#Three Thick Buckles

[yanderenightmare]

Nanami Kento

TW: yandere, NSFW, noncon/dubcon, inexperienced reader, virginity loss, size-difference, abuse of power, lies and manipulation, captive darling, age-gap

AN: thinking about a pervy sex therapist Nanami~

fem reader

You started coming to his home office once a week. 

Unsure of it all, in the beginning, you were so nervous. He looked so strict – sitting opposite you in his dark brown leather chair with such a tight expression on his face. 

But you came around to like him soon enough. 

He was a nice man. Serious but tender with you – putting out freshly baked muffins on the coffee table and always giving you a warm cup of chamomile with vanilla and honey before getting started. 

And he was knowledgeable too – had that mature air about him that seemed so polished and proficient you couldn’t help but hang off every word like it was scripture.

When he told you to stop wearing bras because they hinder natural breast growth, you listened, and when he said that keeping your pussy hairless was important for hygienic purposes, you believed him because you trusted him.

He diagnosed you with virgin anxiety and has been so patient with you ever since, helping you overcome it.

Professional enough to practice with you. Sticking a gloved finger inside your pretty pussy when you’re propped on his examination bed, testing out your tightness with words reassuring you that you just need to wait and allow your body to provide the wetness – smiling at you kindly, that way old men do, more with his eyes than his lips, when you’re weeping with slick enough to accommodate all three of his lengthy fingers inside you – squeezing on him so tight.

You gush, shaking your head while spluttering apologies when you cum around them, but he just rubs your clit slowly, with veteran steadiness – telling you it's only natural and healthy for a young woman like you to be so sensitive under a man's touch – that it’s nothing to be ashamed or scared of – on the contrary, it’s something you should feel very proud of.

He’s also kind enough to give you extra sessions – at least three times a week at his home office – sometimes even breaking his own rules, treating you to a house call, coming to your apartment for a nice little chat. 

He even assigns you daily exercises for you to do on your own – though he encourages you to call him so he can guide you through it. Instructing you to wet your fingers in your mouth first before you touch yourself down there.

He listens to your little moans filtered through the phone – bated breaths and whimpers as you get yourself all bothered and needy for more. 

He tells you to turn on the camera so he can see if you’re doing it right, and you listen – placing the phone in view of your tiny fingers struggling to reach and stuff your cute cunt.

He praises you on your good job – his own camera off, for obvious reasons – he can't have you seeing his raging shaft just yet, or how he jerks it to the sight of your tight little cunt. A deep furrow between his brows and his jaw locked tight, resolute in his plans of coaxing you into giving him your first time. He groans just thinking about it, splurting his load into his fist, listening to you moan for him. “This feels funny, Nanami-san~ Is this right? ~ Please, Nanami-san, teach me~” 

He's been coveting your virginity for months now – grooming you – making you pliant and gullible, and soon, all his patience and hard work would pay off. 

It’s cute that you don’t know it yet… but your pretty little pussy is all his.

He expertly works it into your sessions as an exercise. One he promises you’ll benefit from. Telling you your condition can be blamed on never having studied a real grown man’s cock – that, because it’s such a foreign thing to you, you end up fearing it.

He reminds you how this is a safe space – tells you that all he cares about is your wellbeing – as he sets himself next to you on the couch, his thick thigh next to yours, while buckling up his belt and zipping himself free – taking his fat erection out for you to lay your innocent eyes on.

“Here it is.” He clears his throat with a rusty sigh, sounding relieved when his manhood springs free, standing proud and fat.

His veins flex along his arm beneath dark blonde hair as he strokes the length lazily – up and down slowly. Making old noises – heavy sighs and hums – dragging the foreskin back and revealing its plush mushroomed head.

You take it in with doe eyes.

“Don’t be shy. Tell me your thoughts.”

You swallow thickly at the assignment, blinking out of your stare. Shocked and embarrassed, though curious, but also a little grossed out – you’re not sure what feeling you end up with. “Uhm- It’s very… big.”

He chuckles low at that. “Come on, you can do better. What else?” He urges you, offering another deep but light-hearted laugh. “You can be honest. It’s a little funny looking, huh?”

“Yeah-” You giggle lightly in return, though you’re still somewhat uneasy – sitting as though you plan on leaving, but staying nonetheless, at the edge of your seat – eyes glued to the chubby member, studying the curve of its spine and the veins forking their way up to its head.

“Feel up to touching it?” He asks, and your eyes snap to his – lined with crow’s feet and something so trustworthy. 

But still, you promptly shake your head in embarrassment. “Oh- no, thank you, Nanami-san-” But he’s already taken your smaller hand in his, pulling you back by guiding it to his lap. 

“No, no, little one- this is what we've been training for. You won’t get better if you don’t try.” He scolds you, voice both dismissive and reassuring all at once. “Here- feel it.” 

He wraps your tiny fingers around the stout shaft and overlaps your hand with his, helping you find the rhythm – stroking it nice and slow. 

“There you go, just like that. Good.”

You hesitate at first. Giving your lip a soft bite while thinking about his previous words.

Was he right? Are you scared because you've never looked at or touched a real penis before?

You don't want to be a virgin forever – it's embarrassing as an adult – it makes you still feel like such a silly little girl.

So... if Dr. Nanami says that this will help you overcome your fears, then you suppose...

You'll do it.

You gulp and follow his movement – up and down the large and lengthy pole.

It's so warm – pulsing in your grip, twitching at your soft touch. Skin so thin, almost rubbery, holding something much tougher than you’d imagined.

In your hand, it’s a lot bigger as well. You can’t even reach your fingers around the thickness to touch your thumb.

“All of this goes inside me?” You ask, under your breath – swallowing thickly while he leads your dainty hand downward into the hair around his base, then up to the wet tip, which pilled and trickled with white pearls getting caught between your fingers – warm and sticky.

“That’s right, every inch.” He answers – voice relaxed – pleased by how well you were doing. “Does that scare you?”

You bite your lip and rub your thighs together. “A little…”

“But it makes you feel a little warm, too, hm?” He suggests. “Makes your mouth wet? And also, that soft place between your legs?”

You make a nervous sound, digging your nails into your knee, where you let your other hand rest awkwardly. 

He hums again with a soft chuckle. “Don’t be embarrassed, little one. It’s a good thing.” He ensures, encouragingly squeezing your hand underneath his while lifting the other up to your face, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear – before sliding it across the back of your neck. “Let's see you be brave and give it a taste.”

You hesitate again – this time a little more decidedly. “I don’t think I can-” But Dr. Nanami is strong, keeping your neck in a pinch as he guides you down into a bow.

“It’s alright, I’m here to help you. Just open your mouth, and I’ll show you how.” He insists soothingly. Spreading his thighs out further while laying your head down on his lap, hips moving languidly when brushing his shaft up between your lips. 

It’s so big, so hot, pumping with warmth where you kiss it on the side on a particularly fat and throbbing vein.

He lifts you up slightly and angles the tip into your mouth, creating a cute bulge in your cheek where he rests his hand to keep you down when you flinch at the salty tang getting caught by your saliva. The taste quickly coats your entire tongue.

“Mmh- that’s a big girl~ getting her first mouthful of cock.” Dr. Nanami sighs with a groan, dropping his head back against the couch cushions while pushing up into the pouch of your cheek in lazy thrusts. It strains – makes you feel like it might poke through and make a hole.

He lets it settle there for a moment, enjoying the wet warmth and the unsure movements of your sweet tongue – not knowing where to go with all the space occupied by his meat.

But then he tangles both hands in your hair, gathering it all into a neat ponytail. And, lifting your skull up directly above, he sends his cock down your guzzle even when you whine out in meek protest.

“Breathe through your nose and try your best to swallow it down as far as your throat allows.” He instructs, keeping a tight-knit grip around your hair in one fist whilst the other hand slides down to pet your cheek in soothing circles.

Forcing it down your tight little amateur throat even when your jaw feels like it’s unlocking. 

“Good girl.” He sighed once he’d wedged himself in all the way until your lips kissed the pubes at his base.

Your smaller hands dent the muscle of his thigh, offering a meager push. Mewing out a “Mrph-” while you gag around the trunk. 

He holds you there, roosting inside your throat for another satisfying moment before easing up, pulling you up by your pony.

You gasp, halfway choked on your spit – but he's not much concerned.

“Stand up- let me feel.” He rushes out in a stiff order, ignoring how you cough and slurp for air – forcing you up to stand between his knees. 

His firm hands plant themselves on your hips, being the only sturdy thing balancing you as you wobble – unsteady when he tugs your skirt and panties down until they drop into a pool around your ankles.

He then pulls you onto his lap – seating you with your back leaning against his chest with his cock gliding up through your inner thighs, rubbing against your bare cunt.

You’re still light-headed, bracing yourself against his broad chest while he keeps one thick arm strong around your waist – holding you snug. The other jerks his manhood, tapping it against your clit in soft spit-wet slaps.

“Let’s see how it feels inside you.” He grunts against your ear, resting his chin-stubbled jaw in the dip between your neck and shoulder – looking to where he has your thighs spread over his own.

“N-no, Nanami-san-” You manage to squeak out softly with a voice both teary and hoarse from choking. “Please- I’m not ready-”

But he doesn’t listen – and any struggle you try to inflict ends up aimless where you’re barred beneath his arm – strict and tough with brawn like it’s a seatbelt on a rollercoaster ride.

“I think you're more than ready for it. Trust me.” He’s growling now – so menacingly, you don’t dare speak against it. Only watching the glossy veiny beast with bleary eyes while he rubs through your pussylips with the fat plush bulge topping it – catching your clit and making you gasp before zoning down to your pretty little twitchy hole.

You whine when it’s forced to stretch open as he nudges himself inside the pill-sized opening despite your effort to climb away from it.

“It hurts, Nanami-san!” You cry, but he doesn’t pay it any mind.

“Your virgin pussy will understand it soon. Don’t worry.” He dismisses – continuing to ease his thickness into the tautness, knowing you must be feeling close to tearing apart once his head’s finally swallowed in with a pop, followed by his inches bullying through you one by one, each feeling like a painful mile. 

You cry out, nearly screaming, “Please, Nanami-san! Take it out- it’s too much-” worming on his lap, trying to wiggle it out.

But he has you under reigns, and your struggling only results in him sinking inside you faster. Now, so deep you feel him nuzzle against your womb – and still it keeps sleaving itself until it curves against your walls and pudges out in a cute belly bulge.

“We've trained for this. You need to allow your body the time it takes to get comfortable.” He coos, sounding less on edge now that you’ve taken him inside your comfort.

His chest rumbles with satisfaction against your back as he sits there relaxed, bouncing you slackly but not too much just yet.

He keeps you seated but lifts his other arm to tug off your tiny T-shirt. 

“Here, let's take this off. It’ll help.” He excuses, and you’re a little too desperate for the relief to refuse – listening to the kindness in his voice and lifting your arms in hope, letting him fling it off.

Only in socks now. You throw your head back and whine when he twists one of your pretty nipples into a sore nub – chest arching from the contact. The arm holding you in place slides a hand between your thighs and starts circling your cute button, flicking over it with a gritty fingerprint.

The friction makes your belly bloom all sorts of colors, making you lock and quiver around that big thing he has nestled inside you, throbbing against your womb as he only gently bounces you on his lap – stretching your little pussy out generously as it suckles him so very sweetly – so very wet, drooling on his lap –squeezing him oh-so-snug.

You feel sticky after a while of twisting and refusing. Feeling so full and feverish. Neck wet from tongue and lips – so wet, spit is running slow trails down your chest, cool in the chilly open air of his home office.

You still think you want to stop, but you’re not as tense anymore – resting prettily against his chest. Moaning for each swirl he does over your budding clit – having quaked with pleasure a whole of three times already, gummy walls rippling all along his shaft as you softly loll your hips on him in return.

There’s a pool of your slick between the two of you – having drooled form where it seeps around the tight edges of where he has you stuffed air-tight, running down his balls to gloss the leather seat beneath. 

He takes it as a sign that you’re ready for the real thing. 

It’s almost unfair – how easily your smaller body is held in his hands. Maneuvered so effortlessly as he lifts your thighs up against your chest, then spreads them wide. 

He hooks your knees on his elbows and braids his fingers behind your neck. It's an awkward position, but you’re completely locked in it. Unable to do a thing except wail with moans once he starts pistoning his fat man-cock up inside you. 

It’s way worse when he stands up – bouncing you in the air – holding you folded against his chest, your legs dangling over his arms, jumping as he pounds his meat inside you, stuffing your cunt full on every deep thrust – stabbing your poor stomach until you’re screaming and squirting from the pressure.

Feeling you soak him is the last straw – so tight while spraying a hot mess.

He sits down again, lifting you off his cock before fanning your clit with four fingers – making you gush out every last drop, screaming while raining on his cock until you’ve strangled it out one final time – left shaking.

You’re then ushered down to the floor, on your knees – the top of your head leveled with Dr. Nanamis's big hand, keeping your face forward as he faps his sturdy thickness at your mouth.

“Open your mouth wide.” He orders, his teeth grit while his bulbing cockhead kisses your lips. 

You listen when he gives your little head a shake – rolling your tongue out while dropping your jaw for him.

“That’s a good girl-” He praises, placing his tip on the wet bed of your soft pink tongue, giving his cock only a few more tugs before his balls clenched hard and sent a big fat load through his cock out into your pretty little open mouth.

He groans heavily, almost angrily, squeezing every spurt out – some coming out so heavy it spills up your face and down your chin – but mostly getting caught where you have your lips parted to receive it.

“Good girl.” He repeats, taking in the sight of your painted face – so cute covered in his cum. 

He smiles.

“Now swallow it all down. And don’t waste a single drop. It's rich in vitamins young girls like you need to become proper ladies.”

You don’t want to close your mouth – you want to spit all of it out and rinse the rest with toothpaste and water. But the hand petting your head is so heavy, you don’t dare. So you swallow. Sniffling at the yucky taste once it sits warm in your stomach, still so sticky and gross on your tongue.

But Dr. Nanami seems pleased.

“Moving forward, I think you’ll benefit from closer examination.” He says. “I've made arrangements to have you institutionalized here, where I can keep a closer eye on you and offer more frequent assistance. You still have a long way to go before you’re well, little one. I’m not close to seeing the results I need in order to release you from my care.”

You’re still too shocked by the former events to look confused, but the sick feeling in your gut just keeps growing.

“Don’t worry. We’ll keep training, and soon I’ll have you turned into a proper little cock-pet.”

You want to run, but after what you’re body had just been put through, aching and screaming at you like it was your fault – you knew you wouldn’t be able to do much more than crawl, and something about the still fat cock resting its weight against Dr. Nanamis thigh told you he wasn’t done with you just yet.

“Give my cock some time to rest, and we’ll try it again later.” He confirmed your fears, still with his hand stroking your head like a pet at his feet. “Meanwhile, why don’t you tell me how your sweet pussy liked losing its virginity- and how this little face enjoyed getting its first-ever taste of cock and cum, hm?”

sequel

[ssweetleaf]

babies.

husband!steve harrington x wife!reader

summary: you finally tell steve that you’re ready for a baby.

includes: SMUT 18+, breeding kink, not really a daddy kink but he refers to himself as daddy lol, mating press, creampie, unprotected p in v

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“Hang on— what did you say?”

Steve felt as if he was dreaming, completely delirious, struggling to stay on his feet when his knees started to buckle.

He clutched a quivering palm to his chest, as if in attempt to quell his heart, but nothing could sate the thick thumping that barrelled through his rib cage.

You smiled at him, a small, impish one that made his eyelids flutter and you stepped closer, smoothing your hands along his shoulders before resting upon the thickness of both biceps, squeezing only slightly— just for your benefit, of course.

You knew it was something he’d desperately wanted to hear for a long while, so you spoke slowly, hoping the few words you spoke would register properly.

Because this was real. Such a big step, something that Steve had always dreamt of, but you not quite. It took a good few years for you to succumb to the idea of raising kids; a pretty house and a small wedding— even a few cats roamed around your home, so you knew that something was missing, something you now wanted desperately in your life.

“I want to try for a baby, Steve.” You spoke, watching his doe eyes grow even rounder, little tears threatening to ebb while he felt all melty and gooey, moving forward to shakily cup your cheeks and bring you closer towards him.

Steve nuzzled his nose against yours, sighing out a big breath and sponging a sweet, chaste little kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“I don’t know what to say, honey, I’m—” he shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut, his thumbs lazily circling the apples of your cheeks. “I’m so fucking happy.”

—

So, the two of you fucked like rabbits— for hours and hours, multiple times a day, the mere feeling of his raw length inside you had you creaming around him in minutes, and it was much akin for Steve, the soft, gummy walls of your cunt squeezing around him with no barrier between the two of you.

It felt like heaven.

Steve had insisted that you both have sex as regular as you could, the need to have you pregnant, to make it stick, needed to be quenched, and you nodded along like the doting little wife you were.

“My pretty honey,” he cooed, pressing your knees firmly against your heaving chest, holding you in a mating press whilst he fucked his thick cock into your spasming pussy.

Sweat beaded along his hairline, breathless from his hard thrusts— he had already came inside of you three times that same day, however you knew he wouldn’t let up until he saw those two red lines that told him what he’d wanted to hear.

“Gotta give you my babies, don’t I, hon?” He uttered, moaning breathily into the stuffy air— his full, round balls smacking against your ass with every inward thrust, so full of cum and ready to breed. “Gotta be thorough now, baby— want you nice ‘n’ round.”

He was babbling, words slurring into something almost nonsensical— his pretty lips sponged at any piece of skin he could find, mouthing and suckling with a desperation that shone in his honeyed eyes.

Your pussy practically sucked him in, letting his ruddy tip nudge at the spot so deep inside you, that had you clenching and fluttering.

“Fuck, jus’ wanna be a daddy so bad,” he whined, “and once we have our first, we’ll have another, and another, and another— oh fuck.”

He was fisting the pillow underneath your head, muscles drawn tight, trying so hard to keep his eyes open and not let them flutter closed— trying hard to keep his eyes on you.

“But don’t worry, honey baby,” he sighed with a smile, still thrusting as deep as he could, his thumb moving to rub at your clit. “You’ll still be daddy’s best girl— daddy’s favourite, I’ll make sure of it.”

You whined. He was so filthy, so crude, as soon as his big dick would slip inside of you he’d be gone, so stupid, completely pussy drunk. Silly boy.

“You ready for it, hon?” He cooed, nuzzling his nose into your cheek, “ready for my cum, pretty girl?”

You nodded, uttering a small ‘yes, Stevie’ through a moan and a sigh, clenching hard and quivering around him, ready to cum yourself.

The sheer need to be filled had you delirious.

“Yeah, gonna fill you up— gonna put a sweet baby in that pretty tummy of yours,” he hummed, “that sound good?”

“Sounds s’good, Stevie,” you whined, struggling to keep hold of your legs, your limbs shaky when you tried to keep your knees pressed against you. “Wan’ it so bad, want your cum— want your babies.”

He nodded fervently, hair whipping in every which way, dick throbbing in you hotly, the taut veins pulsing with every inward thrust— so, so close and ready to burst.

“I know ya do, hon— you ready to take it? You ready to take another load, baby?” He whined, squeezing his eyes shut, thrusts turning sloppy and erratic, “I know you’re so full, can barely fit anymore cum inside this poor pussy, huh?”

“Can take it, Stevie,” you spoke, fluttering your lashes, your lips all pouty and pink, “promise.”

And with one, two, three thrusts, he stilled inside of you, so deep, tip kissing your cervix before shooting his thick, pearly ropes of cum inside you, hoping to fill you with his Harrington prodigy, to make all the babies he could wish for.

Steve kept your legs raised, pulling them from your chest to place above his shoulders, keeping your back arched.

“Gotta make sure it takes,” he whispered, stroking at your calf before pressing a little kiss to your ankle. “think this is the one, honey.”

[lucysarah-c]

Levi's horrible flirting skills part 6.

Masterlist link to all the previous parts.

“I simply do not understand… we were talking so well and all of a sudden—!”

“You called her stupid.”

“And naive,” Hange added after Erwin, almost tired, while taking a messy sip from his tea, not bothering to raise his head properly.

Levi clicked his tongue, running a hand through his hair and almost tugging at it out of frustration. “I was just trying to tell her I was worried about her!”

“You’ve a very peculiar way of expressing your concerns,” Erwin remarked, raising one thick eyebrow at his friend's illogical actions. Unlike Hange, he raised his cup to his lips with elegant, measured movements.

“UGH!” Levi bent over the table where they should have been having a tactical meeting, but instead were having a catch-up moment as friends. His forehead hit the polished wood covered with glass, and he scoffed against the surface in frustration, fogging it up.

