crooked his fingers, carefully pleasuring Ghost. With all this talk of punishment, he didn’t want to overstimulate him and reinforce any terrible ideas. Especially when Ghost was pressing back and trying so hard to get more. 

Soap carefully pulled his fingers out and moved Ghost so his ankles were on his shoulders. He took a moment to just… admire his cock on Ghost’s body. His skin was fairly tan and it was very noticeable against Ghost’s paler skin. His hands were the same way, a stark contrast to his lover’s coloring. He started to kiss along that Glasgow Smile as he pushed into Ghost, feeling his legs tremble. 

Ghost groaned and shifted his hips, trying to let Soap get in deeper. So eager to please. To have Soap reach in his brain and remove all of his thoughts. Rolling his hips seemed effective enough. He hit Ghost’s prostate over and over again. Pleasuring him as much as he thought Ghost could stand. 

“Feel good?”

Ghost nodded, eyes unfocusing. “So good. Please, sir. Don’t stop.”

Soap nodded. He imagined the conversations they’d have later. He’d have to pick Ghost’s brain and try to figure out how to take better care of him before he fell apart. But Ghost’s tight body was getting to be a bit distracting. Eventually, he could only focus on the push and pull of their bodies. Trying to wring ever bit of pleasure he could out of it for Ghost. He wanted Simon pampered. Sometimes, he thought of just keeping him in bed and not letting him out for a while. Simon would let him. 

But would he enjoy it?

Soap groaned and bit Ghost’s hard, feeling him cum all over himself moments later. He shook and clenched and twisted around Soap until he was following him. 

They sat there. Sticky and hot.

“Don’t you want to keep going?”

“Do you want me to?”

“I can handle it.”

Soap lifted up. “Not what I asked. Let me get you cleaned up and then you can lay in my bed and relax. Think you need it.”

[faust-the-enjoyer]

Drunk dbf!keegan who’s careless with his flirting, passing you a beer even though your father would probably dissaprove, getting all touchy nd everything

Drunk dbf!Keegan!

Warnings: gen!reader, reader is 21+, legal age gap, mentions of alcohol and getting drunk, flirting, pre-established consent, mentions of guilt and disappointment, cursing, slight nsfw implication, reader gets called "kid" a couple of times, pet names.

Word count: 1,080 words.

A/n: made this gender neutral because there no gender specification in your request, hope you like it! Sorry it took a while.

You came over his house to watch some football with him, specifically due to his consistent rants about it, as they intrigued you. It started innocently enough, you two sitting on the couch, a couple of sodas and some popcorn on the table, and you asking him questions about the game. After two hours, the tv is on a different channel, and Keegan started drinking, first it was whisky, now it's beer. He passed you a cup after he finished his own, and you kept looking at it, eyes undeciding, your father would be disappointed in you, even though you're old enough to drink; your family always had negative views on alcohol. "What's wrong, kid?", his says slowly, concern evident in his tone, although drunk, he was well aware of the frown on your face and the sad look in your eyes. "I...you know he wouldn't like me drinking, Keegan..." you tell him, he knew your father well, they've been friends for years now, and he knows how your father despises alcohol and its effects on people. "You don't have to if you don't want to, sweetheart.", you look at him, his face is slightly red, blue eyes kind and half-closed, smile content. "Come 'ere," he slurs, patting his lap, signalling you to come sit on it, it's not the first time you sat in his lap, nor the first time you've been touched by him like that, though it never went further. You look at your beer, pint glass full of that rich yellow drink, you reach out your hand and take the glass cup and drink, drinking until half of the drink is gone from the cup. "That's it!" he cheers excitedly, he knows you've only drunken a couple of times before, only behind your father's back, calling Keegan at eleven in the evening to come pick you up from some bar you went to.

You get up from your spot on the couch to settle on his lap, putting your full wight on him, he doesn’t care, he can handle it, he's a soldier after all. "There we go..." he says, his hand wrapping around your stomach to hold you as you lay your back on his sweaty chest, his other hand resting on your thigh, "Comfortable, baby?", ""Baby"?" you laugh, it was unlike him, really, he never dared to be like this towards you, sure, he'd sit you in his lap, but blatantly flirt with you? Never. He'd compliment you here and there as well, but never went too far. "Yeah, "Baby", or do you want me to call you something else, hm?" he gives you a relaxed, hearty laugh, so contagious that you laugh with him. You take the cup again, drinking all of the beer this time, you can practically feel Keegan's smile on your neck now. "You've always been so good, so fucking beautiful, always doing what you’re told..." "You like that, huh?" you both chuckle, "Hey, it's not every day I get this hammered, ok kid? Just let me have this..." he says, his lips on your neck now, kissing it gently. "Fine, but you're the one giving an explanation to my dad tomorrow if he asks, alright?" you tell him, tone half-serious. "Alright alright, Jesus kid, you act just like your father.", You try to conceal your smile as you slap the hand on your thigh, feeling him squeeze your flesh in return. “Wanna watch something else on tv?” he asks, his words now slurring more than before, “Yeah, sure.”, you grab the remote and flip through the channels, feeling his hand gently rub your thigh, and the thumb of his other hand drawing circles on your stomach.

