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wheneclipsefalls · 5 months ago

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Little Gift - Latch

Neteyam photo by @cinetrix

Pairing: Dark Aged Up Neteyam x Human Fem Reader

Warnings: aged up characters, DUBCON/NONCON, kidnapping, MDNI EXPLICIT, yandered qualities, possessive behavior, slight degradation, interspecies intimacy, swearing, power imbalance, sub reader, dom Neteyam, manipulation, hair pulling, creampie, a lot more stuff but at this point you hopefully know whether or not you should read haha

Summary: Victory is finally his and Neteyam knows exactly how he wants to celebrate it.

A/N: A little unsure about my word choice but it's been fun writing from Neteyam perspective for the first time in this series. Enjoy!

Main Masterlist I Little Gift Masterlist

You belong here, perched on his lap with your head notched against his shoulder. So small and pretty that his legs barely register your body weight. He wraps a hand around your outer thigh to angel you further against him. This is perfect.

Everything is perfect.

Pandora has rid of those Sky Demons and his prize, his little gift, is still here in his arms where you will always be. Those traitors are no longer here to tempt you with false promises of escape and a life outside of belonging to the Olo’eyktan. You may not realize it now but they would have broken you. It is only a miracle from Eywa that has allowed your beautiful spirit to stay in tack after all those years of inhabiting the same space as those treacherous creatures.

The RDA may think that you are a gift given by them but in reality it is Eywa that has placed you on his lap.

You were created for him. Designed perfectly inside and out.

His reward for all that he has had to endure.

Now with you safely tucked in his arms and his People celebrating their freedom once more, he can rest. He is free to savor all that the Great Mother has offered him, although you prove to be difficult to rangle at times. That’s okay, he enjoys a good challenge. It makes your earned submission all that more satisfying.

He’s not sure how long one human can cry for but it appears you are shooting for a record. Your tears have soaked the feathers of his Olo’eyktan attire but he doesn’t mind, not when you are snuggling into him for comfort.

His plan of distraction worked wonders during take off but it was only a matter of time before your mind came back online and began worrying once more about the absence of people that never truly loved you. It’s to be expected however Neteyam is pleased to find that your response is not one of anger but sadness and seeking refuge. He couldn’t have asked for anything more ideal.

He is your refuge, your one true home and the fact that you are learning that so quickly makes a sense of pride burst within him.

The glittering gems of your new top compliment your own sparkling tears exquisitely. It had taken weeks for him to make but it was worth it. He would want nothing less for his pet on a night of such grand celebration. However, it becomes abundantly clear that he is not the only one who appreciates the outfit.

It’s the fifth time Lo’ak has turned in the direction of the throne while dancing to check on you. Or at least, that is how his younger brother would be sure to phrase it but Neteyam is no fool. He can see the hunger in those eyes. Typical of his younger sibling to chase after what he can not have. What Neteyam himself possesses.

Their eyes meet and it only takes a moment for Lo’ak to recover from being caught and roll his own back at his brother and turn to continue dancing. He’s not sure how much longer this game will go on where Lo’ak pretends to hold no interest. One way or another it will come out. Neteyam’s arm tightens around your waist, fingers running through your silky hair.

It is then that he notices your little sobs have stopped and are now replaced with long deep breaths. It’s amazing that you are able to sleep through the banging drums and echoing calls but it seems that all of your crying has worn out your poor little body. Such a fragile thing you are.

All the more reason to keep you close. And yet another reason he finds his mind swirling back to the idea of keeping you on a leash. Ideally he would carry you to and fro but there are times where he needs to have his hands available. With your habit to wander off he can’t risk having you fall and break your little neck. A leash would be the perfect solution.

Not to mention how good you would look trailing behind him, sweet little bow around your throat as a permanent reminder of his claim on you.

His tewng [loincloth] is unbearably tight. It presses against your soft thighs but that’s not enough. For perhaps the hundredth time you shift in his lap, unable to sit comfortably on your red ass. You’ve given up on trying to convince him to let you stand but that doesn’t stop that supple little pout from gracing your lips every time you are reminded of the pain. Even in your sleep you try to wiggle and squirm from his lap.