“You should have known,” Erwin said softly, shaking his head with closed eyes as if the outcome was easily predicted, like a palm reader foretelling your life. “When a woman asks you to repeat something, it’s not because she hasn’t heard you. It’s because she wants to see if you have the guts to say it to her face. That’s the precise moment you should buckle up, fold the imaginary paper where you wrote your speech, smile, and say, ‘nothing, honey.’”

Hange frowned deeply, even curling her lip in disdain. “Since when are you such an expert on how to keep a woman?”

The blond put down his tea and looked at the squad leader, almost offended. “Excuse me, I had a very long relationship with Marie before we broke up. I learned a trick or two.”

“Whatever, I fucked up and it’s all wasted now,” Levi said woebegone, his cheek resting on the surface and his eyes looking to the side, completely bereaved. He couldn’t complete a single sentence without clicking his tongue or sighing in resignation.

“Oi! Come on, shorty! You just have to go and apologise. Don’t be such a coward,” Hange tried to raise her friend’s spirits.

“Yeah… but give her a couple of days. Let her cool down a little bit,” Erwin added, fearing that Hange’s enthusiasm might cause Levi to make another mistake.

But perhaps waiting a couple of days became weeks. Between work and each time he tried to lock eyes with her, she either completely ignored his presence or didn’t seem particularly happy.

While it was still freezing cold, certain trees began to bud, and the sun warmed more than usual on some days. Early one morning, he saw her again, walking on the front sidewalk with five friends, each holding something from a nearby pastry shop. Her face had the softness and lethargic appearance of someone who had just woken up.

Clenching his teeth and with hopeful eyes, his body naturally straightened from his slouched position against a wall. He thought of taking one hand out of his pocket and waving at her casually, worried, and timid as he was that time on the boat.

“Good morning, Captain,” three youthful cadets passed by and bumped into him with suspicious dorkiness. Their rosy cheeks and shining eyes made Levi slightly uncomfortable.

He hadn’t even noticed them, and the loss of focus on his main objective made him turn back frantically to where he was looking. She was already gone.

“Morning,” he replied disinterestedly to the girls who still wore their training ground jackets with swords on their backs. Levi returned to his slouched position, head down. He quickly heard the little girls giggle enthusiastically, muttering among themselves as they hurried away, thinking they were far enough for him not to notice.

“Did you see how he looked at me?” one whispered. Levi grimaced uneasily; he knew better than anyone that at their age, having silly little crushes on higher-ups was normal. ‘What are you, 13? You should be worried if I looked at you like that.’

He sighed loudly. ‘What would it take for you to look at me like that?’

Not that he daydreamed of her being like them, but he wished for the enthusiasm. Sparkling eyes, rosy cheeks, nervous chuckles, and rushed steps to tell a friend.

‘I can’t just keep spying on you from afar like a creep. I’ve run out of innocent excuses to pass by your workplace.’

“Well, it’s decided. On the 2nd of March, we leave again,” Erwin announced as he exited the building with signed papers.

‘I don’t want to die without having at least something with you.’

Such a simple thought. For a split second, which lasted days, he wondered if it was a sort of fetish he hadn’t added to his list. But as another nurse, with the same uniform and the same soft touch, stitched up a cut he got when he came back and looked up at him from his left side, he felt nothing.

It reminded him so much of when she had tricked him into getting a vaccine, but it had no power over him. With her, it was like he couldn’t get her face closer without fighting the overwhelming need to grab it and kiss her.

‘Once again, do I really need to tell you that I’m dying to have a single silly chance with you?’

Something that feels utterly humiliating, like apologizing or confessing, really fades into oblivion when you’re visiting cadets half your age who are either dying or won’t be able to live a standard life after walking beside you to near-certain death. Levi looked at his soldiers in immaculate rooms and whitish beds, their bodies and faces blending into the sheets as they were covered in bandages the same shade as the rest of the room.

“Did I do good, Captain?”

Levi’s eyes opened slightly wider as he came back from his mental storm. “Yes, you did great, soldier. Your sacrifice won’t be in vain.”

He wondered, only sometimes, if his words really held any real power. But they always muffled cries of relief and pain.

‘I’m being a fucking coward, that’s what I am.’

As the family members arrived in the room or fell asleep, Levi left. ‘Even a kick in the ass pushes you forward.’

He took secure steps down the halls. It was very late, and there was no security that she might be in the staff area. Or perhaps there was; he had learned which days she was on duty. Was it a bit on the stalker side? Perhaps. But Levi took pride in knowing her and wished to know much more.

It was stupid, but he held on to that information. Sometimes he was miles away in his office doing paperwork late at night, looked up at the clock on the wall, noticed the time, and something clicked in his mind. He would check the calendar and worry. The huge hospital, empty corridors, or long hours of staying up helping women in labor or taking care of the ill. Perhaps returning home when the sun hadn’t completely risen yet. He was miles away, but he worried.

‘I just need to know… I need to know if she’s alright, if she’s safe.’

That had been the reason for this whole issue, but this time he was confident in solving it or at least trying to.

He pushed open the door to the staff area. The room was freezing, either because it was in the basement or because the heating budget was spent on the patients. He froze momentarily when her pitched scream and little jump echoed in the room.

“DEAR Shenna! You scared me!” she exclaimed, raising one hand to her chest to calm her heart and sighing loudly. She had a cardigan over her uniform and rubbed her arms to keep warm.

Her body was next to the stove where she was warming up a kettle, her frown haunting him across the room. She said nothing, only scoffed and kept silent.

‘This seemed ten times easier in my mind five seconds ago.’

He pushed the door closed with his body, giving serious thought to the words he was going to use.

“Look, I didn’t mean to insult you. That was just me bitching,” Levi said, raising a white flag in the mental no man’s land they held. It earned him a sidelong glance, but her body language showed she hadn’t completely given in. “Tch, what I am trying to say,” he scratched the back of his head, feeling the sensation of his undercut beneath his fingertips, “You’re not stupid, but you’re too nice, and assholes like him abuse that.”

This time she turned to him slightly, still folding her arms to hold in the warmth, looking tired. “I’m not naive. I know my boss can’t keep his hands to himself,” her voice was hushed, either because it was late or because she seemed exhausted. “But not all of us are Humanity’s strongest, held in such high esteem by the military. I could lose my job. He could make my life a living nightmare. Plus, I prefer he bothers me rather than the new girls who are too young and too impressionable. No, Captain, I’m not stupid.”

Levi wondered if his admiration was as palpable in his features as he felt it. ‘I’m not stupid,’ his mind repeated. ‘Yeah, you’re right. The stupid one is me.’

A young woman who held her own, whom he met having fun with her friends at a party, all of them keeping each other safe, who lived on her own. She wouldn’t have survived the Capital if she was stupid. Levi knew firsthand how those environments shaped you: either you blend with them or you break.

She sighed once again, “The last thing I need this week is to argue with you.”

It made him want to ask what else had happened, but he didn’t want to push his luck. Instead, he rose from his slouched position against the door, walked to the countertops next to her, and rested there.

“It’s fucking freezing here,” he said, hoping the little shaky fire from the stove would warm the air more.

“Yeah… I can’t feel my feet,” she replied. “You look good, though.” This time, she managed a side smile, perhaps too tired to smile fully.

Levi quickly assumed she was referring to his recent return. “Yeah, it was a shitty mess of an expedition, though.”

She hummed. “I heard. A lot of rain, I’m sorry.”

Levi shook his head, dismissing her apology as she held no responsibility. “Tch… about your boss, someone should put him in his place.”

Her eyes rolled as she chuckled. “Who is going to do it? The MPs who go to men-only parties with him?” she joked, though her words carried no humour.

Levi, unable to stop looking at her face, said, “I could cut his balls off for a modest price.”

She giggled, tilting her head to the side and biting her bottom lip to suppress her chuckles. But he felt his chest warm up. ‘Holy shit,’ he thought, feeling pride at making her laugh genuinely for the first time. ‘I wish I knew another fucking joke to pull off.’

“You’ll go to jail if you do that,” she replied, entertained. As the conversation flowed easily, her sleepiness slipped away. “You’ll go to jail, and Erwin will kill me for losing his best soldier.”

“No, I’m the stupid military board’s favourite, didn’t you say that? They’re too scared because I’m the only one who could kill the titans if they break another wall. I’ll just pull off a shitty excuse,” he replied, bending slightly forward and closing the space between them.

“And your excuse, Captain?”

The way his title rolled off her tongue, it was just not holy what it created in his system.

“He’s fucking tall… maybe I confused him with a weird titan who has balls… or should I say had?”

This time she laughed, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she showed her teeth. She tried to cover it with her left hand, and Levi was tempted to hold it down so he could still see her laugh.

The little slap of her hand against his arm caught him off guard. It didn’t hurt, but the proximity surprised him. “Stop it, you’re going to get me punished. This is a hospital; we should keep quiet,” she whispered.

She was so close, both bending forward. ‘Maybe I should just fucking go for it. Go big or go home,’ he thought. But she straightened up, pushing the sleeve of her cardigan further into her hand to use it to grab the kettle that was already whistling.

Back to being slouched against the countertop, he lost his chance. Hands in pockets, he couldn’t help but watch her as she walked to the cup with the tea ready for her to pour the water.

“You want one?” she asked, and Levi tried to hide the fact that he was mesmerised by the way her hips moved in the skirt. He just nodded. “So, what’s your modest price, Captain?”

“Huh?” The question confused him, as his mind couldn’t think of two things at once. He tried to remember his own words while thinking that she had the best ass inside the walls. Men’s brains have limitations.

“You said,” she began, pulling another cup out of the cupboard and filling it with water, “that you would do it for a modest price. What’s your modest price?”

His brain was still recovering from seeing her laugh next to him about a joke he made, the cute little swing of her uniform as she walked, her cheeky smile as she looked at him. It was hard to come back from that and reply as he usually would. No actual thoughts, no consequences.

“You going out on a date with me.”

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @flxrartsstuff @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @katharinasdiaryy @ackermanswifee @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @searriously @blackdxggr @storiesofsung @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-angel @galactict3a @lemonsupernova @hyuckwon-my-husbands @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @love-for-faeries-go-burrrr @mandaax @sugacor3 @r0ckst4rjk @vegetasgirl2799 @catiwinky @pinksaiyans @sparklykeylime @hagridshaircare Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[suguann]

I HOPE YOU STAY—GOJO SATORU

✎. he’d asked why your coworkers weren’t waiting outside with you—it's not safe here—at the same time you asked for a kiss. it just sort of slipped out. | wc. 2.8k+

tags. fem!reader, grinding, unprotected sex, oral sex, some mutual pining (it's implied he doesn't know how to talk to reader), there is not a world where gojo isn't rich, fwb to lovers, jealousy, gagging on how very much in love gojo is with reader and she doesn't see it, praise kink, pet names [18+ only]

masterlist

You’re not sure how it all started.

(As how all arrangements like these seem to start.) 

You remember calling Gojo on a night out with your coworkers—one too many cheap vodka cranberries in your system clouding your judgment—just as he left the office for the day, asking if he could pick you up from a shady nightclub downtown. 

(You’d hardly been acquaintances, and there was a long period of time where you’re sure he only tolerated you for Shoko’s sake since she’s the one who dragged you into their group of friends. You’re always the last one he acknowledges in the room, and he seems to clam up when you’re alone together.

You refused to let it get to you. Especially when you only see him a handful of times every other month or so, although less now that you’re around, and you pretend it doesn’t eat at you.)

It’s still a mystery why you called him out of everyone you know—you had to scroll through an endless amount of contacts just to find a message you sent him months ago that he left on read with the express purpose of annoying you—and even more surprising that he answered.

You didn’t know him as well as Shoko, but maybe a secret hidden part of you knew he’d help if you were in a pinch.

“Hello?” 

(He might be the most infuriating human you know, but he has a voice like rich bourbon. 

He’s also stupidly attractive. Beautiful, even, with his straight nose, soft-looking mouth, and thick hair that adorably curls around his ears. However, you’d never say that to his face, for his head would get too big.)

“Do you think you could give me a ride?” It was almost a miracle that your words didn’t slur.

You half expected him to hang up, but then he asked for the address, and several minutes later, he pulled up to the curb in his shiny sports car that probably cost more than everything you own combined and watched you stumble into the soft-leather passenger seat. 

It should be embarrassing how long it took you to buckle your seatbelt, but then you finally got a good look at him and took note of his expensive-looking suit: his tie slightly undone, shiny watch and cuff links glinting under the passing street lights, how his hair looked like he ran one of his bear paws for hands through it several times. 

You think it was the first time you realized he was as tall as he was wide.

The quintessential businessman in a three-piece suit. You understand the appeal now. 

(That je ne sais quoi that makes you want something out of reach. Why your friends from college ask if he’s single when all you see is a man who never takes anything seriously.)

He’d asked why your coworkers weren’t waiting outside with you—it's not safe here—at the same time you asked for a kiss. It just sort of slipped out.

Gojo gave you a look that would have made you giggle if you weren’t serious. “What?”

“I want a kiss,” you told him again.

It was the little once-over he gave you afterward, the way he missed the exit to your street and took the one that led to his, how he kissed you until your knees were wobbly and weak, and you could barely walk to his door in your heels as he pressed small ones around your mouth while his fingers sunk into your hair.

(That. That—)

You came against his thigh—staining his Burberry suit while he whispered dirty things into your ear—right there in the hallway where anybody could see if he didn’t have the whole floor to himself.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned into your mouth once he had you in his room, his hands trailing up and down your sides until he found the zipper for your dress and tugged. "I can't believe this is really happening."

(Later, you spend a lot of time analyzing what he meant.)

You urged him toward the bed when he had the black slip of fabric pooling at your feet, dropping down to your knees in front of him, and together, you scrabbled at his pants, shoving them around his hips. You’ll never forget how hot and heavy he was in your hand that first time, how your fingers barely touched and looked so small in comparison.

There was a thick vein along the underside of his cock, and you trailed it with your tongue, going up and up until you took the slightly purpling head into your open mouth.

You kept taking more of him until you couldn’t go any further without gagging, which wasn’t far because he was big—possibly the biggest dick you’ve ever seen outside of porn—and it made you a little dizzy how quickly it robbed you of air. 

“Holy shit.” He stroked your hair so softly, so sweetly, groaned things that made you preen and nuzzle into his touch. “You’re so good at this. You gonna let me cum down that throat?”

That made your belly flip—the fact that Gojo Satoru, of all people, called you good—a stone creating a current of new possibilities.

You hummed a muffled “Uh huh” and squeaked when he held your head down—the coarse hair at his pubic bone brushing against your nose—cumming down your throat in hot, heavy spurts, and you’re surprised you swallowed it all because it was a lot.

He fell back against the mattress, freeing you of his grip, arms spread wide and panting as he lay there with his eyes closed.

“Was it good?” you asked, licking away the small amount of cum that escaped the corner of your mouth.

That got him to pop his head up to look at you, a hint of something too soft on his face than you were used to from him. “Come here,” and he let you crawl into his lap.

A sigh escaped his lips as his hands hovered close to the side of your waist before letting them fall back against the mattress. “You’re trouble, you know that?” he mumbled after kissing your forehead.

(That’s how you think it started.)

~~~~~

Everything’s fine.

Perfectly fine before Gojo sits by you, casually planting himself between you and the newest member of your group of friends, Nanami. You roll your eyes at how childish he’s being, refusing to react to his blatant jealousy.

Then he inconspicuously rests his hand on your knee. You jump at first, and the few people sitting at the table with you glance at you curiously, including Gojo, who gives you a mischievous little smirk that can only mean trouble. 

Again, you roll your eyes and choose to ignore whatever is going on in that lizard brain of his.

That doesn’t last long because he’s leaning across you to grab a handful of pretzels, only to lean in close, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he sinks back into his seat.

“You look so fucking good in this dress right now.” His voice already sounds hoarse, stretched thin—raw with want—and you inconspicuously rub your thighs together under the table. “Are you wearing what I bought you underneath? You’d show me, yeah?”

(Because he buys you things now—perfectly normal for someone you’re sleeping with who’s not your boyfriend, but maybe your friend—and sometimes you playfully call him Daddy when he has your wrists tied above your head with one of his silky ties.

And who cares if a few of your things and a toothbrush have found their way into his place? He lives closer to your job. Nobody can blame you for choosing convenience over a forty-minute ride through the subway.

Normal.)

Distantly, you’re aware that you aren’t alone, and there are several ears within earshot distance, but that doesn’t stop the little gasp that escapes past your lips. 

“Satoru, knock it off.” You glance around the table to make sure no one is paying attention, your tensed shoulders relaxing a little when you find everyone too preoccupied with their own conversations.

Gojo already has acknowledged this, too. 

“I bet you still taste just as sweet as you did this morning. You have no idea how much I want you. It’s making me hard just thinking about it.” At that, you peek down at his lap to find the prominent bulge pressing against his khaki pants. 

“Oh?” voice soft when you finally tear your eyes away from his crotch to meet his heated gaze again.

“Mhm.” 

Oh. 

You can tell that he sees your walls cracking, that it would only take a few sweet words before you finally caved: “You’d let me have another taste, wouldn’t you?”

Your breath hitches because, yes, you would. 

That’s how you find yourself with your thighs parted and one of your legs draped over his.

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the moan threatening to escape while the rough pad of his middle finger presses small circles over the top of your panties. His fingers tease, exploring the slick seam of you and retreating when you start arching your hips up into his touch.

It feels like you can’t breathe—or perhaps you’re too fearful to find out what other noises you’d make if you did—practically choking on the torturous (because that’s what this is) pleasure you’re receiving, and you’re ready to beg. You really are. However, you aren’t prepared to face the mortifying consequences if you happen to open your mouth.

Something that sounds a lot like, please, just waiting on the tip of your tongue.

It feels like every pair of eyes at that small table are on you, but they’re none the wiser to what is currently happening beneath the party-themed tablecloth, still laughing and mingling around the yard as they celebrate Geto’s birthday. 

It’s not as if it’s all that obvious, either. 

Gojo is turned away from you, currently in the middle of a discussion with the birthday boy himself. You have no clue what they were talking about because you’d stopped paying attention a while ago—not that you’d be able to listen if you wanted to with Gojo’s fingers turning every spun cotton candy thought back into melted sugar. 

He traces lightly over the covered seam of your lips before finally slipping under the silky material—his skilled fingers working slippery circles at the apex of your thighs—and the subtle relief forces you to swallow another moan. 

“Satoru,” you warn under your breath, grabbing his wrist to stop his movements. But the feel of him patting your sticky, sensitive clit with three fingers cuts off all of your protests, forcing you to sit there and let him play with you.

Heat crawls up your neck as he explores your slick folds, the loud music, and chatter, thankfully hiding the wet sounds produced between your legs. 

He does offer some mercy when he notices the slight quiver in your thighs, how they jump and jump until he stops teasing to press to fingers inside you and grind the heel of his palm into your clit. Your hips start rocking forward against his hand slightly, and you pray nobody notices because the heat spreading through your belly is almost too consuming to stop now, making you dizzy with it. 

Your abs hurt from how hard they clench, and your legs shake, culminating in a slow drop just before you resurface. Gojo can probably feel it—attuned to your body after all these months—and starts moving in a steady rhythm, and—

The breath you’re about to take gets caught in your throat, fingers gripping Gojo’s wrist and the ledge of the table as you tip over the edge. Your legs tremble while you convulse onto his hand, and you have to lean into him to keep from falling out of your chair. 

His fingers bring you back down, slowly, rubbing soothingly against your inner thigh as the fog gradually dissipates from your brain. And what you’d give to hear him call you his good girl at that moment—

“Hey, are you okay?” Shoko asks you from across the table. “You don’t look so good.”

All eyes turn towards you, including the smug little gleam in Gojo’s. 

“Yeah,” you squeak before standing up hastily. You pull Gojo up with you, not caring that it’s the same hand covered in your sticky-wet slick. “I just remembered that I need Sa—Gojo’s help with something.”

Only a few are dumb enough to believe that lie, and you avoid the smirk Shoko gives you as she watches you practically drag Gojo toward the house.

(Because, of course, she knows.

And perhaps she’s not the only one.)

~~~~~

The tipping point in your relationship—the one that turns it from a maybe into a definite something, and not just two people who have been having sex and somewhat living together for six months—happens on a night Gojo comes home late from work. 

(Exactly five minutes to eleven.)

You’re not usually the jealous type, but you’ll admit that dating someone like Gojo—rich, attractive, owns more Tom Ford suits than you have jeans, and just important enough that he has an assistant who runs said suits to the dry cleaners—can stir up some insecurities.