You decide on turning the tv off, not finding anything interesting at all. As you turn it off, you hear a disappointed grumble come from behind you and you giggle. It was obvious that he was getting a little drowsy, his head is resting on your shoulder, and his hands loosely on your abdomen. “Keegan, want me to take you to your bed?” you asked quietly, “Mhm, do…whatever you think is…right, sweetheart…”. You sigh, getting up from his lap and going to the kitchen, grabbing two cups, and filling both up with water from the sink’s faucet you drink yours first in the kitchen, then put the cup in the sink. Coming back to the living room, you see Keegan asleep on the couch, “Keegan, here.” You tell him as you help him sit up sleepily, handing him his cup of water to drink. He drinks the whole cup, a bit of water running to his chin from the side of his mouth, he’s really fucked now, and he’ll be even more fucked in the morning. “C’mon Keegan, we gotta get ya to bed now, help me out here.”, you throw his arm over your shoulder, slowly helping him get up from the couch as you walk towards his bedroom. You stumble with his drunk body while walking to his room, opening the door quickly and walking towards the bed, helping lay him on his side. His hand reaches out for your face, gently caressing your cheek, “Always…so good to me…”, he says while faintly smiling. You smile back at him as you tuck him into bed, getting up to turn the lights off and getting back to his side on the bed. “He’d be disgusted with him…” you thought to yourself, if your father found out that his best friend had been touching you like that, having you sit on his lap and kissing your neck, getting drunk around you and giving you a drink as well, you’d get an earful, while Keegan will definitely be treated worse. However, you are an adult, a working adult who can manage their own business and relationships, whatever the morning of tomorrow brings you, you won’t be alone to face it. You look at Keegan’s sleeping face, so peaceful, it’s not as if this is the same man that cursed at the tv during the game hours before. You take your shoes off and walk to the other side of the bed, slowly lowering yourself on the soft mattress as you heard Keegan’s soft snores. You turn towards him, “Goodnight.” You whisper to him, kissing his forehead and laying your head on your pillow, closing your eyes, you’d put your head on his chest, but it’d be too hot for that, you’d sweat so much.

-(divider by vase-of-lilies)!

[tumblingxelian]

I feel like a big part of the issue with Ironwood's imagery is how, fact is, the "It's just how Ironwood views himself" isn't that well communicated at all, and we have every disabled character he's contrasted with either have a less severe disability (Yang) or cured (Winter), making it look as if the disability ITSELF is the problem.

If we count Penny as disabled, then we have her "rewarded" with a flesh body before dying as human (presented as preferable to her living in a mechanical body), while Ironwood's disability is indirectly referenced via Winter casting off her mobility aids to LITERALLY rise above him. With Winter's disability being used to visualize how Atlas has bound her to Ironwood (and the creator commentaries regularly referring to Taiyang's advice to Yang as positive and constructive), and Theodore's own ableism (with him only hating Ironwood for being WEAK as opposed to Ironwood's fascism or duplicity), and it comes across as less "Ironwood himself considers cybernetics a sign of humanity" and more "the writers relied on cybernetics to make their dictator scary and 'other' without considering the fact that there are cyborgs in real life".

Like I've said before, there's a cyborg I follow who actually dropped RWBY over this after Penny was given the flesh body, because everything about how the storyline was presented felt less like a critcism of Ironwood's view of cybernetics and more like the show itself was calling them an inhuman monster for having so much metal in their body.

Thus, if their intention was that Ironwood himself has an uhealthy view of cybernetics, then they fucking failed to convey that.

(There's a reason I have said that Robyn Hill should've been a cyborg instead. Even more visibly than Ironwood.)