Of course there is another source of your constant squirming. A source that Neteyam finds his fingers dipping down to trace over as the base just barely peeks out of your tight pussy.

This plug is much larger than the cute one you had stowed away in your old nightstand drawer. It had taken more than a fair amount of encouragement to slot that thick piece of plastic inside your cunt but the sight was magnificent. Complain all you want but the way your walls clench around it in desperation tells Neteyam more than he needs to know.

It’s the largest size of his collection which means that tonight is the night. Tonight you will officially become his. Your pussy will soon forever have the imprint of his thick length inside of you, ruining you for any other man. Not that you would ever have the chance to be with another male outside of him again. Jared was the end of that line and the Olo’eyktan feels no hint of remorse for taking care of that pest.

Another flash of Lo’ak’s gaze.

Neteyam feels you stir when he lets out a deep sigh. However reluctant he is, it’s important to set his brother straight. Lo’ak has an overactive imagination after all and the last thing he would want is his little brother’s curiosity and desire becoming an interruption for the wondrous night the two of you are about to have.

Those long lashes flutter open, throat caught on a sharp intake when he stands up and places you back onto the seat. Your dazed and confused look is one that Neteyam can’t help but coo at, the pad of his thumb running over your cheek.

“Mawey, tiyawn [be calm, love]. I will be right back.” You’re already scrambling to your knees, finally keeping the weight off of your sore bum. “Be a good girl for me and stay put, yes?”

It’s a rhetorical question and one that he doesn’t give you a chance to answer before a kiss is placed on your hairline and the Olo’eyktan is parting the crowd. It’s obvious that there is a moment where you consider stopping him. You may be hell bent on never admitting it verbally but the other Na’vi put you on edge and being around him has become your one constant, a safety you can rely on. If not for his urgency Neteyam would take his time in teasing you on the matter.

Your face always looks even more lovely with that deep shade of red, whether from anger or embarrassment or even both.

Later, he reminds himself.

The female rubbing up against Lo’ak looks more than put out by his lagged reciprocation. Her displeasure colors into slight shock when she spots her Olo’eyktan coming straight towards them. Lo’ak crosses his arms as his partner quickly signs the proper respect to their leader. Neteyam dismisses her easily.

“Excuse me, sister. I require a moment with my brother.” Neteyam ushers Lo’ak away from the scene before giving her a chance to respond or offer to give them privacy.

The fire’s light now just barely humming over their skin. The two brothers find a moment of solace on the outskirts of the celebration. Neteyam’s ears still buzz from the sensory overload it has taken for the past few hours.

“If you’re going to ask me for another favor can it at least wait until tomorrow? There is a party, you know.” Lo’ak tall frame lazily leans against the nearest tree and he attempts to hide the way his eyes fly over Neteyam’s shoulder towards you by making a show of tying his hair back.

“Funny considering how eager you were to grant me a favor earlier this morning.” Neteyam’s veiny arms cross over his chest, tail whipping back and forth in the cool wind. If Lo’ak is intimidated he doesn’t show it.

“Aren’t I a wonderful brother?” Those sharp teeth shimmer as he makes a show of giving an over the top sarcastic grin.

“Lo’ak.” Neteyam growls.

“Jesus, calm down.” Lo’ak groans, head thrown back against the bark. “She’s still your little toy.”

“I am not stupid, baby brother. I see the way you look at her.”

“Whatever.” Lo’ak bristles and makes his way to stomp off but he is caught by the upper bicep.

“I don’t want there to be any…confusion.” Silence spreads between them, the only sound being that of Lo’ak’s harsh exhale.

“I was only watching.” He finally says, voice dropping lower.

“And you are free to.” Small steps bring him further into his brother’s space. “But let’s be clear about whose permission you need in order to touch.”