A more reasonable person would lay out the facts like a deck of cards: you know he’s someone’s boss’s boss, so he likely had to stay behind to fix someone else’s mess, but the proverbial chip onto the poker table comes with his new assistant. 

Hinata.

A girl who’s fresh out of college and around him more hours of the day than you see him during the week, and from the few times you stopped by his office, you can tell she has a thing for him—her lack of subtlety could compete with Gojo’s nonexistent observation skills.

Much later, after you’ve slept on the softest sheets you’ve ever laid on, you’ll admit you overreacted. How you shouldn’t have thrown blankets and pillows at him from his bed for him to sleep on the couch with as soon as he walked through the front door—not to mention how you never give him a chance to explain himself and keep huffing whenever he opened his mouth.

After the second pillow (almost comically, if you weren’t so upset) hits him square in the face, he drops the blankets to grab your wrists.

“Would you stop throwing blankets at me and tell me what’s wrong?”

"Like you don't know," you hiss unhelpfully just to be difficult.

"I wouldn't be asking if I did." This time, his voice is softer when he says, "Talk to me."

"It’s your assistant."

He frowns. “My assistant…?”

“Yes, your assistant,” you huff, making an unsuccessful attempt to yank your wrists free. “She obviously has a thing for you, but you’re too thick to notice. You forgot your phone, and she answered and said you were busy...”

He probably sees the vulnerability on your face. Hears what you’re not telling him because he presses a kiss to your forehead—I’m not seeing anyone other than you—another to your mouth before he’s showing you with your thighs pressed to your chest that every piece of him (even the parts he doesn’t show to anyone else) is yours.

“You want me to send this video to her to let her know you’re the only girl I want to fuck?” he grunts, making sure his phone captures the way his cock pushes in and out of you, hissing dirtier things that only you hear—the tightest pussy he’s ever had. “Would you like that?”

“Y-yes,” you whine, fingernails digging into his hand wrapped around your throat. “Please, Toru. I want it.” 

“So fucking dirty,” he growls, even though he’d do it for you anyway.

He stuffs his cock into you over and over again until you’re a twitching mess underneath him, the walls of your cunt clenching down around him as you cum with a squeak.

“There you go,” he groans into your ear, tossing his phone to the side to pin you against the mattress so he can reach that tender spot deep inside you that made you cum so hard once your foot cramped, his teeth sinking into your shoulder. “Is that what you needed? To make you cum because you’re mine? Fuck, baby—I’ll never get tired of this perfect little cunt.”

“Better not,” you whimper, eyelashes wet, squirming beneath him as he fucks you hard into the soft sheets.

“Never, sweetheart, never.” Gojo’s thrusts turn rough and brutal, almost working you into overstimulation just to prove a point. "You're my girl. The only one for me."

It's not quite an 'I love you,' but it's close.

Afterward, he pulls you between the sheets, holds you close with a hand cupping the back of your head, and asks you to stay.

“For good this time. No more leaving in the morning,” he whispers, lips grazing your cheek. “You like the walk-in closet and the clawfoot tub. We have enough room to turn the spare bedroom into an office for you because you like how sunny it gets in there during the day.”

It’s not a question, but you still say ‘I do’ because you really like how the word we sounds coming from him.

“Then…stay.”

…You say yes because it’s not as if you want to be anywhere else.

[callsigns-haze]

Here Comes Kaboom

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: Tyler shares his love for storms with his three-year-old daughter Hazel, who joyfully believes she can summon thunder from the safety of his lap.

Mild peril due to storm-watching.

Tyler Owens knew storms like the back of his hand—their rhythm, their power, the way they could turn the sky into a canvas of light and shadow. But nothing compared to the thrill of sharing that passion with his daughter, Hazel. She was only three, but already she had an uncanny connection to the weather, a fascination that seemed to run in her blood.

Today was one of those rare days when the conditions were just right for a storm, not too dangerous, but strong enough to put on a show. Tyler had been watching the weather all morning, debating whether or not to bring Hazel along for a closer look. After much deliberation, he decided to take her out in the truck, knowing they would keep a safe distance, just close enough to see the action without getting caught in it.

Hazel, with her wide, curious eyes and boundless energy, was thrilled when he told her they were going to see a storm. She climbed into the truck with all the excitement of a child about to embark on a grand adventure, her tiny hands gripping as Tyler buckled her into her car seat.

“Are we gonna see a big storm, Daddy?” she asked, her voice filled with wonder.

“Not too big,” Tyler reassured her with a smile, “but big enough to make some noise.”

As they drove out to the open plains, the sky began to darken, the clouds gathering in thick, rolling masses. Hazel’s eyes were glued to the window, watching the sky with an intensity that made Tyler’s heart swell with pride. She was so much like him, so eager to understand the world around her, to feel connected to something greater than herself.

When they finally reached the perfect spot—a wide, flat stretch of land where they could see the storm from a distance—Tyler parked the truck and unbuckled Hazel from her seat. He lifted her onto his lap, letting her small hands rest on top of his as they held the steering wheel together. She leaned back against his chest, her head nestled under his chin, and he wrapped his arms around her, feeling the steady beat of her little heart against his own.

“Look at that, Hazel,” he murmured, nodding toward the horizon where the storm clouds were beginning to boil and churn. “See how the sky is changing colours?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, her voice a hushed whisper. “It’s like the clouds are getting angry.”

Tyler chuckled softly. “That’s right. They’re getting ready to make some noise.”

They sat in comfortable silence, watching the storm unfold. The wind began to pick up, rustling the tall grass around them, and the first flashes of lightning lit up the sky in the distance. Tyler could feel Hazel’s excitement growing, her little body practically vibrating with anticipation.

Suddenly, Hazel raised a hand, her small fingers pointed toward the darkening sky. “Daddy,” she whispered urgently, “be quiet.”

Tyler obeyed, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he watched her. Hazel was completely focused, her eyes wide and bright as she stared out at the storm. For a few seconds, there was nothing but the sound of the wind whistling through the truck’s open windows.

Then, in a soft, solemn voice, Hazel declared, “Here comes kaboom.”

Tyler held his breath, waiting. And just as she said it, a low rumble of thunder rolled across the plains, growing louder and louder until it crashed like a cymbal, reverberating through the air around them. Hazel’s eyes lit up with pure, unfiltered joy, and she turned to look up at her father, a triumphant grin spreading across her face.

“I did it, Daddy,” she whispered, her voice full of awe. “I made the kaboom.”

Tyler’s heart melted as he looked down at her, seeing the wonder and pride shining in her eyes. He knew, of course, that she hadn’t really made the thunder, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the magic she felt, the connection to the storm that made her believe, even if just for a moment, that she had called the thunder into being.

“You sure did, Hazel,” he said softly, kissing the top of her head. “You made the biggest kaboom I’ve ever heard.”

Hazel giggled, clearly pleased with herself, and snuggled deeper into his arms, her attention returning to the storm. They sat there together, watching as the lightning danced across the sky and the thunder rumbled in response, each crash more powerful than the last. Hazel’s excitement never waned, her eyes wide with wonder as she took it all in, every flash and bang a testament to the incredible world she was just beginning to discover.

For Tyler, it was a moment of perfect contentment. Here he was, sharing something he loved with the person he loved most in the world, passing down not just a passion, but a sense of awe and respect for the natural world. As they watched the storm together, he could feel the bond between them growing stronger, shaped by these shared experiences, these quiet moments where nothing else mattered but the sky and the storm and the two of them together.

When the storm finally began to move on, the thunder growing softer and the lightning fading into the distance, Hazel let out a little yawn, her head resting against Tyler’s chest. “That was the best storm ever, Daddy,” she murmured sleepily.

Tyler smiled, gently rubbing her back. “I’m glad you liked it, sweetheart.”

“Can we do it again?” she asked, her voice already heavy with sleep.

“Someday,” he promised, “we’ll do it again.”

And as Hazel drifted off to sleep in his arms, Tyler sat there a little while longer, watching the last remnants of the storm disappear over the horizon. He knew that this was just the beginning for Hazel—that she would grow up with the same love for storms that he had, the same curiosity and wonder that made him who he was.

But for now, it was enough to hold her close, to feel her small body rise and fall with each breath, and to know that in her dreams, she was still making thunder, still calling down the kabooms that made her eyes light up with joy.

And Tyler wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Requests for Tyler are open be free to send in as much as you wish!

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[solbaby7]

Killing Me Softly

pairing: cassian x reader

[ part 2 ]

warnings: swearing, violence, blood, jealous themes, angst

summary: [based off that episode in greys were Mer got beaten by that patient who didn’t remember anything when they woke up]

—

It had started out as a normal fight.

Something small and fixable.

But somewhere along the way, things had snowballed and the playful Cassian you’d always known had disappeared before your very eyes. “You have a responsibility,” His tone is firm; slightly condescending and you can feel the attitude beginning to form when his arms cross over his chest. Cassian shoulders squared out, spine straight and wings pulled taut as he stood his ground. “The answer is no.”

“Cass, you’re not even listening. I told you I had this planned a week ago,” It comes out rushed, brows furrowed as you tried to meet something else besides that hard wall behind hazel eyes. “Besides it’s the med wing, they always have volunteers coming in to help—it’s just one date.”

“This really isn’t up for discussion,” His steely exterior nearly crumbles to pieces when he sees the way you visibly deflate, fingers grazing over the pretty dress you’d spent three days searching for with Mor and Cass had to pretend to be thrilled when you came barreling through his bedroom door with it in hand. You were beaming, smile so wide he thought your cheeks would split in two. “Now, go get changed.”

Guilt bubbles in his belly at the sight of you, jaw clenched tight and eyes blinking furiously to push back the frustrated tears; you had been really excited. You say nothing when you breeze past him, making sure not to touch him or make eye contact when you disappear back where you came and Cass doesn’t even need to turn around to know the way Azriel is looking at him. “Thought you said the med-wing was fully staffed? Easy day, you said.”

“Don’t even start.”

“It was just one date, she bought a dress and everything.” Az doesn’t buckle at the remorse that begins to scrunch at hard features, hands that clench and unclench at his sides as Cass battled a war that didn’t take prisoners. “If you won’t act on your feelings for her then leave her be so she can be happy.”

“Seriously, mind your fucking business.” Cassian all but snarls, golden eyes like burning lava when regarding his brother; the words hitting much harder than and punch. “She had a job to do and she’ll be here doing it. We don’t have time for stupid dresses and dates when people are dying.”

You don’t speak when you re-emerge in something more sturdy, medical equipment neatly organized in a bag that you held loosely in one hand. A whole folder of papers had been shoved in your grasp from a brooding General, inky hair flying away from his face when the wind cut through on his speedy departure. Frustration builds but you don’t allow it to overcome you, ignoring Azriel’s inquisitive stare, arms crossed over his chest and thick leathers hugging muscular thighs. “You okay?”

You sigh, gesturing to the stack of papers while you begin down the hall. “I’m busy.”

Times flows significantly slower now that you’re aware you’re missing something of importance; you’d really been looking forward to dressing up. Taking special time on your hair and the dark kohl that Mor insisted would make your eyes pop. The bittersweet daydream of what could’ve been is interrupted by the ruffled patient, his body covered in a serious of wrappings and notes near his side table on the tonics he’d been given—heavy duty sedatives and even stronger pain alleviants. Dosages so high there was no was he should’ve been moving, eyes blinking into consciousness and slurred speech stumbling from his tongue. “Where am I?”

“Sir, it’s okay just relax. I’m only here to help.”

“I shouldn’t be here,” Your hands are gentle when they reach out for him in attempts to soothe but it only makes him more agitated, arms whipping around wildly and his volume steadily increases. “Who are you? Why am I here?”

“Sir, please. If you just calm down I can explain—you were hurt, I’m only here to help.”

Rational thought and logic make no home in the frantic patients mind, his terrifyingly sturdy grip latches onto your shoulder. You’re jostled in close, bandages and antiseptic falling from your grasp and you only have time for one sharp yelp before his hands are wrapped around your neck. It takes alarmingly little effort for him to get to his feet, slamming your form down on the cot he’d been recovering in for days. Broken noises pull from your throat, nails scratching at his arms and face and whatever skin you can get your hands on, punching and kicking and reaching for anything to help and just as a black spots line your vision you finally get a good kick in, enough to push you from his hands and your body tumbles to the floor with a thud.

Deep heaving breaths pull from you, sucking in as much oxygen as your lungs will allow and tears you didn’t even realize you’d let out are streaming down the curve of your cheeks as you struggle to gain your footing, to get out of the room but hands are back around your arms. A broken cry fills the air when your face is shoved into the wall, heavy weight pushing you over and over until blood pooled from your temple and choked noises caught in your throat.

You can’t even remember when it stopped, a darkness overtaking you but even that’s abruptly ripped away from you for what feels like just seconds later. Someone screaming, strangled, pain filled shouts when you feel a set of hands on your body, lifting you from the floor and setting you on a cool table. “She’s awake,” You hear Madja firmly speak, hands quick yet sturdy when reaching into her bag to pull out medical grade scissors. “Anyone not necessary needs to leave.”

“She’s family, we aren’t leaving her.” Azriel retorts even stronger, leaving no room for discussion and you can feel the warmth of his hands on your own when he looks down at you. “You’re going to be okay, we’re here. We’re all here.”

You can’t even form words, eyes watery and panicked when darting between both of his own and the grip you have on his fingers when the healer pressed down on your abdomen is enough to have him barking at her for pain relief. “I can’t just give her things without a full assessment.”

“Assess faster—she’s in too much pain.”

Everything goes in one ear and out the other; you keep trying to speak, to beg them to please stop poking there and prodding at that bruise and asking if it hurt there, because it hurt everywhere. Broken whines pull from your throat, chest heaving and limbs trembling so hard the table shook. “I can feel three—no four broken ribs, collarbone fracture on the right side, shoulders dislocated on the right as well.” Madja begins, voice almost void of any emotion as she drifts from a person to a woman in charge. The High Lord in standing near your head, murmuring encouraging words while soaking in the information, a grim expression shared between him and the shadowsinger. “Damage to the brain is possible with such intense trauma to her head; two males had to physically pull the patient off of her.”

“Why would he even do this?” Rhys takes the warm cloth handed to him and gently begins to drag it over your forehead, trying his best to comfort you through the agony. “She’s harmless—she wouldn’t have hurt a fly.”

“It was the first time he’d been lucid since we’d found him; he doesn’t even remember what happened.”

Half a dozen more healers filter in the room with handfuls of equipment, eyes filled with worry when regarding one of their own but they quickly shake it off and step into line to assist. Azriel snarls at Madja’s words, stomach clenching in disdain at the helpless groans you let out, head lolling from side to side, tears treading trails into your hair as the pain overwhelms you.

Madja skims a knuckle over your jaw on accident when accessing the harsh bruising at your throat and the yelp that pulls is absolutely devastating. “Grab the restraints and hold her down,” The healer commands to the others, insisting they wrap them tighter while ignoring the deep shouts of the two males guarding you like their lives depended on it. “Her jaw is broken,” A heavy sigh pulls from Madja, dark hair tightly braided behind her shoulders. “—I have to set it and it won’t be fun so help me or get out of the room so we can do our jobs.”

Rhysand’s fingers are running through your hair, Azriel’s thumb rubbing soothing circles along the back of your hands and you feel the exact moment they both go stiff, heads turning to face the towering figure that stuttered to a stop in the doorway. “I’ll hold her arms,” The shadowsinger holds your arms with a firmness you hadn’t experienced from him before, soft apologies being whispered into your ears when your heart rate surges. “Cass, hold her legs. She needs to be still.”

The General doesn’t move, eyes wide and mouth hung open when he takes in your form. The clothes that were cut from your body, the countless amounts of thick gauze and medical towels soaked with your blood pooling in piles on the floor. Warbled streaks of crimson red is a stark contrast against the white floors; the smeared print of ten fingers and two palms drag along the wall, the small side table and the around door handle—you’d just nearly gotten away. “Cassian,” Azriel snaps, the rough tone ripping him from his trance. “Hold down her legs, now.”

The shock doesn’t wear off even if he does do as he’s told, golden eyes stuck on every bruise, ears painfully attuned to every whimper, every cry and gut-wrenching scream when your jaw was forced open, the bone shifting with a deafening crunch. “Please, please, please.” You barely get the words out; speech slurred, sweat lacing your forehead, body shaking so hard from the pain you couldn’t tell what was up from down. “Please, make it stop. Please, I’ll do anything—please stop.”

“Give her something!” Rhys snapped, wiping away tears and bracing you from moving around too much.

Madja scoffs, outnumbered and overwhelmed she calls for a tonic, allowing a higher dose than normal and your relief is instant. Deep cries fade to drawn out whimpers before your whole form goes eerily limp. “This will not be an easy recovery; if you think that was bad, just wait.” Quick hands make work of setting your shoulder with a sharp jolt and another healer is wrapping it in thick bandages to keep it in place. “Why was she even in here? The form specifically stated that supervision was required for this patient—she shouldn’t have been alone.”

“She shouldn’t have been here at all,” One of the healers muttered under her breath, hands quick and careful when tucking your hair behind your ear and dabbing your face clean of the blood that had started drying. “—she had a date today. I took this shift for her so she could go. She’s been talking about it all week.”

A silence fills the room and Rhys follows the sharp stare Azriel had trained on the General who’d been stuck in place at your feet. His hands shake where they rest near your calves, gaze seemly stuck on the socks you wore, fabric torn and stained in your own blood and he can just picture how hard you’d struggled trying to escape. Cassian says nothing, not when the others seem to catch on; putting together a piece of the puzzle in his silence—the shock that settles in every pore and the guilt that radiated from his burly form.

He only watches as they collect the soiled gauze off the floor, antiseptic filling the space when they begin to scrub your handprints off the wall, sweeping up the drywall that gave way from the pure strength put into smashing your body to pieces. “Four broken ribs,” Azriel’s voice is unnervingly calm when the last of the healers filter out, the door shutting behind with a soft click. “—a fractured collarbone; she was thrown into the wall so hard her shoulder popped out of socket.” Rhys takes a step forward, a hand raised to stop the shadowsinger but he’s sharply cut off, Az’s tone getting just a bit deeper when he stalks towards Cassian like predators did their prey. “He nearly shattered her skull—she’d be dead if it weren’t for one of the other patients. They heard her scream and found me.” Inky shadows slink around Azriel’s shoulders, but it’s the hand that pushes Cassian a step away from you that finally gains his attention.

“Azriel—“ Rhysand begins to intercept but abruptly pauses when the spymaster continues, fingers pointed at the leader of the Night Courts armies.

“You made her stay today because you were jealous.”

The High Lord goes still, violet eyes sliding from one friend to the other. “What?”

“She had a date and Cass was jealous because he has feelings for her and is too afraid to say anything.” Azriel can’t seem to stop once he’s started; such pure rage burning beneath his skin at the selfishness that resulted in such unimaginable pain.

“You think any of that matters right now?” Cassian doesn’t even sound like himself; no booming voice or need to make his point, no logical facts and carefully thought out points. He can’t even stop looking at you, eyes glassy and shoulders slumped when remembering what you’d looked like just two hours earlier. “I thought I didn’t deserve her before but now—after this? I know I don’t.”

[slightly-knot-insane]

Don't You Dare! (part 2)

Monstertober 2024 - day 13 [ Mating / Hunting season ] by @ozzgin

[ part 1 ]

You stare at Ash's eyes and wonder, who is this man? Where has that timid pup gone and who is this bold wolf? Not that you're complaining about the transformation. He wriggles his finger against your entrance and you whimper. Ash snarls and his teeth glisten pink in the sunset. He looks softer again. "Fuck, you're... so wet..."

You pull his hand off your throat and jump around his hips, locking your arms behind his thick and furry neck, and your legs around his thin waist. You can feel your ass pressing against a firm length.

"Oh my..." you coo rolling your hips against his tip, rubbing your moist entrance against his damp pants. He growls and squeezes your ass, and you happily lift your tail for easier access. "Well, well, well... This is a surprise. Pup can bite after all. Or can you?"

Ash shakes his head. "Do you ever stop teasing?" he asks.

You bury your head into his neck, inhaling his scent. "Fuck..." Your hips sway against his cock. Beautiful sensations make you dizzy. "You smell... so good... pup."

"Not like you—" Ash trails off and suddenly you're standing behind him, confused and disoriented, but swallowed by a sense of danger. "Don't move."

Ash's stern voice shakes you to clarity and you finally notice three hounds, dog hybrids, just a few meters from you. How didn't you notice them?