(Also, as someone who had to pretend to be allistic to avoid getting bullied, I don't like implication that hiding one's disability to avoid ableist harassment is a moral failing. Especially not when Blake isn't held to that standard when hiding her ears. Remember, the Headmaster Ironwood was EXTREMELY reluctant to call on for help canonically considers disabled people subhuman. All indication is that, in-universe, Ironwood's issues with his prosthetics began and ended with his CRITICS using the "more machine than man" accusation, because what would leftist hypocrisy be without bodyshaming?)

I mean, I completely disagree, I feel it was communicated well, hence the little essay I was easily able to bang out on a whim. While I could give you the severity angle, I also think its a reach given Pietro is like, constantly dying because of what happened to his Aura. & I am sorry swap but I need to stress this so much. Winter was not ever disabled. That was a conclusion you drew that was incorrect.

The writers are not at fault for a headcanon being wrong. What's more, as a result, all of your Winter takes are functionally invalid as a result, because you are drawing the analysis materials from your own imaginings not what is on screen. Sorry but I really need to make that clear. It was a fine headcnon, but it was not canon & so it does not influence the framing or themes of the show.

Similarly, I don't know if Penny is considered disabled, but honestly based on how the show handles her character I honestly don't think the writers wrote her with that lens in mind. I can see the connection, I can see why people think that; but like with Winter that does not mean it was their intent.

Plus as I outlined elsewhere, while Penny enjoys the increased tactile sensations in a huge, she sure as fuck didn't enjoy them when getting blasted by Cinder. & without her mechanical body she was ultimately far more vulnerable and ended up dying. That's not "Being rewarded with a flesh body". That's, "They tried an experimental surgery to keep their friend alive & while it nominally worked, they were far more vulnerable afterwards & as a result died in their next fist fight."

I'm not touching on some of the other stuff mostly because I either haven't read the novels, or in regards to Tai-Yang feel that is both an entirely different subject and also gets far to speculative, IE, if CRWBY's doing a double bluff with him they aren't gonna reveal it in the commentary. Though I will say, Ironwood's prosthetics are never presented as "Scary", literally his most badass and heroic scene has him showing off his prosthetics more than at any other point in the show. Again, this take does not make coherent or thematic sense to me.

Your friend is entitled to their feelings, obviously, but what someone took from it VS what the author intended to communicate VS what was reasonable to extrapolate are all very different things. We don't take people who ditched the series cos Adam was a bastard seriously after all. I am not saying your friend is at that level, just using that to convey my point that "X left this show cos of Y" is not by itself a meaningful statement given how much one's decision making process can be rooted in simply not picking up on a theme or story beat & then being angry about it.

Again, I think they succeeded so (Shrugs)

(I am aware of your desires on the Robyn front, it also has no bearing on this conversation as we are discussing the actual show.)

(Swap, I'm autistic, I have to mask constantly, it sucks & I was very bad at it. Thus I was ostracized for most of my time at school and even outright attacked once; though I was big enough to be able to scare them & other bullies off at least. What's more, I was explicitly targeted by some teachers for harassment to the point where I was suicidal.

Do not try and guilt trip me over something I never said.

I never once indicated Ironwood is a coward because he hid his prosthetics, I highlighted that out of all the cast, Ironwood is the man most discomforted 'by' prosthetics. Hence it making far more sense that the authors statements reflected his biases and not theirs.

What's more, your "His leftist critics" stuff is at best, wild extrapolation from like, a comment of Qrow's that would have applied equally if Ironwood had zero prosthetics. Same for you conflating Ironwood refusing to call for help because of Theodore, even though he never referenced the man, Vacuo or indicated he thought of them as any different to anywhere else. If you do that level of head-canon & then get mad at the show for themes and characters beats it never included, rather than what's actually on screen, then that is on you.

Finally, do not put words in my mouth again. I have zero patience for it.)

[5threquiem]

me rn: it was at this moment that he knew, he fucked up.

ok but seriously, this event is really making me regret being lazy and not writing up a hc post 😭 i genuinely have not plotted much of this event with anyone and have fully gone off vibes, but here's seunghan's ( admittedly shaky ) alibi so far! i'll catch up on everything and respond to dms in a second — just need to get my thoughts on a page, especially since seunghan is admitting to seeing hyungseo at the resort and i suspect we all need to get our stories straight!

