#Daybreak's greetings

[thegoodmorningman]

good morning! i just discovered your existence and the rest of my day is all the better for it

Daybreak's Greetings Mushrooms Loves You, I hope the rest of your days are a Good Morning!!! Your friend forever, Bud☀️🧙🏼‍♂️✌🏼

[killjoy-prince]

DAYBREAK MENTION FOR THE FIRST TIME IN 65 CHAPTERS!!! BABYGIRL I MISS YOUUUU

[dawnled]

tag post #5 ( au verses #2 ) !

[vivid-ink]

'The Love Shack'

Part III - Blurring Lines

Relationship: Neteyam(23) x fem!Omatikaya reader(21) x Lo'ak(22)

Part III Summary:

You've spent weeks now, meeting with Neteyam & Lo'ak at the old outpost to play... You enjoy them both, but your feelings for Neteyam are becoming harder to ignore. And unbeknownst to you, Neteyam is finding it difficult to share you too... He wants you all to himself, away from his brother and away from other prying eyes...

Read Part I - The Proposition HERE

Read Part II - Three is a Perfect Crowd HERE

Warnings: Adult content 18+ MDNI

Word count: 12.9k

Content: Mentions of group sex, MMF threesome, smut, sex toy play, squirting, anal fingering

Author's Note:

Greetings my lovely thirsty peeps! Here is Part III. The narrative is getting more emotional/angsty now too with all those secretly repressed feelings. But I hope ya'll still brought your 'thirst-gear' along because you'll need it towards the end of this part. Enjoy, my lovelies! 😘

Taglist: @teymars @eyweveng @leaveitbythewave @luvteyams @akiras-key @bajbr @qcswrites @reggiesslut @neteluvr @savvysscandles @dasaniix @emery-333 @vintaqestar @live-laugh-neteyam @itssomeonereading @strawberry-vamp0 @clairevoyancee @delacruzyari @bluecooki3 @aalex561-blog @frustrated-kitten @innercreationflower @wolf12thsworld @wheneclipsefalls @iameatingmyhair  @ele-sme @investedreader @oasiswithmyg @daeneeryss @pandorxxx @anonka01 @hunbomb @pandoraslxna @adrianarose7 @sunghoonmyluv @notnat02 @getthisoverwith33 @simp4myself @spicymayyo @animehoe1-800 @daddysmurfslefttoenail @iman-lu @creepytoes88 @flyingspacewhale @neteyamswifesworld @lostress101 @nilsavatar @cloudyw1ndzz @itsjazzsworld @solemnlover @asweetblueberry2 @blue-slxt @slutforderekhale @swaggygurlbae @c-h-i-l @justonesadlonelymoth @itchaboi-itchyboy @ntymavtr

Note: A reminder that I don't use the term 'Y/N' so the reader's name in this is 'Neyomi'. The name is not used often, only when stylistically required.

***~~~***

You were doing a commendable job of maintaining the status quo during the daytimes, Neteyam had to admit. Calm and collected, your face ever inscrutable, nothing in your behaviour betrayed any trace of the clandestine contract you’d entered into with him and Lo’ak. 

For many weeks now you’d stolen away once a week to the old outpost for your private ménage à trois with him and his brother, where you would very successfully abandon all your inhibitions and fall prey to their various ministrations. You would tangle with them both, giving and receiving pleasure until you were limp and mewling like a milk-gorged kitten. But come daybreak, when you fell in with the rest of the warriors for the morning briefing, there was no hint of the carnal nights you shared with them, not even the barest acknowledgement.

Unlike the other women, there were no demure glances or hushed giggles from you. You were purely professional.

You were so good at it that the morning after the very first night, when Neteyam had received nothing more from you than the usual dip of your head and a steady ‘good morning sir’, he’d believed for several surreal moments that he’d dreamt up the nirvana of the previous night. That is, until Lo’ak had looked from you to him and flashed him a wayward smirk that spoke of his own amusement at your cool behaviour.

Lo’ak had made it his life’s mission then to try to goad a reaction from you in public. However, you remained stoic, even pulling rank on him several times to make him behave during hunts and patrols. Then you’d threatened him on your second visit to the outpost with a firm warning that if he couldn’t keep what happened in the outpost at the outpost, that you’d end the arrangement and never return.

That had nipped Lo’ak’s jibing in the bud immediately. Your behaviour had remained a fascinating contradiction ever since. Aloof during the days, but a wanton little plaything during your nights with them…

To anyone else, you were just as you always were. Hell, Neteyam didn’t even know if you’d told your best friend, Tula��� Tula certainly didn’t appear to know, based on the fact that she often told him and Lo’ak during group visits that she was still trying to convince you to come along. There had not been a single crack in your façade.

Until today.

It had been almost imperceptible, but Neteyam had caught it straight away: The clench of your jaw and the tight swallow that bobbed down your slender throat in reaction to the other woman’s words. You turned away, busying yourself with your own pa’li.

“What do you say, warrior? Tonight?” Silwey’s coquettish voice crooned beside him. Her warm palm smoothed in a slow slide up his arm to squeeze at his bicep while she pressed her side provocatively up against him.

Neteyam chuckled, undoing the ties and buckles of his pa’li’s saddle. It was a very bold move by a woman to be making such an uninhibited suggestion in such a communal setting as the pa’li pen, especially to the future olo’eyktan, but he had history with Silwey.

“It’s been a long day,” Neteyam muttered indecisively with a cock of his head, “Aren’t you tired?”

Silwey scoffed and bumped her hip against his, “Not too tired. Besides, we know stamina isn’t an issue for you.”

Though your back was turned to them as you attended to your own direhorse, Neteyam could hear your fingers working with the buckles of your own saddle. It wasn’t the usual slow and composed clink and slide of fabric against metal. It sounded like your fingers were fumbling testily with the material, the buckles rattling noisily.

A corner of his lips quirked upward. You were not so unbothered after all, it seemed…

Neteyam enjoyed the group liaisons at the old outpost, but it was true what the whispers said. He mostly liked to watch and maybe join in with his hands, lips and tongue, but it wasn’t often that he had sex with someone. He was selective like that and he didn’t like to share his playmates. He left the playboy behaviour to Lo’ak, who was more than happy to indulge the women in full use of his body.

There were only a few exceptions for Neteyam, over whom he tended to be fairly possessive. Silwey was one of them, as were you…

When Neteyam’s lack of response dragged on for several seconds longer than she liked, Silwey stroked a brazen hand over his chest and her voice turned husky to cajole him, “Come on, Neteyam. It was fun last time when it was just you and me, away from any audience.”

A muffled curse and a dull thud sounded as you dropped something.

Out of the corner of his eye, Neteyam saw you quickly stoop to pick up what you’d dropped before you shot upright again, proceeding to stride away in the next moment. You appeared very eager to get away before you had to endure any more of his exchange with Silwey.

Turning his full attention to the waiting female at his side, Neteyam regarded Silwey with apologetic eyes, “Can we take a raincheck on this? I’m quite sore after today’s patrol.”

Disappointment coloured Silwey’s expression and she pouted slightly, “Alright. Well you know where to find me if you change your mind.” She shot him a seductive wink and turned to leave with a deliberate sashay of her hips.

Silwey was an incredibly beautiful woman. A warrior too, her physique was lithe with toned muscle and shapely in all the right places. Her face was similarly pleasing. However, there was an air of conceitedness about her and she liked to be in control in matters of sensual play. Neteyam had found her sexual confidence extremely appealing at first, and he’d enjoyed grappling for dominance with her during their liaisons, but his encounters with her lacked a certain sincerity of connection.

Especially after their one private evening together away from the outpost, it was becoming clear to Neteyam that what Silwey appeared to enjoy most about being with him was being in control of him. She relished dominating him. She wasn’t fond of that role being reversed though and so she never submitted fully to him at any point in return.

She certainly didn’t surrender or abandon herself as wholly as you did when you were with him… And the complete and utter vulnerability you displayed was what really made Neteyam’s blood heat with lust.

Neteyam watched your retreating figure in the distance. He noted the darker cobalt of the stripes that lined your thighs and remembered the smooth feel of them beneath his lips. He watched as the long strides of your legs made your hips sway, accentuating the luscious curves of your pert bottom as you walked. He couldn’t see your face now, but his brain supplied a lusty memory of your beautiful face contorted in bliss, lips parted and mouth slack as you moaned beneath him.

He wasn’t keen on a private evening away with Silwey, but you… You were a different story. His mind yearned and his body ached to get you alone. You, he wouldn’t mind sequestering away somewhere all to himself without having to share you with anyone.

“I know that look.” Lo’ak sauntered up to him, adjusting his bow which he’d slung across his torso. “It’s the look of someone who’s been offered a sweet treat, but not of the flavour they’re craving.”

Walking to return his pa’li’s saddle to the storage rack, Neteyam cast his brother a wry grin over his shoulder, “Yeah well, some of us have a more sophisticated palate, bro.”

“I believe the simple term you’re looking for is ‘fussy’.” Lo’ak countered, giving the whickering direhorse an affectionate stroke of farewell down its muzzle before jogging to catch up with Neteyam.

A group of young fisherwomen passed them, twittering with bashful hands over their mouths. Lo’ak addressed them with a wink and blew them a kiss. He crowed at his older brother, “And the good thing about not being fussy is that you always eat well.”

Chortling at his brother’s flirtatious conduct, Neteyam rolled his eyes, “And the bad thing about people who aren’t fussy is that they’re often also greedy.”

“Ahh, I see. You want me to be a bit less involved next time Neyomi comes round, do you? I’ll just warm her up for you, eh?” Lo’ak waggled his eyebrows and jabbed his elbow several times into his brother’s ribs, “Then I’ll just kick back and watch, because by Eywa, she’s so beautiful when she comes undone.”

Neteyam couldn’t suppress the grunt of displeasure that left him at his brother’s words. He didn’t even want Lo’ak looking at you, if he was honest… He wanted you all to himself. He wanted your kisses to grace his lips only. He wanted the forbidden taste of your sweet flesh tantalising his tongue and no one else’s, and he wanted the sight of your writhing body for his eyes and his eyes alone.

“How about you just sit out entirely?” Neteyam spat with a jeer, though there was a jesting undertone to his voice.

Lo’ak hooted with laughter and blew a low whistle out on his next exhale. He clucked his tongue and shook his head, “Nope, no can do, bro. I’m going to change the name of the outpost from ‘The Love Shack’ to ‘The Sharing Shack’. Sharing is caring and those who won’t share aren’t welcome.”

The brothers were closing in on their family’s shelter now and they were careful to lower their voices. The last thing they needed was for their father or, Eywa forbid, their mother to discover their libidinous evening activities. Although, people loved to chin-wag and it seemed unlikely that their father hadn’t at least heard rumours. Perhaps their father was just closing a blind eye to things…

“Just because I don’t like to share, doesn’t mean I won’t. I know she enjoys playing with you too.” Neteyam muttered peevishly, narrowing his eyes and fixing Lo’ak with a pointed look.

Lo’ak smirked at his brother through keen amber eyes, “You just want a little bit on the side for yourself. You’ve got it bad for her.” At Neteyam’s scowl, Lo’ak snickered and aimed another playful sock at him, “It’s alright, I got you, bro.”

***~~~***

A droning hum of voices infused the atmosphere around you while the gathered clan members filled their bellies and socialised over a shared evening meal. The radiant heat of the communal bonfire was usually a welcome sensation against your skin as it provided a soothing contrast to the chill of the evening air. However, the warmth of the fire prickled irritatingly against you tonight.

You were in a cantankerous mood and you struggled to get comfortable, either feeling too hot closer to the fire or too cold if you moved farther away from it. Your sour disposition had put a damper on your appetite too, and you picked grouchily at the mixture of grains, roasted vegetables and morsels of sturmbeest meat on your food mat in front of you.

It was your arrow that had felled the fat sturmbeest cow for tonight’s meal. Ordinarily you’d be beaming with pride, but tonight you just wanted to sulk. It was immature and petty of you - plus you knew you also had no real right - but you wanted to wallow in your crankiness.

And it was all thanks to Silwey.

You’d never had anything against the other young woman. In fact, she was a well-respected hunter and you’d partnered with her very successfully on several occasions. She was confident, skilled and friendly enough. There was literally no reason for you to hold any animosity towards Silwey and the only reason you felt this way now was because you’d overheard her proposition to Neteyam.

He’s not yours… Your conscience warned. The arrangement you have with him and Lo’ak is purely physical…

But the knowledge that Silwey had been with Neteyam privately on her own was a thorn in your side, and you felt viscid, green envy roil in the pit of your stomach. You knew Neteyam was selective of the women he took fully as lovers. The gossiping murmurs amongst the other women about this fact was evidence of this, and Neteyam had even told you so himself. So, he must have taken a keen enough liking to Silwey to have sought her out on her own in the past. 

You felt your already black mood turn even blacker.

Tula nudged your side with an elbow, forcing you from your critical thoughts, “Your face looks like a thunder cloud. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, sister.” You fibbed, refusing to meet her eyes.

This was another undesired consequence of your secret arrangement with the two Sully brothers. You and Tula had been joined at the hip since childhood and you never kept secrets from each other, but now you did. Part of it was your stubborn pride at not wanting to admit to your best friend that you had caved in the end and succumbed to the brothers’ charms. Another part was you selfishly wanting to keep your exclusive arrangement with Neteyam and Lo’ak under wraps.

No one else had their own dedicated evening alone with the brothers. All the other women participated in the weekly group sessions with whoever else that went along. And for the last several weeks you’d felt privileged, special even, especially knowing that Neteyam didn’t just fuck any and every woman that came across his path. But your newfound discovery about his solo tryst with Silwey was upsetting.

“I know you’re lying.” Tula pressed, uncrossing her legs where she was seated to shuffle in front of you, “I know you like the back of my own hand and you can’t fool me.”

Chewing on your bottom lip while a furrow pulled a deep knit between your brows, you groused, “Wasn’t trying to fool you, but it doesn’t mean I want to talk about it either.”

A sigh huffed out of Tula and she took your fidgeting hands in hers, “Ok, but it’s nothing bad, right? Like, it’s not serious? You know you can tell me anything. I won’t judge you.”

The concern in your friend’s voice was touching and your ears pricked upward, your eyes following suit to look at Tula. With a discomfited laugh you shook your head, “No, it’s not anything serious. It really is nothing, actually. It’s dumb and you don’t need to worry.”

Tula tried one last time, “If it’s dumb then you can definitely tell me.”

“No, I don’t want to talk about it.” Your words were firm and your tone unyielding.

Sensing that you wouldn’t budge, Tula relented, “Alright. Well if you’re not going to eat anymore of that food then we might as well make a move. Come back to mine and I’ll rub your shoulders and re-braid your hair? You look like some tender loving care might lift your mood.”

Rolling your shoulders and testing the sore muscles, you knew that one of Tula’s wonderful massages would help, but your pride obstinately insisted on licking its petty wounds and so you declined. “Thanks, but I’m tired and I’m just going to wash and call it a night.”

Shooting you a dubious expression, Tula gave a weary sigh and leant forward to buss your cheek with a kiss, “Ok, goodnight sister, sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Your murmured your own farewell and watched as your friend left the gathered throng of people. Deciding it best for you to get going too, you looked at the bits and bobs of your remaining dinner. Not wanting to feel like an ingrate for wasting good food, you gathered what was left and ate it all. Gingerly rolling the food mat up, you got up and tucked it into the washing basket with a brief smile of thanks at the people who were on cleaning duty tonight.

You passed a cluster of warrior women on your way out and they called out their ‘goodnights’ to you. You noted that Silwey wasn’t among them and your brain unhelpfully supplied the bitter thought that she was likely off frolicking with Neteyam.

Your shoulders ached and you rolled them again with a grimace as you slowly ambled your way back towards the clan’s assemblage of home shelters that were scattered among the upper boughs and branches of the large woodland trees. The air was chilly and only the soft chirruping of nightlife accompanied you as you walked onward. Your plan was to head to the bathing springs, wash the grime of the day away, and then settle down to sleep with the hope that your mind wouldn’t keep you awake with agonising musings of what Neteyam and Silwey were doing.

Your ears twitched then, swivelling backward at the dull sound of thudding footsteps approaching you from behind.

“Sore, are you?” Lo’ak queried, stopping to stand at your side. He grinned when you turned to acknowledge him, the whites of his teeth glinting in the dim moonlight.

“That talioang cow was a heavy haul to bring in, so yes, my shoulder and back muscles are making their complaints known.” You didn’t need to look around him or over his shoulder to see that his older brother was not with him.

“It was a good kill. The clan thanks you for your service.” Lo’ak cocked his head to the side, regarding you with his signature smirk, “Can I help make you feel better? I’m happy to give you a nice rub down. You know, ease all that tension from your body.”

You barked out a laugh and threw him a cynical look, “Why do I get the sense that your rub down will end up more like a hump down?”

Lo’ak’s grin turned naughty and he snickered, “Hey, if that’s what you want, sweet thing, I won’t say no.”

You contemplated his offer, really thought about it. He was still wearing his cummerbund around his torso and you took a moment to enjoy the way it hugged his abdomen like a second skin, framing his ribs and accentuating the narrowing of his hips nicely. Your eyes dipped to the dark green loincloth that hung from his hips and a part of you was tempted. You knew, intimately, what hid behind that loincloth and you knew that the experience would be pleasurable if you spent the evening with Lo’ak. But when you closed your eyes and pictured yourself kissing him, it was Neteyam’s face that swam behind your eyelids.

With a quiet exhale you shook your head, “Thanks, but no thanks. I turned down Tula’s offer of a shoulder rub just now too.”

Lo’ak’s tail was swishing in a slow arc behind him and he was watching you intently. A toothy smile played across his lips and you sensed a cheeky jab on the horizon, “It’s OK, I get it. Wrong brother asking.”

Irritation flashed through you at his comment. You were really starting to hate the way he kept calling you out like that. It was difficult enough having to confront your own feelings, but it was much worse when someone else pointed them out.

You snapped at Lo’ak, “You need to stop that. If you will recall, I quite happily enjoy both of you during our get-togethers, so it wouldn’t make a difference who asks. I just want to bathe and head home tonight.”

Great Mother, you were turning into a such a liar… you would have accepted without hesitation if the offer had come from Neteyam…

“Alright, alright, I’m just teasing. I’ve genuinely got a suggestion that might help though.”

You raised a doubtful brow at him, your silence urging him to continue.

“There’s a small hot spring near my family’s home shelter. It’s in a secluded area behind it, away from the main village pathway.” Lo’ak broached genially, “The water’s warm and it’s great for soothing sore muscles. You’re welcome to bathe there if you want?”

“You have a private hot spring?” You queried in astonishment. There were a few hot springs in the nearby woodlands, but they were communal and there were often other people there. Having a private one so close to home was a real indulgence.

“Perks of being in the olo’eyktan’s family.” Lo’ak gave a casual shrug of his shoulders, “My parents picked that spot to build our family’s shelter at because of it.”

A hot soak and bath sounded absolutely divine, and a private spring meant you’d have some peace and quiet to yourself too. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be using it if it’s just meant for your family.”

“Nah, it’s fine. We’ve had friends over before and my parents are out tonight anyway. Come on, I’ll take you there.”

Enticed by the promise of the hot spring, you readily followed Lo’ak. You were familiar with where the Sullys’ home was, but as he led you round behind it, you glimpsed a mossy pathway that led down between the verdant flora towards a formation of rocks. Sure enough, you could see there was a pool in the formation’s centre, partially obscured by the taller rocks surrounding it.

The environment became humid as you approached the mouth of the spring, the hot water sending small plumes of steam into the air. You breathed out a sigh of wonderment at the sight before you. It was actually bigger than you’d initially thought.

The hot spring was surrounded on most sides by the high rocks, giving the space a lovely sense of seclusion. There was another set of tall boulders that parted the spring down the middle too and, though you couldn’t see it from where you were, you presumed it would lead to another part of the spring round the corner. On the adjacent side from where you stood, there was a bank with a bed of plush, bioluminescent moss. It looked like the perfect place to just sit and dip your feet in if that’s all one wanted to do.

You beamed at Lo’ak appreciatively, “This is lovely, thank you.”