"She truly smells divine," one of them steps forward, a smug expression on his face. "We decided to play a bit with her, before leading hunters to you. Move aside, monster, and we won't hurt you too much when we're done."

You growl, thinking how these cocky assholes need good ass kicking... but you stop since your ears catch something. A sound so low, so menacing, so deadly, you immediately step back. With ears pinned tightly against his head, Ash is snarling like a demon.

"Stay there," he tells you. "And close your eyes."

You don't dare disobey him. With both your hands, you close your eyes and Ash's shadow moves away. The sounds you hear... the yelping... the whining... they are horrifying. But you don't open your eyes. Not until Ash's shadow towers you again.

"Hunters and hounds won't bother us today. You can look again", he tells you.

Opening only one eye, fearing what you'll see, you scan your friend. He is covered in blood, but seems unharmed. Three trails of bloody paws lead out of the ravine. The smell of blood, aggression and sweet, sweet victory twirl around you and your breath quickens. The excitement rushes through your veins. "Ash..."

He lifts your head with his claws, smiling a rather terrifying toothy grin. "Come on, my little vixen, let's get you full of this dog's cock."

Your knees buckle and you pant and whine, desperately whispering "Yes... please... now..." while your cunt begs and throbs for a cock. He lifts you and places you on soft leaves, desperately undressing you, but not as much as you claw his already tattered clothes. You need him, need him so much! You shiver and whine, and pull him closer to you. Your fingers are all around his base, playing with his sheath and slowly swelling knot.

He bites the claw off his middle finger and pushes it inside your soaked cunt while sinking his teeth into your breast. You growl: "No! I don't need any foreplay. Fuck me now!"

Ash growls, from annoyance or in agreement, you don't know and don't care. He lifts your legs high in the air, gives your red and puffy cunt a long lick that makes you cry out, and then pushes your knees next to your head. He rubs his thick and swollen cock against your folds and smears your arousal along his shaft. "You want this, vixen? You want my cock? You want me to fuck you?"

"Yes, yes, yes... please... do it!" you whimper, clawing at his forearms, urging him to hurry or you'll go mad. And finally - finally! - he pushes his length inside you. His knot slams against your entrance, and his heavy balls bounce off your ass. "Fuck!" he snarls, and, while pushing your knees with his entire torso, he pounds your needy pussy in heat with all his power.

You whimper and moan with no regards to who can hear you, telling him to fuck you harder. Ash whispers lewd things into your big fox ears until he can't form words anymore and only snarls and grunts. He thrusts his knot inside, stretching you even more, but you happily accept it and scream his name. He thrusts with his full length, ravaging you in the mating press. "Cum for me, you dirty little vixen. I want your pussy to clench around my knot. Scream my name."

And - fuck! - you do. Your nerves release a pleasure wave and you climax underneath him, pulling him with you. A warm liquid splashes your soft walls, and his knot swells, locking Ash inside you. But even though he stops with thrusts, he pushes one arm between you two and abuses your swollen clit.

"Remember what I dared you", he says, panting, and cruelly rubs your bundle of nerves. You thrash underneath him, overstimulated, but once he bites your ear, your cunt immediately responds and you cum again, all around his knot.

Leaning forward and touching the tip of your sweaty nose with his bloody snout, Ash purrs: "You lost the dare and now I get to do whatever I want with you."

Somewhere in the back of your foggy mind, you wonder what happened to the awkward Ash you knew, but this new Ash, the one forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you, is quite an impressive replacement, and you soon stop thinking about anything else.

[sweetiecutie]

Part eight: first time/virginity loss~ 🩷 Kinktober Masterlist 🩷

Pairing: John Price x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, virginity loss, fingering, unprotected sex (don’t do that), fluff and soft, I don’t like the ending but dunno how to fix it

- You came to me like a smart girl that you are, made me so proud, - John murmured against your ear as two of his thick fingers were working your pussy open, stretching it out to fit his girthy cock inside. His thumb never stopped rubbing the swollen nub of your clit, causing your mouth to fall open in silent moan, your nipples pebbling up at the intensity of newfound pleasure.

- Yeah, you came to a real man who would treat you so good, not some stupid frat boy who’d fuck you in the back sit of his car and then act like nothing ever happened, - Price kept on whispering, placing small kisses on your temple and hairline in between each word, his beard tickling you slightly, adding to sweet sensation. Your wide teary eyes looked up right into his, making John’s heart skip a bit - how pretty you looked underneath him, so soft and sprawled out on his sheets; how those doe eyes sparkled, gazing at him with so much trust and need, how your puffy lips formed a perfect little pout, melting every bone in his massive body into mush.

John leant in, connecting his lips to yours in a slow sloppy kiss; skilled tongue sliding along your lower lip before slipping into the warmth of your mouth, nose bumping against your cheek. Price gladly swallowed a small squeal you let out as he added third finger inside of your cunny, pumping them in and out slowly, smiling into the kiss as you started buckling your hips up ever so slightly, matching the pace of his hand. Man hummed approvingly as he felt your small hands trailing down his chest and sides, clumsily trying to caress his burly body - your touch is tentative and unfirm, but oh how much John enjoyed your eagerness to please.

- You think you’re ready to take me? - John asked after breaking the kiss, his lips mere centimetres away from yours, piercing eyes gazing right into your soul. You nodded rapidly, mouthing small yeses. - That won’t do. Use your big girl words, hm?

- I want you inside of me, - you uttered under your breath, bright pink dusting your cheeks and ears, heart humping rapidly inside of your chest at the realisation of what was about to happen.

- Love, it’s no pressure. You say stop and we stop, get it? - Price said, his voice sounding as serious as ever, startling you slightly by the sudden change. You nodded in agreement, nibbling on your bottom lip as John slipped his fingers out of your hole, making you feel so cold and empty. - Now clean my fingers f’me.

You obliged happily, opening your mouth and taking three of Price’s fingers inside, soft tongue swirling around rough fingertips, tasting your soury essence off his skin. You watched with immense interest as John undid the button and a zipper of his cargo pants one handed, tugging them down to his knees. His cock, once free from confines of black boxers, sprung up to his stomach, standing tall and proud and incredibly thick. You gaped, glancing up at your lover in confusion - will that thing even fit in? John chuckled, satisfied with your reaction, taking his digits out of your mouth and pulling your hips closer to himself.

- Don’t worry doll, I’ll be as gentle as ever, - he reassured, wrapping wet with your saliva fingers around his thick shaft, pumping it a few times.

John aligned thick cockhead to your fluttering entrance, causing your breathing to hit hitch in excitement. First stroke was slow and smooth, forcing about one third of Price’s cock inside of you. The stretch burnt, but John did good job earlier, working you open on his fingers, slowly easing you into taking the whole thing. After a few long moments he continued, slowly pumping his hips back and forth, sheathing more and more of his length with each new stroke.

First small moan fell from your lips, John’s cock stretching your pussy to its limits, but his thumb caressing your clit relentlessly made it so much easier to handle. Your tits bounced with each slow thrust, making it impossible for Price to resist grabbing them and playing with your perked up nipples.

- Fuuuuck, you’re so perfect for me. My perfect little girl, all mine, forever mine, - John groaned out, holding you so tenderly, his brain barely functioning at the feeling of your rippling heat wrapping so snugly around his throbbing cock, bringing him to the edge embarrassingly quickly.

Your hands grabbed Price’s wrists for some kind of grounding; initial pain started dissipating slowly, giving place to warm pleasure to suffuse you. Your clit was throbbing. unused to such close attention, back arching up at the intensity of the feeling.

- John, I think I’m gonna- your words broke off as a sudden wave of pleasure crashed over you, washing away all the remnants of thoughts that still were in your head. Pure ecstasy was pumping through your veins, making you shake and tremble in your lover’s firm hands, clamping down onto his thick cock, bringing him closer to his own high.

- That’s it doll. Just like that, cum on my cock, make that pussy cream for me baby, - Price muttered above you, his stomach muscles flex upon feeling you clench around his needy leaking cock. But his hips never stopped, fucking you into and through your high, not planning on stopping anytime soon. Not until John showed you how much pleasure a really good sex may bring<3

[magpiepills]

Plow

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Joel Miller x f reader

Word count: 900ish

Summary: Joel’s neighbor does yoga and he has a new appreciation of the practice.

Warnings: SMUT, voyeurism, pervert Joel, creep Joel, male masturbation, PIV, fingering, spit as lube, reader is able to do yoga and wears activity appropriate clothing.

A word from the author: come get your creepy Joel jerk off fic!

Read Part 2 Here

Read Part 3 Here

He stopped in his tracks the first time he noticed that the little window at the landing on his staircase looked right over your privacy fence and into your backyard. He might or have noticed at all if you hadn’t been outside, splayed over your purple yoga mat, twisted into a pretzel with your legs wide open and your tits threatening to spill out of that little stretchy top you wore.

He looked around, sure that someone saw him, knew what he was seeing, heard his brain telling him to look away and saw him watching anyway.

Joel was a practical man. He was honest and good and upright. He took pride in it.

That didn’t stop his hand from sliding over his jeans to palm his rapidly hardening cock. Didn’t stop him from zeroing in on the way the snug fabric highlighted the point of your nipples, or oh god how it molded to the cleft of your cunt.

He tore his hungry gaze away long enough to flick off the lights, hoping to watch just a little more in secret before he swore to himself that he would do the right thing and go downstairs and put you out of his mind.

It was only seconds before he was back in place at the window, ducking to the side to stay out of sight should you look up. In that time you’d switched positions. He watched as you slowly stretched your legs and spine, lifting your pert ass into the air.

Joel’s heart raced. He let himself believe that you were offering yourself to him. He imagined tearing open the fabric of those fucking pants and finding your bare pussy underneath, he let his mind paint a picture of your slick and swollen lips, your tight little asshole, all on display just for him, ready for him to devour or destroy.

He unbuttoned his jeans, belt buckle clacking against the floor as they fell around his ankles. He left his boxers on and told himself it was ok, that looking was free, that he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

He was hard as a rock.

He watched as you moved through your poses, breath hitched as he daydreamed of fucking you in each one.

You were so limber, bending like a willow switch, your movements so smooth and deliberate. He was transfixed by the graceful motion of your body and soon his boxers joined his jeans on the floor. His hand moved slowly against his length. His palm contoured to the underside of his cock and slid down to cup his balls before going back up to roll over the thick, weeping head.

Joel wondered how else you might stretch.

Did you ever touch yourself? Did you slip your fingers inside? How many? How many of his could you take in that little hole? Would you be loud? Scream his name? He would start with one, if he ever got the chance. He would feel how wet you got and he would spread your wetness over your clit again and again, dipping back for more of your dripping arousal, getting you close to coming then adding a second to make you moan and clench.

His fist moved faster around his cock, he spat into his hand to aid the glide, but he didn’t dare look down to watch, didn’t risk missing a moment of you. You were a goddamn minx.

He would add a third finger, he decided. He would wait until your first orgasm washed away, leaving you limp and pliant on your little mat. You’d think he was finished with you, but he would just dive back in, licking and sucking at your pussy, mixing his saliva with your wet release, and sucking your clit between his lips, feeling it throb as he tongued it, making your back arch off the mat when he split you with three thick, rough fingers.

Joel was close. Too close. He didn’t want to come yet.

He squeezed the base of his cock and took a few deep breaths. He looked at your pretty face, you looked dewy and serene, practically glowing. He imagined your pretty face covered in his cum.

You seemed to be winding down, stretching your body out, arms over your head, tits lifted and begging for his hands and his mouth.

Joel pumped his turgid member, closing in on his orgasm as you laid on your back, arms over your head, legs spread wide and bent at the knee, opening up your hips just for him, he was sure. Every deep breath you took lifted your chest and dropped your knees a little further.

How easy it would be to fold you in half and fill you up with his aching cock. He could pull that little top down, lick those little nipples you were hiding, use your top as a handle to fuck you hard and deep, hammering into you.

Joel’s vision tunneled, the house, the fence, the grass and sky all fell away until it was just you, mere yards away, practicing your yoga in the privacy and seclusion of your yard, while Joel splattered his tshirt and spilled cum down his thick knuckles to the image of you in his mind, stuffed full of cock, rubbing your little clit furiously with your manicured fingers, wedding ring shining in the sunlight as he squeezed your tits and filled you to the brim.

None the wiser to what had just transpired on the other side of the fence, you checked your watch, sipped from your water bottle, rolled up your mat and went back inside. Joel was left alone with his stains and his shame and checked his own watch, making a

Mental note so he could be waiting at the same time tomorrow, tissues and lotion handy.

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Special Episode VI 

Labor of Love - Part I

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's insanely talented creator @zestys-stuff. Thank you so much for allowing me to play around with your characters!

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (25) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (20) featuring Metkayina!Zu’té (29)

Warnings: this shit has zero smut, angst angst angst, did i say angst?, this is so dramatic i'm sorry, expletives, a bit of fluff, pregnancy, cliff hanger, let me know if i forgot anything

Word Count: 8k 

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: You are now entering angst town, please buckle your seatbelts and try to enjoy the ride. Jokes aside, GUYS. This chapter…is the most angsty thing I’ve ever written. I’m excited and nervous, and everything in between. There’s a lot going on in this chapter and I just hope to Eywa that I’ve written it in a way that flows and is easy to follow. I’ve had this idea brewing for months, it feels. Now…this shit was over 20,000 words long. That is a personal record and I will not be subjecting you guys to such a monstrosity. Therefore, this is part one of (at the moment) three. I apologise in advance for the cliffhanger, hehe. Also, welcome to my brain, because idk how I came up with this shit. 

Synopsis: You didn’t foresee this, Ralak kept you in the dark for the sake of you and your baby’s safety. But now the time has come, it’s all too overwhelming for you to process. 

<- Previous-> Next

Ralak never shared more than he needed to when it came to his duties with Tonowari. No matter how much you vowed to keep it confidential. He’s a man of few words, but when it came to his business he kept them fewer.

As much as you knew, his trips inland consisted of hunting and gathering bigger game that most warriors struggled to handle.

There's a few times you can count on one hand that he's come home a little more worn down. Each time you cursed Tonowari under your breath as you helped your mate unwind. You’d insist on knowing what the olo’eyktan had him doing to be so spent and why he had not entirely fulfilled his promise to lighten Ralak of his duties since the mating.

Ralak would be quick to shut you down in the most gentle way despite feeling irritable and sombre. It was always something along the lines of, ‘it keeps you safe, and that is my duty’, and that he’ll ‘discuss it when the time comes’.

It seems the time has come. 

Another gloomy night, rain and thunder tear through the sky. These storms are more frequent in this season, as it’s Ewyas way of keeping the balance with the freshwater and seawater ratio for the mangroves.

But tonight it’s torrential. You’re in full bloom, ready to step into your new chapter of motherhood at any moment. The babe sits low in your womb and you’re swollen from what feels like head to toe. The rain isn’t helping with the soreness in your joints. 

Ralak is seated next to the crackling firepit, stirring the bubbling stew with one hand and mindlessly rubbing your swollen ankles with the other. Meanwhile you lay snuggled in bed, wrapped comfortably in the thick shawl as you listen to the pitter-patter. It’s peaceful, despite the dull ache in your lower back. Maybe the rain isn’t so bad, after all. 

Ta-toom!

The low-pitched sound of the war horn has Ralak's full attention, shredding him of whatever serenity he had in his being. Moving hastily, he stands and darts over to the marui door, slipping into his gear and fixing his largest spear on his back.

The scene unfolding before your eyes is a rare one. You’d only seen him in full gear on the day you first laid eyes on him. The day you arrived here in Awa’atlu. And it brings a sinking feeling to your stomach.

“Ralak… what was that?” You ask nervously.

You watch him aggressively tighten the strap of his tstalsena [knife sheathe; carrier] and chuck a bucket of water in the fire—killing the flame. A precautionary measure. He knows the time has come. He hears your voice but he also hears Tonowari's...

'When the horn sounds… you come. And that…is an order.'

In his head, he’s going through an array of possible responses but there’s simply no time for any of them. Using the frame of the bed to pull yourself up, you slowly come to your feet and waddle towards him.

“Ralak. What is going on?” You ask a little louder, a hand gripping his wrist. 

Turning to face you, his hands fly to support your stomach as he looks you deeply in the eyes. Then he kisses you with purpose. Pressing his lips into yours like it would be the last time, forcing himself to pull away to briefly glance down at his unborn.

It catches you by surprise, leaving you looking up at him open mouthed. Now you’re really scared. It feels like he’s being plucked away from your fingers and there’s nothing you can do about it. “Ralak—”

“I will explain when I am back. All of it.” He already sounds out of breath, fixing the shawl over your shoulders. “You stay here. Stay warm. Do not leave. Do not answer to anyone. Understand?” 

Your forehead wrinkles as you try to process this all. 

Don’t answer to anyone? To whom? Why did he put out the fire? Why is he in full gear? What the fuck is going on right now? He said he’d be back…right?

“Y/n.” He booms your name, yet his tone remains steady and calm. “Understand?”

You nod hurriedly, “Yes. Yes.” 

“I will be back soon.” He fixes your shawl a last time before stepping back and bolting through the door.

You follow behind him, keeping the marui flap open to watch him click for his skimwing. He makes the bond and mounts the beast hastily, and is airborne soaring towards the mainland at full tilt. 

Befuddled, you waddle back inside, your back slamming into the marui stilt as you huff and puff to catch your breath. You nervously check the stew, and see that it’s almost done. The glowing charcoal should be enough to finish it off, so you opt to leave it covered and fidget with the prrsmung [baby carrier] you've weaving for the past couple days. 

Anything to keep you busy. 

——

Ralak effortlessly dismounts his tsurak, letting it glide past him in the water as he climbs up to the communal pod. This is a gathering place for important meetings and announcements to the clan. He watches as others assemble under the larger, woven marui, drenched with the water of the sea and sky. It’s clear that this was a signal for the warriors of the clan, from the elite, to the former. The young and the old. 

Even Zu’té is present, standing lone far off in the corner.

War horn in hand, the olo’eyktan makes his presence known as he stands on the highest part of the pod. His mate, the tsahìk, stands next to him with her chest high and their children next to her.

Jake and Neytiri, along with Lo’ak and Neteyam, group together behind them at the back of the pod, observing the unfolding scene. The warriors begin to chant, defensively positioned with their tongues on display. They’re all armed and ready to protect their own from whatever the impending threat is. Ralak takes his place next to Tonowari, standing tall and still. He observes the uproar before him, his mask of indifference fixed tightly to his face. 

“Mawey. Mawey. [Calm. Calm.]” Ronal speaks loudly over the heavy rain, hands splayed out in front of her. 

But it makes no difference. 

The uproar is growing even louder than the downpour. It was rare to hear this particular horn. It’s been years, ten, to be exact. And those who know exactly what it means are up in arms. Ralak knew this day would soon come, but he was hoping to Eywa that it would be after the birth of his son. Tonowari lets loose a throaty ‘gwah’, driving the butt of his spear into the ground. The crowd hushes down into a dead silence, acknowledging their leader.

“Warriors of Awa’atlu. I summon you for good reason. Ten years have passed and it is time to meet with the ash people once more.” Tonowari begins, only for the younger warriors to mumble among themselves, some of who are unaware of who the ash people are. 

“Tìfnu! [silence!]” Ralak snaps through his teeth, “…the olo’eyktan speaks.” Tonowari nods to Ralak. 

“The treaty has ended. We meet with them far inland to discuss the terms of a new treaty.” Tonowari’s eyes bounce among the sea of na’vi. “It will be no easy or short journey. We must make the trek by foot. Tonight.” 

A few male na’vi are unable to keep their excitement to a minimum and siren a few calls, smacking their strakes together. Neytiri snakes her arm around Jake's upper bicep, tucked under his wing. Neteyam and Lo’ak listen intently, their heads tilted down as they grip their bows firmly. 

“Not all will come. I have chosen a few to be at my side.” Tonowari glances at Ralak, and then the Sullys before continuing, “The rest must stay and protect the clan if needed.” 

Ronal interjects, speaking of the ash na’vi and their horrid way of living—from their occasionally cannibalistic diet to their view of Eywa and the balance. She further reminds the people of the treaty, and that its tenets include immunity from their ‘hunting practices’ in exchange for a resource only attainable on the reef. The treaty is valid for a decade and then the terms are subject to negotiation based on the two tribe’s needs. She commences it by announcing the names of those who have been chosen by Tonowari.

“I need you by my side, Ralak.”

It was a direct order, and Ralak knows that. He knows that no matter what he says, the olo’eyktan’s order must be obeyed. But it doesn’t mean he won’t try. 

“She is due any day now. You know that.” Ralak speaks crystal clear, stating exactly what his concerns are.