ALIBI : by some stroke of luck, seunghan had planned to arrive at the resort a little earlier because he wanted to bonk his super secret fwb that no one here knows of, LEE SOWON. and! he's got the texts to prove it! so that is fully going to be seunghan's alibi right now. bro just wanted to get his dick wet and was afraid of his rich daddy's reach in seoul, so he chose the randomest and furthest resort to do it, yep! as for how he met NOH HYUNGSEO, seunghan is fully going to theorise that his besties, hyungseo and CHOI HAJOON, probably followed him to the resort because they knew he was sleeping with someone, but didn't know who. THIS SECURES AN ALIBI FOR THE CLUB. your muses might have their theories as to why hyungseo was there and that is 100% okay, this is just seunghan's "theory" for why hyungseo and hajoon might have been there and his effort to protect the club. he will admit to visiting the lake with hyungseo and hajoon sometime in the afternoon, and he will attempt to convince the police that hyungseo was enamoured by the lake, but that seunghan and hajoon brushed him off as friends do. he will also say that the three of them had planned to meet at night, but only hajoon turned up, and both of them were "stood up" by hyungseo, which he will attempt to convince the police is common and so they didn't think anything of it. THIS SECURES AN ALIBI FOR HIS BEST FRIEND, HAJOON. and because he's been holding a grudge against both BAE YUNHEE and JUNG CHANYEOL and he feels guilty for having protected their secret for so long, he will also tell the police about their affair. EVERYTHING ELSE IS UP IN THE AIR.

if any of this clashes with your plots, please let me know! i've already answered a few prompts and will continue to answer them at my pace which i admit is pretty fast, so literally barge into my inbox and yell at me if this is a no go! i am very happy to change things around! now on to some plots!

ALIBI PLOT : currently don't have anything interesting to write other than what i've stated up there, but i assume it would be strange for seunghan to bump into no one other than the ones stated above. that said, i'm looking for someone that seunghan can either implicate or vouch for! someone that he's seen running around the resort at some point or another that he either loathes or loves enough to help!

MEMORIAL PLOT : seunghan will not be attending the memorial. he finds it tasteless, frankly speaking. none of these kids knew or liked hyungseo, and now they want to bring out whatever made up trinket they have of him? gross! that said, a) i would love for someone who hated or wronged hyungseo in some way to come to this memorial. if seunghan catches you there, especially in his current grieving state, i cannot promise you he will not get violent. alternatively b) i would love for someone who notices his absence at the memorial, misunderstands him, and either confronts or mocks him for it! cue fighting! yay!

FUNERAL PLOT : heard there's a funeral for hyungseo that we may be able to explore...? 👀 if so, seunghan will be there! he will be paying his respects along with his parents who im sure are friendly with hyungseo's because all the chaebols pretty much know each other! a) would love to see muses who hated hyungseo but were dragged by their parents, in which case seunghan will treat you like absolute scum because why are you here? it's disrespectful and haven't you done enough? or b) potentially someone catching him grieve and is willing to be a shoulder to cry on? might humanise the man a little bit honestly! bonus points if you guys are already friendly!

sorry these are very bare bones, no thoughts just vibes really but i am very keen so please plot with me 🤲

[marxistcomedy]

one thing that came up for me recently (in talking to an old childhood friend, and then continuing that line of thought talking to my mother) was the extent and pervasiveness of the casual sexual harassment i experienced growing up, especially being the one “girl” always in a group of boys. i repressed a lot of the memories around this because. well. its unpleasant. i still don’t remember everything—what surfaced all of this in general was my friend apologizing for an incident in middle school i don’t even remember, where he asked me to masturbate in front of him as the condition to losing some stupid bet. we talked about it at length when he apologized and i’m glad it’s not something he beats himself up over anymore, especially given i still don’t remember it happening, but. definitely part of a pattern that i do remember in general and continues to affect me now

like. for years and years i convinced myself i’d never been kissed because i didn’t want to accept that the neighbour boys held me down on their trampoline and kissed me. they would tease and taunt me about it until i was screaming or in tears, but they were the only other kids my age in the neighbourhood so i kept playing with them, i just learned to keep my guard up. never told anyone because it just felt humiliating that they could do that, that i couldn’t stop them, that they even wanted to—because that meant i wasn’t a peer, their friend and equal, i was something they wanted something from

honestly the worst wasn’t the unwanted advances and attention, it was the unwanted advances cloaked in disgust. all of the groping and touching and propositions and innuendo from within, all the implications and speculation from without (i could never just have friends, i obviously had to have a crush on someone, which was the funniest thing imaginable), and the revulsion the idea of seeing me in a romantic or sexual light was met with. not just instant denial but laughing, retching, gagging. i remember girls in my class signing me up for a snowball at one of the school dances, how the idea of slow-dancing with a boy being so inherently ridiculous it was given that it had to be a prank