“There are some bath and cleansing oils in a little basket over there on the bank. My sisters are morning bathers so they won’t be needing the spring now. You can enjoy your privacy.” Lo’ak stated with a smile, followed by a muted titter which he tried to disguise rather poorly as a cough.

“What? Why are you laughing?”

He waved you off, turning around and beginning to make his way back up the path, “No, it’s nothing.”

Arms akimbo as you watched him leave, you hissed, “You’re being weird. There better not be any nasty surprises in there!”

Lo’ak scoffed, stopping in his tracks to look at you, “No, of course not.” Although there was still that telltale mischievous twinkle in his eyes that you didn’t altogether trust. He shook his head at your apparent doubt and he gestured towards the steaming spring, “You’re safe here, don’t worry. There are no strangers here.”

With a reassuring smile, Lo’ak left you to it and carried on up the distance of the path until you saw him disappear into his family’s shelter.

Left alone now, you peered out into the darkness of the hot spring before you. The higher temperature of the water meant that not much lived in and around the spring. There were no fish or florae that dwelled beneath the water’s surface and apart from the gentle glow of the moss and phosphorescent lianas that lined the rocks, there wasn’t much light at all.

Stepping forward slowly, you let the warm water of the spring greet your toes, which wriggled and curled in delight at the soothing heat. You smiled a small smile to yourself, very much looking forward to your impending hot bath. You unclothed yourself, shimmying out of your chest-covering and loincloth before folding the garments neatly and stepping to the side to drape them over a boulder. You paused then when you noticed another folded loincloth tucked against the rocks.

Odd… Lo’ak had reassured you that no one was here…

Shrugging lightly, you supposed another of the family had left it behind earlier in the day and thought nothing more of it, eager to immerse yourself in the steaming spring that beckoned. With small steps, you submerged yourself little by little, sighing as the blissful warmth of the spring water enveloped your knees, thighs, hips and navel until you reached maximum depth and it pooled just under the rounds of your breasts.

Oh, by Eywa, the temperature was perfect. The water was hot but not too hot as to be uncomfortable and you could already feel it easing the tightness in your leg muscles. Wading through the dark water towards the basket of bath oils on the bank, you gingerly picked through several vessels, uncapping them and giving each one a sniff as you tried to decide which you liked best. They all smelled wonderful, some fruity, some floral and all a luxurious treat for the skin and senses.

A very familiar scent wafted to your nose when you uncapped the last vessel; spicy and nutty, with a hint of the woodland trees. You recognised it immediately. Neteyam. This was the bath oil he used regularly. Your mind was made up in that instant, selection made.

Bending your knees, you submerged yourself to your chin to wet your body all over, before gracefully lifting yourself out of the water to perch on the mossy bank so you could rub the oil into your skin. The oil was wonderfully fragrant and glossy on your wet skin as you massaged it over your arms, torso, breasts, tail and legs. A contented moan bubbled up your throat and you giggled to yourself, smoothing the oil up your neck and then over your face too.

Oh, it smelled so good and it reminded you so much of Neteyam…

Something sharp pricked in your chest when your conscience reminded you that he was off in the company of Silwey tonight, and you sniffed sullenly before you mentally chastised yourself. You resolved to put it out of your mind and just be grateful for this wonderful hot spring. The scent of the oil tickled your nostrils again, bringing with it more unbidden thoughts of Neteyam. Perhaps choosing the oil he used wasn’t the smartest idea after all... You’d go to bed smelling like him tonight and it was just going to keep reminding you of him.

Satisfied with your efforts of smoothing the bath oil all over yourself, you slipped off the mossy bank back into the warm water to soak. Your tightly braided cornrows wouldn’t need a proper wash for another few days yet, so you cupped water in your hands and dribbled it over your head to give your hair a simple rinse. Gingerly, you washed your face in a similar fashion, moaning quietly in enjoyment.

So absorbed were you in relishing your bath that you failed to notice the glowing pair of eyes watching you soundlessly through the steam from around the corner of tall boulders in the spring.

Your voyeur smirked to himself. He was surprised to find you here. He was going to have to thank his brother later…

Deciding he’d done enough covert watching, Neteyam carefully shifted off his rocky perch beneath the water to submerge himself further. His moral scruples censured him that continuing to watch you bathe naked when you were unaware of his presence was wrong. He resolved to make himself known, but he was going to have some fun doing it.

The buoyancy in the water made it easy for you to rest with your knees bent to keep yourself submerged to your chin. You continued to run your hands over yourself underwater, cleaning yourself while you soaked. You hummed an old folk tune that your mother used to sing to you as a child, and you closed your eyes, basking in the peace of your surroundings. But your serenity was unexpectedly disrupted when you felt something ripple past your legs underwater.

You stilled and bolted upright to full height. There was something in the water…

Your thoughts rushed back to earlier when you’d been suspicious of Lo’ak’s snickering. He’d reassured you that there was no danger here and you knew, logically, that nothing lived in the waters of a hot spring, and yet, something had definitely moved past the backs of your legs underwater.

Heart beginning to race in your chest, you turned in a slow arc, scanning the murky water with wide eyes. The water was so black you could hardly see your own body past your hips. The steam was suddenly stifling and you licked your lips, swallowing down your rising anxiety.

With an almighty splash, something burst upward through the surface of the water behind you with a roar and an alarmed screech forced itself from your throat. You whirled around to face a looming figure, your chest heaving in fright. However, the loud roar the figure had emitted had morphed now into deep rumbles of laughter and you came face-to-face with a dripping wet Neteyam.

“You skxawng!” You shrieked in indignation, aiming several good splashes of water at him with your hands.

Neteyam’s mirth still had a firm grip over him and his rumbling laughter continued to reverberate around the rocky spring. Your fit of pique was quickly deflating in the face of his amusement as you watched him clutch at his sides, gasping for breath, his handsome face full of his merriment. The sound of his laughter was infectious and though you continued to cuss at him, your own voice was tremulous with your own laughter now.

“Great Mother, all these years we’ve hunted and patrolled together, facing packs of nantang (viperwolves) and palulukan (thanators) and not once have you ever screamed like that!” Neteyam hooted.

“Shut up, kurkung (asshole)! You gave me a huge scare!” You splashed him again and added a hard shove against his chest for good measure.

Neteyam caught your wrists and proceeded to mock scold you, “Hey, name-calling and physically assaulting your superior officer is the height of disrespect and insubordination.”

Wrenching your wrists free of his grasp, you ground out through your teeth, “Forgive me, sir, but you rudely interrupted my bath and nearly sent my soul to Eywa with your ambush.”

Flushed from your fright and suddenly feeling self-conscious, you folded your arms across your breasts. It was stupid really considering Neteyam had already seen all of you and more before.

Your eyes had accustomed themselves to the darkness now and you could see little rivulets of water cascading down his face from his wet hair. Droplets of water clung to the skin of his neck and chest, and his bioluminescent tanhì glimmered against his moist skin. The deep gold of his eyes were bright in lack of light and you forced yourself to look away, afraid you might drown in the mesmerising depths of them if you looked for too long.

Neteyam gave a quiet chuckle and he tilted his head downward to catch your downcast eyes, “Did I interrupt your bath or did you interrupt mine?”

You sucked in an astonished breath, remembering the other folded loincloth you’d seen on the rocks by the mouth of the hot spring. Confusion swirled in your mind and you shook your head, “Lo’ak told me there was no one here.”

Another rough chuckle, “No, he said there were no strangers here.”

Neteyam watched as you attempted to make sense of the situation. He’d already been in the hot spring when Lo’ak had led you here. He’d been partially hidden from your sight around the corner of the boulders in the middle of the pool, and you’d been too preoccupied to notice him through the steam.

“Maybe Lo’ak didn’t realise you were here.”

“Oh paskalin (sweet berry), he definitely knew I was here.”

Neteyam’s voice was low and husky, and the raspy sound rippled over you, sending warm tingles throughout you to your fingers, toes and other more private places. You looked to his face again and found him still watching you. A small grin played on his lips, his eyes gleamed with mischief and his ears were upright, fully focused on you.

The recollection of Silwey’s proposition to him earlier in the day resurfaced in your thoughts and you felt your mood sour again. He was probably freshening up before his play date…

You decided to leave him to it, trying your best to keep the sour taste in your mouth from bleeding into your tone, “Well, I’m sorry sir, for intruding on your bath. I’ll go now so you can finish up. I’m sure you’ve got somewhere to be, you know, someone waiting for you.”

Neteyam watched as you turned to leave, wading slowly through the spring towards its exit. He shook his head at your repeated address of him as ‘sir’ and he chortled under his breath. Your words were coolly said, but he didn’t miss the slight edge to them, especially when you referred to someone waiting for him. You were annoyed and he was fairly certain of the reason why. He knew you’d overheard part of his conversation with Silwey earlier today. Well, two could play this game of rank…

“Wait, tsamsiyu (warrior).”

You stopped in your tracks at the formal address. Neteyam’s tone was suddenly firm, the same one he used during your work days and instinct made you turn to face him again, “Sir?”

He began to advance towards you, his movement creating ripples in the spring’s surface at his approach. He stopped once there was a scant foot of space between you and his greater height forced your head to tilt back to maintain your eye contact with him.

“Just where do you think I’m meant to be right now at this hour? And who are you implying is waiting for me?” His question was a murmur, but his tone was still formal and there was a note of challenge in it.

Swallowing the growing lump in your throat, you replied, “I just meant that you’re a busy man and I shouldn’t hold you up.”

“Bullshit. Speak plainly.”

You were bewildered by Neteyam’s brusque response. Your eyes fell away from his and you shrank a little under the weight of his authority. He was pulling rank on you and questioning you. Perhaps your earlier remark hadn’t been as measured as you thought and your attitude had bled through. Unnerved, you wondered if you’d offended him.

Fortifying yourself through your increasing discomfort, you inhaled deeply and spoke, “What you choose to do in your time, and who you spend it with, is none of my concern. I apologise if I overstepped and misspoke. Permission to be dismissed, sir?”

“No.”

Shock lanced through you and you gasped. You’d expected your polite request for dismissal to be granted, but Neteyam had denied it outright. Unsure how to respond, your eyes mechanically found his face again and another wave of surprise rippled through you when you found him smirking at you.

Soft lines wrinkled your forehead as you frowned at him in puzzlement. When his smirk turned into a full-blown grin, you clicked and you realised he was toying with you. Your ears flattened in irritation and your lips pressed into a thin line. You adjusted your arms, crossing them even tighter across your naked chest, “You’re making fun of me.”

Neteyam’s expression softened and turned placating. He cocked his head at you, “You started this rank game. I was just playing along.”

You weren’t in the mood to banter with him right now. You just wanted to get out of there because every moment more that you spent in Neteyam’s presence was a reminder that he would soon be trotting off into Silwey’s arms for the night. Something he was entirely in his right to do… your conscience reminded again. It did nothing to soothe your bother.

“Right, well I’m going now.” You huffed, turning to continue making your departure.

“You don’t have to go. Stay.”

“No, I interrupted your bath. So, I’ll go.” You snapped.

“I was almost done. You only just got here. Really, you should stay. I’d best be off anyway-”

“Actually yes, why don’t you go?” You interrupted him, whirling around to face him. Your abrupt movement sent a torrent of warm water splashing onto the hot spring’s entryway behind you. He’d best be off indeed! It wouldn’t be polite to keep his playmate waiting… He would leave and you could stay to soak in the spring, and wallow some more in your stupid self-pity...

Your irritation flared and your next words were out of your mouth before you could stop them, “Better not keep Silwey waiting.”

A smug grin and chuckle was Neteyam’s answer to your remark and his response only aggravated you further.

There was an accompanying pinprick of hurt in your chest this time. Great Mother, was he still toying with you?... Was he rubbing it in that he was seeing someone exclusively tonight?... But why would he do that? You’d never known Neteyam to be unkind… And he didn’t even know how you felt… Or did he?

“You’re adorable when you’re upset.” Neteyam said, approaching you and closing the distance between the both of you once more.

“I’m not upset.” You feigned and you turned defiant eyes up at him when he stopped in front of you.

The water was shallower here near mouth of the hot spring. Where it had pooled beneath your breasts earlier, it now encircled your torso level with the tops of your hips. As Neteyam was taller, the waterline sat dangerously low on his pelvis and you kept your gaze firmly rooted on his face to curb the temptation to look down.

“Lying to your commanding officer is also a form of insubordination.”

By Eywa, you were tiring of this game... Why wouldn’t he just leave to go and meet Silwey already?

A scathing snort left you and you turned to continue your departure, “You’re not the boss of me outside of our work hours.”

Neteyam stopped you with a hand around your upper arm, “No, but I do like it when you call me ‘sir’. It has a certain ring to it that I’ve discovered I enjoy even outside our work hours.” His grip wasn’t loose but it wasn’t bruising either, just firm enough to impede your attempt to leave.

Still unwilling to uncross your arms from around your chest, you snarled at him in warning, “Let me go. I’m sure Silwey would be more than happy to indulge you in your little game. You are her commanding officer too, after all.”

“I’m not meeting Silwey tonight.”

A beat of silence passed as you took in Neteyam’s words, “What?”

Strong arms enveloped you in the next moment and you found yourself being dragged backwards into the deeper water of the hot spring. Wrapped in his embrace with your back crushed to his chest, Neteyam murmured by your ear, “I turned down her offer.”

You squirmed a little in the cage of his hold. One of his arms was wrapped around your shoulders while the other was snaked around your waist; you were well and truly trapped against him. You knew you were no match for his strength and the feminine part of you appreciated that fact. It revelled in how dainty you felt against his bigger frame.

You were unable to stem your curiosity and you questioned his decision, snapping at him, “Why? You obviously like her enough to have met her privately in the past.”

Neteyam took a breath and then exhaled, “The sex is good, but there’s no connection there. It’s physical and nothing else. Besides, it’s not Silwey’s company I find myself craving these days.” He gave a gravelly chuckle and you felt it rumble against your back. His voice turned teasing, “I knew you were eavesdropping, paskalin.”

It was an awkward angle but you craned your neck sideways to scowl at him, “Well, she wasn’t exactly quiet about it. She might as well have made an announcement before the entire clan.”

“And her offer upset you.”

Another fibbing refute was on the tip of your tongue when you stopped yourself. He’d already called you out before for being untruthful. He knew you were upset. No point trying to lie your way out of it.

Ever since you’d entered into this arrangement with Neteyam and Lo’ak, your feelings for Neteyam had become more and more difficult to ignore. Your play dates with the brothers were just physical entertainment and nothing more. Or at least, they were supposed to be… But the lines were now blurring horribly between physical and emotional, and your tetchy behaviour this evening was cold, hard evidence of this.

“I don’t like knowing that other women have you too.” Your admission was sulky and muttered so quietly that you weren’t sure if Neteyam even heard you, “When it’s just the three of us at the shack, I can just ignore everything else and pretend otherwise.”

“My, my, possessive are we?” His cocky remark rubbed you the wrong way.

You’d opened up in a moment of vulnerability and his tongue-in-cheek attitude made you feel like he was making fun of you again. With a renewed surge of annoyance, you twisted fiercely in his hold and he released you.

You spun to face him, arms still wrapped around yourself, “Didn’t you say you’d best be off? Fine, you’re not seeing Silwey tonight, but you’ve clearly got somewhere to be, so why don’t you just go so I can have some peace here?”

Neteyam wanted to make a smart quip about you kicking him out of his own family’s hot spring, but decided against it when he saw the glinting hurt in your eyes that you were trying and failing to conceal from him. He held his hands out of the water to show them to you, “What I meant was that I might as well be the one to leave seeing as my skin is getting wrinkly. I don’t actually have anywhere to be.”

“Oh.” Your voice was small.

“Do you want some time to yourself?” Was that a hint of regret you heard in his voice?

Neteyam didn’t want to leave you, if he was truthful. He’d spent the last few weeks waiting for an opportunity to get you alone, dithering in his decision around whether to just ask you outright. He’d been hesitant because he didn’t want to ruin the good thing they had going. He didn’t know whether you were content to just play with him and Lo’ak, and he was afraid that seeking you out on your own might be too close for comfort for you.

The realisation this afternoon that you were annoyed by Silwey’s advances on him was a real stroke to his ego, and he’d teased you about it. However, he comprehended now that his attempt at banter had backfired on him as you appeared more upset than he’d initially thought. Lo’ak had handed him an opportunity tonight, but he may have just blown it…

You fidgeted, your fingers squeezing your upper arms where they were wrapped around you while you deliberated your answer. Eywa, you didn’t want time to yourself if the alternative was a chance at time alone with Neteyam…

You had a chance here to indulge the tender feelings you had for him. You knew it was a dangerous game to play. He was the future olo’eyktan and he would one day mate a woman fit to be tsahìk. That would not be you. You were a warrior, like he was. Neteyam would never be yours and it was stupid to risk your heart for a chance at knowing him like this.

But you were always foolish when it came to him…

“No, you can stay.” You mumbled meekly, “If you want to, that is.”

A tight twinge scorched across your left shoulder muscle then and you gasped, straightening your arm to stretch out the cramp that had seized hold of you. You hissed in pain, grimacing in discomfort.

The water sloshed and lapped as Neteyam rushed to you. He took hold of your cramping arm, crossing it over your front, “Here, stretch across like that and hold it. The cramp should ease soon.”

“Ow, ow!” You whined, stretching your arm across as hard as you could to relieve the cramping muscle. You felt Neteyam’s firm fingers begin to press and push at the knot and relief thankfully found you as the muscle relaxed again. You groaned with a sigh, “Ugh that one hurt like a bitch.”

“You’re very tense across your shoulders. Are you really sore?”

“Yes, that’s why Lo’ak suggested I bathe here in the hot spring.”

Neteyam grinned to himself behind your back, continuing to rub and work at your shoulder muscles. He really owed Lo’ak one now… His brother was an excellent wingman… The fact that you were sore had probably been a nice coincidence in Lo’ak’s plan. His brother would have led you to the spring anyway knowing he was already in there.

“I’m sorry if I upset you with my teasing. I wasn’t doing it to be mean.” Neteyam muttered at your back. “If it’s any consolation I’m possessive of you too. I don’t like sharing you, not even with my brother.”

His words made your heart skip a beat and you curled your tail around his lower leg underwater, “I know.”

You knew he wasn’t fond of sharing. You’d seen it in the way he interacted with you and his brother during your play nights at the shack, but hearing him admit it was satisfying.

Encouraged, Neteyam stepped forward to press himself against your back, his hands still massaging at your shoulders. Your skin was silky smooth and slick under his fingers and your bottom was plush against the front of his hips. His cock twitched in interest and he felt desirous heat pool in his groin. Tucking his chin to nuzzle lightly at the crook of your neck, he drew in the sweetness of your scent which had mixed with the spiciness of the bath oil. You smelled like a delicious treat he’d been hankering after…

Growing more and more relaxed from the wonderful shoulder massage Neteyam was giving you, you let your arms drop and float to your sides in the water, uncaring that it exposed your breasts to him. The little sniffs and puffs of his breath as he scented you were ticklish against the skin of your neck and you grinned silently, fighting the urge to shiver. Reaching back a little, you let your hands ghost over the outsides of his thighs, your fingertips dancing against the firm muscle beneath smooth skin. A deep and rumbling purr was Neteyam’s response of delight.

You’d played with Neteyam before, but it was different like this alone in the hot spring and without Lo’ak as a second playmate. Your current ambience was far more intimate. It felt less like physical play and more like a deep, emotive bonding session with a significant other. Your conscience sounded the alarm bells and your heart bolstered its defences.

You could play with him, but under no circumstances could you fall for him…

Clearing your throat lightly, you turned your head a bit so you could look him in the eye to thank him, “Mm, thanks for that. It’s helped. Do you want me to give you a rub too?”

Neteyam wrinkled his nose at you and the action was both endearing and charming. The press and rub of his fingers against your shoulders didn’t stop though. He bit his lower lip and grinned cheekily at you, “Not a shoulder rub, no.”

The innuendo was clear and you rolled your eyes at him with a small snort. He laughed and the sound was soothing and warm. Damn him and his stupidly handsome face… Which you then realised was beginning to lean down ever so slowly towards yours.

The long lashes that framed Neteyam’s eyes fluttered enchantingly as his gaze shifted between your eyes and your lips, “Can I kiss you, paskalin?”