He doesn’t want to leave you alone, especially so heavy and full with his firstborn, who will come at any moment. Every bone in his body is telling him it’s the wrong move. But Tonowari glances at his own wife who is swollen with his fourth child.

“I know. I know, Tak. But we must do what we need. For the people.” 

Ralak holds a stare with his superior—his father figure. He’s gritting his teeth to keep himself together, to keep his composure. To keep his thoughts just as his thoughts. The two communicate through facial expressions, and a quick tilt to Tonowari’s head has Ralak looking away in frustration. 

It’s final. 

“No.” Jake butts in, sharp and quick with his disapproval. “He gave me his word.” 

Alas, a moment where father and son in law are in favour of the same thing. 

“You have the sky people and we have the ash people. They demand his (Ralak’s) presence. If we fail in this, we will be at war. He comes with us.” Tonowari is stern with his tone, leaving no room for an argument. 

“Ma’ Jake.” Neytiri chimes in, fright evident in her voice. She is tired of the war. 

As a last resort, Ralak’s gaze shifts over to Zu’té. He knew Zu’té would also be chosen despite his...'retirement'. He was undoubtedly one of the best warriors the clan has ever had, wielding great strength and skill. Zu’té returns the stare, crossing his arms over his chest as he cocks a brow. Their brothership had strengthened after Ralak sought help. 

Jake notices this, and shakes his head with his hands on his hips. “Nope. No. Who is that guy anyways?” 

“My brother.”  

“His brother.” 

The two taller na’vi speak at once. 

“Since when do you have a—You know what? I don’t care. Okay? You? I trust. Him? Not so much. I’d rather my boys stay with her.” Jake says sternly, glancing at Zu’té. “No offence, bud.” 

“Good thing I care not for your opinion, koaktan [old man].” 

“Zu’té.” Ralak whispers harshly, throwing a glare at his sibling. 

“Look, if you got a problem—”

“What about tuk?” Neytiri cuts her mate short, tugging at his arm to remind him of who is watching their youngest daughter. 

“Then they take turns or somethin’, I’m not havin’ one baby girl watched and not the other.” 

“Toruk makto.” Tonowari lays a heavy hand on the former olo’eyktan's shoulder, drawing him away to break the tension. “They cannot step foot on our land with the treaty. She will be safe. Trust me…” Their voices drown out from the pounding downpour. 

As they go back and forth, Ralak begins to process what Tonowari said.

‘They demand his presence’.

Tonowari had made this meeting the topic of conversation over the past few weeks, preparing him for this. But he never mentioned anything about them demanding his attendance in particular. The last meeting with the ash people happened when Ralak was a very young warrior, long before his iknimaya. 

Back then, Tonowari had a different warrior at his side—a different right hand. She was strong and well known for being patient with her students. It was a frequent story at family dinner when Tonowari and Ronal took Ralak under their wing. And as Ralak became Tonowari's right hand man, he was thrusted into enforcing the tenets of the treaty, going inland with Tonowari to uphold the clan's part.

Ralak has only caught a glimpse of them once after delivering the resource to the agreed spot. He had just started these excursions with Tonowari, and his curiosity got the best of him. He looked behind him for just a moment, and caught the sight of a curvy, grey woman hastily gathering and stuffing everything into a satchel of some sort. 

Her stripes were a deep, ashy blue, and her skin seemed almost scale-like. She was rid of any bioluminescence, as if the light within her was gone, and her hair was matted with what looked like burgundy clay. Tonowari then seized the back of Ralak’s neck and shoved him along, advising that he never looks. 

“It is decided. Neteyam, Lo’ak and Zu’té stay.” Tonowari announces as he and Jake rejoin the group, looking at those who are left—Tonowari, Neytiri and Ralak. “We leave soon, make your arrangements.” 

Ralak knew his last few words were directed to him. With that, Ralak strides towards Zu’té. “I know what I am asking of you, Zu’té—” 

“I will do this for you.” Zu’té turns to face Ralak, who’s undeniably uneasy and concerned. 

“Protect her.” 

“You protect her. Get in and get out of there, baby brother.” Zu’té speaks, extending his hand out to Ralak. Ralak nods firmly. He’s right, your safety, along with the rest of the clan’s, depends on how this all plays out. 

“Oe irayo si ngaru [I give thanks to you].” Ralak's hand meets Zu’té’s forearm with a smack. They tug back and forth a bit, silently wishing each other luck on their own endeavours before setting off on their skimwings. 

They arrive, walking with haste along the beach towards the stairs to Ralak’s marui pod in the pouring rain.

“That’s...interesting.” Zu’té makes a comment about the railings for the stairs. 

“She has a hard time without it.” Ralak responds, stopping at the bottom step, coming to the quick realisation that this man will essentially be replacing him for the next few eclipses. “She may need help using them.” 

Zu’té nods, understanding what he really means. “Do not fret, brother. I will take care of your mate.” 

Ralak releases a shaky breath as they make their way to the patio, finding shelter from the rain. 

“Wait here.” Ralak speaks with his back turned, “I must speak with her first.”  

——

A torturous hour has passed, and you’ve burned circles into your marui floor from pacing so much. He’s taking longer than you’d expected, and worry is really starting to set in now. 

What’s going on? What did that sound mean? Why did he leave in such a rush? With all his gear, too? 

You gnaw at the calloused piece of skin on your thumb, keeping a warm comforting hand on your bump to keep your kicking babe calm. Regardless, he continues doing somersaults in your womb.

Fuck it. 

You rush towards the marui door where your gear hangs, and fight with the strap of your chest piece to slip it on you. It won’t fasten and it’s simply too tight to fit your body right now, but you continue to grapple with the stupid strap with shaky hands. 

“Tanhì.” Ralak’s voice is rough and he sounds winded. “What are you doing?” He rushes over to you and quickly removes the piece off your chest. 

“Ralak—oh, thank Eywa.” Your voice is shaky, but thick with relief. “I’m sorry, I just got s-so worried.”

“We must speak. Time is going.” Ralak carefully ushers you over to the bed, and assists you in sitting down, holding your swollen belly along the way. He takes note of his active child, feeling his little kicks and pokes. He comforts his young with a few strokes to your stomach. “Shh-shh, little one. Alright.”

He knows this whole ordeal must be stressing you both, and he’s really regretting not telling you all of this sooner.

“What do you mean?” You ask, urgency thick in your voice.

Ralaks demeanour is nothing short of solemn, tensed jaw and tightened lips. It seems serious, and this man is no person to jest on such matters.

"Ralak...What is happening?"

He takes a moment to reply, his gaze fixed on his hand that still lays firmly on your stomach. He then looks up at you, concern etched into his features. “It is time to speak about… my duties with Tonowari.” 

You feel your heart thud against your ribcage, your eyes widen at the words. You’ve been eager to know, but now that he’s telling you, it implies that everything isn’t alright. It implies… the safety of your unborn is compromised. You nod slowly, trying to remain calm for the sake of your son. 

“We reef people hold a peace treaty with another clan…” the giant begins, slipping his hand from your stomach to clasp yours tightly. “…the ash people.” 

“Ash people?” Your voice is less than a whisper, tiny and croaky.

“They are a horrible people, tanhì. Truly wicked. Kawnglan [malicious; bad hearted]. Much like the sky people.” He shakes his head as he mutters the words, not even wanting to go into any more detail. He didn’t want to taint your innocence. To stress your mind. Especially now that you’re heavy with his child. “The treaty keeps them off this land. It keeps you safe.” 

“Kawnglan [malicious; bad hearted].” You repeat through a gasp. 

“To them, Eywa is nothing. Tsaheylu [the bond] is for control. Their diet…” Ralak catches himself, bringing his words to a halt.

“Their diet…?” Your bottom lip trembles. 

Ralak just shakes his head, taking your other hand with his. “The treaty will soon end. I must go. Tonight.”

“What?!” You shout, wrenching your hands from his grasp to quickly stand up. A shooting pain sears up the side of your stomach, and your hand flies to clutch it. Ralak rushes to steady you.

“Careful, y/n.” He snaps, high strung and tense. “I will be back in a few eclipses.” 

“What? No! No, no. It’s too dangerous.” You protest, gripping his wrists to stay standing.  

“It is the olo’eyktan’s orders. I must.” He’s quick to respond to you. 

This quietens you. Does Tonowari not know that you’re due any day? Or perhaps he doesn’t care. How could he rip your mate away from you at this time? Especially for something so…risky. You feel your fear bubble into something more hot. 

Anger. 

“Then I’m coming.” You announce, dropping your hands from his wrists to waddle over to your gear once more. Ralak stands in front of you, hands on your stomach to stop you. 

“No. You're staying here.” Ralak orders sternly, backing you up to sit back on the bed. 

“No. I’m coming. I’m safer with you.” You resist his pushes, trying to stand firm.

“You are heavy with child.” He grits his teeth, giving you another light push, “I cannot protect you there. You—agh—you are safer here.”

Ralak makes the confession, feeling like he’s failing at his duty as your mate. He shouldn’t even be leaving you, not when you're this far along. He should be by your side, tending to your every need. 

“What? By myself? What if—what if something happens? What if the baby—” You’re cut short by the sound of Zu’té’s not-so-reserved entrance. He yanks the marui flap to the side, ducking under it and standing tall behind Ralak, by just a couple inches. He, too, is fully equipped with his gear and weapons. 

“Brother. I can hear the war party.” Zu’té speaks with haste, keeping his eyes locked onto Ralak. 

'Brother?' Your eyes snap back to Ralak, beady and full of tears. “You didn’t.”

It quickly dawns on you that Ralak had planned this out. Made these arrangements in anticipation things went south and he had no say in the matter. To ensure your safety, and the safety of your unborn by going to the greatest length of rekindling a flame that had been extinct for twelve years. Ralak has spoken casually of his brother before, but never in any great detail. 

“Y/n. This is Zu’té, my brother. He will keep you safe.” Ralak speaks with shame in his voice, knowing this must be way too overwhelming for you. He hadn’t planned for it to go like this. 

Zu’té finally allows his eyes to wander over to you. They widen when they get their first proper look of you, darting all over your body to take in your foreign features.

He caught a glimpse when your family first arrived in Awa’atlu, but never this close. His eyes land on your bulging stomach, lingering a second too long to make even himself a bit uncomfortable. He clears his throat and looks back at Ralak.

You look at Zu’té with anger in your eyes, and then back at Ralak as they begin to swell with hot tears. Zu’té tries to make himself smaller, feeling the thickness of the air now. He backs up into the marui flap, tempted to lift it and walk himself outside to relieve some of the pressure. 

“How long did you say this would be f-for? What if I go into labour? Will you really allow another man to deliver our son?” 

Zu’té quickly but silently excuses himself from the room, taking a spot on the patio with his arms crossed over his chest, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘Oh, Toto. What have you gotten yourself into?’

Angry, you shot the words like an arrow and they pierced your mate’s chest with ease. He grimaces, as if he were actually in pain.

“I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I—” You sob the apology, burying your hot face into your hands. 

Ralak embraces you, wrapping his large arms around your body, hugging you close and tight. He sways a little with you, humming deep in his chest. “‘ts alright. You’re okay. Take a breath. I know this is frightening.” 

He understands—it is not uncommon for a navi pair to remain close during the final weeks of pregnancy. It’s an unconscious mechanism, keeping them together for the birth of their offspring. Ralak feels it just as much as you but in order to truly protect you he must go— another thing that he understands. 

“You c-come back to me, o-okay?” Your breath won’t stop hitching. “Come as s-soon as y-you can.” 

“I will, I will. ” He coos, pulling back enough to look down at you. “Mawey, tanhì. Strong heart. For our baby.” 

You nod, lifting your head to look up at him. He sees the terror in your eyes and his heart breaks with guilt. He gently presses his forehead against yours, slowly stroking your back. 

“Nga yawne lu oer, nga yawne lu oer. [I love you, I love you]” He whispers longingly as he closes the distance between your mouths. 

“Nga yawne lu oer [I love you]. S-So much.” You sputter, lips trembling against his.

He kisses you with force, pressing his lips into yours until it almost hurts. You both linger there, not wanting to part ways. But you feel him pulling away, knowing there wasn’t much time left. Instinctively, cling onto him when his lips leave yours. 

“Please don’t go.” You mumble into his chest, knowing that he has no choice.

“I have to, my tanhì.” He mutters as he begins to pull away before letting go completely. 

You follow behind him, thumb in your mouth as you nibble at the skin, hand resting on top of your bump. You watch him call for his tsurak for a second time tonight, and look back at you for a moment. He takes in the sight of you standing next to his older brother, trying to find comfort in knowing that you’re in safe hands. Ralak gives him a nod and mounts the beast, taking off towards the war party.

Leaving you in the presence of Zu’té. 

“Y/n, is it?” Zu’té asks, already knowing the answer.

It’s awkward and he doesn’t do well in these types of situations. He knows comfort is what you need right now, considering you’re now sobbing into your hands again. You’re worried sick. Literally. It’s all making you feel woozy and lightheaded. 

“Listen...” He goes to rest a hand on your upper back, but he hesitates, leaving his hand to hover. He retracts it completely, allowing it to fall back to his side. He sighs, droopy ears and tensed brows. “He will return soon.”

Among all the emotions that cloud you at once, anger still remains roaring at the forefront. You find yourself turning your heel and ignoring his presence, waddling away as fast as your swollen feet will allow it. 

“Leave m-me be.” You spit between hitched breaths, ensuring the flap of the marui door shuts harshly behind you. 

Despite feeling sympathy for you, Zu’té stands outside, finding solace in being alone. He chooses the driest spot, and sets himself up on the patio, getting ready for the stormy night ahead. 

You waddle in to bed, wrapping yourself in the thick shawl that smells like your mate, and lay next to the prrsmung [baby carrier] you still have yet to finish. Feeling defeated and empty, you lay on your side in bed as you process everything, letting silent tears crash onto your bed.

——

You’re not entirely sure at what point in the night that you drifted to sleep, but you wake up in a groggy state. Dried tears make it hard to open your eyes, and your hair sticks to your face. You look around in a daze and realise that it’s still dark outside. 

The pang in your bladder keeps you awake and forces you out of bed, making you wobble to the curtain. You pull it back and are met with the sight of Zu’té sleeping propped up against the marui wall with his spear tucked to his chest. 

Seeing him painfully reminds you of the heart wrenching events of last night. That even though you were hoping and praying to Eywa for it all to be a bad dream—it was all very real. 

An icy cold breeze gusts by, making you shiver under your shawl and Zu’té shift in his sleep. The rain had eased off into a light, continuous drizzle some time during the night. 

Your ears droop with guilt for leaving him out here in the cold, damp night. You let out a sigh and grip the railing to the marui stairs, turning your body sideways to take your first step down. The wood squeaks when it takes your weight, Ralaks usual tell tale sign that you’re sneaking out at night without his help. 

It seems to work for Zu’té too because by the time you reach the second step you hear a raspy voice.  

“I was told you need help with these.” Zu’té offers his hand. You let out a sigh and take his arm. 

 You’ll admit, his helping hand is actually helping, especially now that you’re so far along. 

“Irayo [thank you].” You mutter, holding on tightly as you make your way to the bottom step. Zu’té leans against the railing, waiting for you to finish your business. 

You don’t take long, most trips recently have been false alarms—just the baby pushing on your bladder because he’s so low down. As you make your way back to the stairs, your lower back begins to warm up. It radiates to your upper and inner thighs, making them ache as you walk. 

It’s nothing new, aches and pains are becoming more frequent as the days pass, and the cold certainly isn’t helping. Zu’té meets you at the bottom step with an extended elbow, and you take his arm without a second thought. 

It starts to rain again, hard. The temperature easily falls by a few degrees and all you want is to be inside the warmth of your bed right now. Your feet move at a quicker pace and as much as Zu’té tries to be gentle as he can, his grip tightens. 

“Take your time.” He says, keeping you steady as you reach the top step. 

Once you get to the door, he immediately lets go of you, stepping aside to take his spot on the patio for the remainder of the night. You pull back the marui flap but find yourself hesitating to step inside. You look over your shoulder, watching Zu’té tuck his spear close to his chest and prop himself against the wall.

“Zu’té.” You say. He looks at you, brows raised as he listens. “It’s cold out here. You should come—” 

“Don’t worry about me.” He cuts you short, closing his eyes. 

“I’m not.” Your words are quick and almost defensive. 

Zu’té chuckles a bit, if you could even call it that. “Sounds like you are.” 

You sigh, getting a little irritated. “Whatever.”

“I’ll be alright out here.” He says nonchalantly, opening his eyes to look directly at you. Your heart skips a beat and you feel the blood drain from your face. You thought Ralak was intimidating, but this guy is something else. 

“Sure.” It’s awkward, but a good awkward…if that were a thing. “Night.”

“Wake me if you need me. No more sneaky shit.” He’s muttering now, ready to go back to sleep. “And get some rest.”

You hold back your laugh, a little amused by the stark difference in his personality and Ralaks. How are they brothers? Or related, even? 

“Will do, sir.” You match his sarcastic tone, entering the marui and laying down in bed, hoping to Eywa that sleep will find you soon. 

——

Village life continues despite Ralak and the others' absence. You wake up earlier than usual, despite the exhausting circumstances. Your baby moves, letting you know he’s awake too. 

“Daddy will be home soon.” You reassure your babe, gently rubbing your stomach. 

Perhaps you were also reassuring yourself. 

You feel empty, and numb. And as much as you want to lay in bed all day and wait for your mates return, you still have a few things left to do before your son’s arrival. 

First thing being, getting some food in your system. 

You get ready, and walk outside, noticing that Zu’té is no longer in his spot. 

He wakes early. 

Looking out into the distance, you catch sight of Zu’té crouching next to a small flame, cooking what seems to be squid. It’s hard to be sure of what it is—the sun hasn’t fully bloomed, and though the rain has stopped it’s still a bit gloomy. You make your way over to him, taking extra care when going down the stairs.

“Morning.” You say nonchalantly. 

Zu’té’s ears spring up and he looks behind him—behind you—directly at the stairs. His brows lower and he sighs quickly, knowing there’s no point in making the comment. He looks back at his task, turning the slightly charred squid impaled by a sharpened branch. 

“You’re up early.” The giant states, back turned to you to reveal his insanely intricate tattoo. 

“Same to you.” You respond, staring at his back hard enough to burn holes into it. You see some scarring and thickened skin, presumably from his days as a warrior. That much you knew because of Ralak. 

“Squid. Help yourself.” Zu’té says, handing you a stick of burnt squid. 

Taking it from him, you hold it in front of your face, a little baffled at how he seemingly saw nothing wrong with it. 

“Hm…thanks. Looks…well done.” You try to force a smile, to no avail. 

You try to take a seat next to him, struggling to keep your balance as you lower yourself to your knees. His ears lay flat and he instinctively springs to his feet, helping you sit down. He didn’t think you’d join him here. 

It’s silent. Uncomfortably silent. And awkward. You keep your extremities close and your tail closer, curled up in on yourself to remain as small as you can. Although, in comparison to your mate's brother, you were tiny. 

He’s not taller by much, but still taller nonetheless. It really makes you wonder how their parents looked for them to turn out this way. 

Zu’té eats hastily, shovelling the squid in his mouth as if it had the ability to slither away. It makes you look back at your own serving and suddenly your nerves go haywire. You didn’t want to risk getting sick, your bedside bucket is too far away to fetch. But you didn’t want to be rude—he’d obviously woken up early to make this for you. 

You take an experimental bite and fight for your life to keep a straight face. You exaggerate a nod and cover your mouth with your hand, hiding the way you're smacking away at this blubbery piece of meat. 

“Mm. Mhm.” You grunt, forcing it down and clearing your throat. “It’s—uhm, it’s not—”

“I am no ‘emyu [cooker].” He says, chucking his cleared stick into the fire. 

“Ahem—yeah. Yup.” You twirl the stick between your pointer finger and thumb, bringing his attention to your five fingered hand. His eyes widen a bit before quickly looking away, and you tuck them back in between your thighs. 

“Thanks for breakfast.”

“Sleep well?” 

You both speak at the same time, unintentionally clearing the tension in the air. 

“I suppose, all things considered.” You try to speak lightheartedly. “And you? Did any part of you freeze?” 

Zu’té laughs and shakes his head. “No, not quite.” 

“Well, that’s good.” You say, looking out at sea to witness the sun's emergence. It casts an orange hue over the water, illuminating the ripples of the oncoming waves. 

He’s watching it too. 

“Your tattoo.” You speak softly, witnessing his ears flutter. “…on your back.” 

“Ah. What of it?” 