more obviously traumatic stuff happened after this point but jesus fucking christ like. i need to remember all of this next time i beat myself up for having “weird intimacy issues”. all of this leading to deep deep repression and missing out entirely on any adolescent intimate socialization—didn’t go on dates, never talked about crushes, never learned how to flirt—yeah, huge mystery why people tend to think i’m asexual or not into their gender regardless of gender. wonder why i’m not good at casual touch and intimacy. weird that i’m especially afraid of making women uncomfortable or coming off as predatory to the point of seeming completely disinterested. why my first reaction to interest is panic or disbelief. someone makes eye contact with me in a bar and i think im going to get carrie’d

idk. i know these experiences are never going to go away, that the only option is to like. cope and grow and heal or whatever. but it does suck being 25 and starting so far behind. also having all the other mental issues that come with this sort of thing. of course there’s therapy (which i really need. to get into.) but. it sucks missing out! i hate being so behind and feeling so trapped and paralyzed when i see people my age hitting milestones that don’t just seem out of reach but completely unattainable

[ruthlesslistener]

I can't actually delve much into pharloom and Deepnest yet since we don't know much about them, which is why I cut the "essay" in the OG post short.

But if I were to say anything I'd say that Pharloom feels very Christian to me, while Deepnest is very much not, though I can't say which culture they're coded as. Which is fascinating because pharloom clearly accepts immigrants, or pilgrims as we saw in the trailer. It suggests to me that Pharloom is only accepting immigration from nations they deem "civilised", aka bug Christian, or at least willing to assimilate.

However the weavers are not willing to assimilate, and even if they were they look so different to the average bug, which means they cannot. I may be projecting but it's like how if you're a brown middle Eastern guy you can't exactly assimilate into western culture even if you wanted to cause you're not white.

Because of this pharloom keeps the weavers only for their labour and away from the eyes of tourists and pilgrims, to continue this facade of a "civilized" nation, afraid that the "barbaric" (aka not bug Christian) reputation of the Deepnest immigrants would taint that.

It's similar to how if you were to be hired into a factory job here in Europe or any major labor intensive job that is away from the eyes of the public it's filled with immigrants, as if the company knows that they'll accept harsher conditions. No I'm not speaking from personal experience whatever gave you that idea, heh, but seriously it's fucked I hope hornet tears pharloom into shreds.

op i am SO sorry that i didn't answer this in over a month. I did not expect to be as busy as I was when I got back from winter break and this was one of those asks where I really wanted to sit down and just read through it and have time to think of an eloquent reply to add more to the conversation, but then I got smacked with the requirement to read a dry 500-page book on why some biochemist thinks that the mitochondria is the key to everything we do in our lives

But! Now that I (kinda) have the time!! Hard agree with you!!! Pharloom is indeed very Christian-coded, what with the rosaries and all, and even though we know very little about it rn, there does seem to be a strong form of hierarchy going on that wasn't present in Hallownest- at least, not as a whole. While the caverns of Hallownest were formed by separate native tribes that each had their own culture, god, and internal hierarchy, Pharloom was said to be a land that you had to work your way through 'from the ground up' to reach the gilded capital, which is...quite a familiar phrase to anyone who is an immigrant or child of an immigrant family that came to America seeking some form of wealth or freedom that their original country couldn't offer. Similarly, Pharloom seems much more densely-packed and messy compared to Hallownest, where again, each tribe had their own territory that they defended and cultivated to their own liking. Pharloom, on the other hand, feels like a city where there's floods of new immigrants and pilgrims coming in seeking something that it's offering to them, but only the most desirable of the bunch will get what they want. And if you're not, then, well...good luck with that. You can try working your way up the ladder, but you won't get very far. You never will. It's all a sham, and those who notice it will get nothing out of it.

(the fact that they captured Hornet in a cage gives me a very uneasy feeling about the potential of slave labour, but at the same time, that seems hardly out of the ordinary for Pharloom. I'm also kinda creeped out by the implication that the Weavers were originally from Pharloom but fled to Hallownest, then were forced to go back to their homeland come the Infection, because that's not really something we've seen yet so far. Even the Moths seem to have simply assimilated into the City of Tears when the Pale King and White Lady uprooted the Radiance, and by Seer's words, they did so willingly. That the Weavers had no choice is...sinister, to say the least)

Also big agree on hoping that Hornet tears Pharloom a new one. She got to be princess protector over a dying kingdom for so long, now she deserves to tear the guts out of a rotting cesspit on the verge of death.