You could never deny him… not when he always sought your permission so sweetly…

Your body was one step ahead of your brain and you craned your neck back to press your lips to his. The fire of your desire ignited, his kiss like fuel to the flames that consumed you and scorched you from head to toe. A throbbing ache struck up a rhythm at the apex of your thighs, your body instantly yearning to be touched and stroked, surrounded by and filled to the brim with him.

Neteyam groaned against your lips, his head twisting and his mouth opening to allow your tongues to waltz. Your hands snaked farther backward to clutch at his buttocks, pulling his hips and the evidence of his arousal flush against your lower back and bottom. He took a breath and hissed at the contact.

The heat of the water against the lower half of your body was a delightful contrast to the cool air against your upper half. You arched your back against Neteyam, pushing your breasts outward, nipples stiffening to peaks as the wafting steam caressed its way past them on its ascent to the sky.

Neteyam’s lips left yours and proceeded to score a heated path down the side of your neck with lapping kisses. Eyes heavy-lidded through your soaring lust, his name was a breathless sigh on your lips, “Neteyam.”

He gave a low growl at the sound of his name, and his massaging hands moved from kneading your shoulders to trail downward over your collarbone, drifting lower until his calloused palms met your hardened nipples. His voice was rough, “I can’t get enough of you. Every evening at the shack just makes me want you more. Do you know how hard it is to have you as my second-in-command when all I want to do during the day is pin you down and have my way with you?”

Your core pulsed and thrilled at his coarse words. You could feel the tingling of your folds, knew that your body was readying itself with warm, slippery wetness to be penetrated to the hilt.

A smart retort surfaced in your mind and you shot him a brazen grin, “I’m sorry, sir.”

The smile that slowly spread across Neteyam’s face at your comment was positively wicked. It was practically a leer. “Obedience and good manners will get you a long way with me, warrior.”

Slick from the bath oil, you leant back against him while he fondled your breasts, his lips nibbling at the soft point of one ear. You’d never realised how sensitive your ears were, but they were definitely an erogenous zone for you. Every nip and kiss to the skin there made your legs weak and your pussy throb. You could feel the solid length and weight of his erection pressing insistently into your lower back like an unspoken invitation to you of the bodily ecstasy it could bring you.

Neteyam verbalised his invitation, nonetheless, in a rumbling purr, “Play with me tonight. Here. Just you and me.”

Your thighs gave an involuntary squeeze together, the ache in your pussy suddenly growing so intense it felt hotter than the water of the spring you currently stood in. You felt Neteyam clasp your jaw with one hand, tilting your head back and twisting your face so he could plunder your mouth again with his lips and tongue. The velvet sweep and suction of his kiss ensured that what little hesitation you had was promptly abandoned.

However, you couldn’t suppress another sassy retort from leaving your lips, “I don’t know. You don’t have any of those sex toys here tonight to rock my world.”

Neteyam bent his knees slightly, bringing his hips in line with your bottom, and he reached down to reposition his cock so it could slide between your thighs and against your slick folds. His chuckle was dark and his voice was full of sensuous promise in the most sinful of ways, “Oh paskalin, you and I both know that I don’t need any of those toys to have you screaming my name tonight.”

You twisted around to face him, throwing your arms around his neck to claim his lips in a desirous kiss. His hands found your upper thighs and he lifted you easily to wrap your legs around his hips, his hands coming to rest against your bottom. He broke the meld of your lips then and he was breathless as he asked, “Is that a yes? I want to hear you say it.”

This new position in his arms found your face elevated over his. Framing his face with your hands, you peered down into the captivating depths of his eyes and panted back at him, “Yes.”

“Yes, who?” Neteyam’s eyes glinted naughtily and you understood the implication. He wanted to continue playing his game of rank with you…

“Yes, sir.”

The warm water rushed around you then in a surge as Neteyam hoisted you higher in his arms and walked you backwards until your back met the tall rocks behind you, pinning you against it. The rock was warm against your back and while its surface was not jagged, it was still coarse enough to be abrade your skin if you moved too roughly against it.

Neteyam nuzzled at the soft mound of one breast, and you emitted a startled gasp when he sealed his mouth over it, drawing your nipple into his hot mouth with a tormenting suck that made you keen in pleasure. He followed this with flicks of his tongue against the stiff bud of it, and your head lolled backward to land with a mildly painful thud against the rock.

Playing with your body was both pain and pleasure for Neteyam. He relished giving you pleasure and revelled in the way your body writhed and reacted. Your whimpers and moans were music to his ears, but all of this never failed to send his arousal soaring to a fevered pitch, which was where the pain came in. His cock was achingly hard, flexing and throbbing with the desperate need to be buried snugly inside you. His balls felt heavy and swollen, full of seed that his body yearned to gift to you.

With your legs clamped tight around his hips still, and leaving one hand and forearm under your bottom to help keep you propped up, he shifted his other hand towards your core. His knuckles brushed your slick centre and Neteyam groaned against the pillowy flesh of your breasts. You were so slippery soft and ready for him already… but he wanted to tease you more…

Running his knuckles over your pussy, he extended his fingers and gently breached you with two of them, earning him another cry from you. He knew what you liked and he curled his fingers just so, finding the spongey spot on your inner walls that he knew would drive you wild, as he pumped them in and out.

It was an incredible combination of sensation whenever he suckled on your breasts and played with your core. You were already beginning to see stars behind the tight clench of your closed eyelids.

Losing yourself in the building waves of pleasure, you moaned his name harshly with a curse, “Oh fuck, Neteyam.”

His mouth left your breast with succulent pop, “Is that the way to address your commanding officer?” He curled his fingers aggressively inside you, winding the coil of pressure in your pelvis even tighter.

Your apology was a whimper, “No, sorry sir.”

“I’m going to take care of you tonight, but only if you follow my lead. Is that clear?” Neteyam instructed, his speech adopting the formal tone he used with the platoon during the daytimes. He gave a deliberate twist of his fingers and your breath hitched.

“Mm, y-yes sir.”

“What’s your safe word if you need to use it, sweet girl?”

“Tsyoklìt.”

Neteyam couldn’t help his chuckle. It was the same safe word you always used after you had first chosen it when him and Lo’ak had started experimenting with some wilder forms of sexual play with you. However, it wasn’t so much your repetitive choice that amused him but the word itself and the backstory behind it.

Tsyoklìt was a Na’vi word phonetically loaned from its English counterpart: Chocolate.

Your reaction to trying the sweet human treat for the first time would forever remain one of Neteyam’s fondest memories.

The two of you had been younger, still adolescents training to pass your rites of passage to become warriors. It had been a very successful day at training and his father had decided to reward the learners with some chocolate. Jake had handed out the unfamiliar treat, which was then observed and examined with cautious sniffs and curious eyes. He and Lo’ak were already familiar with the foodstuff and had eagerly tucked into their share, prompting the others to do the same.

Most of the trainees had reacted with positive surprise, but not you. Your face had twisted into a grimace at the saccharine taste, lips turning into an unpleasant pout as you fought to swallow the sickeningly sweet bite you had taken. Neteyam had tried very hard not to laugh at your aversion and when he’d asked you what was wrong, you’d told him, “It’s way too sweet. It’s too much, far too much.”

So, in a way, your choice of safe word was rather fitting if things got too much.

Neteyam growled against your chest, feeling the contractions of your inner walls around his fingers, “Fuck, you’re irresistible, you know that? So beautiful and your body is perfect, so responsive.”

The stroking thrusts of Neteyam’s fingers in and out of you was pleasurable, but it wasn’t enough. You wriggled lightly, wishing you could somehow rock your hips to bring some friction against your clit, but the firm hold he had under your bottom and the way he had you trapped against the rock made for a rather unforgiving position.

“I need more.” You murmured your words languorously, and water droplets splattered softly against the spring’s surface when you lifted your hands to weave your fingers through Neteyam’s braids. You writhed again, attempting to find more friction, and Neteyam gave a warning snarl when your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling against his scalp.

“Demanding, are we?” He crooned, nipping at the skin of your neck, “Patience. Good things come to those who wait.”

Neteyam’s grip around your bottom eased and he stepped back so he was no longer pressing you against the rocks. You unwound your legs, sliding down his frame to stand again, very aware of the way his erection bounced free of your thighs as you untangled yourself from him. Your hands flew instantly to his swollen length, teasing it with a stroke-and-twist action you’d discovered Neteyam liked. He gave a guttural grunt and one of his hands flew to brace itself against the rocks.

Your smile was cunning and you chuckled low and husky at him, “It seems I’m not the only one who’s impatient, sir.”

Neteyam snickered, “It’s always an exercise in patience with you.” He let your hands relieve some of the pressure for the time being, content to bury his face into the crook of your neck while he moaned and littered your skin with gentle bites.

Great Mother, you loved when he was like this… Muscles flexing and relaxing, hot breaths against you while he shuddered and groaned from the pleasure you were inflicting on him. His cock was gorgeous like the rest of him: lengthy, thick, and beautiful cerulean blue, with a fat head that drizzled pre-cum if you teased him just right, and speckled with tanhì that glowed bright when he was close to the edge.

Pressing your cheek to his temple, you whispered to him, “You’re gorgeous and I want you inside me so badly.”

The twisting and throbbing pleasure in Neteyam’s midsection sparked in warning at your words and his hands flew to halt the motion of yours. Any more stimulation and he was going to lose his control and spill before he was ready to. He stayed your wrists when you tried to tease his cock some more and he flashed you a cautionary glance, “I need to cool off.”

Looping your arms around his neck you pushed off the balls of your feet to wrap your legs about his hips again. You whined, “No, I need you now.” Wriggling your hips, you felt the head of his cock brush your core where you wanted him most, but Neteyam snaked his arms under your bottom to keep you apart.

“No, I want to enjoy playing with you some more first. My mouth is watering to taste you.”

You bleated in frustration, “No, take me now. Please? Please, sir!”

Neteyam gave a throaty chuckle, walking you both towards the mossy bank, “Nice try.”

Reaching the moss-topped embankment, Neteyam lifted your body and sat you down on it, “Lie back, paskalin.”

He remained in the hot spring, the water pooling about his waist. The edge of the bank sat flush against his sternum and his intention was clear in his eyes as gently pushed against your chest, urging you to lie down. Neteyam had expressed his desire to taste you and you knew that he was going to do just that; torture you with his lips and tongue until you were begging for all of him.

Leaning down with a slight pout at being denied your request to be penetrated, you stole one last kiss from his moist lips before obeying his instruction, “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” Neteyam purred, watching as you lay down and automatically lifted your legs into the air, bent at the knees, to display yourself to him.

He almost groaned and his cock throbbed eagerly at the erotic vision you made. Dewdrops of water clung to the supple skin of your thighs and though all of you was damp from the hot spring, your pussy glistened with your own slick moisture. The elevation of the bank was perfect for what he was about to do. All he had to do was lean down a little and he’d be able to lick and delve through your slick folds.

Curling one large hand around one of your hips to steady you, he ran his other in a tantalising rub over your lower belly. When the first lap of his tongue stroked over your core, you jumped with a soft wail. He bent to kiss you where you now burned the hottest, his tongue and lips making love to your clit, isolating it and sucking moderately. He took his time tasting you, drinking you in leisurely and languidly. It’d always taken your breath away how skilled Neteyam was with this particular act.

When you don’t want to give the whole of your body to another, you learn to please them in other ways… This was what he’d told you once. Fortunately for you, this was only ever a warm-up. You’d have all of him in the end, you just needed to be patient.

It wasn’t just his lips and tongue that Neteyam employed, he would rub his nose back and forth over you too. And then his fingers would join the endeavour, curling, stroking and stoking your pleasure higher and higher until you felt like you were thin and brittle glass, ready to shatter at any moment.

Your core pulsated with bliss as Neteyam continued his work. His mouth continued its suckling on your clit and two of his fingers gave your pussy the attention it so craved. Your hands were clutching at his braids, your hips rocking against his face as you whimpered and moaned. The atmosphere felt hot. It’d been a little chilly when he’d first lifted you from the warm water, but that was no longer the case. Your body burned for him, the pressure in your lower belly taut and tight, on the brink of orgasm.

“Oh, I’m so close,” Your breaths were heaving, your voice unstable, and you only caught yourself just in time from saying his name instead of his formal address as you pleaded, “N-Nete- Sir, please!”

Neteyam’s approval at your formal address of him rumbled against you. He fought a smirk, keeping his lips and tongue trained on the swollen bud at the apex of your thighs. You were so slick that the action of his fingers was squelching obscenely and he swore his cock was pulsing in time with each clench and throb of your pussy.

Boldly, knowing that he and his brother had experimented with you recently in this form of play, he moved his free hand from your hip to run a slick thumb over your butthole. You startled a little at the feel of it, but he continued to massage his thumb over the puckered flesh. There were no toys present tonight, but he knew you’d enjoyed the use of the butt plugs during the last couple of sessions at the shack. His thumb would have to do tonight.

You gave a muffled yelp at the addition of Neteyam’s thumb in your butt. It was a third point of pleasure on top of what he was already doing, and it only served to intensify the rhythmic clenching of your pelvic muscles. You could feel that you were flushed from head to toe. Your thighs were trembling where they hung suspended and splayed wide in the air, and your nipples were erect, kissing the night air. But Great Mother, the paradise that you were experiencing between your thighs was staggering. You lifted your head and tipped your chin forward to look down at Neteyam, only to find his golden eyes trained right back at you as he drove your body to its limit.

There was no holding on anymore at that point. The intensity of the lust in his eyes tipped you over the precipice you’d been teetering on. Your fist flew to your mouth, stifling your shriek of ecstasy as the waves of pleasure crested and crashed over you.

Neteyam was fighting a battle of his own, wrestling with what little remained of his body’s control as he watched and felt your body explode with pleasure. Your body squeezed around his fingers and he had a fleeting moment of panic when he felt his glutes tighten and his cock tense up, ready to spurt. Removing himself from you, he held on with everything he had through a clenched jaw.

Spent, you lowered your legs and let your shins hang off the embankment’s edge. You watched through bleary eyes as Neteyam rinsed lightly, before he hauled himself out of the water and onto the bank with a splash. He scooted backwards to join you and he stretched out alongside your form, one of his hands immediately moving to cup your cheek so he could tilt your head to kiss you.

“You did so well, sweet girl. Not that you’ve ever disappointed before.” He smoothed a palm over your head, patting down the stray fly-aways of hair from your forehead.

“Thank you,” You mumbled, and when his forehead crinkled in question, awaiting something, you rolled your eyes and added, “Sir.”

Neteyam rolled onto his side towards you, his big body sheltering you as he moved to twine one of his legs between yours, “I nearly lost my control back there.” He spoke against your lips between deep kisses, his breath hot and sweet against your mouth, “My every waking thought is tainted with you. My nightly dreams are wild with you. You drive me insane, Neyomi.”

You swallowed his every kiss, every declaration he made adding to the blooming warmth you had tried so hard for weeks to stifle in your heart. You wanted him alone like this every night. You wanted him to yourself, whenever and wherever you wished. You were drowning wholly and unreservedly in him. You were in way over your head with your emotions now and you knew it.

Clutching at one of his buttocks, you shifted beneath him and urged the rest of his heavy weight to settle over you and in the cradle of your hips, “Then take me now, sir. Have me how you want.”

Chuckling darkly, Neteyam briefly rose to sit on his haunches with his knees folded. He tucked your bottom closer to the vee of his thighs and placed his hands behind your knees, “You’ve been so good playing our little game today, addressing me formally. But I’m going to make you scream one more time tonight.” He pressed his weight downward, folding your legs back until your ankles were almost in line with your ears. He settled himself over you, bracing his weight on his elbows and he purred against your cheek, “And when you scream, paskalin, I want to hear my name on your lips. Am I clear?”

It was an erotic promise delivered with all the confidence of a man who knew he would succeed in his task, and as you lay sprawled and folded over beneath him, all you could do was submit to the coming onslaught of pleasure, “Yes, sir.”

Blood pounded in your ears in anticipation as you felt Neteyam position his cock at your entrance, the blunt head of it probing for the right angle to sink into your depths. With a slight adjustment to the tilt of your hips, he found home and he penetrated you in one full thrust. You threw your head back with a strangled cry at the gratifying fullness of him. The position you were in allowed for the deepest penetration possible and you felt all of him like this.

“You alright?” Neteyam queried, checking in with you though his own voice sounded strained.

You nodded, and it was all the permission he needed.

Drawing his hips back, Neteyam slammed back into you, setting a punishing pace as he thrusted. Every single stroke of his hips drove the head of his cock past your g-spot and it slid all the way in to hit your cervix. The sensation was a mixture of both pain and pleasure in the most carnally satisfying way. There was so much of him, your pussy enveloping his hard length from root to tip repeatedly as his thrusts continued to wind the coil of pressure tighter between your hips. His breathing was harsh by your ear and the sounds leaving him were an erotic mixture of growls, grunts, moans and whimpers.

Neteyam was unaware of anything else around him currently, singularly focused on you and spellbound by the immense pleasure radiating throughout his midsection. Your own cries and mewls spurred him on and when he felt you snake a hand between your bodies to rub at your clit, he knew you were fast approaching your climax, and so was he.

Your inner walls fluttered around his cock and he let his head drop against your neck. Through the haze of your bliss you heard him grate out one last order, “Squirt for me, sweet girl. I know you can. I can feel how you need to.”

And you knew you would. There was little doubt about it as the familiar feeling of needing to release something burned behind your pubic bone. You almost always did now whenever Neteyam fucked you. There was just something about him; whether it was the way your bodies came together, the shape and size of his cock, the way he thrusted, or the way he would often whisper filthy things in to your ear, you always had very wet orgasms with him.

No other man had ever made your body feel the way he did. Not even Lo’ak had succeeded in making you squirt (much to his chagrin). It seemed your body reserved that rightly solely for Neteyam.

Your orgasm threatened, looming on the horizon while you massaged your clit faster. It was all pleasure; burning, aching, throbbing pleasure and you whined, straining to reach the burst of release that was so mind-blowing it sometimes felt like you’d blacked out for several moments.

“That’s it.” Neteyam encouraged, still maintaining the gruelling rhythm of his thrusts, “What’s my name?”

“N-Neteyam.” Your voice was a stuttered sob.

“Good girl. Let go, paskalin. Scream for me.”

With several heaving intakes of breath, you felt your orgasm crash through you, your pussy contracting rhythmically while several sprays of squirt spattered between your colliding bodies. His name tore from your throat in a carnal scream that you threw to the night sky above you, “NETEYAM!”

Neteyam’s entire frame strained and then tensed, and a grating growl left him as his own climax followed. His cock pulsed hard as he ejaculated, his hips pressed so tightly to yours it was as if he wanted to become one with your body and never part from you again. He slumped onto his side, breathless and panting rapidly while his body fought to find its equilibrium again after its euphoria. Yours was doing the same while you rested flat on your back with limp legs.

Usually, the afterglow after you’d played with Neteyam and Lo’ak was peaceful and pleasant, the three of you just cuddling and talking before cleaning up. However, tonight you felt uneasy in the face of your waning pleasure and you were very aware of Lo’ak’s absence. Neteyam was sprawled lethargically to your left, one of his legs tangled with yours while one of his arms was thrown over your abdomen.

It was a confronting sight and situation, being alone post-sex with Neteyam with nothing or no one else there to distract your mind from spiralling into the mess of your emotions. Your body still hummed with the remnants of your climax, but your heart seized in your chest with the realisation Neteyam had ruined you for anyone else now. You were quite certain that your body, mind and soul would never yearn for any other like it did for this man.

“Hey, you.” Neteyam’s voice crooned softly, and you returned your attention to him. His eyes were heavy with his somnolence and his expression was soft, contented. He stroked a finger over your cheek and trailed it over your lips. You instinctively puckered your lips in a gentle kiss.

“Hey,” You parroted, suddenly lost for words and not knowing what else to say.

He leaned over towards you and gathered you in his arms so you were flush against his chest. He stroked a warm hand over your hair before he began to lay tender kisses on your face; your cheek, your nose, both your eyes and then your forehead. It was both wonderfully and terrifyingly intimate.