“What does it mean? I mean—” You stutter, still adapting to the idea of inking being a symbolic statement. “What’s the story behind that?” 

The story replays in his head—the death of the spirit brothers and family. It flashes before him, as if he were in that moment again. The guilt and pain inside him is eternal, something that’s never left him since. He’s never spoken of it, not even to the person he hurt the most through it all—Ralak. 

His ears pin back and his jaw tightens. He shrugs his shoulders and mutters, “Felt like it.” 

“So…you’re telling me you did that, for fun?” The surprise is evident in your voice as you look at the tattoo again. His skin is raised and it spans the entirety of his upper back. “That must have been really painful. Ralak did mine and it took days.” 

“Didn’t hurt.” Zu’té says, turning his body to you yet keeping his eyes on the sun. But it did. It hurt—a lot. Self inflicted pain, to symbolise the pain he inflicted on others, even if it weren’t his intention. 

Maybe they are brothers. You think.

“You going to eat that?” He asks, interrupting your train of thought, pointing at your squid on a stick. 

“Uhh—I’m going to pass.” You answer, offering it to him, “…sorry.” 

“Again. Not a ‘emyu [cooker]” He takes it gladly, biting off a decent chunk and chewing at it unbothered with a deadpan expression.

Nevermind. 

Now the silence isn’t as awkward. You choose to sit here a while longer, enjoying this moment as much as you can before coming back to reality. The reality that there may be a war brewing. That—

Ralak isn’t here. 

Well, that didn’t last long. 

Sadness washes over you, making your ears droop and your tail heavy. Your baby gives you a sudden, hard kick in the ribs, as if he were telling his mummy to cheer up. You uncross your legs and shift your weight to the one side, getting ready to get up and be productive.

 Zu’té seems to take note of that. 

“Need to get up?” He asks, chucking yet another stick into the fire. 

“I got it.” You grunt, shuffling to your knees.

Zu’té lets out a displeased grumble, understanding what his brother meant when he said you have a stubborn streak. He goes to help you anyways, supporting you by the elbow. 

You’re just about standing when you feel a sharp stabbing pain in your back. It makes you jolt and grab onto Zu’té, whose slight irritation instantly turns into concern. 

“Y/n.” 

“I’m good, I’m good.” You repeat out of breath, steadying yourself before letting go. He seemed unsure if you really were okay. “Really. Happens all the time now.” 

Zu’té nods, letting go and giving you a little more space. “Alright.” 

——

The meeting spot is no other than the ‘head quarters’ of the ash people. It is only on this occasion that another clan may step foot on their land and walk away with a beating heart. That is, if all goes well. Tonowari is confident, however, knowing that the resource they provide the ash people is sufficient enough to prolong the treaty for many decades to come. 

It is an ore that forms deep underwater, and can only be extracted by the most skilled divers. Divers that can hold their breath for up to half an hour. The use of this ore remains unknown to the reef people, but the ash people are quick to seize it almost instantaneously at the drop off point. The ore is plentiful among the reef, renewing itself as it is harvested—the act of the great mother restoring balance as needed.

Truth be told, although the reef people are a peaceful people, it is no secret that they hold some of the strongest warriors on Pandora. They are proud of their home, and will fight to protect it at all costs. Even the ash people know this. Which is the reason for their agreement on something as laughable as a ‘peace’ treaty.

Otherwise, what’s really to stop them from annihilating the reef people and taking the ore themselves?  

Ralak meets with the others—Tonowari, Jake, Neytiri, and Ronal. They all set off far inland to the place the two clans met ten years ago. The trek is long and tiresome, leaving Ronal winded and in need of a couple breaks along the way. She is, too, heavy with child, but as tsahìk, she perseveres. Tonowari had tried to convince her several times to stay home, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer. 

“We are here.” Tonowari announces as the group nears the settlement of their natural enemy. It’s a rocky environment, much like the reef but with plenty of soil and clay. “Heads straight. Ignore them.”

——

Zu’té stays nearby the marui as he tends to some of Ralak’s duties, keeping an eye on you from afar. You sit comfortably on the bottom step of the marui stairs, concentrating on finishing your baby’s sling. Your fingers are a little swollen, making it more difficult to weave. Frustrated, you plop the sling to your side and bury your face into your hands. 

Everything is just too overwhelming right now. 

“Your technique is poor.” Zu’té’s voice booms over you. 

You look up, seeing this tall man with his hands on his hips tower over you, shading you from the sun. “Excuse me? I’ll have you know that I have plenty of knowledge on—” 

“This is a prrsmung [baby carrier], yes?” Zu’té picks up the sling and sits himself next to you, searching for the point in which you left off.

You watch intently, intrigued to know his next move. He carefully unravels all the wefts you’ve managed to do since sitting on this damned step. 

“What are you doing? Stop!” 

Zu’té sighs and demonstrates a weaving technique you’ve never seen before, entwining and knitting the fabric until it comes together in an even neater fashion. You look at him in awe, dumbstruck that he was able to do that. Ralak dislikes weaving, in fact, he loathes it. 

“Try it.” He says, plucking the fabric away from itself to unravel it once more before handing it back to you. You hesitate to take it, caught off guard from his unexpected, skilled movements. 

“My fingers are swollen.” You say, feeling defeated and a little embarrassed. He looks down, noticing your five-fingered hand again, not nearly surprised as last time. 

“Not as big as mine.” He tries to hand you the sling again. “You got it.” 

Reluctantly, you take the sling and slowly mirror his movements, replicating the technique perfectly. 

“See?” Zu’té sounds pleased with himself. Looking down at the sling, it dawns on you.

“So, you’re a weaver?” You ask the question as if you had just struck gold. “Usually the women take on that role.” 

“Not here, forest girl.” Zu’té defends his role proudly, “But yes, I am.” 

“Nice. It is good to see that. My grandmother is a great weaver, she taught me all I know.” You begin. 

For as long as your body would allow it, you and Zu’té sat on that step and wove together. You wove the sling and he went to fetch his satchel to work on a piece of his own. Though you did most of the talking, and found yourself dodging one too many snarky remarks, a bond formed on that step. 

You told him about your past at hometree, your reason for seeking uturu to begin with. 

The sky people. 

The words wouldn’t stop flowing, especially when you got onto the topic of how you met his brother. You explained that Ralak was your karyu [teacher] and how that quickly morphed into something much more beautiful. How you broke past his walls—took off his mask of indifference. 

But then that awkward silence came again. The silence that reminded you why this stranger was in your home to begin with. That he was playing watchdog because your mate had to leave your side whilst being heavily pregnant. 

“I lied.” Zu’té fills the silence. It has your ears perked up and your full attention on him. Your heart picked up speed, almost expecting something bad. “About?”

“That tattoo hurt like a kalweyaveng [son of a bitch].” 

His confession has you bellowing out in laughter, clutching your stomach to keep you from shaking up your baby. 

“I knew it.” You finally say once you calm down from a much needed laugh. “No good comes from trying to pretend that things don’t hurt, you know.” 

Little did you know these words weighed heavy on him. Heavier than you meant for them to. He falls silent, contemplating if he should say what he’s about to. The real confession. The real reason behind the tattoo. 

“I killed our spirit brothers.” He blurts out, astonished by his own voice. 

Did I really just say that? Shit.

“What?” You exhale, your heart now galloping in your chest.

“It was twelve years ago. I was…seventeen. Sent out to war. I had to keep Ralak out of it. I went alone…lead a group of warriors to protect the tulkun.” His voice seizes up, as if his throat were closing. He looks away, fixing his gaze to his feet. “I was still learning. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. The sky people…they slaughtered them all.” 

“Hey, hey. That’s not your fault, Zu’té. You didn’t kill them. The sky people did.” You rest your hand on his back, feeling how raised and toughened the skin where his inking lay deep.

Zu’té just looks at you, eyes trembling with vulnerability. It’s the first someone outside of the family has ever told him that. It’s something that he needed to hear. 

“Is that why you fled? Ralak told me you left him.” 

Zu’té nods, looking away in shame once more. “I abandoned him.”

You shake your head, knowing now that Ralak has healed and no longer feels this way. “He has healed Zu’té. And now it is your turn.” 

Zu’té only nods, allowing the silence to fill the space again. This time it’s needed. 

Until it's broken by a familiar voice. 

“Sister.” Neteyam greets you at the bottom step, throwing a smile your way, then to your stomach. “Little one.” 

He’s checking on you per your fathers request. Of course he wanted to ensure you were okay, too. 

“Tey.” You smile big, happy to see such a familiar, comforting face. “I thought you went.”

You reach out for the railing to pull yourself up, and both Neteyam and Zu’té go to help you get up. You side-hug Neteyam, finding comfort in your brother. It’s been a hectic night. 

“No, someone’s got to watch Tuk…and you.” Neteyam chuckles. As you let go, your glances at Ralak’s brother. “Neteyam, this is Ralak’s brother. Zu’té.” You introduce the two properly. 

Taught manners from a young age, Neteyam gestures ‘I see you’ to the former warrior, and he returns the sign. 

“Uncle TeyTey’s got you guys for the day.” Neteyam coos at your tummy, and then offers you his arm. 

“Right...Dads orders?” You ask, happy to go with him. 

“Dads orders.” Neteyam nods firmly, looking at Zu’té to relay the message. Zu’té returns the nod, being present to hear your fathers concerns about the entire arrangement. Besides, it’ll give him time to hunt for something proper for dinner. 

“C’mon guys!” Lo’ak shouts from the ocean, mounted on his skimwing with Tuk behind him. 

“See you. Think about what I said.” You say to Zu’té, prompting him to wave goodbye. Neteyam walks you to his tsurak, helping you to get on. You had retired your tsurak for the time being, finding it hard to ride with your back pain. 

“Hey Lo’. Tuk-Tuk.” You say with relief in your voice, finding comfort in the company of your family. 

——

The ash people are impudent to say the least. They follow behind the five na’vi weaving their way through the growing crowd, right on their tails as they try to get a better look at them. They are particularly interested in Jake and Neytiri, seeing the forest people for the first time. But most haven’t even gotten a look at the reef people yet, despite having the agreement with them for so many decades already. 

Some even dare to poke and prod, tugging at their tails and their hair to get a feel or whiff of their scents. Tonowari, Jake, Neytiri and Ralak walk in a formation that allows Ronal to be in the centre, safe guarded from any pointed fingernails or astray noses. Ralak is on edge, but one could never tell by a glance. His appearance is intimidating, a stature so tall he and Tonowari tower over the crowd. 

“I do the talking.” Tonowari says discreetly as they near the entrance of the hut. 

The room is made of some sort of red clay substance, seemingly burnt to a char until it has been hardened into what feels like rock. This one in particular is large, containing smaller sectioned off rooms, partitioned with thick leather curtains. It's all very bleak, rid of liveliness and colour. 

As they enter the hut, two bigger ash na’vi guard the door on either side, blocking and guarding the entrance behind them. Two more ash na’vi lead the group with spears to their backs to a large curtain, and shove them towards it with a few harsh jabs to Jake’s and Ralak’s spines. Jake snaps around, throwing them a dirty look. Whilst Ralak keeps his gaze fixed to his feet. He feels deep in his gut that something isn’t right. 

Whether it be here, or back home. 

With each step he takes, the sense of impending doom only worsens. He has no desire to be here but he recognizes that this is what is necessary. Yet, he can’t help the way he feels. And when he finally raises his head all the pieces link together. It all makes sense. 

Before them are five na’vi in total. Two women and three men. Four ash na’vi and one…reef na’vi. A female, reef na’vi. Her face is unmistakable—unforgettable. It’s been seared into his mind since he was a young boy.

And when Ralak sees it, he almost caves in on himself. His mask of indifference—of intimidation, cracks. Hell, it shatters. Into thousands of pieces, scattered at his feet. Tonowari’s previous right hand. The banished. 

His karyu.

[p0orbaby]

A Girl Consumed by Fire

summary: or the five times alexia kisses you in private and the one time she doesn’t care who sees anymore

warnings: a little suggestive at points but you’ll live, injury

a/n: yeah i know this trope has been rinsed to death. but do i care? absolutely bloody not

word count: 3.3k

-

Things between you and Alexia had always been, charged, so to speak.

Even on your first day you felt it. There was a static in the air when you were greeted at the gates. The corridors of Joan Gamper buzzed with, something.

You chalked it down to excitement. Why wouldn’t you? Your first day at a shiny new club with the prospect of winning lots of shiny trophies with the best players in the world. To not be excited would be offensive.

But it was when you saw her up close and personal for the first time that you understood what was going on. All she did was walk out of a meeting room, but the world seemed to pause in its tracks just for her. Her presence was suffocating in the best way, her stare intense as her eyes met yours briefly before she smiled and continued down the hall.

And that was that. Love at first sight you ask? Of course not..!

1.

The band snaps 26 days into your contract.

You’re both sweaty and tired and alone.

Like after all sessions, the changing room is filled with the lingering scent of hard work and the faint hum of the overhead lights. You’re bent over, hands on your knees, catching your breath as the other players filter out, chattering about their plans for the evening, you think. You haven’t quite grasped the language yet.

Alexia on the other hand had stayed behind to work on a few extra drills, just like you had.

Perhaps it was subconscious on your part, staying later than you needed to. But the only plans you tended to have after work included either going home or walking off the lust that had bubbled through your chest whenever she kicked a ball.

You now know the footprint of Barcelona extremely well.

“Good work today,” she says, her voice low and a little husky from running around for three hours.

“Thanks, you too,” you reply, flashing her a tired smile as you straighten up and peel off your shirt, revealing your sports bra underneath. The cool air feels refreshing against your damp skin.

Spain is so fucking hot.

Then, like a game of chess, she makes her move.

She takes a step closer to you. A timid one at first as she scans the room to make sure the two of you are truly alone. There’s a tension in the air, a palpable electricity that seems to crackle between you as she locks her eyes with yours.

You’re not sure who moves next, but suddenly she’s right in front of you, standing tall and strong and oh so pretty above you. She reaches out, her fingers brushing against your arm, sending a lightning bolt of electricity dancing across your skin. Her touch is soft, almost hesitant, but there’s a boldness behind it that almost makes your knees buckle.

Before you can fully process what’s happening, Alexia leans in, her breath warm and quick against your skin. Then, she closes the gap, capturing your mouth in a quick, feather light kiss. It’s sudden and unexpected, and for a moment, you’re too stunned to react. Her lips are soft, tasting faintly of salt and the raspberry electrolyte drink she chungs between sets.

She pulls back just as quickly, her green eyes wide, searching yours for a reaction. There’s a mischievous smile tugging at her features, a rosiness in her cheeks that wasn’t there before.

“Eso es lo que pasa cuando te desnudas delante de mí,” she says, and you think she’s teasing you by the playful lilt on her voice. Or it’s just her beautiful Spanish accent. You really can’t tell.

For a moment, you’re speechless, your heart practically pounding out of your chest. The changing room feels both too small and impossibly vast at the same time, the air thick with the beginning of something you're too scared to think about in fear of it shattering in your hands.

You finally manage to find your voice, though the words come out sticky.“I-, I have no idea what you just said”

Alexia chuckles softly, the sound sending another shiver down your spine. She steps back, giving you one last lingering look before she turns to head for the showers. “See you tomorrow,” she calls over her shoulder, her voice echoing slightly in the empty room.

You’re left standing there, your mind in the clouds, replaying the moment over and over again. The kiss was cursory, but it’s burned into your memory. You touch your lips, still feeling the warmth of hers, and a smile creeps onto your face.

2.

Phone, jacket, headphones, backpack.

All present and-, wait. Where’s your backpack?

“Where the fuck has that gone then?” You mutter to yourself as you check under your seat. The seat in front. Your overhead. And under your seat again to make sure you’ve not gone crazy.

As you suspected, you hadn’t. It isn’t there. This is really not the time.

“Todo bien?” Comes a very familiar, very sudden voice from the front of the bus however long later.

It startles you, enough that you end up banging your head on the underside of a table.

“Hi, Ale” you say between wincing and rubbing the bruise forming on the back of your skull, “everything’s fine”

“You are on the bus, no?”

You sigh, shaking your head as you peer out from your crouching position. “I can’t find my bag. I must’ve shoved it under the seat, but it’s not here”

She abandons her own bag before striding your way and drops down beside you. “I help you to look” she says with a smile so warm it could melt the ice caps in an afternoon.

The bus is quiet now with the two of you silent and occupied with the task at hand. Though it’s a type of quiet you’re comfortable with. One that doesn’t need to be filled with small talk or waffle or the awkward cleaning of throats.

You’re about to give up until finally Alexia spots your bag wedged between a seat and the wall.

“Lo encontré,” she says, pulling it out and holding it straight out in front of her. Frowning as she notices how covered in dust it now is.

You briefly wonder if she will be having words with the bus maintenance staff.

Regardless, relief floods through you as you take the bag from her. “I’m going to kill those fucking kids”. She looks at you with her eyebrows raised and that smirk she saves for when she pretends she's not listening to you and Mapi arguing. “I mean, thank you Ale”

“No te estreses. Tus espinilleras de la suerte están a salvo”

“I know I know. I’m trying” you reply, bashful that she knows about your scabby old kit and your weird little traditions.

She grabs your chin then, her large hand lifting your head so you can look at her. “Esfuérzate más” she commands before she ducks her head and attaches her lips to yours.

It’s quicker than before, if at all possible. But the intent behind it so much different. Like a balm healing your wounds rather than a stoker provoking a flame.

“¿Mejor?” She asks when she fully retreats.

“Better” you repeat because you are. You so are.

3.

You feel like you’re having an affair. It has the factors of one, at least.

Whispered calls when at your respective international camps, stolen glances during meetings, and now, these secretive moments together. It’s early in the morning at the gym, the sun just beginning to rise, its soft glow painting itself over the equipment.

You’re both here early to avoid the rush, but also to steal a few moments alone. The air is filled with the faint buzz of the HVAC system, the occasional clink of weights, and your own rapid heartbeat. Alexia finishes her set and looks over at you, her eyes filled with an unspoken yet very obvious question.

You nod subtly, understanding her without words. She approaches you, and without preamble, takes your hand and leads you to a secluded corner of the gym, hidden from view by the array of machines and weights.

She turns to you, her eyes scanning your face, searching for any hesitation. Finding none, she steps closer, her lips finding yours in a kiss that’s urgent and full of quashed emotion. Rife with the risk and thrill of being caught.

“He estado pensando en ti toda la noche,” she admits between kisses, and you whimper into her mouth.

You had your first official date the evening before. A dimly lit Asian restaurant in a quiet corner of the city. Lingering touches under the table. Her nose running against the angles of your jaw as she holds back her urges on the pavement outside.

You had been thinking about her all night too.

Her hands move to your waist, pulling you closer, and you respond in kind, your arms wrapping around her shoulders. The gym’s early morning quiet makes the moment feel even more intimate, as if the world outside has ceased to exist.

“I can’t get enough of you,” you breathe out, breaking the kiss for a moment to look into her eyes. They’re almost black, hungry, impatient to get what she wants. And you’re happy to give it to her.

“Pues no lo hagas” she replies, her voice raw and filled with desire. She kisses you again, deeper this time, her hands roaming over the expanse of your back. Sweat be damned as her fingers breach the hem of your top to trace over tacky skin.

You groan into her mouth, feeling her touch ignite a raging fire inside you. Her hands slide up, pulling you even closer, the kiss growing more desperate. Her breath is hot against your skin as her lips move down your jaw, then your neck.

“Alexia,” you gasp, your hands gripping her tighter, nails leaving crescent moons in her skin as they dig into her shoulders. She looks up at you from under her lashes, her eyes filled with the same aching need you feel.

But just as you’re about to give yourselves to each other completely, a noise from the entrance makes you both jump. You pull apart, breathless and wide-eyed, turning to see one of the training staff walking in, clearly shocked to find people in here so early.

“Uh, no esperaba a nadie aquí todavía”, he stammers, looking between the two of you suspiciously.

“Sólo estábamos... entrenando un poco más...,” Alexia says quickly, shakily, as she tries to regain some semblance of composure.

“Right,” you add, trying to steady your own breathing and smooth the creases Alexia has created on your clothes. “Early bird and all that”

Rafael nods slowly, still looking very slightly puzzled. Your English idioms flying straight over his head. “Bueno, entonces iré a prepararme. Disculpadme”

As he walks away, you and Alexia share a look, adrenaline still thrumming painfully through you. You’re transported back to your teenage years, hiding things from your parents. Giggling about all things relationships with your friends at the dinner table at lunch.

“¿Más tarde?,” she asks, fiddling with the bottom of your shirt.

“Definitely,” you reply, giving her a kiss on her lust bitten cheek before you both return to your routines. Always making sure there was blonde hair in your periphery.

4.

The trip had been a welcome break from the relentless pace of the season. The team had earned a couple days respite, and the serene coastal town of Cadaqués provided the perfect escape. Now, you find yourself on the balcony of the hotel room, the ocean waves crashing softly in the distance. The evening air is cool, carrying the salty scent of the sea.

You’re both sitting side by side, the balcony’s small table cluttered with the remains of your dinner. Alexia’s hand is resting on the armrest of your chair, her fingers just grazing yours.

“I can’t believe how peaceful it is here,” you say, breaking the comfortable silence. Leaning your head back to bask in the remainder of the sun.

Alexia turns to you, a soft smile on her lips. A smile saved just for you, you’ve learnt. Well you and her precious trophies, but that’s by the by. “Sí, lo sé. Es bueno... respirar”

You nod in agreement, your eyes drifting out to the horizon where the sky is painted in hues of pink and orange. Mesmerised by the boats rocking on the water. You wonder if Ale would ever be up to sailing one herself.

The conversation flows easily enough, touching on everything from the match preparations to the local cuisine. It’s comfortable, natural, the kind of exchange that happens between two people who know each other well.

“Voy a tomar una copa,” Alexia says after a while, standing up and stretching. “¿Quieres algo?”

“Surprise me,” you reply.

As she heads inside, she pauses to lean down and press a quick, tender kiss to your waiting lips. It’s effortless, an instinctive expression of affection that has become part of your routine. Woven into the fabric of your relationship, never to be unpicked.

“Volveré,” she says with a smile before disappearing into the room.

You sit back, a content smile on your face, listening to the sounds of the evening. It’s moments like these, simple and unforced, that make everything feel as though this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.

Alexia returns a few minutes later with a can of coke for you and a water for herself. She hands you the can and sits back down, her shoulder brushing against yours.

5.

Cotidie morimur, we die every day. It’s dramatic but today it has shown to be true.

Alexia scoffed when you recited it to her, but you have a right to be frustrated. And frustrated you’ll be for however long your body takes to heal.

You’re sidelined for weeks, maybe longer, and the reality of it all hits you hard. The doctors have diagnosed it as a torn Semimembranosus. Otherwise known as a really fucking bad hamstring strain. And the limitations on your movement are a constant reminder that you can no longer do for what you are paid.

Alexia has been by your side through it all, a constant steadfast presence of comfort and support. Now, she’s helping you in the bathroom, her bathroom, her movements careful and tender as she assists you into the shower. The water is warm, cascading over your skin, but it does little to soothe the ache in your heart.

“Let me help,” Alexia says softly, her voice breaking the silence. She speaks in English because she knows you’re far too overwhelmed to translate what she is saying. She is too good for you.

You nod, too exhausted, too emotional to speak. She takes the soap and gently lathers it over your shoulders, her movements light and careful around your sore muscles. You can’t hold back the tears anymore, and they join forces with the water running down your face.

“I know it is hard,” she murmurs, her voice thick with easy empathy as she washes your back. “But you will get through this. We will get through this”

You sniffle, trying to keep the sobs at bay, but you fail miserably. Your throat closes the more you try to push the tears back to where they came from. “I feel so useless”

She turns you gently to face her, her eyes searching yours through the water droplets clinging to her own lashes. “You are not useless. You are strong. This… this is just a moment. It will pass”

The sincerity in her eyes is your undoing. The tears come harder now, and Alexia pulls you into a careful embrace, mindful of your half broken body. She presses a soft kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, her lips warm and reassuring as you stand there trembling in her arms.

“Estoy aquí,” she whispers against your skin. “I am here”

Her words are an outstretched hand, grounding you as you let the emotions run their course. She continues to help you wash, her touch gentle and comforting as she cleanses you. When the sobs finally subside, she leans in and kisses you softly, her lips tender against yours.

She is apologising through her actions as though she is to blame.

You cling to her, the kiss a salve to your wounded spirit. It’s a promise, a reminder that you’re not alone in this. As the water continues to fall around you, Alexia stands tall, strong, steady. Making up for the slouch in your shoulders and the bump in your road.

“Thank you,” you whisper into her collarbones when the kiss ends, your voice unstable as if it does not trust itself to do its job.

She smiles, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face. “Always, mi amor. We will get through this together”

1.

D Day.

Your first game back after the injury. You feel like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

The atmosphere in the stadium is electric as always, and you can feel the energy of the crowd pulsing through you as you step out of the tunnel. Every cheer, every chant feels like a victory in itself.

The game has already been secured, your team leading with a comfortable three goal cushion coming up to the final ten minutes of the game.

The subs board goes up when the ball goes out of play. Aitana’s number for yours. Your cue. Your heart leaps out of your chest when you step up to the touchline.

As discussed the weeks leading up to this moment, Jona thought it best to ease you back in, giving you the last few minutes to get a feel for the field again. It’s a calculated move, a chance for you to shake off the rust without any pressure.

And you didn't. You had fun. You felt fresh and new and ready to take on the world.

As the final whistle blows, signaling the end of the match, a wave of relief and triumph washes over you.

You’ve made it. You’re back.

The cheers of the fans fill the air, but nothing compares to the sight of Alexia running towards you, her face flushed and sweaty and happy. She reaches you, and before you can say anything, she pulls you into a tight hold.

“Estoy tan orgullosa de ti,” she whispers fiercely, her voice so full of pride it makes tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

Happy tears this time though. You don’t think you’ve got any sad ones left.

“Thank you,” you manage to reply, the words barely escaping your lips before her mouth is on yours.

The kiss is spontaneous, a crude outpouring of emotion that catches you off guard. It’s fierce, passionate, and utterly uninhibited. For a moment, the world around you fades away. There’s only Alexia, her lips on yours, her hands gripping at your shirt like she never wants to let you go.

Somewhere in the distance you hear the flurry of chears and gasps from the crowd, but neither of you pay it any mind. This moment is yours, a testament to everything you’ve endured and overcome together. When you finally pull back, her eyes are shining with her own unshed tears.

“Te quiero,” she says, her voice steady despite the tumultuous fire coursing through her. The shake of her hands. How she tiredly leans into you. You are Icarus and she is the sun.

“I love you too,” you reply, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. Your pain finally thawed.

Your teammates swarm around you both, their hails and congratulations mirroring those coming from the sea of Blaugrana in the stands. Mapi claps you on the back, grinning like a cat who has just got the cream. “¡Vaya beso! Now that’s how you make a comeback”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep inside you, unable to be contained. The team forms a circle around you, and for a moment, you stand at the center of it all with Alexia by your side, feeling more loved and supported than you ever have before.

[lustylita]

Maintenance issues

MDNI ISTG-

“My poor needy Doe… Couldn’t even wait a day for my cock. Such a pathetic thing aren’t you sweetheart?” Grinning sadistically at the sounds of your choked out breathy moans filling the supply closet - that Alastor not-so-gently shoved you into just moments prior, the small space barely muffling the sounds of your slick being forced out of your cunt by the harsh way Alastor was thrusting his three fingers in and out of you.

“A-Ala- AH!” Eyes now blurred with tears you buckle, relying solely on Alastor’s hand that was holding one of your thighs up while he ‘preps’ you for his thick cock that you so desperately asked for with the other.

You couldn’t help it, he filled you so well!

“What's wrong, pet? Am i fucking you that well with my fingers that you can’t even speak? If you're so satisfied with this, maybe you don’t deserve my cock.” It was an empty threat, you knew that by the way Alastor’s cock twitched eagerly against your ass. But as always, a small part of you feared that he actually would  follow through with his threat this time.

“N-no Please Alastor! I need your cock in me so bad!” Shame long gone you weren’t against begging to get what you needed from the smug demon, pressing against his fingers a little shame did come back to you as you looked down at the small puddle he had managed to make underneath you with your eager slick.

Inhaling sharply Alastor observed you hungrilly, the way your hitched leg made your black skirt stretch deliciously over your things, your breasts out from when he ripped your shirt open earlier - bouncing with every thrust of his fingers, you were so small compared to him and it made him so excited to see you already overwhelmed just from his claws.

“Hmm…” Spinning you around abruptly Alastor picks you up, caging you against one of the walls in the small closet, he grinds his cock up through your folds and stops at your clit as he begins to rub his tip against it, the action causing the both of you to groan out at the mutual pleasure, after a moment of collecting himself Alastor peers down at you - a big mistake on his part since as soon as his hungry eyes lock with the pleading teary gaze of you makes him buck his hips involuntarily, burying himself to the hilt effortlessly.

ENJOY THIS! HAHA

[targaryen-dynasty]

LECHERY.

Aemond Targaryen x wife!Reader

Based on the request: “Can you write a jealosy Dom Aemond when his wife his dance and have fun with Jace at the dinner. So he put her on his knees and punish her, after that he fuck and give orgasms to show at who she belongs. A kinda dark but not to much, he loves her in his black heart after all“

WORDS: 3.9 K

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MINORS DNI; DUB-CON, profanity, rough oral sex (face fucking), p in v, balls worship, humiliating, degrading, breeding kink, jealous Aemond, female Reader

“Come... let us drain our cups to these three... strong boys.“

And with that, everything went downhill. 

The evening had started relatively tame, considering you had supper in the Dragon’s lair with ten more or less hot-blooded Dragons surrounding you.

There was a bit of tension between the youngest present members of the family, but considering most incidents happened way before you even met your husband, you were somewhat oblivious to most of it. 

Until Jacaerys Velaryon had prowled around the long table and asked you to dance, catching you off guard, considering you were in a conversation with Helaena. 

Her soft and encouraging smile eventually coaxed you to accept the offer, but only because you hadn’t dared to look at your husband from over your shoulder, and felt the need to accept it out of courtesy; not wanting to cause any bad blood between you and the side of your husband’s family. 

Aemond wasn’t keen on dancing. Never had been, never would be. The only exception he made was on the evening of your wedding, more because he felt duty bound than that he actually enjoyed and wanted it. 

The possessive and jealous demeanor of your husband wasn’t a secret, though you suspected Jacaerys asked you to dance on purpose as a polite way to rile him off. He barely touched more than your hand during the dance, but that was already too much for Aemond, probably because he loathed his nephew.

On top of that, the giggles and laughs erupting from you didn’t help with his jealousy either. It was Jacaerys easy demeanor and his inability to dance that brought you a great sense of joy after the first rounds of swirling and circling around each other, he just didn’t take himself too seriously. 

Just one look over to where your Dragon sat motionless in his seat, facing the direction of the designated dance floor to keep his stern eye neatly trained on you, told you that you were in for a lot of trouble. 

That proved to be right. 

Not one glance was spared into your direction when Aemond exited the Small Hall after facing his uncle Daemon. It was unusual, had he always been nothing else than a devoted and caring husband, which was why you practically bolted out of the room to follow him. 

His footsteps were heavy, bouncing off the stone walls of the Red Keep as his large strides effortlessly carried him towards your martial chambers, his stance threatening enough to have every maid or person of court moving aside on his way. 

When the thick wooden door finally fell shut behind you, there was nothing else than silence and the dim light the fireplace granted filling your quarters. Hadn’t you seen your husband entering them before, you would have thought he wasn’t there. But you knew he was. You felt his presence. Your eyes flickered through the room, needing a few seconds to adjust to the light. 

A firm hand caught your loose tresses in a tight grip all of the sudden, the gasp that surged from your tongue replaced by a short shriek with you being all but yanked towards the large bed. 

It felt as if he placed his whole weight onto your body, your knees buckling until eventually they hit the hard stone floor. Much to your luck, the gown you wore was quite thick and cushioned the impact to a certain point. It still was painful, but hadn’t had you wincing. 

When your wide doe eyes looked up, you were blessed with the sight of Aemond looming over you. His jaw was clenched, probably the only indicator visible on his usually stern face that displayed the anger he felt. The eye patch was long gone, the blue Sapphire in his socket capturing the obtuse light of the fire, making him appear even more threatening. 

Your courtesy had pushed his limits, and with the position you were in, you knew you were trapped. 

A frown was knotted on your forehead, and despite knowing all too well what got you into this dilemma, you opted to play the innocent victim, feigning your confusion. 

“What is this about, husband?“ 

There were a few seconds of silence between you, passing with you shifting your weight from one knee to the other to ease the tension and stiffness in the joints. When the reply didn’t come even though his narrowed eye was fixed with yours, you tried to rise to your feet again, only for him to yank you back down by your hair. 

The harsh tugging was the main reason your heart rate increased, wildly thrumming against the confines of your ribcage. A stark contrast to the way he treated you normally. 

“Kneel, ābrazȳrys,” a command, and with the choice of his tone it was clear that it wasn't up to debate.

“But ‘tis not comfortable,” you protested. 

“You were not complaining about being uncomfortable with my nephew earlier.”

“I was not kneeling on stones either.”

“Oh, but I bet you thought about it. I saw the lecherous way that bastard-born fool was looking at you,” each word laced with venom. 

“You know we were just dancing, Aemond.”

“Were you? Or were you toying with him? Or toying with me?” he accused, hand remaining in your hair, whereas the other slowly undid the laces in the front of his breeches. 

“I am… I am afraid I do not understand,” your eyes had long traveled down to watch the movements of his hand, when awareness toppled over you about what he had planned to do. The front of his breeches was strained into a tent, looking incredibly painful and uncomfortable. 

It happened tortiously slowly. The laces loosened enough for him to push the front down, revealing his white braises which quickly followed to expose his throbbing length to the chill air of your quarters.

The pale skin was flushed around the tip, angrily begging for attention and relief. Droplets of his arousal leaked out of the small slit, giving it a slight glow. You were accustomed to the size of his member, sheathed deep inside of you almost every night since your wedding, but the perspective had it looking even more considerable than it already was. 

Just by looking at it, you could feel the soreness already creeping up to the back of your throat, straining your voice. 

His stones hung low, twitching and swinging every time Aemond’s hand wandered up to stroke down the full length of him. Lascivious thoughts clouded your mind, your mouth filling with saliva as the urge to lick and embrace his jewels with your lips became unbearable. 

“You are mine,” an unnerving timbre in his quiet voice, “it would be best for you to remember that.”

With the shivers running up your spine also came bolts of electricity that flickered into the other direction, filling the heat at the apex of your legs with anticipation. 

His jealousy and possessiveness toward you was something you should be concerned of, showing the danger that radiated off of him, and the true threat he was. If the deliberate ruse at supper was the fruit of nothing else than your courtesy, it would not stop at that. That only was the beginning, every sense of trepidation falling victim to his temper.

Your eyes were wide, the shimmer in them caused by the anxiety you felt. 

“I do remember,” seconds of silence passed in which you were looking for the right words to say, “Iksan aōhon.” I am yours. 

High Valyrian did not come as easy to you, as it came to your husband. The lack of lessons and Valyrian descent were not the best requirements to learn a tongue as difficult as it. But you tried, grasping a few of the words he repeated over and over whenever he spoke to you during multiple occasions. 

A bit more of the blue Sapphire was revealed when his eyes widened in surprise, unveiling some of the tenderness he felt towards you, even though it turned back to its usual cold and stern expression straight away. 

The grip on your hair released, and with the feeling of your scalp finally being able to relax again, you felt your heart rate slowing down, too. And when his hand instead cupped the back of your head, fingers tentatively massaging the assaulted skin, you couldn't stop leaning into his touch. You were basking in the feigned safety, caught by surprise when your face was urged toward his erect member.

“Perhaps my sweet wife needs some help to remember her place, gaomas ziry daor?” Does she not? 

“Kostilus,” you teased, your own arousal not a secret anymore. Perhaps.

Much to your husband’s surprise, not one second was wasted until the tip of your tongue was sweeping from the base of his cock up to the bulbous tip, the salty taste of his arousal spreading over your taste buds. 

Your heavy breaths fannef over the flushed skin, provoking a huff of air to slip past Aemond’s lips. 

The entirety of his palm was immediately wrapped with the strands of your long hair again, making it easier for him to keep your head exactly where he wanted it. Not that you minded, as long as things moved on your accord with a lot of preparation. 

Knowing your job, you reached to grasp his stiff member, using the bit of your saliva that ran along the underside as lubrication. Your tongue penetrated the spot between the base of his cock and the sac of his stones, until eventually your lips parted against his stones to suckle gently as you took them in your mouth. 

You felt Aemond twitching in your touch, hand slowly stroking up and down the entirety of his thick length.

It was the first time you went that far and engulfed his jewels, but your husband had little time to question where that boldness came from. The pleasure was too good, perfectly audible in the ragged breaths that spilled from him, only interrupted by a few grunts and groans. The indecency of your own ministrations surprised you all the same, but it satiated and soothed something in you that was long embedded in the back of your mind. 

It was the sharp tug of your husband that pulled you out of your trance like state, his jewels generously coated in your saliva from how fervently you had sucked on them. 

“You appear eager to have something in your mouth, Y/N,” he rasped as two of his slender fingers pried your lips apart, sinking into your mouth deep enough to gag you, before they were replaced by his cock, “Perhaps I can help you with that.”

His erect member laid heavy on your tongue, and you had little time to prepare yourself for what was to follow. As the feeling of your warm mouth around him reached Aemond’s mind, he wasted no time in bucking his hips into you. The ambush on your throat caused you to clutch his thighs, nails digging into the thin fabric of his ruffled breeches. 

The girth and length of him left little to no space for any air to fill your lungs, especially whenever he halted for a few seconds to relish in the tightness and heat your mouth granted him. He never went deep enough for your nose to nuzzle against his lower stomach, because otherwise he would spill down your throat in a matter of seconds. 

All you could do was to hollow your cheeks around him, draggin the tip of your tongue along the underside of his cock and the vein that ran from the base to the tip. His abdominal muscles flexed at the sensations you granted him, more so when one of your hands clasped around the bit of his length that didn't fit into your mouth. 

However, your husband seemed to have other plans in mind, and peeled your hand off of him. Both his hands were steadily planted on either side of your face, keeping your head in place. 

There was no need for him to sink into you fully, your eyes already glassy from swallowing only half of him. Tears brimmed in them, straining your cheeks on their way down. The urge to squeeze them shut was big, but you kept them trained on his violet one. This allowed you to spot the exact moment your husband lost control, his hips thrusting into you on their own accord. He grabbed your head, tilting it to try for you to take as much of him as possible, until you were doing nothing at all and allowing him to use you however he desired. 

“Sīr sȳz,” the words pierced through the silence like a prayer, repeated by him multiple times. So good.

His groans grew in volume, whereas you only gripped his thighs as if your life depended on it. You gagged around him, saliva leaking down the corner of your lush lips and dripping onto your bosom, or at least the bit that was exposed through the low-cut neckline of your black dress. You relished in his praise, his appreciation making the whole assault a bit more bearable.

His cock started to grow harder, if that was even possible, indicating that he was on the verge of his peak. The mere thought of swallowing his salty spent coaxed you to hollow your cheeks around him once more, applying a bit of pressure to his cock by flattening your tongue and pressing it against him.

With his soaring pleasure also rose the pressure he applied on your face, combined with the loss of air the main cause for your vision to grow blurry, a slight headache flaring across your head. 

The ability to suck in some air was short-lived, coming and going every time he chose to force the tip of his cock down your throat again. If you were to place your hand on the juncture of it, you were sure to feel him from the outside, feeling and seeing how he eased his way down the tightness.

But suddenly, the pressure eased, and you coughed when too much air filled your lungs at once. 

Aemond’s breathing came in heavy bursts as he looked down at you, mouth agape and a slight pink tinting the pale skin around his cheeks, “Fuck that mouth of yours… I need to finish in your cunt.”

With that, you were yanked to your feet by your hair, turned around and toppled over the edge of the bed, landing on your stomach. The skirt of your dress was pushed up to reveal your smallclothes underneath, a damp spot visible in the center of them. The embarrassment of your lecherous desires caused you to bury your face in the bedcovers, heat radiating off your cheeks. You did not dare to look at him from over your shoulder, his mocking snicker perfectly audible. 

“Do you like this?” he asked, sarcasm laced within his voice, “do you enjoy when I treat you like a common whore?”

The shame his words caused to rise in you had you clenching your thighs together to which Aemond just tsked. Both his hands grasped your thighs to pry them apart again. They inched up your arse, fingers hooking underneath the hem of your smallclothes, tearing them down your body.

From that angle, Aemond was able to see just how affected you truly were by the whole situation, your cunny pulsing around nothing, and shining with the juices that had seeped out of your swollen folds. 

The sight was truly divine, and Aemond thanked the Seven for bringing you into his life. 

“Oh, you undoubtedly like this,” he purred. 