You were in far too deep. You’d taken a risk; a beautiful and indulgent risk, and it was abundantly clear to you now how unwise it had been. Neteyam was out of your reach as a potential mate. You could never be truly his. It wasn’t your place.

His hand continued its path of caresses over your face, and you felt him rub his cheek against your head. The occasional brush of his lips along your hairline or along the delicate shell of your ear followed while he murmured sweet nothings to you; about how beautiful you were; how good you had been with him; how good you felt in his arms…

This dreamy intimacy had to stop. There was a line between body play and love, and you didn’t know where it was anymore. This was too much, too sweet…

One word slipped from your lips, painful in the implication of its meaning, “Tsyoklìt.”

Neteyam stilled at the mention of your safe word. He pulled back a little to regard you with a furrowed brow. Your playtime session had ended, so your utterance of the word was unexpected.

Meeting your gaze, he found your eyes wide with uncertainty and several emotions flashed across his handsome face as his mind processed your reaction: Mild confusion, slight amusement, surprise, and then sudden comprehension. A mumbled apology tumbled from his lips. He pushed up on an elbow to sit up, shuffling away to put some space between you at the realisation that he’d made you uncomfortable with his tender show of affection.

You felt a sharp pinprick in your chest as he moved away from you. It was the last thing you wanted… but you had to work smart now… You couldn’t dig yourself a hole any bigger than the one you were already in or you’d never make it out…

The atmosphere was suddenly taut with uncomfortable tension. It felt like something between the both of you had shifted; like the world was now somehow wrong and sitting off its intended axis. You swallowed the burgeoning lump in your throat and stared wordlessly at the man before you.

Neteyam’s expression was neutral, but you knew he’d schooled it that way intentionally. But he hadn’t done it quickly enough for you to miss the hurt that had flickered in his eyes for a brief moment.

Eywa, what had you done?... What had you both done?... You were so thoroughly fucked in this mess now…

***~~~***

Author's Note:Thank you all so much for reading. Thank you for all your support! It means the absolute world to me to hear from you. Comments, likes & reblogs are always so appreciated. 💕

I do have a Part 4 planned, and we will see another Sully bro threesome in it, plus more emotional drama between NeteyamxReader (Neyomi).

Let me know if I have your user in the taglist wrong and for those who'd like to be added, give me a shout in the comments. 😄

Part IV - Haunted by You now HERE

[connortheconceded]

Offering myself to that daybreak allowed the girdle of grace to contain me. When my voice returned, it spoke with another tongue. After three nights I could speak fire.

Red-drink, razor-fed, I had glimpsed the path unto the garden, and knew that to inform others of its harbor I had to first drown myself in search's sea. Know ye that I have found my fleet, and that you are the flagship of my hope. Greetings, novitiate, Mankar Camoran was once you, asleep, unwise, protonymic, but Am No More. Now I sit and wait to feast with thee on all the worlds of this cosmos. Nu-mantia! Liberty!

-Mythic Dawn Commentaries, vol 1

[unoislazy]

Question, What Question? (Part 1)

Hiccup Haddock x Reader

Summary: Hiccup accidentally lets it slip that his father is expecting him to ask someone a question. Who could that someone be… and what’s the question?

Warning: has not been proof read, so bear with me

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“Morning Chief!” You cheered, hopping off your dragon as the crowd continued to cheer for you. You had just won the weekly dragon race which was one of your favorite activities to participate in alongside your friends.

The man before you gave a bellowing laugh as he walked towards you, arms opened wide. “Well if it isn’t the best rider in Berk!” He shouted, announcing your title loud enough for all to hear. You knew he was exaggerating but it was still an ego boost that you wouldn’t say no to.

Besides, he’s the chief, what he says goes.

“Thor almighty, you put up a good fight out there! Now If only you could convince Hiccup to stay put to watch.” He joked, earning a laugh from you.

“Telling Hiccup to stay put is like telling a songbird not to sing.” You said, earning a laugh that led into a sigh from Stoick. He rested his hands on his hips as he looked to the ground, almost as if he was lost in thought. You had been around both Hiccup and his father long enough to know that when Stoick was lost in thought, it meant he brought something up to Hiccup that didn’t go over well.

You thought it better not to ask before whistling for your dragon to come towards you.

“I’ll find him, he may be a dragon master, but he’s not a master at hiding his tracks.” You joked again, hopping up on DayBreaker, your dragon. Stoick looked up at you with a soft smile, he appreciated how much you cared for his son. He had his own issues with how he had treated him over the years, but seeing someone who clearly loved him unconditionally… it warmed his heart.

Without another word you were off, it didn’t take long to figure out where Hiccup had gone. Once you had passed a blasted rock formation, you knew you were close.

As you neared the vast layout of islands sprinkled with beautifully colored yellow and orange leaves, you could hear faint shouting that was all too familiar to you. You directed your dragon to land safely as you watched Hiccup, who was hanging on for dear life onto his dragon being held over the ledge. You snickered to yourself as you continued to watch the two interact with one another before finally revealing your presence.

“Afternoon,” Hiccup greeted once he noticed you, “welcome to Itchy Armpit.” He said, showing off the rest of the land you hadn’t seen yet.

“Did toothless help with the naming again?” You asked, hopping off DayBreaker to let her and Toothless play. Hiccup gasped in a playful manner,

“Have you no faith in my naming capabilities?” He pretended to be offended as he put a hand to his chest.

“You named your best friend after the fact he had no teeth.” You teased, giving him a light punch on his arm. He smiled before returning to his offended demeanor.

“Oh you are asking for it.” He said in a teasing tone, one that matched your own.

“It would be a real shame if…woah what’s that?” He asked, convincing you to turn your head. While you weren’t looking Hiccup had raised his arms as if to simulate claws as he wrapped his arms around you, trapping you. You laughed, struggling to get out of his grasp.

You smiled mischievously before ‘accidentally’ elbowing the contraption on his chest, letting loose his new fin, resulting in him letting you go completely.

“Oh, that was a low blow.” He said, only the slightest bit annoyed as he began to rewind the fin.

“Survival of the fittest.” You said and just before he could properly respond, DayBreaker and Toothless had run past you, knocking you both over.

You had awkwardly landed on top of him, your chest entirely on top of his. You continued to laugh as you tried to get off of him, he was laughing but in a more pained manner as he had landed on a really odd spot on his back.

You helped him up as you moved to a comfortable seated position. Toothless and DayBreaker continued to play behind you as if nothing had happened.

The wind began to flow past, messing with the hair on Hiccup's head. You couldn’t help but admire him as he stared out to the other islands of Itchy Armpit.

Your relationship with him had been odd to say the least, you both had grown up around each other but you weren’t all that close. He was always running around doing his own awkward little thing, and you more or less just watched from the sidelines. It wasn’t until you had accidentally stumbled across him one day in the woods, riding a dragon of all things, did you actually begin to talk to him.

Once he had realized you weren’t going to rat him out, you two instantly hit it off and you became closer as the years went on.

At this point you two had been dating for about three years now, and while it wasn’t the smoothest relationship in the world, you two clearly worked well together.

“So… what did your father say to you?” You asked quite out of the blue. He looked over to you, shocked.

“He told you about it?” He asked, surprised his dad would mention anything about his personal issues, even if he didn’t give away any clear details.

“No, but he always goes into thought when you guys have had a disagreement of some kind… I figured something had happened.”

Hiccup's shock had dwindled quickly, realizing that you were just observant.

“Well… yeah. He had mentioned a few things to me this morning, just the general, ‘Son you need to get on this, son don’t forget this, Son you should ask the question, son-“ Hiccup continued on, but you were stuck in confusion on his last point.

“Ask who what question?” You asked, and almost immediately Hiccup froze.

“Question? What question? Why would I be asking someone a question?” He says, clearly nervous as if he slipped up in some way. Which you knew he had. The thing about being with Hiccup for so long was you easily picked up on his quirks and what they meant, and a lot of them were tell-tale signs for when he was nervous, annoyed, or if he had said something he wasn’t really supposed to.

“Hiccup, what question?” You asked again, to which he did not respond. You genuinely had no idea what he meant by it, or why he was acting the way he was.

He stood rigidly, tapping the sides of his legs before looking out beyond the landscape of Itchy Armpit, his facial features seemed to contort in confusion as he squinted his eyes.

“Something’s happening…” He muttered quietly. You scoffed in response,

“Hiccup, that’s not going to work on me this tim-“

“No look.” He says, gently grabbing your face with one hand and forcing you to look at the large plume of smoke coming from beyond the trees. Within a matter of a few seconds you had already forgotten what you were on hiccup about, much to his relief.

[yandere-wishes]

𝐼𝓂𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒮𝓎𝓃𝒹𝓇𝑜𝓂𝑒

Summary: Miles is the villain. You are the hero. You two shouldn't be in love...

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, afab!reader, canon typical Marvel violence. the reader is an undefined hero (but you can think of them as Spidergirl). No NSFW but both reader and Miles are 18+

Part #2 (The Perfect Girl)

part#3 (The Spider's Web)

There's something about the New York nights, that leaves a faint melancholy glow across Miles's soul. 

Some vanquished feeling that humbles him as the stars and moon look down laughing. Celestial bodies that mock him for every sin he's ever committed. Howling at the blood that drips from the edge of his claws. 

Miles never thought he was an insomniac. It just so happened that most of his life and routine took place in the dead of night. It had all been a coincidence until he met you. Now he's not sure if it's bad habits or sheer serendipity. All he knows is that he needs to see your face before the night comes to an end. 

He hadn't really met you. Not in the traditional sense at least. He'd been sent to kill you. An initiation from the sinister six. Back then he'd thought you were just another sanctimonious fool who was trying to play the role of the righteous hero. There had been many like you before. foolish and virtuous. All were left dead in some ally by daybreak. And yet when you'd landed punch after punch to his ribs. Your body slam caused him to spew blood from behind his mask. You were a tough bug to squish he'd give you that much.

Miles hadn't fallen in love with you that night. Nor the nights after that. 

It wasn't love the first time your web dagger nearly missed his heart.

It wasn't love when he had you pinned between his body and the cold street concrete, as you tried to pry off his mask to gouge out his eyes. 

It wasn't love when he'd shattered the bones in your leg and you'd been out of commission for a week.

It wasn't love when the two of you lay bleeding on a rooftop. Delusional enough from all the blood loss to try and trace constellations in the polluted night sky.

It wasn't love when you'd returned to that same rooftop the next week to beat him up. And he'd managed to lay a nasty blow to your face. 

It hadn't been love all those times. Yet all he knows is that somewhere along the lines Miles Morales had fallen in love with the new hero in town. 

He knows you're coming 

Senses your presence right as one of the sinister six's weapon cartels blows up in the distance. You never were one to be caught in the aftermath. Ever the dramatic sweetheart, who didn't like to get her hands dirty. 

He waits for the telltale sign of your feet hitting the rooftop to turn around. Mask on and heart on his sleeve. "Prowler" you greet, courteous as always. "Hey," he responds. Solid and simple and overflowing with every emotion he wishes he could spill at your feet. 

His eyes roam over your suit. Modest and girly, all things you wouldn't expect from New York's only superhero. You look like a doll. All porcelain and ivory. How you've survived so long in this city is beyond him. 

There's something wrong with you. Something Miles just can't put his finger on. Every time he looks at you it's like looking into a broken mirror. You're Disfigured, mangled, damaged. Yet all he sees in those shattered shards is the face of the boy he once thought he'd be. 

You're the light of New York. The one that promises to save this nightmare of a city. Made up of frilly bows and dreams to big to keep locked up in your head. The rage of the city, of the civilians boils through your blood. 

He's the Prowler. A boy born with rebellion in his bones and violence in his veins. A broken heart and a broken soul stitched together with barbwire and cheap glue. He's the sinister six's newest protege and uncle Aaron’s last hope. 

He's the villain and you're the hero. You shouldn't be in love. 

You skip across the rooftop, arms locked behind your back and spinning when it takes your fancy. You've long since shed any fear you may have once held for him. Standing on your tip toes you rest your chin on his shoulder. "Whatcha looking at?" you ask, with a voice filled with daisies and the summer breeze. "Pieces for my new suit were in the warehouse you just blew up." Oh how Miles wishes he could throw you over the edge. Watch you fall to your death. Maybe then you'd stop plaguing his every thought. 

"Sorry, Prowler just doing my job." You sound so carefree, it almost reminds him of how he used to be when his dad had still been alive. "You're an insufferable little insect, you know that?" He feels you smile  from under your silk mask."I try" 

You're not meant to be the hero. He knows this in his bones. You're too naive and soft-hearted to deal with the terrors of this city. More than anything else Miles Just wants to drag you away. To lock you up somewhere. Somewhere only he knows. A home where the burdens and terrors of this world can't find either of you. A place where you two can finally become one. 

 But you're not him and he's not you. All this is just a puppy dog crush. And puppy love is for baby-faced boys who didn't watch the life drain from their father's eyes. It's for sweet boys who didn't have their first kill at ten years old. 

"what's it like being the hero?" Miles asks, eyes glazing over the stars, staring straight at destiny. Who chose their roles anyway? Who made him the monster carved from rage and pain? Who painted you as the Guardian angel in gold? Why couldn't he be the hero?

You don't respond. Breath hitching and for a second Miles thinks he's hit a nerve. No one ever said doing the right thing was easy. He wonders if you claw away at your own soul. Peeling off your flesh each night to replace it with a silk suit and copper-tainted values. 

He imagines you throwing cheap knives at the night sky, watching as God's light deflects them back into your heart. 

You walk over to the edge of the roof and sit down. And for the first time ever Miles thinks he sees you for who you really are. Actually sees you. A kid with the weight of the world on their shoulders. An onomatopoeia of breaking glass and the cheers of the cities oppressed. 

"They're coming for me, Prowler." You pull your knees to your chest. Eyes looking over the city skyline. "I don't mind. I knew what I was getting into...It's just."

"Just what" his voice reverberates through his mask, he's grateful the metal and digital layers keep the  anxiety from seeping through.

"I just never thought I'd die this way" There's a smile in your voice. A  final giggle before an impending war. Miles takes a step back. Head heavy as the weight of your words crash down on him. "I saw Venom lurking through my apartment before I came here. They found me, I think they plan to strike tonight." 

He wishes he could tear this city apart, break its seams, and rapture its pillars. He can't let you die. He just can't. With a forceful tug on your shoulder he turns you his way. Mask slipping away as he slides his finger under your silk facade as he pulls it away. 

Miles's lips capture yours. As he kisses the dying stars trapped under your tongue and behind your teeth. His lips trail down your neck as he kisses the fatigue from your bones. Metal claws clutched tightly around you as if you may decay if he lets go. 

Sometimes he wants to dismantle his ribcage, piece by piece. Pickaway at the ribs and offer you his blackened heart on a silver platter. It's not his fault that he fell in love with the girl stitched together from radioactive spider bites and misplaced nightmares. 

every time Miles sees you he feels a certain feeling like the world turned upside down. Like he woke up fundamentally broken with no way to piece himself back. 

His claws trace up, gliding past your shoulders' to your neck. You don't refuse him, feeling safe for the first time since you dawned your mask and made your vows. You let him touch your neck as your naivety shines through. He won't hurt me, you think. But oh, how wrong you are. 

Miles wraps his fingers around your neck. Squeezing and squeezing as he watches you claw at metal. You look so beautiful suspended over the edge like this. There's something about being half awake and half asleep and half dead and half alive that makes you glow. He wants to say something along the lines of 'I love you'. He doubts you're conscious enough to hear him.

You're not his, not exactly. But Miles can't bear to let anyone else lay claim to you. It's a sickness he knows. But he'd rather be sick than lose you.

He'll keep you safe, he swears it. By the time you awaken, he'll have found somewhere safe for the two of you to hideout until he can convince his "mentors" to spare your life. It'll be fine, It has to be, after all...

He's Miles Morales, the Prowler

[scummy-writes]

Daybreak Desires

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Gilbert/Reader Words: 1668 Tags: afab!reader, riding, sleepy morning sex, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie

It’s a quiet rarity to wake up before Gilbert. In your time together, you had lost count of all the times you had awoken to Gilbert’s eye soaking in your features, his sly smile as he stole the first kiss of the morning from you. Today, however, you stretch and sigh pleasantly before realizing there’s no teasing words awaiting you, and in turning you discover your lover still fast asleep.

You can’t help the wonderment that steals your attention in seeing him so vulnerable, so peaceful in sleep. Without thought, your thumb slowly finds his cheek, stroking, easing him from dreams and into reality. It’s slow like the early morning light, but he wakes, eyelids fluttering open in a lazy gaze while he breathes in deep. He smiles upon registering you, words still laden with sleep as he speaks.

“Mmm… What is it, little-”

It’s all he can muster before your lips are on his, greedily stealing what was left to say. Gilbert doesn’t respond, just feels the warmth of you seeping into him with each press of your mouth, but soon he realizes what is happening, and he responds in kind.

This early, his teeth only greet you in gentle tugs of your bottom lip. Small nibbles to elicit soft sighs. Yet you’re treated to much more than you initially hoped; his own sighs mingling with yours, lulled moans of your name coming from his reddened lips.

It entices you to become more bold.

Between the kisses, you reach past your nightgown, hurriedly removing your underwear before you climb on top of his body with ease, pressing your sex against his clothed erection. 

Gilbert groans, a mixture of your name and a curse escaping him in wonder before his hands find your hips, clumsily searching for underwear not present as you tug his member free.

You’re not thinking past your desires, and they plead for you to act on impulses. The second his cock hits the morning air, you’re pressing it against your folds, grinding for friction against your swollen clit.

“Little rabbit,” he rasps, brows knit as he gazes up at you. Stars aren’t in his eyes, only the burning embers of lust mixed with wonderment: he’s never had you like this. Desperate for him so openly without his coaxing.

His voice just spurs you further, feeling shivers down your skin that the pet name still incites. Sliding your hands up your torso, you lean over him so that your lips can meet once more. So that you can taste the hint of pleas on his tongue, but never voiced.

His hands grasp your rear, squeezing, helping move you to rub the head of his cock against your entrance. Wanting to tease yourself alongside him, you press your hips down just enough to take the head of his length in, then slowly drag it out. It’s enough to make him grunt into the kiss, his nails to dig into your cheeks, before you push down again in the same manner.

Clenching your inner walls, pressing him against that wonderful spot within you.

It’s him that breaks the kiss. A groan unbidden, and you use it to your advantage - nipping along his jaw, rewarding him with a moan of his name. It does nothing but fuel the desires between you, and his hands grip hard, but refuse to force you down. 

Nails drag along his skin, etching thin and raised lines on his chest as you settle back onto your knees. The motion has his length easing deeper inside of you, his mouth slack in a silent groan as you take him in to the hilt. 

It’s easy to see the beast inside of him trying to wake. His muscles tense as he tries to shift to his elbows, to begin to sit and control the movements from this point onward- but you’re faster. With a firm hand, you push back on his chest and force him against the sheets, shaking your head as your hips lift. Inching him back out until only the head of his cock remains, and then-

“Mmmph… taking the reins today? Ah!” He sucks in a breath as your hips slam back down, a gasp breaking free as stars fill your head. 

How can you be so sensitive just from this? It feels as though your body is sizzling in barely contained excitement, fires burning within you begging for more fuel to send them blazing. The answer becomes clear, however, when you look down at your lover. Beneath you, he's melting into the sheets with a lazy grin, gazing up at you with such intense love glowing in his eyes that it steals your breath away.

The pace you languidly set makes you sigh happily, eyes fluttering shut as pleasure creeps over your skin. Gone are the anxieties that usually lay heavy upon you. Instead, your mouth opens with mewls you rarely voice, beginning to rise in tempo while you work your hips faster, harder. 

You want nothing more than to feel his lips on you, to steal warmth in the way of kisses and suckling marks upon your skin. But the moment he does so, you know you'll be doomed to lose control, to naturally submit to his spoiling. 

No. This morning, you want to let him feel as though he's still relishing in dreams, to succumb to your needy display of love for him.

Each drag of his cock along your walls makes your toes curl, lewd noises of your sex clapping against his fill the room. Panting heavily, you finally venture your hands along your body, seeking your sensitive spots, groping your breasts. It draws out a moan of his name, and Gilbert echos it with one of your own. 