The bed shifted as Aemond climbed behind you, kneeling between your parted legs. One hand brushed your exposed thigh in a soothing manner, comforting you while the tip of his cock prodded at your greedy entrance. It moved up and down your folds, brushing against your little bud. Jolts of pleasure coursed through your body at that, the aching need for attention slowly being stilled by him. 

It was your whiny voice that filled the silence, “stop teasing me, husband… please.”

You moaned at the sensations, fisting the sheets in both hands as you tried to push your hips back, needing to feel more of him. As that didn't work, you opted to wiggle your hips instead to coax him into you to which Aemond just served a stinging slap to your right arse cheek, not even giving you a warning first. 

Your rear clenched together at the pain, not even his hand resting on the reddening skin able to soothe it. 

“Stay still,” he instructed, hands gripping the flesh of your arse tightly, pinning you down.

The pressure at your hole returned. Knowing his size (and still feeling its remnants lingering in your throat) you were glad to be soaking wet for him, because otherwise it would’ve been even more uncomfortable than it already was.

Despite taking him almost every night ever since your wedding, you still hadn’t grown accustomed to his size, the pain of his intrusion causing you to gasp. For a few seconds, pain was everything you felt, until it was replaced by pleasure. 

Once he had thrusted into you in a swift motion, his pubic bone pressing against your backside, he gave you time to adjust to his size. You felt full, almost as if he was to come out your throat at any given moment. The tip rested against your cervix, every throbbing of him adding to the fullness you felt. 

“M-Move… please,” you all but begged him, resting your cheek on the bedcovers; and your husband complied.

A shuddered breath was heard from behind you as you squeezed his cock, resulting in him pulling out almost completely to snap his hips right back in once the tip was the only thing engulfed by your heat. 

“I will never get used to your tightness,” he panted.

His hips moved to pistone in and out of your cunt, brushing your sweet spot every time he entered you. Aemond was so forceful, the tight grip on your hips was the only thing to keep you from shooting up into the headboard. 

Not long after, he released one of his hands and started to slap your arse, watching the way you squirmed and whined at the pain and euphoria that simultaneously filled your veins. He was silently wishing he had allowed his jealousy to take over much sooner, seeing how much you seemed to enjoy it.

The rustling of the bedcovers and dipping of the mattress next to your waist indicated that Aemond had shifted in his position, one hand neatly planted on the bed to support his weight as he towered over your body. You reached behind you to try and grab ahold of any part of his body you could grasp, but your husband had other plans. 

His hand clasped around your wrist whilst finding the other one, and brought them behind your back. His hand was large enough to envelope both your wrists, pinning them to your back and therefore forcing you to lean on your face. 

You felt the steady tightening of your stomach, your cunny and thighs tingling as your moans and whines grew louder. Faint stars danced along your vision, blacked out by the pillows underneath. 

Aemond felt you nearing your peak, his own already tingling at the tip of his cock thanks to the preparations you both had taken beforehand. 

“‘M going to fill you up,” Aemond grunted, emphasizing his words with a row of sharp thrusts, “fill you with my seed again and again until you are round with my child.” Just the thought caused his stones to seize up. He was walking on the edge, ready to tumble down into the abyss.

He spared no time in seeking out his pleasure, letting his cock go in and out with determination, slamming his pelvis into you with reckless abandon seen only in patrons of a brothel. 

The wet sound of your sweaty bodies slapping together was music to his ears, further sweetened by the quiet whimpers and moans you released every time he buried himself balls deep inside of your glorious womanhood. 

His hand found your hair, pulling and twisting your mane in his hand until he forced you to arch your back for him, allowing him to thrust into you deeper than before. He was hitting your sweet spot so utterly perfect, almost spending himself at the mere thought of how deeply he was impaling you. 

You, on the other hand, felt as if you had to pee, your thighs inevitably clenching together to stop the liquid from leaking out of you. The added tightness and stimulation allowed Aemond to topple over the edge. His soul was roaring in victory as his cock bursted his spent inside of you, spilling ropes of his hot seed deep inside your quivering walls. 

As he peaked, he felt your cunt clamping down on him, milking him for every drop. You were peaking from being fucked like an animal, as if you were a wildling living in the lands beyond the wall. 

Your legs trembled uncontrollably, and ridiculous amounts of your arousal oozed out of your cunt, coating the entirety of his member and dripping down his pulsing balls. 

You laid limply beneath him, trying to tame the chaos your overwhelming orgasm had caused within you, whereas he didn't seem to have that much trouble to regain his composure. 

Aemond’s tall frame towered over yours, bowing forward to press a kiss to the juncture of your shoulder. It was a welcomed gesture, but the gentleness quickly turned into something wicked, when he sank his teeth into the plumpness of your flesh. The stinging pain took you by surprise, causing you to clench around his flaccid cock. By the muffled groan Aemond unleashed against your skin, you knew he was just as overstimulated and sore as your cunt and throat. 

When he let go of your skin, he admired the burgeoning bruise that showed on your skin, satisfied he had claimed you in two ways that night. Your maids were going to see his claim on you the following morning, and with them not being able to keep their mouths shut, it was only a matter of time until the gossip about it spread throughout the castle and reached the damned ears of his bastard-born nephew. 

He pushed you off of him, hands grazing the reddened flesh of your arse, before he tugged himself back into his breeches. The heavy sigh that left his lips was enough to tell that his body (and jealousy) was content and sated, more so when a look over his shoulder revealed his seed trickling out of your well-fucked cunt. Another great rush of satisfaction coursing through him. 

“Dawn is almost upon us, sweet wife,” he cooed, “catch some rest. We will discuss this matter in the morrow when we break fast.”

There was no response coming from you. Too many impressions were clouding your mind and perception, the most prominent one being the question about the next time you would be able to dance with another man.

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Friday Night Entertainment (+18)

Time written- 11:05 p.m

Jason Todd/fem!reader smut

“C’mon pretty girl, jus’ like that.”

His rich, gravely voice always provided the proper encouragement, surging with pure arousal as his broad hands settled along your hips. His gaze remained ever so mesmerized with your beautiful, bouncing body, the loud contact of your thighs against his, amplified by your glistening juices after properly fucking orgasm after orgasm out of you.

You were a sight to the man slumped back against the cushions of his couch. Sweat dampened curls merely obscuring his vision of your lust dappled skin, love bites crowding your flush skin like an exotic choker.

Crescent moons along your hips from his hands alone, not to get him started with various hand prints. The view of those gorgeous, bouncing tits made it harder for Jason to resist, suckling a breast into his mouth as your lingering strength wavered, resorting you to merely rocking against his lap.

You were tired, well fucked out since the second he pulled you on top of the couch. The man couldn’t have bothered less to get his own pants off, merely unbuckling himself with a quick hand before smacking the tip of his fat, heavy cock against your quivering cunt.

At the start, the living room was filled with a chorus of loud moans, followed by a seemingly endless Clink! Clink! Clink! of his belt buckle with every thrust into your perfect pussy.

Now, your chest flattened against his, your lungs gasping for warm air as Jason’s hand reached down your body, guiding his stiff, soaked cock from your hole to rub against your folds. The groove of his tip nearly teasing your throbbing clit with each intentional rock of his hips.

“I know, baby. Oh, I know,” he cooes against your quivering lips before kissing them, noses brushing against one another while spending a second taking your bottom lip in between his teeth.

Your muscles ached for rest, trembling with nearly every few seconds after finishing three times, to Jason’s delight. How he was able to hold out so long was incredible, watching you writhe through thick lashes as you completely soak through the fabric of his boxers and jeans, but he knew he wasn’t going to last forever.

On a good night, he would’ve last just a bit longer, but now, he was tempted enough to almost go easy on you.

“Just one more,” Jason mutters, making the effort to maintain your gaze with a slight head tilt. “Come on, repeat after me. Just one more.”

“Just—“

You failed on the spot with a quivering cry, hips nearly jolting at his unsuspecting fingers pressed against your abused nub, purposely rolling the pearl along the calloused pad of his thumb before casually raising it to his lips, brushing off your sweet essence along his tongue.

“I’m waiting.” He states. What a bastard.

“Just one more!” You immediately whine out, your overstimulated embers growing a new, small hungry frame only he could appease and satisfy.

“Fuck, Jason. Just- just one more… please.”

Oh, you just had to throw in a please.

“That’s my girl,” Jason smirks, shifting his thighs slightly before reinforcing his hold on your hips, the sounds of wet skin resounding against each other growing considerably loud in seconds, fucking into you with a newfound, vigorous staccato.

[rottin6]

Reg wanting james to fuck a baby inside of him

mdni. 18+ | jegulus. cw: smut [breeding kink/babytrapping]

regulus is exhausted. he’s convinced that at any moment now, the last shred of strength he has will unravel, and his legs will come crashing down onto the bed. it’s not his fault really, they’ve just been at it for too long. james knows this, knows full well that he’s struggling to keep up. he feels the way regulus’ entire body trembles and shake as he fucks his cock into him relentlessly, over and over. james whispers soft praises with each thrust, trying to keep him motivated. every time he feels the weight of his knees begin to buckle out, he fears he might have gone too far this time. that regulus will tell him to stop and that this is the last time. 

quite frankly, james has no clue why he’s fucking the hell out of regulus, why he’s going at it harder each time when he’s already coaxed out three orgasms and broken the bedframe. it’s like an addiction, his hands clinging to regulus’ hips, pulling back to meet his continuously. it’s like he’s stuck in an infinite loop and he doesn’t want to stop. 

regulus lets out a loud moan, his grip tightening on the bedsheets to either side of him when he feels the head of james’ cock hitting so far deep into him. his head drops down until his forehead is pushing into the soft fabric of the pillowcase. 

“that’s it, baby, that’s it. you’re taking me so fucking well.” james praises, groaning out at the same time. rather than speeding up as regulus expects, he slows down and deepens his thrusts even more. each slow drag of james’ thick cock leaving him makes him subconsciously clench down, his body fighting, aching, to keep him buried inside. “look at that, baby.” james coos softly with a snicker, leaning over until his chest is draped over regulus’ back and his lips are grazing the shell of his ear once again. “you’re so tired, so fucked out, but your body just wants more.”

the moan regulus lets out into his pillow is pornographic and embarrassingly needy as he arches his back and shuffles his knees to spread outward a little more. james is right. he always is. 

“james—” regulus breathes his name out heavily, lifting his head up from the pillow. he looks up ahead, watching as the headboard shifts back and forth in front of his face, hitting the wall over and over again with every snap of his hips.

“i know.” james whispers, pressing a soft kiss against his shoulder as he lessens the intensity of his thrusts. the fear gets to his head—fear that regulus will leave him again tonight. it’s why he’s fucking him so damn hard tonight. he says a silent prayer with each thrust, hoping regulus will be too sore to even think about getting out of his bed and going to his apartment. he wants to fuck him so hard that he has to stay. “i know, baby. i just need one more from you.” he rasps against regulus’ smooth skin, straightening up behind him once more, continuing to fuck him. his hands grip onto his hips and his eyes take in regulus’ arched back and reddened ass. just one more, he thinks.

“james—” regulus pants his name again, “you didn’t put another condom on.” regulus feels the rhythm falter, feels james slowing down to a stop inside of him. 

“fuck.” james groans, the palm of his left hand pressed into his eye as he turns his face up to the ceiling. he needs to pull out and put one on if he’s going to finish this. he starts slowly dragging his cock out of regulus, letting him feel every inch of him against his slick walls as he goes. “you were just letting me fuck you raw?” a loud moan escapes from regulus and he buries his face in the pillow again. james freezes with only the head of his cock still sheathed inside. “did you—did you want me to fuck you raw?”

“james—”

“did you?”

 “what would you do if I kept fucking you like this, hm?” he asks, his voice low and deep, letting his hips move forward only inches at a time. regulus can’t help the soft whimpers and gasps, his head now falling on james’ shoulder. “that’s right, you wouldn’t do a damn thing.”

 “this is a bad idea.” regulus points out as he feels half of his length sink into him.

“then why are you letting me do it?” james questions, pulling his hips back and then thrusting them forward again. he goes a little past halfway this time, eliciting a moan from the younger boy. “why’re you letting me fuck you raw? you want me to cum inside you?” he taunts, his grip tightening, “want me to put a baby inside you?”

all regulus can do is moan over and over, not able to speak. he ends up with james’ hand to his front, stroking gently and his other hand held to his throat. james picks up the pace and when regulus doesn’t say anything, he sighs, falling back to sit on his legs, pulling regulus back with him so he sits right down on his throbbing cock. it’s a harsh and violent pull, a scream leaving his throat and james smirks. he knows he should be gentle, knows how hard it is for regulus to take all of him, but this is regulus’ fault after all—he should've said something.

james tongues his cheek, before clicking his teeth against his lips. “fine,” he sighs, loosening his hold on his throat and hips. “get off me and i’ll put a condom on.” james doesn’t move himself, instead letting regulus have the opportunity, but he feels him tighten against his cock, a wetness dripping onto his balls.

regulus hesitates and james sees this. his lips part slightly, waiting on regulus’ legs to give out, for him to fall back on his cock and stay there.

“are you gonna get off, sweetheart?” james mocks, his voice low and smooth in regulus’ ears as he starts running his palms along the sides of his thighs.

“yeah.” regulus says, his voice just short of a whisper.

it catches james by surprise, really, when he feels regulus lower himself on his lap, taking the entirety of his length in one go. his cock twitches inside him, his fingers digging into regulus’ sides, as he struggles to hold in his hold.

“shit, baby.” james pants, his head falling back as his eyes close momentarily, feeling regulus slide himself up and down on him. “i thought you were getting off.”

“i am.”

“fuck, ’m gonna cum.” james huffs out the words out between thrusts, letting his head fall back as he continues to rail regulus into the mattress. he focuses on it, the repetitive thrusts and outward drags of his length against his tight walls, and when he hears his neighbour banging on the wall, he only thrusts harder. he angles his hips just right, relishing in the filthy melody of wet sounds and moans. “fuck, baby.”

“oh god, james!” regulus’ moans are absolutely obscene at this point but neither of them could care less. his orgasm hits him hard, his slick hole convulsing around james’ cock. this pushes james over the edge, “shit,” he moans, smacking down on regulus’ ass once more as his cock shoots thick, hot ropes of cum, coating his walls. slowly, his movements fade until he eventually comes to a complete stop, breathing heavily. 

james looks down, admiring the large red handprints left across regulus’ throat. he grips onto his hips roughly as he keeps him in place while he slowly tries to pull himself out. regulus shudders at the pain, breathing through it. 

“stay here tonight.” james murmurs against his skin, still softly rutting into him.

“against the rules,” regulus mumbles, his voice raspy and hoarse, and james loves it.

“cumming inside you was against the rules too.” james counters, pulling out almost completely before giving one more hard thrust. “so—you’re going to sleep in my bed, full of my cum—” he gives another hard thrust, making sure his load is thoroughly fucked inside. “is that okay with you?”

[solbaby7]

someone requested [ Manhattan + salt rim + neat ] and I accidentally deleted it but i remembered!!

warnings: leashes (yup like for dogs 🤭) minors dni, thank you thank you thank you thank you for this request 🥵

—

Azriel knew it was going to be an issue—you spending so much time with Nesta Archeron.

He’d found it cute at first. His sweet girl making friends with someone as prickly as death incarnate, until he’d started noticing the changes. How kind words shift into a biting wit; adopting a darker kind of humor that leaves his brows raised and tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth. “Come bunny, it’s time to get out of bed.”

Perhaps it’s in that learned behavior where you find the gall to part your lips and mutter, “No, I’m not going.”

It’s surprising—your defiance. Enough for him to pause in the middle of his morning routine, thigh holsters half buckled with an array of sharpened daggers and switchblades laid out before him. “Say that again?”

“To training,” You elaborate, mindlessly toying with the fraying edges of your nail varnish. Soft sheets swallow you whole, thick pillows and duvets emitting Azriel’s comforting scent all around you. “I’m not going today.”

For only a second he falters before his movements start up again, deft fingers easily buckling strips of leather and filling the slots with weapons. “Are you not feeling well?”

“I’m feeling like I don’t want to sweat under the burning sun all fucking day.” Your eyes are too busy rolling at the thought to notice the tick of Azriel’s jaw, the strained way he tightens his belt. “Nes and I are going shopping after brunch instead.”

“Oh?” There’s a pause, a tense silence that forces you to lean up on your elbows, neck craning to peer over at the Illyrian. Though, Azriel’s not getting ready anymore and he’s lounging too comfortably for someone who’d been adamant on following the guidelines of his rigorous schedule. The clock tick, tick, ticks away and for some reason he’s not reaching for his top or the crossbody holsters he slides on after. His hair is still dripping wet from his shower, not even bothering to work his styling pomade through. “Says who?”

He just sits there—watching, waiting. Staring at you like one of the prisoners he chains up in his dungeons; prodding at the barriers of their restraint until the spymaster tore it to shreds. You hate how well it works, chipping away at the fortified walls you’d built in your new friendships. How easily Azriel’s able to walk up to those borders and send them crumbling down with nothing more than a look.

It should be embarrassing, the affect he has on you. The way one arched brow has your spine instinctively straightening, throat rolling with a swallow as you struggle to muster up the same confidence that burned through you just moments ago. “I wasn’t aware I needed permission.”

Azriel hums low in his chest, shoulders relaxing and head nodding once, twice, three times before that stoic expression melts into understanding. “I see, that’s probably my fault. Got a touch lenient—allowed room for a little too much…hope.”

“Hope?”

Alarm bells begin ringing the further he settles in the chair, thick thighs spreading wide and veiny forearms eat up the space along the armrest. “Hope,” he agrees. “Give a good pet a little too much freedom—too much hope and all the necessary structure begins to waver.” You’re caught like a fly in a trap, limbs sticking to the carefully spun webs Az’s woven until your struggle only leaves the metaphorical ropes twisting and knotting tighter. “Don’t worry, I’m a good trainer. Won’t let you slack for a second—even if you do bat those pretty lashes up at me.”

Your mouth goes dry when his wrist flicks, two fingers beckoning you closer in silent command. A part of you hesitates; resists the rigorous discipline and rules put in place to keep you safe. Protected. But Nesta said that you were perfectly capable of protecting yourself without some overgrown bat looming over your shoulder. Right?

You obey anyway, praying that Azriel doesn’t hold the contemplation against you.

The Mother doesn’t seem to hear your plea, too occupied with more deserving persons to spare a second glance at the predicament you’d weaseled your way into. Each step closer feels like knowing wrong and choosing the sin anyway, solidifying your fate and dealing your destiny with the devil for all time. “Sit.”

A huffy breath of irritation before you ease down to your knees, leaning your weight back against your calves. “I’m not some fucking dog.”

“No, you aren’t,” His hand smells of body wash when a thumb runs over the curve of your cheek, blunt nail tracing against the shape of your mouth. It’s almost sweet, toeing the line of possibly romantic when you hear it—the squeaky strain of fresh leather. The cool bite of the latch registers too late, a metallic click locking it in place. “But lately you’ve been acting like one. My rabid mutt.”

Manicured nails grip at the newest accessory but it doesn’t budge no matter how much you tug at it. Your cheeks flame, a mix of fury and pure embarrassment from the rush of arousal that soils your panties when each breath grows just a bit labored. “You fucking collared me?”

“Watch your mouth or I’ll buy a muzzle to match.” He catches on to the way your thighs clench together, lips snapping shut as your brain fights to decide whether you want to scream back a “fuck you” or “fuck me”.

You land somewhere in the middle, words stern but tone leaking with curiosity. “You wouldn’t dare.”

A hellish grin splits across the handsome lines of his face, like a wolf straining in the seams of sheep’s clothing. “Try me.” He’s lost the concept to time when such fun prey has found itself stuck in his crosshairs. Such a sweet lamb should know better than to wander away from its shepherd—heaven forbid something should happen to you. “Test me, I dare you. I’ll walk you through town like some purebred if you keep acting like you weren’t taught to act with decorum.”

He means it too. You know he does. Even after all these years, you still had yet to hear words Azriel’s didn’t back up with action. Instantly, your eyes lower, head bowing in order to conceal the pinpricked pupils that dialate with desire. It burns in your belly, a cacophony of fantasies lashing against your eyelids at warp speed.

You in your shiny collar, name engraved on the customized nameplate with Azriel’s information on the back right under “If Found, Return To”

It’s purely involuntary, the desperate whimper that cuts through the bedchambers and Azriel pats at your head like some pampered pup in need of comfort. Offering love and fond coos when you easily correct the behaviors he doesn’t enjoy.

Obedient. Disciplined. Loyal. His.

“There’s a good girl. Keep that up and I’ll give you a treat.”