He still refuses to take control away from you, keeping his hold firm on your hips, following the roll of them with his own. His eyes never leave your face, watching intently, soaking such a display in to burn into his memory.

But you notice something new: his tongue darting out to lick his lips, words attempting to form before he decides against it. The moment you notice is the moment you realize just how lonely your mouth feels.

Stretching over him, you cup his cheeks and bring your lips together with a fierce kiss, whimpering his name as your clit brushes against his pelvis. In seconds, one of his hands entwines with your hair, keeping you in place as he feverishly presses bruising kisses against your mouth, little gasps of your name said between them: a prayer of his, a mantra that makes your head spin more and more.

The reason is clear as he finally shares control with you, pushing his hips to meet yours on every thrust you direct, an unheard of keen leaving his throat as his brows furrow. You've driven him to new depths of voicing his need, and each slip of his pleasure has your confidence swell.

You manage to break apart from his lips, even when he nips yours once in an attempt to coax you back. To make up for it, your teeth trace his neck, worrying the skin there as you clench your inner walls, pulling another groan from him. He's so close. The impatience behind his actions, the way his neediness is rising, forfeiting subtly by the rise of his hips, the lapse in control of his hips.

“Gil,” the nickname is soft on your tongue, rolling off in a seductive tone you rarely muster. In response, his grip on you tightens, “you're the only one who can fill me up, Gil. I need it- I need you. I need to feel you deep inside me. Claiming me- mmph!”

Your own words are broken apart as he groans, pushing into your cunt as deep as he can manage.

A flush of heat pulses into you, making you whimper and clench onto him- instinctively, your pussy clamps down, coaxing him to spill every drop he has. He obliges, this time taking the remnants of control, delivering a handful of slow, harsh thrusts to delve his cum in deep before he inches his cock out of your swollen cunt. Leaving you resting on top of him as he drops his head back, letting out a long sigh of relief.

It's faint, but you can feel the heat that was spilled inside you. The sensation is odd, to say the least, but not unwelcome as it fills your thoughts with satisfaction; a perverse display of his love for you, intermingled with fulfillment of your unspoken wants.

As his cum leaks from your entrance, dribbling down your labia, the droplets collect on his abdomen. There's an impulse to apologize, to sheepishly use whatever is available to wipe away the proof of your desires hitting a new peak, but with exhaustion seeping deep into your muscles, you find it hard to care. You're both preoccupied with filling your lungs again, bathing in the afterglow of new experiences.

As you breathe life back into your tired body, a familiar sensation starts to creep back into your bones. Ache. A buzz of feeling exposed… embarrassment… you feel your cheeks begin to heat up, and it's then that Gilbert chuckles into your ear, arms staying firmly wrapped around you.

Peeking up at him, you're granted a lopsided grin- one that makes his eyes crinkle in joy. And suddenly, you're not so bashful when seeing your lover so relaxed and happy.

His lips find yours in a kiss still lingering with passion from before, cupping your cheek to keep you from shying away. A nip, and he draws out a giggle, smiling into the next kiss he gives you. Again and again, until you have to break to fill your lungs once more.

“Mmn, little rabbit… I like this side of you. You'll be showing it to me more, okay?”

You hide your grin against his chest, relieved from the worry weighted upon you from exploring your desires.

Thank you, Funger music covers, for helping me finally finish this.

This has actually been a wip since...........june................ it's been rough trying to get this out - I wanted to, but life had different plans. It's hard for me to look at it without feeling like it's so-so solely due to the fact that I've reread it SO much and the imagry in my head is hard to convey to words - however!! I think despite that, this is pretty good :] I'm happier with it now. Thank you RJ for cheerin me on with this one.

I think Gilbert loves being topped, and wants to be so badly. Apparently JP version might have an event about this? I'm expecting the typical cybird cop-out, but hey! Pushed me to finally finish this!

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[bunbitti]

Hello! Could I request a Sunday x halovian reader who has clipped wings? (Can be platonic or romantic)

Clipped.

:))

romantic-ish?

~800 words

tw: do clipped wings on a halovian count as mutilation? Also, Sunday being Sunday the control freak he is and pulling some strings behind your back

You were one of few Halovians that had more than just a halo. There were the Oak siblings, of course, who had both head wings and back wings, but not many others. 

Your wings were clipped. Not that a Halovian could fly (beyond the wings that would need to be massive to carry a person’s weight, the rest of their bodies were similar to a normal human’s, and therefore unfit for aerial movement), but every time you looked down at your wings, you felt a bit trapped. Regardless of whether it was done for ‘medical’ reasons or for anything else, it didn’t change the connotations. 

You weren’t meant to fly on your own, let alone succeed. Always working long hours doing the same thing, no change to your schedule, let alone improvement. Barely any time for yourself after chores, meals, and sleep. 

Your wings were always clipped whenever they molted. Again, again, again. You could never escape from it. You just wanted to give up at this point.

Your wings didn’t look right when in their resting position around your torso. Didn’t feel right, either. Feeling the flat, unnatural edge made you cringe. Even flapping them in the air felt viscerally wrong. You often held your hands near your waist as though to cover them up and pull the attention away from them, even if nobody was actually paying attention. 

That was when you met Sunday. Ever the charismatic Oak Family head, he was sometimes walking around to make sure things in the Land of the Dreams were working properly. 

He’d found you at your job in the Moment of Daybreak, weaving products that would be sold to the wealthiest of customers, all for the support of the Harmonious system that ran Penacony. He’d been passing by, making small-talk and greeting people to see how their jobs were going and if he should make any managerial changes to make their lives easier, but you looked down and noticed his raven-blue back wings neatly wrapped around his torso under his blazer. 

They were clipped. Instinctively, you wrapped your own back wings tighter around yourself, but it only drew his attention. 

His eyes followed your gaze to his own wings, then moved over to yours, which were far more harshly clipped than his own. At least at first glance, his looked relatively normal. Most outsiders didn’t know enough Halovians that had their wings out of their clothes to notice, and either way, his wings looked like a vest on top of his usual turtleneck. 

You missed the flicker of shock and pity in his eyes when he saw your clipped wings. 

In fact, he acted like nothing happened at all, and so you brushed it off. Maybe he hadn’t seen it. But you’d already gotten attached to the man countless levels in the Family hierarchy above you, making up wild stories in your head about how maybe he was also trapped in some way. 

However, you found yourself bumping into him gradually more often, almost so gradually that you hadn’t noticed. Not until you told some friends (were they friends? Or just acquaintances?) for the fifth time in a week that you met Sunday again, and they told you that nobody runs into the Oak Family head that often. 

Huh. 

Oh, well. Maybe he just likes you a bit. 

He invited you to private meals once in a while, under some excuse of wanting to reward members of the Family so they would be motivated to continue supporting the Harmony. Even he knew that a monotonous, exhausting life would eventually wear people out beyond what any motivation could provide. You didn’t need to know that you were the only Family member being ‘rewarded’. 

It was at those times that his wings were out instead of folded tightly around his waist. When he greeted you at the door and guided you inside, one wing would be lightly pressed against your back to usher you in, just as his hand rested on your upper back. 

His wings brushed against yours more times than you could count. Eventually, you were comfortable enough to let your own wings unfold, and returned the gesture. To touch wings, for Halovians, was something reserved only for the closest and dearest to a person. 

It was a while before you noticed you hadn’t been pressured to have your wings clipped, never realizing that it was because of Sunday’s influence. By the next molt, which tended to be very slow for Halovians, your wings were back to their full glory. 

The next time you shared a dinner with Sunday, you decided to be bold and put your wings behind his back to pull him close and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“—!”

— — — — — — — 

You awoke abruptly from a sweet dream that was supposed to last forever. 

There were supposed to be 7 rest days in a week.

The Dreampool is wet. 

You look down at your wings. 

Clipped.

[d34dlysinner]

So let’s say MC went back to human world after breaking all the pacts .Would the Kings miss MC ?

Don’t know if this is too nsfw but ,how would reunited sex be like with them? (this sound cringe )

Honestly they all would miss you. Its pretty hard to not miss someone who was there with you and helping you during the war, at the same time you bonded with them.

Satan:

To say that he made sure you wouldn't be able to walk back to earth would be an understatement. The moment you entered his room was the moment he decided he needed you to stay with him for a long time to come. It was as if he couldn't get tired at all. Your moans and cries made him even more motivated to continue. He made bitemarks all over your body as a way to say that you're his. He doesn't stop until he's somewhat satisfied. He wasn't too aggressive, but he did bang you until daybreak. It was at that moment that he decided to have a quick nap since he had business to do, but he didn't mind you staying in his room afterwards. He hoped to see you in his bed later when he was finished with his work.

Mammon:

It was as if he knew when you were going to return. He acted as if you've never left until you entered his room. He asked you to see him in his room at night which is where he was waiting to see you yet again that day. This time it showed that he missed you. His robe was discarded, leaving him with his full chest bare as he greeted you. He simply picked you up and dragged you to his bed where he took his sweet time exploring your body again. He sighed in relief everytime he would feel you'd hands explore him. It was as if he was depraved of any touch for centuries. He was sweet and slow. He didn't want to rush anything and wear you out too much.

Beelzebub:

He wasted no time in getting you into his room where he almost literally pounced on you. He may be mysterious at times, but these were one of the moments he is acting as himself. He wasted no time to undress the both of you as his lips started to go over your body to taste you yet again. He would say things like how he missed your taste or wanted to see your reactions again. He felt like that night should all be about you. So he took his time with the foreplay and only proceeded to intercourse the moment you start to beg for him to stop the foreplay and go to the actual deed. He wanted time to taste you but banging you went by faster. He did manage to make you tired at the end and decided to stop there and cuddle with you.

Leviathan:

He was needy and it showed. He doesn't go out of his coffin or room a lot since he could do his work there, but the moment he was informed about your return was the moment he left his Palace for an extended period. He wanted to hug you when he saw you again, but his personality and his fears stopped him in his tracks. He would hug you back if you decided to hug him, but he wouldn't initiate that in public. His mood switched from shy to very assertive the moment you both were alone in a room. He look you straight in the face when he asked to have some fun with you. So that's how you both end up banging each other the whole evening. He was clingy. It was as if you would leave again the moment your skin separates from his. He didn't like the feeling of your warmth going away so his hands and lips were all over you. At the end he cuddled with you, dick still in you since he doesn't want to feel any part of you to separate from him.

[psalmlover]

I will awaken the dawn with my worship, greeting the daybreak with my songs of light.

[paimonial-rage]

obvious - neuvillette

ship: neuvillette x reader synopsis: he can't understand how you always see through him. is he that easy to read? notes: 3k words

Neuvillette didn’t know when he realized it. You must’ve been visiting him for at least a year at that point. Perhaps it was because it was such a small thing, something that most people wouldn’t even raise a brow at. Or maybe it was because he wasn’t in tune with it like most humans were that it took something rather large for it to stand out. Whatever it was, the moment he noticed it, he couldn’t stop noticing every single time after. 

He still remembered the day like it was yesterday. Though he often enjoyed the rain, the weather that time around had more of a somber note. It was the day after he apologized to Miss Navia, genuinely apologized to her. All evening it felt as if his stomach was thrown about like the waves of the sea, and when daybreak finally came, he wasn’t much better. He wanted nothing more than to sit out on his balcony in the rain, but duty called and it was to Palais Mermonia he went.

Despite the storm raging outside, work went as normal. New cases were placed on his desk and visits from the Melusines were received. You arrived on time just as you regularly did in the late morning on the third day of the work week. You greeted him before entering and in your hands was a package marked with that familiar Komaniya Express logo. He remembered finding it impressive how there seemed to be no proof of the storm from the dryness of your skin.

He greeted you as he normally did, to which you returned according to custom. But even he could see the nearly imperceptible confusion within your eyes when you took the sight of him in. It made him self-conscious, as if perhaps his clothing were askew. Surely someone would’ve pointed it out before if it were that noticeable. But when concern was reflected in your eyes after, he wasn’t sure what to think. 

“Here you go, Monsieur Neuvillette. This particular batch of bottled water is from Mondstadt’s Springvale. It’s from, well, a spring where it’s rumored that a fairy lives. Included is the first volume of the book series, Heart of Clear Springs, which recounts the tale of the fairy and the promise she made with a young boy. Now I don’t know too much about Fontanian opera, but I think this one makes for an interesting story!”

“Is that so?” He asked. “Then I will have to read it for myself.”

You nodded as you first handed him the package, then a clipboard for signature.

“Yes, and tell me what you think. If you’d like me to procure the rest of the series for you, please put an order in with the Komaniya Express.”

“I will be sure to do that,” he agreed as he handed back the clipboard back to you. “Do you perhaps have some time today?”

It became a normal question of his after you curiously asked one time if he could tell the difference between the water you brought him. After that, it became a custom to sample different bottles with him whenever you had the time. It was enjoyable for him to share his hobby with someone else, even if your taste wasn’t as discerning as his. 

But when you turned him down with an apologetic smile, he couldn’t help but notice the slight twinge in his chest. Apparently, it was a busy time for the company, so you had a heavy load that day. But even though you were in a hurry, you paused at the door to his office before leaving, that look he noticed earlier back in your eyes. 

“I don’t know what happened, but try not to be too hard on yourself, Monsieur Neuvillette. It’s foolish to expect perfection, even from long-lived species like us. So cheer up, okay?” 

And with a kind smile, you then bid him adieu. 

After you left, confusion sat within him. He had been told more than once that he was a difficult person to read, but you picked up on his mood the moment you entered his office. At first, he thought it could have been because of the Steambird. The case of the previous day stole its front page. But that couldn’t have been it. You told him once you only read the paper in the evening due to starting the work day so early. So what cued you in?

But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that you had always been like that, pointing out his moods. How quick you were to take one look at him and deem the day as a “good one.” Or those times after difficult conversations with Furina you’d kindly reassured him that a relaxing rainy day would come soon. A few times you even brought water from rarer places as a “pick-me-up” from the week before. 

Was he that obvious?

It made him wonder how long you had been picking up on his moods. He assumed you were only attempting to make conversation, but remembering back, you were right all those times. The days that you mentioned were good, he found himself able to sleep easily. And on the days you’d try to reassure him, there the rain would come early, but not the enjoyable kind. 

You didn’t change following that key visit. In fact, he noticed even more things about you. The days you were able to stay for a while, you did not treat him as if he were a celebrity. You could talk about recent events with ease. You’d ask him questions about recent cases and shows at the Opera Epiclese. You’d even tease him about his interest in the waters of Teyvat. With you, he felt normal, like he was any other person. 

Perhaps you stood out the most to him that day a few days after Lady Furina renounced her deityhood and left the Palais Mermonia. She left so quietly it was as if it was never her home for the past 500 years. Words could not describe the emptiness her void left him. All the thoughts of that day swirled within his mind like an unending vortex. Guilt, confusion, pain, regret—nothing could free him from the storm that was his mind. 

The day you arrived wasn’t one of your normal. It was the weekend nearing the time he ended for the day. And you had nothing in your hands, not a box nor glass bottle. One look of your face told him you already knew what happened. It didn’t surprise him. It was the headlines of the Steambird for the past few days, after all. You also weren’t a stranger to the more stressful times of the previous few weeks, doing your best to distract him with lighthearted chatter whenever you came by for delivery.

This time, you didn’t smile, nor did you point out his mood. You didn’t distract him with strange happenings on your journeys, nor bring up the news. Instead, with solemn eyes, you apologized for surprising him with such a sudden visit. You said you heard about everything that happened and you… were worried about him. Then you asked something no one else had since, well, everything.

“How are you?”

There were many ways he could’ve answered that question. He could mention the emptiness he felt when passing that vacant apartment at the top of Palais Mermonia every evening. He could chat about how it bothered him how the Melusines seemed to move on too quickly from Lady Furina’s absence. He could even talk about the guilt he still felt regarding that no doubt traumatizing trial he forcibly put her through. But he said none of those things. Instead, he answered truthfully.

“I don’t know.”

And that was the truth, wasn’t it? By all means, he should have been feeling relief. The people of Fontaine were not dissolved in water, nor was Lady Furina left weeping upon her throne alone. He received the power that was rightfully his and became a true dragon once more. It was the perfect outcome, was it not? But that was anything but he felt. 

“If you want, you can tell me about it,” you said. At his hesitation, you continued, “Sometimes talking about things with someone else can help you untangle everything you’re feeling inside.”

Were you right? He wasn’t sure. There weren’t many people he found himself opening up to. Such was rather hard as the Iudex. His words were as solid as law. It didn’t help either that he was put on a pedestal by Melusines and humans alike. They could never imagine someone like him could be privy to human emotions like themselves. But you weren’t a Fontanian, were you? And never did you treat him like a god. You saw him as he was, a person. But…

“You don’t need to if you don’t want to,” you followed up. “I do understand that not everything can be said.”

But he shook his head.

“There are so many things to be said that words are failing me.” He let out a shuddering sigh. “I’m afraid nothing can rightfully describe what I feel about the events that have occurred.”

You nodded.

“I can see that,” you replied, seeing truth within his eyes. 

And with that, silence unfolded between you both. Though Neuvillette couldn’t quite pin it as uncomfortable, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of guilt because of it. Here you were on possibly your day off and he couldn’t bring it within himself to be a good host. But lost in thoughts as he was, it caught him off guard when you continued.

“I may be sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong, but I can see in your eyes that horrible wrongs have occurred. And you feel guilty over it.”

He looked away as you managed to hit a bit too on the nose. But your words weren’t sympathetic nor accusatory, simply pointing out the truth. 

“If I may, Monsieur Neuvillette, I’m sure you know this, but justice is not meant to be a preventative measure. Justice can only exist when a wrong has occurred because it is the job of justice to make things right.”

You then put your hand upon his.

“You may not be able to change the past, but you are the Iudex, the representation of justice in Fontaine. If anyone can make things right, wouldn’t that be you?”

The part that blamed himself wished to argue with you. That it wasn’t as simple as you made it out to be. That try as he may, there was still a chance he might—

“You won’t fail. Everyone knows the kind of person you are. Even if you may make a mistake or say the wrong thing, they will see the truth and intent behind your words and actions. Believe in yourself more, Monsieur Neuvillette. You are a good person. If you just try, they will understand you.”

Was that the truth? He didn’t quite know himself. There were so many things he wished to say to Lady Furina, but how could he after hurting her like that? Wouldn’t his presence only make her trauma worse? But he couldn’t argue with your words. Your eyes conveyed everything you said to be truth. You whole-heartedly believed it to be. 

“I have never understood human emotion. Knowing what to do or say has always troubled me, and I know I have hurt people before,” he began with a troubled expression before smiling at you, “But your words give me a bit of confidence.”

You laughed. 

“If I accomplished anything today, I am glad it is at least that. You are a wonderful person, Monsieur Neuvillette, and everyone seems to know that but you. Sometimes I find it sad to see.”

He coughed. 

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

That evening, you were not bound by the restraints your job put upon you, so you accepted his invitation to dinner. You asked him about the future plans of Fontaine and the rebuilding efforts. He inquired about the missing package you discovered a few weeks back. And when he finally returned back to his home, for the first time in weeks, he was able to sleep with ease. 

It was ever since then that something began to change in him. Though he always enjoyed your company, he found himself inviting you to stay longer during your weekly deliveries. He’d even ask if you’d like to accompany him to showings at the Opera Epliclese. Seeing you once a week simply was not enough any longer. When you’d inevitably leave after each visit, he’d be left with a strange empty feeling in his chest. 

It most certainly didn’t help that you’d always laugh when he’d ask you to stay as if you seen through him from the very start. Your beautiful eyes would sparkle and a hint of pink would tint your cheeks. You always seemed to know when his eyes were on you, to which you’d always look away in a terrible attempt to hide the small smile upon your lips. You enjoyed his company as much as he enjoyed yours. But it still wasn’t enough.

He decided to tell Furina about it on a day she invited him to tea. The time they spent together was always a delight, much thanks to your words of encouragement. But this time around, his admittance toward wanting you near threw his companion into a state of confusion. Pressed back against her chair with her cup of freshly spilled tea upon the floor and an incredulous flustered expression upon her face, she looked at him in horror.

“Do… Do you really not know?” She asked, doing her best to keep her voice gentle.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean. Is it… supposed to mean something?” He asked.

Furina abruptly stood with a start and began to pace within her small living room, cheeks flushed and face in hands. After a few moments, she then stopped and turned to him.

“You’ve spent hours with this person, even inviting them to spend time with you outside of work, because you feel lonely when they’re gone and still you don’t know what it means!?” She groaned.

Ignoring the way she seamlessly transitioned back into her hydro archon persona, he couldn’t help but feel a bit sheepish at her exasperation. She knew very well he did not understand emotions, but was this as big of a deal as she was making it out to be? He really didn’t think this was that important of a matter. Was there anything wrong with wishing to spend more time with you? 

“I suppose it can be said that I view them as a good friend,” he began so as to fish for the right answer. 

But apparently, it was the wrong one, for she went right back to burying her face in her hands, this time while twisting around as if trying to shake off a bug. 

“Just how many operas have you watched? Were you not paying attention to any of them?” She accused pointedly. 

She finally stabbed a finger into his chest with frustration blazing in her eyes.

“You are in love, Neuvillette. In. Love.”

Needless to say, he left her home that day with much to think about. If she was right—he didn’t doubt her words—what was he to do next? He enjoyed spending time with you, that was true. He always felt a pang of sadness whenever you left. And if he had to think about it more, he found you, well, stunning. The softness of your smile, the sparkle in your eyes—his heart soared when he was the cause of it. 

But he couldn’t exactly say if his feelings for you meant he should act on it. There were many things to consider. You weren’t from Fontaine, and your job had you on the move most of the time. As Iudex, he didn’t have much free time either. But those problems paled in comparison to the main problem at hand. 

What were your feelings for him?

Such were the state of his thoughts the next time you arrived and accepted his invitation to stay for a bit. So nervous he was with his newfound feelings that he truly didn’t know much of what he was speaking about. His heart was nearly beating out of his chest, and deep down, he was near positive you were looking right through him. You always could. 

But if that were the case, why didn’t you seem surprised? Why did you always accept his invitations? Why did your lips curl into that beautiful smile when your eyes fell upon him? Why did a flush color your cheeks whenever he asked you to stay? Why did you look at him like that, like–

“You’re in love.”

His words spoken aloud only registered in his mind when your eyes blown wide and posture froze tense. He didn’t mean to say it, he didn’t mean to speak, but the damage was already dealt. By the way your mouth hung open, it seemed you were trying to find what to say, but no words came. Eventually, you could do nothing more than to hide your face in what he could only assume to be embarrassment and outrage. 

As much guilt as he felt for throwing you into such a state, he also could not deny the sorrow that rose up within his heart. He thought you could possibly… But that was foolish, wasn’t it? He didn’t understand human emotions. He knew that. But when you looked at him like that, how could he not let his hubris rise? In the end, he was mistaken. And that mistake would cost him you. He looked away.

“I apologize–”

“Monsieur Neuvillette…” 

And just like that, his attention was brought back to you once more. How could he ignore the sound of his name upon your tongue, especially when you called it so softly? And though your hands still covered your face and your eyes seen between spread fingers still avoided his, he could see that you were not upset, nor were you ashamed. Rather, you were completely and utterly flustered as if all along, he had been–

“Am I that obvious?”

[rinhaler]

I Got Your Bitch Movin'

CHAPTER SUMMARY: the morning after being stranded with Megumi. He's intent on forcing you to have fun.

boyfriend!yuuji itadori x f!reader x bully!megumi fushiguro

WARNINGS : 18+, alcohol consumption, drug consumption, infidelity, gaslighting, manipulation, paranoia.

WORDS : 7.1k

notes : five chapters left from fuwushiguro aaaaaa

       LAST CHAPTER ┊ MASTERLIST ┊ NEXT CHAPTER

—

The morning greets you as you lay in bed between the deathly limbo of wake and sleep.

Your eyes are swollen, bleary.

Thoughts aren’t yet yours and you can’t help but wonder if you’re thinking about the dreams of the previous night you had or if you’re starting to regain your own memories.

There is a gnawing memory of feeling bitterly cold before you fell asleep. So it’s odd now that daybreak has arrived you’re practically lying in a pool of your own sweat.

Your skin is coated and your forehead is drenched.

It’s nice to be in Yuuji’s arms again, at least. His chest is bare and you’ve never felt so at home with your body held firmly against his chest. You snuggle in closer and he pulls you in tighter as you decide to go back to sleep.

Regardless of your decision, your vision is greedy.

You can’t refrain from opening up your eyes and looking at your surroundings. This isn’t your house. You left your house yesterday morning. In the car with Toji and Megumi. You went on a trip with your class.

You spent the day with Megumi.

You guys missed the bus. You went bowling. You argued. You stayed in the hotel with Megumi. With a racing heart and thrumming bass in your head, you sit upright and turn around.

You hadn’t been in the arms of your pink-haired boyfriend.

You’re cuddled up with your black-haired bully.

Fuck.

You scream. The loudest scream you ever have,

“The hell’s the matter with you?” You fall to the ground and back away from him quickly, watching him as he sits up and rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

The morning sun casts shadows on his weary body.

He looks like a demon.

Isn’t he surprised that the two of you were all cosy in bed together? He’s always so nonchalant. Your breathing slows as you try and rationalise everything in your mind. By the blaring beat in your brain and the heaviness of your limbs, you deduct that you had been drinking last night.

You don’t remember anything.

He doesn’t seem hungover.

So he’s likely as calm as he is because he does remember the details. But there’s no possible explanation that could justify why you were in bed together.

Let alone while he’s naked.

“Why are you in my bed? Did we—”

“No, we didn’t. And actually, O’Keeffe, you crawled into my bed last night because you were freezing. Nothin’ scandalous.”

“You’re lying, aren’t you? You’re naked under there. Please, Megumi, you need to tell me if I cheated on Yuuji.” you beg, hoping he’ll do the decent thing for once in his life and tell you the truth.

He shakes his head, sighing. The duvet is pulled from his body as he reveals his bottom half still in his sweatpants and underwear.

“Thank you, God.”

“If you hadn’t noticed, the receptionist wasn’t lying about the weather change for the festival. It’s boiling, so I threw my shirt off in the middle of the night.” he tells you.

You probably would have been better off sleeping alone if you knew what temperature was going to replace the chilling air last night. Two warm bodies under one blanket was never going to work out well.

He keeps staring at you; or rather, the state of you. Covered in a gross, sheen layer of stickiness and your messy hair practically glued to your forehead. You watch him roll over and pick up a carton of cigarettes, lighting one up to smoke while he falls further into his bed. A morning ritual, you suspect.

But you’re wrong.

Like every other vice, smoking for Megumi is rare. He does it when he’s worked up about something.

In this case, and all other cases as of late, you.

The fact that you’re stuck in the middle of nowhere for the foreseeable also isn’t ideal. So what’s a little nicotine to take the edge off?

“You look like shit,” he laughs, instantly feeling at ease as the cancerous smoke tars his lungs. “I got you a glass of water for the side of your bed, you forgot to bring it over.”

“I’ll be fine after a drink and my aspirin. And… a shower. Maybe more sleep, too.” you inform him. He nods, agreeing, closing his eyes as he lets his cigarette hang between his lips. “What time is it?” you ask him.

His eyes open again, unsure if he can be bothered to help you answer that question. But he rolls over again to grab his phone. 7:17am. He tosses his phone away and lies on his stomach with his cigarette holding hand resting above the ashtray on his side table.

You cannot bear the thought of being fully awake at such an ungodly time. It’s enough to make you dive into your own bed and quickly take your painkillers before lying back down. It’s stupid, you know, because really you should be using every second to your advantage to figure out how you’re going to get home. But you aren’t up to it. Tiredness and alcohol rage through your bloodstream and you know it isn’t a good idea to push yourself beyond your limits.

“More sleep… just five more minutes.”

“Fuck that, princess. I’ve set an alarm for 10.” he tells you. You turn over to face him and laugh. It sounds good. It’s still so early, you’ll be able to get plenty of things done if you wake up feeling better at that time. “Gotta call my dad again, and Gojo.”

“Where's Gerald?!” you yell sitting upright again as you search under your covers for your brand new shark plush. Megumi grunts and he throws him at you. “Ow.” you instinctively respond as he connects with your head.

He's too soft to hurt you, it's just a reflex.

“I’m so fucking tired. You’re such a loud snorer.” he laughs, raising his head slightly to take another drag of his cigarette before he sinks back into his pillow.

You roll your eyes, ignoring him. You have absolutely zero desire to waste your time arguing with him about whether or not you snore when there is valuable rest to be gained.

—

The alarm startles you as it practically screams and stabs through your nervous system. You’re all too familiar with the recognisable iPhone default alarm you’ve been conditioned to hate over the years of early morning classes.

It doesn’t scare you as much as it does Megumi, though. The poor guy shocks himself straight out of bed. You can’t help but snicker, trying to keep your volume to a minimum as you roll away and pray he can’t see the smirk forming on your face.

He gets up for the first time that morning. It’s hotter than it was at 7am. The windows need to be open, he decides. The room is stuffy and unbearable. Much like he imagines the rest of today will be if you continue to be stranded.

“Better start making some calls.” Megumi groans.

Neither of you are sure where to start. And you’re beginning to think you’re going to have to swallow your pride and let your parents cover the cost of a cab back home. The idea gets stuck in your throat like poorly swallowed medication. You can barely think about it let alone go through with it. You’re sure Megumi will try and force you again, if Toji and Gojo are unreliable for a second day in a row.

It's cute, you think, watching Megumi struggle to choose which dad he wants to call first. Having a little more understanding about his past is giving you the opportunity to really see how much he cares about Toji.

He doesn’t like him, not by a long shot. But you can see the obvious love there. The respect. The familial bond that he can’t seem to break no matter how desperately he tries to.

And that is why he calls him first.

It’s uncomfortable to watch the phone ring again and again. You suppose it is still pretty early. You aren’t sure what Toji’s sleeping pattern is like, but he hasn’t let either of you be late to class since you started carpooling. And he always seems fairly chipper in the mornings.

It could be a caffeine fix, or something even peppier he might unknowingly share in common with his son.

So, is sleeping in a valid excuse to not answer the phone? It goes to voicemail, prompting him to try again. He growls when he’s met with the same disappointing outcome.

“Fucker. He’s ignoring me, you try.” he commands. You get up in search of your phone. Who knows where it ended up last night when you were falling all over the place when you returned to the room? It’s eventually found by Megumi when he helps join the search. It was in your pants pocket in the bathroom.

He holds it up and sees your screensaver.

You and Yuuji.

It makes him scowl and sigh before he tosses it to you. His box of cigarettes begins calling his name. You watch him flop back onto his bed and light another one up. He doesn’t know why he’s so irrationally angry. He doesn’t know what’s causing him to chain smoke like a damn chimney when it’s usually just an occasional pleasure. The edge needs to be taken off somehow, and he doesn’t think he can be bothered to make you cry this early in the day.

“He’s not ignoring you. No answer to me either, must be busy.” you tell him as you press the red button and put your phone down on the side table. You see Megumi start to type so quickly his thumbs become a blur. Likely scolding Toji for being a piece of shit father, as usual.

“Shady prick,” he mutters under his breath. You decide to let it slide and ignore the comment.

There’s nothing you can say to make him see the good in his dad. The truth of it is that maybe you need to start truly seeing the bad. It’s in the flesh sharing a room with you right now.

The monster that Toji spawned and couldn’t raise efficiently. He might be sweet to you, but if he can’t be sweet to his own kids it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t make him a good person, the opposite, really. “Whatever you’re thinking about, stop. No need to pout, I’ll try Gojo.”

You watch his finger swipe through his hundreds of contacts as he tries to locate the relevant name. It makes you feel like a voyeur, seeing him do something so simple and human as looking for people to call.

Part of you wishes you could see his screen. Is his surrogate father named in his contacts as Gojo or dad? Or maybe something different entirely, something derogatory to fit with the playfulness of Satoru.

“Megumi! Sorry about yesterday bud, I hope you and the future Mrs. Itadori behaved yourselves. Two crazy kids sharing a hotel room, hah? Sounds like a bad soap opera.” his voice instantly grates on you and Megumi regrets putting him on loudspeaker for you both to hear. You both groan loud enough for Gojo to hear and make him laugh.

“Separate beds, Gojo. And you’re on speaker so try to act your age for once in your life.” Megumi reprimands him as if he is the parent in the situation. It takes Gojo aback slightly, but nothing to knock his trademark annoying confidence off track. “My dad isn’t answering his phone, so, you’ll have to come pick us up today.”

“As much as I love your delightful manners, I can’t. And I must say Megumi it sure sounds weird to hear you call him dad. It’s always been Toji for so long, what’s changed?”

“Slip of the tongue.” Megumi answers, immediately. You can’t tell if it’s guilt or embarrassment that has led him to correct himself to Gojo so hastily.

“You know, certain people can evoke special feelings in you. A challenging presence can make you see the good in the world and other people. Although Toji and I will never get along, I think it’s nice to hear you’re in a forgiving spirit and trying to make it work even after so many disappointments.”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

“I’ll admit, it hurts a little. A man who barely raised you earns the title of dad but I’m just plain ol’ Gojo.”

“I’m not having this conversation over the phone, or ever, actually. What time are you coming to get us?” Megumi puts an end to the uncomfortable conversation you almost wish you hadn’t been present for. But overall, you’re glad. Hearing him be somewhat normal with someone as goofy as Gojo is heart warming to say the least. Perhaps there is some humanity in the monster born of Toji Fushiguro, after all.

“Call me dad and I’ll tell you.”

“No.”

“Alright, fine. I’m still out of town so it’ll have to be tomorrow.” Gojo sighs. It’s a crushing blow and you can’t tell who out of the three of you is more disappointed.

Another day stuck in the hotel with Megumi.

Admittedly it hadn’t been as bad as you were expecting thus far. But there’s still time. And Megumi is flippant. His mood and aggression towards you can change in the blink of an eye.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me. We’re out of town! What’s so important that you can’t drive a few extra hours to collect your stranded kid and a girl?” Megumi bites down the line. You sigh, huffing a strand of hair out of your face as you realise what you are to him. All you are to him is a girl. Not his victim. Not his classmate. A girl.

“Oh now you’re my kid, huh? Interesting. Doesn’t change anything though. I’m way out of town. As in I’m setting off tonight and I’ll be there in the morning to get you guys.”

“Hi, Gojo, it’s me. Obviously. I was just wondering what’s keeping you from setting off now and getting us tonight. I’m sure you can imagine how uncomfortable it is for me to be sharing a room with another man, a man who bullies me on a daily basis. And for Megumi to be sharing a room with… a girl, he loathes.” you speak up, Megumi rolls his eyes at your comment and opts to ignore you. He’s more intrigued to hear what Gojo has to say over putting you in your place.

“I doubt Megumi will be interested in the gory details but a man has needs. The needs just so happened to take me on a wild road trip and more attention gained than intended, not that I’m complaining.”

“Enough. Fine, Gojo. One more night but if you don’t show tomorrow we’re fucking done. Tomorrow morning, I mean it. Get us the hell out of here.” Megumi tells him sternly. You know he has the power to follow through on his words. And yet, you’re unsure if he’ll change his mind when it comes to Gojo.

“Don’t worry, Megumi. There’s only one father figure in your life who’s usually a no show, and we both know it isn’t me.”

The sound of Gojo hanging up the phone is almost deafening. A damaging melody that pricks through your veins. Megumi is visibly irritated, you’d be a fool not to see it. But it’s only because he knows he’s right. Gojo has never let him down in his life. Toji, on the other hand, only seems to let him down. It’s a bothersome truth that makes his hands begin to shake as he grips his thighs. If he wasn’t so volatile at all times, you’d comfort him. Rush to his side and take his hands in yours and tell him it’s going to be okay.

But you can’t.

Instead, you get out of bed and stand to your feet.

“I’m going in the shower,” you tell him. He watches you walk around your bed and head towards the bathroom door.

“Wait,” he speaks, forcing you to halt your actions and wait for him to continue. “I think we should go buy some festival clothes, today.”

“Why?”

“Are you dense? So we can go to the festival, obviously.”

“I keep getting into trouble when I do things with you. I don’t think it’s a good idea… I mean, you go. Call that girl and take her instead. I’ll just hang out here and work on my dissertation or something.”

“Shut up you’re not doing that. You don’t get into trouble with me, because you’re a fucking angel. You live to please everyone and be a good girl, don’t you? It’s not trouble, it’s fun. Don’t you wanna have fun? It’ll be the first time in your whole life, I’m sure.”

“See, this, is not going to work. I’ve had fun but you wouldn’t know that because you, well, you know what you are. So you’re not going to manipulate me with your little mind games into thinking I need to prove myself to you. I don’t. Now, if you don’t mind. I’d quite like to shower.”

“Fine, if that’s how you want to be. I’ll call that girl right now and go with her instead.”

“Great.”

“Yeah, great. Gonna have fun and I’ll probably bring her back here and have even more fun. You might want to figure out somewhere else to be tonight.”

His words grab your attention and he smirks at the way you pout. He promised. Even though you gave him the idea to call up the girl from the store you didn’t think he’d take it as far as to threaten to bring her back here. It’s your own fault, really, for thinking a single word that left his lips held any value.

“Don’t, you said—”

“I said? I said I wanna have fun today, so if you aren’t on board I’ll make my own fun. You’re not gettin’ in the way of my good time and if that involves me bringing a girl back to fuck, you aren’t going to stop me.” there he is, the real him.

He’s such a prick you can’t even think straight as you consider what an idiot you are time and time again. Each time there is a shred of decency in him it’s torn away moments later. A speckle of humanity replaced by a plume of toxic smoke.

“Shopping… sounds good. I’ll never turn down new clothes. So, lets have… fun.”

“Atta girl, that’s more like it.” Megumi snarls. “Hurry up O’Keeffe. Wastin’ precious time here. Gonna make today one to remember.”

—

No one brings out a worse side of you than Megumi Fushiguro. He’s seen you at your angriest and saddest. But for some reason his intentions have blossomed into something even more sinister, although it might not seem as such to your untrained eyes. He just wants to have fun, you think.

He does, but there is a brand new goal in mind.

The purity emanating off of you is just so sickening to him. Why have you got such a wholesome aura about you when he is completely and utterly rotten to the core?

Corruption.

That’s his new plan. You were closer to the truth than you knew when you accused him of getting you into trouble. Was it wrong of him to lie? Was it wrong of him to gaslight you and make you think that wasn’t anywhere near his intention? Of course.

But Megumi Fushiguro rarely gives a fuck about what is right and wrong.

He has always wanted to ruin you. The method in how has grown into something new. Easier, he suspects. There is so much trouble he can really get you into. Ruin that perfect, sweet image you try so desperately to maintain whenever you can.

He’s had enough of it.

What is there to enjoy about being the way everyone wants you to be? There’s a little devil in you, he’s certain. He’s going to do everything in his power to force it out of you.

You don’t object when he suggests waiting outside of your changing room to confer with you about your outfit choices.

He’s never felt like this before.

A rich kid.

Admittedly, the store isn’t expensive and the clothes aren’t designer. But being with you and seeing how willing you are to blow money from your parents credit card on whatever you want is making him feel like a cliché.

He wasn’t rich growing up. Toji figures throwing money at the problem that is his son is as good a way as any to earn forgiveness.

Megumi wasn’t about to object to that.

Each time you step out of the changing room there’s only one word permeating his sealed lips.

Skimpier

Skimpier

Skimpier

It’s the only thing he wants to say, but you both know he’s smarter than that. He manages to put a unique spin on the word and translate it into something more innocent. Something that will actually encourage you to obey without knowing he’s manipulating you. He hasn’t earnt that right yet. Despite having a good familiarity in such a short period of time on how to handle you, he isn’t quite where he needs to be with you yet.

Skimpier = I’m sure you can do better than that.

Skimpier = I like it, but I think the other girls here will go all out.

Skimpier = The colour is nice, but, do you really want to be shown up by me?

He’s finally satisfied when you emerge one last time from behind the curtain. It’s obvious you feel a little self conscious, though he’s confident a few compliments will get you out of your shell.

You’re substantially taller than usual given the white, lace up, platform boots you’re now wearing. It’s embarrassing to stand in front of Megumi in so little clothing. You’re essentially in a bra and panties. It’s more like a bikini, really, purple holographic material covering your intimate flesh. You found a pair of gem studded, white, fishnet tights to wear with it as well as a purple tutu. The tutu somehow makes you look even sluttier despite it adding an additional layer.

“Perfect,” Megumi grins, “Excuse me, miss? Do you have any accessories for the festival that might go with my friend's outfit?” he asks. The girl turns around and your blood runs cold when you realise it’s the girl he gave his number to yesterday. She simply scoffs and barges by one of her co-workers who looks at her incredulously. She apologises on her behalf and picks up some purple butterfly hairclips for you to wear.

“I see people wear pigtails with these clips if that helps.” the assistant tells you. Megumi raises his eyebrows and nods thinking it’s a great idea. There’s something about pigtails that for whatever reason drive him wild. Maybe it’s the idiotic innocence of them. Grown women donning them in an attempt to look youthful. There is something thrilling about the prospect of making you go off the rails and become a totally new person before Yuuji comes back from his trip.

He might not even recognise you.

“I’m not sure about this, Megumi.” you admit. He squints his eyes hoping it comes across as thoughts rather than disdain, urging you to continue. “What are you wearing?”

“Why tell you when I can show you?” Megumi grins as he steps into the changing room beside you.

You are standing for a good five minutes before you decide to steal the seat he had been sitting in. Whatever he’s picked must have a lot of accessories for him to be taking this long for him to be fully dressed. Even the sales assistant tries to keep you entertained with idle chit chat as you wait.

He emerges and you are almost lost for words. A lot of accessories was an understatement. He’s wearing ridiculous flared blue jeans and has decided to go shirtless. You had no idea what kind of body he’d been hiding beneath his clothes the entire time but you definitely weren’t expecting him to be so fucking defined. In fact, he has a similar body type to Yuuji. The reason he had taken so fucking long to get dressed is because he was covering his arms in plastic kandi bracelets. He also had a few matching necklaces on him and he is sucking on a strawberry lollipop as he leaned against the changing room door.

“Oh my… you look like a—”

“A what?”

“A slut, Megumi. You look, hah, you look like a total slut!”

“Perfect, so we match. Exactly what I wanted.” he teases back as he goes back to sucking on the lollipop. He reaches into the pocket of his new jeans and tosses another one at you.

“The fashion here is wild,” you say as you begin unwrapping the plastic packaging on your lolly, “is it a town choice or just for the festival? It’s very rave-y.” you ask the clerk. She nods, completely agreeing with you as soon as the words leave your mouth.

“Yeah, um, to be honest a lot of people are against the festival now. It started as quite a sweet wholesome event but it’s turned into a more youth focused event. An excuse to get drunk and mess around, really. So yeah, it’s pretty much a big rave nowadays.” she explains.

Your eyes find Megumi’s and he’s immediately raising his eyebrows in quick succession when they meet. Trouble. You know it and he knows it.

But, as she said, this is a youth focused event. Megumi and yourself definitely qualify. He holds out his hand for you to shake; an agreement under the phrase ‘I’ll wear mine if you wear yours’. And honestly, you don’t see the harm if you both look so stupid.

The pair of you receive an array of disapproving looks as you sit and wiggle on the check out desks while the cashiers scan the items you’re wearing. You don’t particularly feel proud that you raise your leg for the man to scan your boots and more or less flash him your new bikini bottoms. Megumi spends far too long getting each individual bracelet and necklace scanned. But by the end of it all, they aren’t disappointed when you give them each a hefty tip courtesy of your credit cards.

“You’re dumb with money.” Megumi tells you.

“Look who’s talking!”

“You’ve always had money, but you’re still a little shopping addict. It’s new to me, I’m having fun.”

“Well I’m trying to have fun too. Wasn’t that what you wanted today?”

“You got me there,” he chuckles to himself. “I was thinking of something else fun we could do.”

Before you can answer, he’s pulling you into a fast food restaurant and holding your hand as the two of you run upstairs. He scans the area to make sure no one is around and drags you into the toilets. He shoves you against the sinks and lifts you up onto the edge.

Your heart is pounding.

It’s intense and heated and you feel like you’re being manhandled by Yuuji when he’s worked up after a shitty day at school. You wonder if he’s thinking about the time he pressed his lips against yours at your parents house.

He wonders if you’re thinking the same.

Your chest is heaving and your eyes are vibrating. He watches as your vision alternates between his eyes and his mouth. Your mind is spinning and you’re under the weight of too many heavy emotions you can’t think straight. But despite all of that, you wouldn’t do this to Yuuji, would you?

He helps answer the question as he backs away from you a little and pulls his wallet out of his back pocket. You’re starting to worry he’s about to pull a condom out. But it turns out to be worse than that.

“This is fun.” he tells you, dangling a bag of cocaine in front of your face. He laughs at the slither of saliva that bulges down your throat as you gulp heartily. He knows you’ve never done drugs before. Other than when he spiked you, obviously. He could have laced the coke with anything. He’s playing the long game with you, you think. You shake your head, telling him you want nothing to do with the white powder.

“I don’t feel comfortable doing that, with you.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m fucking scared. Of drugs and you. I don’t know where I stand with you Megumi and I am too naïve and trusting to keep falling for your little tricks and schemes.”

“You think I did something to this?”

“I—”

“C’mere,” he mutters. He shoves your torso back until your head hits off the mirrored wall behind you. You gasp as he pries your knees apart, opening your legs. You quickly slam them shut but it’s a waste of time. He opens them again and gives you a warning look. “Hold still, and watch.” he commands.

He tips some of the coke onto your thigh and uses his pinkie finger to move it into a straight line. You look at him intently as he holds his right nostril with a finger and lowers his face down to the drug on your leg. It’s impossible not to stare as a raven head of hair moves further up your thigh and towards your cunt. He tilts his head, insisting that you hold eye contact with him as he consumes every last speck of coke onto his tongue.

You’re breathless by the end of it. But it isn’t the end. He shoves his little finger into your mouth to lick the remaining residue off him. He’s proven it isn’t laced, at least. Still though, there’s no fucking reason that you needed to obey.

A fucking people pleaser through and through.

“Good girl,” he praises and coos as you hum around his finger, “it’s good, isn’t it? Wanna try it properly?” he asks. You’re hesitant. You know it isn’t right. You know Toji will kick his ass when he finds out he even suggested it let alone pressured you into it. But what can you say? You succumb to his will, nodding meekly and agreeing to his ridiculous stupid idea.

“How do I— I’ve changed my mind this is stupid. I feel stupid. Fuck, Megumi, I really hate you. You’re making me feel like a fucking loser as if it’s cool to do drugs, it isn’t. I don’t—”

“Hey, hey. It’s alright, I know it’s your first time I don’t think you’re stupid. ‘m gonna pour it out. I think you should lick it up instead of snorting it like me, don’t think you’ll like it.” his words soothe you a little and your fucking fluttering eyelashes are the picture of perfect innocence.

God he’s excited to see what a mess you’ll be when you’re high together. He helps you down off the sink and trades places with you. He pulls his necklaces over his head and puts them down before leaning backwards and dusting coke between his pecks. “Use your tongue.” he instructs.

You reluctantly lean closer to him and stick your tongue out. Your big eyes are looking up at him for guidance, like he’s some kind of expert. To you, he is. He nods, spurring you on. Finally your tongue connects with his body. His eyelids shake a little as he tries to concentrate on keeping them open. You got a little further than you’re meant to, finishing off by lightly kissing his collarbone. He teased you, it’s only fair that you tease him back.

“I’ll be okay, won’t I?” you ask him. He jumps down and holds your shoulders, bending over a little so he can look directly into your eyes.

“You’re gonna fuckin’ fly, babe.”

—

He isn’t wrong. You practically fly from the bathroom all of the way to the parade together. The pair of you are laughing the entire way, not quite sure what's so funny. You order a few shots of vodka together to enjoy while you wait for the floats to come down the street.

The atmosphere is surreal. Mostly teenagers and people in their early twenties standing in the streets dancing to the head hammering techno music that was drilling into your heads. Once you're bored of vodka shots you moved onto jäger bombs, and by the time you're good and drunk your high wears off.

It doesn’t stop either of you from having a good time though. You interact with a few other party goers and don’t bother to learn each other’s names. The music and good times are enough for all of you.

You aren’t sure what has come over you, but you decide to join the parade. You run into the road and begin dancing. Eventually, you're invited to dance atop one of the floats.

Megumi’s stomach hurts from laughing as he watches you shake your ass and dance with the other girls on the float. If either of you were in your right minds, you’d likely be discussing how unbelievable it is that such a tiny coastal town has such a huge festival every year.

It’s a tourist attraction, a lot of other people are from out of town, like yourselves. Hence the fully booked hotels and the droves of people equally as intoxicated and high on life.

Megumi walks alongside the parade float, making sure not to lose you. You point him out to the girls you’re dancing with, each of them having no shame in telling you what a handsome boyfriend you have. He doesn’t hear them say it. And for once, you hold your tongue. You aren’t sure why you aren’t objecting to him being your boyfriend like you normally do.

Maybe it’s because you’re drunk, or because he’s actually being nice to you and taking care of you for a change. Maybe while you're under the influence he has more potential as a boyfriend, something you'd never admit to while sober.

The sky is changing from bright blue to burning orange and pink before your eyes. You decide you’ve had enough of dancing and ask Megumi to help you down. He looks so different under such a romantic sky. The warm colours adding life to his pale face. He is handsome, the girls weren’t wrong. His problem is that he has such an ugly soul.

And yet, this weekend, you think there’s a chance such a horrid interior could be fixed.

He pulls you back into the crowd and over to the outdoor bar for more shots. The two of you are disappointed when you’re told the bar is closing for the day. How are you supposed to carry on getting black out drunk now?

“The party is raging on by the beach, friends. Fire pit, tiki bar, dance floors. Start heading down and you’ll find what you’re looking for.” the bartender informs you both. Megumi thanks him and takes your hand to guide you down to the beach.

It’s like a hive-mind as everyone has the same idea. Everyone walking in unison down to the beach to get served and continue the evening. You make it there fairly ahead of everyone else, but thankfully there’s a multitude of tiki bars set up to serve people their alcohol. Once you ingest another five vodka shots, this time with gummy bears, you head over to one of the dance floors.

You and Megumi stand apart as you dance on your own but watch each other’s moves. He’s impressed by the way you shake your hips and drop it low, the lack of confidence in your outfit seeming to now be a thing of the past as you parade yourself around as if you own the place. You watch him pause for a moment, snacking on one of his bracelets.

“I didn’t know they were edible!” you yell at him. He nods, pulling you nearer to him by your wrist and holding his arm up to you. Like him, you begin to nibble on the candy as you both simply change which foot your putting the most pressure on in time with the music.

“I think I want to have some more fun,” he tells you. You watch him pull his wallet out of his back pocket again and you assume he’s searching for more coke. You’re a little surprised when you see him take out a little yellow pill with a smiley face on it. He settles it on his tongue and sticks it out at you before swallowing.

“W-What was, ‘sat?” you slur, curious about what he just ingested.

“E, baby,” he tells you. “Wanna try?” he cranes his head to line his mouth up with your ear, shouting so that you can hear him over the boisterous music.

Well, if he is having some, you have to follow suit.

You’re matching his amount of drinks and drug consumption so far. You can’t let yourself down and fall behind now. At least – that is the rationale your drunken and dissolving mind has decided.

You nod and squint your eyes at him. Like it’s obvious that you want a try. He takes another pill from his wallet. This time it’s pink with a little heart in the centre. He puts it on his tongue and sticks it out for you to take. You hold out your hand, hoping he will put it there instead, but he doesn’t budge.

“Give it to me.” you order, but he shakes his head.

“’ake it.” he replies, speaking as best he can with the pill comfortably on his tongue. You reach your fingers up to grab it but it quickly withdraws into his mouth. You repeat this another three times before you huff in annoyance and exhaustion. He sticks his tongue out even further, wiggling it around like you’re a horse with a carrot dangling in front of your face.

And you’re a fool, because you submit.

You lean forward and he catches your hips in his hands as your lips make contact with his. He pushes the ecstasy pill from his tongue to yours and it practically slides down your throat. That should have been the end of it.

But of course, it isn’t. You can justify it all you like by telling yourself you’re drunk. You aren’t in your right mind and God dammit you’re missing Yuuji. But those are just excuses.

And excuses won't cut it, because unlike at your parents manor, you aren’t pushing him away. You’re melting into him. He pulls your body flush against his and you wrap your arms around his neck. Your tongues are so soft against one another as they dance together, and you have no idea why, but you start smiling into it.

Probably the drugs.

He laughs into your mouth when he feels your smile, pulling away and kissing your forehead. You’re feeling the music more than you had been, more than you ever have in your life. You feel him spin you around so your back is to his chest. His arms are tight around you as you sway in time with the music. He rests his head on top of yours and can feel his jaw tightening and moving.

You push off of him a little and begin grind your ass against him. His arm comes over your shoulder and you feel his fingers trace delicately atop your breast. It doesn’t bother you, though. You don’t stop dancing or moving on him. It makes you laugh when you remember how hard he was last night just when you were laying in bed together. You’re fully rubbing onto him now and you can only imagine how hard he’s trying to stop himself from getting an erection.

You have no idea.

Similarly to Megumi, your jaw begins to clench and swing as the effects of the E start coming over you more.

Megumi thinks he’s in love with you, whispering it every chance he gets into your hair. You don’t pay it any mind, though, knowing you’ll both have forgotten about it come morning. Maybe the pills make him happier, nicer.

He feels an intense desire to be lovely.

Positively overwhelmed with a dire need the show anyone who’ll listen to him how much he loves them. He even catches eyes with the bartender for a moment and considers telling him how much he loves him.

You feel paranoid when you can’t control how your jaw is aching and moving on it’s own. All eyes are on you, you think, as you look stupid and can’t get a hold of what your face is doing. Why is everyone looking at you? Tears begin to free fall. It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re meant to be happy, to be in ecstasy. You’re panicking. It’s too much.

It’s too fucking much.

“Megumi—” you turn, facing him and allowing him to see how blown to hell your pupils are and how watery your eyes and cheeks are.

“Woah, what happened?” he asks, cupping your face and wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“I wanna go, I wanna go please. I can’t. Megumi I can’t—”

“Yeah, fuck. Okay.” he tells you.

Soon enough he’s holding your hand tight as he wades through the crowds of people. He keeps looking back to make sure you’re alright, his heart breaking a little each time he sees you sniffle or do a little hiccupping sob. He isn’t sure if it would be a better idea to walk to the hotel or try and get a taxi. It isn’t too far, he’s sure you’ll manage.

It’s a miracle you aren’t both frozen over like Jack Nicholson in the end of The Shining. You aren’t exactly dressed well for the chill bite of the night time air. You don’t think either of you could have chosen skimpier clothing if you tried.

“Take me home, Megumi—”

“I will, sweetheart, ‘m gonna get us home. Love you baby, alright? We’ll be home real soon.”

—

© 2024 rinhaler

—

[hannie-dul-set]

THIS IS WHY YOU SHOULD NEVER DRINK BEYOND YOUR LIMITS (OR MAYBE YOU SHOULD?)

p — CHOI SOOBIN x gn! reader. g — fluff, humor, lovestruck! soobin being a little dummy. w — drinking, swearing. 1.2k words.

note — heavily based on the manhwa “daybreaking romance" (soob as dong saebyeok ifykyk 😩). won second place in the poll (wdym we've been dating for 2 months??) so here u go!

the last thing soobin remembers after blacking out last night is the look in your eyes that nearly pulls him back into sobriety.

nearly, because he still wakes up on his living room rug the next morning, a burn on his cheek, without the recall how the fuck he got home, without a hint of what happened in between the blurry moments of now and seeing you outside the bar last night. the icy breeze still feels raw on his skin. the conflict in your eyes as his consciousness slips is still vivid in his memory.

choi soobin has become one with the rug, unable to lift his head up in shame and horror, until he remembers he still has an afternoon class to attend and the possibility of having made a fool out of himself in front of his ongoing, unrequited first love while he was drunk off his rockers isn’t a viable excuse for an absence.

“did you get home safe last night?”

the scribbles in his head become even more tangled up when you greet him in the classroom with a pleasant smile. “i think my head is gonna split open,” you say, taking the seat next to him, and soobin is looking at you with wide, unblinking eyes. “what’s up?”

“why...why are you here…?” is his chosen question, not did i do something stupid last night? nor will you forgive me for blacking out in front of you last night? 

you reply by cocking your head. “am not allowed to sit here?”

“of— of course you are.” shit, you’re too cute, soobin thinks to himself all in the midst of racking his brain as to what the fuck did he do last night, and why the fuck did you decide to sit next to him when prior to last night, you two have only been close enough to exchange greetings in the hallways, return smiles during unexpected meetups at the campus cafe, and text each other when you’re assigned group work.

“so, where do you want to eat?”

“huh?” he blinks at you.

“what?” you look up at him after fixing your things, ready to leave the lecture room. “how about hangover soup? that sounds good, doesn’t it?”

choi soobin believes that there are still remnants of last night’s insobriety in his system because the back of your head looks fuzzy as you tug on his sleeve down the hallway, the voice you’re speaking with sounds far away and before he knows it, you’re having lunch with him. watching a  movie with him. riding the bus with him. taking photos with him. doing assignments with him for the next thirty days with the haunting unsettlement that the key to your sudden friendliness might have been lost along with his memories that night.

“maybe they feel bad for you,” yeonjun pitches after soobin finally confides about his overdue dilemma. “you know, you can get pretty emotional when you’re wasted. maybe you cried in front of them and they think it’s their fault so they’re trying to console you. why don’t you just come clean and admit you can’t remember?”

like a punch to the jaw, a memory flashes through a film reel— a cold, prickly breeze. streetlights illuminating the crack behind the restaurant. and your face blurred by cloudy tears and unmistakable sniffles from his own person. 

“oh my god.”

if being pathetic was a crime, choi soobin would’ve been locked up in jail ages ago.

the thing is, coming clean was soobin’s plan before everything spiraled into daily lunch meet-ups and nightly texts. at some point, he lost the timing to come clean and apologize, but you’re asking him if he’s free this weekend because you got for lotte world, so maybe you don’t find him annoying for pathetically crying his eyes put in front of you, right?

then again, maybe yeonjun was right. maybe you’re only doing all of this to make him feel better. but consolation usually doesn’t last for a month and a half (and his heart shouldn’t be fluttering when he watches you scream in delight, arms tossed in the air as you swing back and forth on the viking ride. soobin knows he’s a piece of shit for not having apologized yet. but you look so pretty smiling at him so often, so dazzling when you laugh at something he says, so breathtaking when you’re doing absolutely nothing that he’s tempted to live in eternal ignorance if it means loving you a little closer).

“soobin.” 

your voice hits like a reality check, two months since his drunken mistake. “i know you’ve been meaning to tell me something. you can just say it.”

and just like that, the dream he’s been living in is bound to dissolve into reality one day. his saliva feels like gasoline when he tries to swallow down the guilt, but it only bursts into flames and swallows him like an inevitable forest fire. “nevermind,” you sigh. “i know what you’re going to say anyway.”

soobin is so used to your daily smiles that his heart wrenches when you reveal somberness for the first time.

“you want to break up, right?”

but when the fire burns out, what remains are ashes of confusion.

“what?”

“it feels like nothing has changed before and after we started dating. you won’t even let me hold your hand! i’m sorry for not meeting your expectations. you don’t have to keep forcing yourself to be with me.”

“h—huh?” soobin blinks. “when— when did we start dating?”

you’re looking at him like he’s insane. “soobin, i confessed to you two months ago.”

then it hits him.

“don’t you remember?”

like sudden rainfall in the middle of summer.

a cold, prickly breeze. streetlights illuminating the crack behind the restaurant. you’re there in front of him, so pretty and lovely and cute and your words fly above his head because, “you’re so pretty. you’re always so pretty. why are you so pretty?” and his knees start shaking when your laughter bursts carbonated bubbles in the air, putting his drunken rambles to a halt.

“soobin do you like me? because i like you. i don’t think i can settle with just hello’s and greetings. i just like you a lot,” your words settle in his ears, slowly, surely. “what about you?”

suddenly, his cheeks are wet.

“oh no— i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to—”

“i like you so much i could cry right now.” he already is. he’s crying as much as he likes you. he’s crying out the feelings he’s been collecting for the past year and in the form of plump tears rolling down his blushing face and shaking hands holding onto yours so gently and earnestly because he’s afraid if he holds you too tight, you might disappear into thin air.

but it’s his memories that disappeared. choi soobin wants to tear his face off but even that wouldn’t be enough of a repentance.

“you can punch me if you want.”

he’s so in love with you that he remembers the color of the shirt you wore on his birthday last year, but he forgot the most important moment of all his twenty-two years of existence. the shirt was purple, like his arm after you took on his offer for violent retribution. it’s alright because he deserved it. it’s alright because you kissed right after. 

THIS IS WHY YOU SHOULD NEVER DRINK BEYOND YOUR LIMITS (OR MAYBE YOU SHOULD?) © hannie-dul-set.

[queuestarter]

daybreak

(johanna mason x reader)

cw: none- just two girls in love

link to the request → grumpy x sunshine during training for the quarter quell

open to submissions/asks

You watch from across the room as Johanna strips off her training uniform and begins to rub oil all over herself. You shake your head in amusement and refocus on the conversion you’re having with your district mate and close friend, Beetee.

“I wonder what the reason they put the forcefield up this year is,” he comments offhandedly while observing a piece of wood as he attempts to figure out how to start a fire. You sit opposite him, not having much luck either.

You didn’t win your first games by fighting or learning survival skills. You won by appealing to the audience.

“Maybe someone attacked them. Or maybe one of the Gamemakers fell over the balcony,” you giggle, throwing down your two sticks as Katniss walks over to you.

You’ve never met her, but of course you know all about her. Who doesn’t at this point?

“Hello,” you friendlily greet her. She stands over you and Beetee awkwardly. “Do you know how to make a fire with two sticks? We’re awful at it.”

She sits down at the station with you. “Yeah, but I haven’t done it in a while. Let me see…” she grabs some sticks and begins to rub them together.

For the next ten minutes that you three spend at the station, a friendly rapport grows. You talk about many things, like the forcefield, productivity in your districts, and a few other topics. Eventually, she starts asking if you’re going to join any alliances.

“I think so,” you say hopefully. “I know me and Beetee are going to stick together. Johanna, too.” 

“Johanna?” Katniss asks, raising her eyebrows.

You smile, finding your girl across the room. She’s arguing about something with Finnick, shoving his shoulder and getting shoved back in response. 

“Yeah, she’s great. She’s just really, really great.” You can feel a blush growing on your cheeks which you hide behind your hands.

“I didn’t feel that way when I met her.” You furrow your eyebrows at Katniss.

“Oh. While I’m going to go see if I can try to make a lure with Mags. Beetee, want to join?” You want to be nice considering she doesn’t know about your relationship with Johanna and your girlfriend does come off as rude sometimes.

“Oh, yes. That could be very helpful,” he comments, getting up from his seat. “Thank you for helping us, Katniss. Maybe we would keep up that trend in the arena?”

Katniss nods, getting up as well. “I should see what Peeta is doing.”

You don’t talk to Katniss again until the next day of training. 

You’re sparring with one of the trainers, having decided that it might actually be important this time around to work on your physical skills rather than just relying on your brains and public appeal. 

When you finish the spar and are bent over trying to catch your breath, you feel a hand cup your ass. You let out a gasp of surprise.

“Johanna!” You shriek as you return to an upright position. Ignoring the shocked gazes of the people around you, you wrap your arms around her neck and pull her in for a quick kiss. “You can’t just scare me like that when I have a deadly weapon in my hands!”

She looks beautiful with her signature smirk on her face. “I just wanted to let you know how good you were doing. And let everyone know that you’re mine.”

You giggle uncontrollably, holding onto her for a few more seconds. With one final kiss to her smiling lips that end up more on her teeth than anything, you back away from the sparring station to allow other people to enter, namely Finnick and Katniss. Katniss has a look of disbelief on her face.

You say a quick ‘hello’ to them before Beetee is calling your name from across the room. “Can you identify the metal that comprises this beam? It seems to be steel but the density is all wrong.”

As you walk across the room to help out Beetee, you can hear Johanna talk to the two others, none of them being too quiet. 

“What a woman,” she says, causing you to smile once more.

“You two are…? Her?” Katniss practically hisses.

“Why not?” Finnick teases. “Johanna needs something good in her life.”

“Shut up!” You turn your eyes back towards your girlfriend just in time to see her try to knock Finnick over. 

This is what it means to be in love

-

[kemendin]

A Bit of Well-Deserved Softness

Gale basks in the quiet delight of his home in Waterdeep, and the drow with whom he shares it. Gale x Ace!Tav Words: 3200 A/N: This all started when my dear friend @deeafrotailmisstress gifted me this wonderful Dhamari/Gale art for my birthday a while back. And of course I went 'well now I've gotta write a fic to go with this'. And so here is the result! Post-game fluff, so general spoiler warning.

Waking up each morning was not, strictly speaking, Gale’s favourite part of the day.

But it was undeniably one of the best parts.

It was the breeze that always stirred his senses first, cool and light and laden with salt as it tumbled in from the open window. Cavorting round the bedroom like an eager sprite, sweeping up the scent of well-worn books; until at length it darted through a gap in the gauzy bed hangings and Gale could draw in a long, full draught of it as he lay there. Breathing happily of home.

Then the sounds would start to filter in. The cry of restless seabirds outside his window, and the multitudinous clamour of the city below, gently muffled by the bulwark of his tower’s enchanted walls. 

Sometimes, as he listened, he would make a game of it - keeping his eyes closed against the dawn as he sought to isolate one distant sound or another, then supposed what it might be and its location.

On this particular day, however, very little focus was required to recognise the heavy peal now echoing across the city of Waterdeep, signalling that the morning was already half spent. 

Gale scrunched his face in astonishment, and hurriedly palmed at his eyes to open them. He was greeted by a room radiant with sunlight, warm and strong even through the semi-translucence of the bed canopy; and in that moment he had no alternative but to acknowledge that it was, indeed, quite late.

A rueful huff of surprise fell from his lips as he turned his thoughts back to the previous evening. He hadn’t greeted his pillow until well after midnight, and truthfully, he wasn’t accustomed to retiring at such an hour. Months of gruelling travel had impressed upon him the need to retreat early to his tent - to rest, if not to actually sleep - because daybreak came soon for weary bodies and even sooner for brooding minds. And in what seemed like another lifetime - in the years before he was daily being menaced by threats of ceremorphosis and self-combustion - more often than not he would become so absorbed in his evening literature that he simply didn’t go to bed at all. Why bother with such mundane things as sleep, when he could instead be seated in his favourite chair by the hearth, with a heavy tome and a purring tressym vying for place upon his lap?

And so instead of slumber, the night would pass in glints of wine, and in the crisp sigh of pages, and the fire would crackle its soothing counterpoint to the clink of ivory keys, until at last even the flames fell quiet and there was only the piano’s solitary melody to usher in the dawn.

But now - now things were different. Now he had something else to stay up late for, and something - someone - to retire with. And he looked forward to both occasions immensely.

Read on AO3

Gale gave a lazy turn onto his side, and felt a fond smile tugging at his mouth. The ‘someone’ in question was currently well-burrowed into the blankets beside him, hardly visible at all save for a mane of wild black hair flared across the purple-cased pillow. It was he who’d insisted on curtains round the bed; even after several years spent living on the surface, abrupt sunlight was still painful on his eyes, and he’d grumbled enough each morning that before their first week in Waterdeep was over, Gale had held up his hands in defeat and promptly gone down to the tailor’s shop to have some hangings made.

Levering himself up, Gale leaned over his bedmate, and after a moment he lightly eased the blankets back so that he could consider the drow beside him. Dhamari was resting on his stomach, a fact which on its own spoke volumes to his level of comfort. He’d confessed once to the wizard that he was careful never to leave his back exposed while sleeping, lest an enemy take him by surprise. Gale had gotten the impression that when it came to survival in the Underdark, trust was frequently considered to be the greatest enemy of all.

But this was Waterdeep, not a backstabbing drow metropolis. This was Gale’s tower, safe and secure. And although Dhamari rarely required the wizard’s protection, Gale was of course always ready to offer it, should such necessity arise.

He continued to hover over his partner, gently studying the sleeping sorcerer - his face like a page from a favourite book which Gale had long since memorised, yet never tired of reading. Skin the muted blue of an early twilight (save on those rare occasions when he became flustered and warmed to a faint purple, which Gale personally found quite endearing). A visage marked with sharp tattoos the colour of storm clouds, curving down from his brow to cradle his eyes and cut across his cheeks, emphasising the narrow angles of his face. So often Gale would see Dhamari’s lips drawn back in fury as he bared his pointed teeth; but now his mouth was closed, and soft with sleep.

Gale sighed, slightly wistful. A glance in the mirror each morning reminded him that their shared adventures were penned in deeper lines fanning around his eyes and across his forehead, but Dhamari appeared virtually unchanged. He was still young for a drow, not even midway through his second century, whereas Gale was… well, he preferred to think of himself as accumulating wisdom, rather than gaining years. But he knew that unless he borrowed a page from his old friend Elminster, and sought out some arcane means of extending his own life, Dhamari would far outlast him.

Yet what would ordinarily be rather melancholy musings seldom troubled him these days. After all, he’d had his chance. He had gazed upon the promise of immortality, wrought of metal and Netherese magic, and glimpsed for a moment the very summit of all his fervent strivings. And then he had glanced beside him, and seen again the choice he’d made in the depths of Moonrise Towers. And in the end he’d found that he couldn’t bear to release the soiled, bloodied hand caught so tightly within his own, when becoming a god would make him, for better and for worse, untouchable.

Whether I condemn this world or not, he’d said, I choose you.

And Gale held no regrets for making that choice. Wonderings, yes - that was only natural. Speculations and suppositions, silent imaginings of what might have been, had he faced both Karsus’ folly and his own, and decided differently.

But regrets? No, none that he could find. And he had no intentions of spoiling his remarkably good mood by looking for them.

Canting his head, Gale reached and lightly brushed his forefinger along the curve of Dhamari’s long ear. It twitched beneath his touch, and the wizard chuckled in quiet delight, knowing now that his partner was at least marginally awake.

He nudged the ear again, more firmly this time.

“Come on, Ari. Time to face the day.”

He drew the blankets back farther, eliciting a barely-audible grumble from the drow, accompanied by a small expression of displeasure. Dhamari clutched defiantly at the pillow with both hands, and pressed his face deeper into its plush embrace.

Gale smiled even as he shook his head in admonishment. “Come on now, up you get,” he said in a mild voice. “We’ve plans for today, remember? Need I remind you, the bazaar only remains on the Material Plane until sundown - and that is now several hours closer than I’d initially projected. As things stand, we may only have time enough to peruse two-thirds of it.”

At this, Dhamari twisted his head enough so that he could crack one eye open. To Gale it often looked like drawing back the shutters on a narrow window at night - seeing the drow’s moonlike iris floating in a field of black.

“Unless more than two-thirds of the offerings are books,” mumbled Dhamari, “I doubt that will prove a problem.”

Gale huffed archly. “While rare tomes may be the main attraction for me, this market offers much more than books, I can assure you,” he replied. A barely restrained eagerness crept into his voice as he leaned himself over Dhamari. “Just picture it - wonders from across the realms, laid out at our very fingertips. And,” he added, “most of them brought from places of which you have never even heard, let alone clapped eyes on.” He tapped a teasing finger on the end of Dhamari’s nose. 

“Be warned - I may very well decide to quiz you afterward. So you had best be sure you’re paying attention to what we find there.”

But Dhamari made such a face in response to this, his nose wrinkling and his upper lip curling unpleasantly, that Gale burst out laughing.

“You’re an awful grump in the mornings now, do you know that, Ari?” he chuckled. “I don’t recall you being anywhere near this cantankerous in Baldur’s Gate. Not until you’d picked your first fight of the day, at least.”

“That’s because you’ve spoiled me,” grunted Dhamari. “You’re making me soft, Gale. Soft and lazy.”

“Ah, but is that such a terrible thing, my love?” Gale asked him, his lips still quirked in amusement. He wriggled forward until he was nearly draped over the drow. “After all those months slogging through mud and brambles, staving off darkness and despair - personally I am more than delighted to give myself over to a bit of luxury. And by that I mean hot baths, silk sheets, stout meals, and a bottle of wine that doesn’t smell as though it was left to age inside someone’s forgotten pair of farming boots.”

He set his chin on Dhamari’s shoulder for a moment. His smile broadened when he saw how the drow’s own mouth had curved grudgingly at the corners, and so he pressed on:

“We deserve that, you and I. We deserve a bit of softness. A few weeks, at least, free of fighting and fear -“

“And full of food, if you’d have your way,” Dhamari broke in. “You spent five hours in the kitchen yesterday. Who are you expecting will eat all of that? Tara?”

“I thought I might pack up most of it and take it with me when I visit the Academy tomorrow,” Gale answered brightly. The invitation to meet with the Blackstaff in person had not been a complete surprise, considering the sum of both recent events and his exploits as a former apprentice, but he’d read it with anticipation nonetheless. “I’m sure there are at least a dozen famished young wizards-in-training there who would appreciate a lavish, home-cooked meal.”

Dhamari’s lips pursed lightly. “So now that you’ve succeeded in spoiling me, you’re branching out,” he noted. He stretched his shoulders back - as much as he could beneath Gale’s weight - then added pointedly, “That sort of decadent treatment would never be allowed in any drow academy.”

“Then it’s a good thing we aren’t in Sshamath,” returned Gale, his smile unsullied by the drow’s griping. “For any number of reasons, I daresay.” 

Dhamari still kept much of his drow life to himself, and rarely talked of the city where he was born. Gale suspected this was not so much due to discomfort on Dhamari’s part, but rather an attempt to avoid shocking the wizard with tales of his Underdark existence. Such light treading was hardly necessary; Gale had seen more than his share of horrors over the course of their conflict with the Absolute, and he’d gleaned enough from what Dhamari did say to form a rough, unhappy picture of the other’s past. But there was something touching, something unexpectedly tender, in Dhamari’s wish to shield him from such understanding, and so Gale did not press the point.

He saw his partner’s visible eye narrow slightly; but then it closed in a slow blink, and when it opened, the drow’s manner was easy again.

“Yes,” Dhamari agreed, and he offered a wry little smile of his own. “A very good thing.”

Gale grinned. “Now we are in Waterdeep,” he proclaimed grandly, with a small sweep of his hand. “The Crown of the North, City of Splendours.” Tipping his head, he set his cheek on Dhamari’s shoulder, and his eyes were alight as he went on with quieter zeal, “And there is so much I want to show you. To share with you.”

He let a heartbeat pass, a moment of pure bliss as he gazed into the drow’s open eye, and saw his devotion reflected in the obsidian depths. Then -

“On which subject,” he added, and in one dramatic movement he sat up and swept the blankets off them both. “Time to get up.”

Dhamari let out another long, loud groan in protest; but under the encouraging knead of the wizard’s fingers into his back, he reluctantly levered himself up. Chuckling, Gale reached over and smoothed down a few of the most aberrant strands of the drow’s wild hair. Dhamari glanced at him across his shoulder, squinted, and then gave a hard, deliberate shake of his head, instantly nullifying the other’s efforts. 

Gale huffed fondly. “Alright,” he said, “suit yourself.” He leaned away to tug aside the bed hangings, and then swung his legs over the edge of the bed; but further efforts towards verticality were impeded by the drow who now latched himself onto Gale’s shoulder.

Gale turned his head, arching his brows at the offender, but any mild rebuke melted away as he watched Dhamari almost idly nuzzle his forehead against his shoulder. The drow had been immensely touch-averse at the start, so much that early on Gale had considered their holding hands for pleasure as well as purpose to be a noteworthy accomplishment. He’d never pressed Dhamari into closer contact than was comfortable, but gradually the sorcerer came to realise, with the other’s reassurance, the rewards of gentle physicality. To see him be so easy with it now, without flinching or fear - Gale could feel his own heart brimming with elation, and with pride.

He reached around with his free hand, again combing his fingers through the narrow mane of Dhamari’s hair, and he smiled when his partner leaned automatically into the touch. After a moment the drow lifted his head, but it was only to prop his chin on Gale’s shoulder this time. He blinked still bleary eyes up at Gale, and then his gaze wandered slowly from the wizard’s face down to his chest.

“I like this,” Dhamari murmured at length.

Gale’s smile widened, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “As do I,” he assured him.

Dhamari shook his head. “I mean this,” he said.

Gale felt an unanticipated brush upon his chest. Tucking his chin, he looked on with faint bemusement as the drow’s finger traced the dark line of the orb still marked upon his skin. 

“You do?” Gale’s brow furrowed quizzically. The ball of half-formed Weave still buried within him slept now, thank the gods. No longer throbbing tortuously beside his heart, its gnawing hunger assuaged at last; and by this point he wasn’t overly concerned that it might reawaken. All the same, it remained an uncomfortable reminder of what his hubris, more than once, had nearly cost him, and he would have vastly preferred to be rid of it altogether.

“Yes,” replied Dhamari, through a jaw still braced upon Gale’s shoulder. He splayed his hand out over the orb, and smiled a little. “It’s… striking. It suits you.” He flicked his eyes up again, one ear angling lower in an almost shy expression. “And it makes me think about our first night together.”

Gale pushed out a rueful breath. “The night when you categorically tore me apart for allowing the orb to control every facet of my existence?” he asked. “How could I forget? I’ve rarely been subject to such a brutal awakening.”

“You needed it,” said Dhamari, and both his face and tone were, for an instant, unrepentant.

“I can't argue with that,” conceded Gale. He’d been so long mired in misery and woe that he hadn’t been able to recognise the dark depths to which he had fallen; not until Dhamari’s harsh candour yanked painfully at his numbed senses, and showed him a better path than the precipice beneath his feet.

“Good,” said Dhamari. “We argue enough as it is.”

His fingers continued to trail thoughtfully along the lines that flowed up the side of the wizard’s neck. But Gale caught his hand and brought it to his lips instead, and pressed several long, leisurely kisses to the drow’s twilight skin. It was an act of consecration to him, of worship - but a different sort than the one he’d once ascribed to. One that now asked nothing of him, save what he desired to give.

Not for the first time, Gale wondered that he could ever have bowed his head before she who demanded his death, and called it love.

He lifted his eyes again, and from their corners he could see Dhamari. Still with his chin set on Gale’s shoulder, the harshness of his features now made so much softer by the contentment - the happiness, Gale dared to deem it - hovering on his face. Gods, how he loved that expression. He wanted to sit here for an eternity and drink it in, certain it could fill him as well as any wine, and would grant an even headier feeling of delight.

But they did have plans for today, after all, and Gale was not about to give them up, no matter how distracting Dhamari could be.

Not this time, at any rate.

“Come on.” He placed one more kiss on Dhamari’s knuckles for good measure before straightening up and passing his partner’s hand back to him. “Enough of your moon eyes. We’ve got a magical bazaar to peruse.”

He gave a little pop of his shoulder, enough to dislodge the drow leaning on him, and got to his feet before Dhamari could latch on again. He padded over to a chair nearby to retrieve his purple houserobe, glancing back towards the bed as he shrugged it on. 

Dhamari had scooted to the edge of the bed, and was now perched there with his legs - rather shorter than Gale’s - dangling above the rug-festooned floor as he yawned, stretched, and tried without much concern to rake down his rumpled hair. Gale felt his lips twitch in fond amusement at the sight. The drow was a danger, a menace, and yet here and now he looked so domestically harmless that Gale almost couldn’t believe the stormy trails of destruction that Dhamari tended to leave in his wake.

Almost.

With a rueful shake of his head, Gale turned and strode briskly for the bedroom door. “Up!” he called back over his shoulder. “Before I send Tara in to drag you up with her claws.”

The last thing he saw before closing the door behind him was Dhamari’s disgruntled face, glowering at him in (mostly) feigned outrage over the wizard’s tressymic threat.

Gale laughed quietly as he headed downstairs, mentally framing each moment of the last half hour. Perhaps there might be days, he thought to himself, when waking up was his favourite part.