“And I didn’t.” His arm is ripped from Neteyam’s grasp. “I’ve only ever babysat the little brat and done all that you’ve asked of me. If you are looking for problems to address I would start with her running off at every given opportunity. Take a look for yourself!” He flails an exasperated arm in your direction but Neteyam doesn’t even bother to turn.

“I am aware.” There is no need to look in order to know that you have once again tried your hand at another escape. He can see it in his mind’s eye now, your small body carefully hoisting itself down from the high throne. Panicked eyes racing over the crowd in search of any Na’vi that could potentially halt your actions. All that before short legs race off into the darkness. “I’m giving her a head start.”

It’s best not to let you go too far. Eywa knows you are very skilled at finding new ways to put yourself in danger, but a little chase is an exhilarating experience.

“Oh yeah, you going to make me chase after her for you too?” Lo’ak spits out, urging Neteyam to roll his eyes at his brother’s antics. He resists however, that wouldn’t be very becoming of the Olo’eyktan.

“I fear you would enjoy that far too much, brother.”

Instead of fiery words shot back the only line of defense Lo’ak puts up is a scoff and frowned expression, golden eyes simmering with words that he knows better than to voice. Neteyam can give his brother credit for that at least. He knows when he is stomping on dangerous territory. You, on the other hand, seem to be learning that lesson far too slow. It seems a cute tawtute like you are more of a hands on learner.

“Can I be excused then, oh might Olo’eyktan?” He flourishes with a sarcastic bow.

“Leave.” Neteyam bites out simply, forcing his eyes to remain trained on his younger brother as he joins the crowd again. It’s a safety precaution just in case Lo’ak gets a bad idea even after warnings. Much to the Na’vi girl’s dismay Lo’ak does not join her again on the dance floor and instead heads straight towards the fermented fruit. No doubt he will spoil himself into a drunken state. Unfortunately for him, Neteyam already has his hands full babysitting you tonight.

He takes his time, however, greeting a few of the clan members and partaking in a small dose of alcohol himself. With your small legs it will take you forever to get a distance that makes this chase even remotely fun. However, once the drink is empty and he has done his dues as Olo’eyktan in the social event Neteyam can no longer keep himself at bay. There are other creatures of the night that could be waiting to catch a pretty prey like you.

Tracking you down is almost laughably easy with your sweet scent wafting through the air. A scent that only grows tenfold when he comes across a peculiar piece of plastic stashed in a bush. It’s the dildo that is meant to still be snuggled up in your little cunt.

A sharp smirk cuts into his features.

For such a smart little thing you really can be so negligent at times. With the dildo out your scent now goes from a dulled perfume to a thick fragrance that coats the air. He recognizes that aroma, he knows the way it tastes. Your arousal has only made you an easier target and now you have done nothing but take out the one piece keeping it plugged. Neteyam can envision so clearly that trail of slick that is sure to be marking your thighs.

Such a messy little thing you are. Even after the way he cleaned you up so dutifully post launch, you have managed to turn into a wet temptation once more.

The small footprints along the dirt are almost pointless in his pursuit now that he has your scent. They only serve as a confirmation that he is going the right way. It doesn’t take long before the sound of your sharp panting reaches his upturned ears. It’s then that the Olo’eyktan takes to the trees. He glides along the thick branches without a sound, gaining a bird’s eye view of your desperate running.

The full on sprint you started off with has come down to a clumsy jog. Even with your small stride he’s sure you could make it a lot further if you would simply stop looking over your shoulder every other second. An action that has you stumbling and grabbing your foot to pick out a thorn from the underside. Little curses rise between your harsh breaths.

And then your breathing is cut all together.

The sounds of claws and wild yips echo through the greenery. By the sounds of it Neteyam knows it must be a small pack of aynantang [viperwolves]. They aren’t close, at least not yet. With your back turned and eyes blown out in silent terror he decides that now is as good a time as ever to interrupt.

Neteyam lowers himself down slowly, muscular arms controlling his descent into a movement so smooth and silent that it is nothing more than a shadow. A shaky hand covers your lips, the little puff of your beating heart pushing your chest out even more. One long step forward and now he can watch your trembling from above, his toes almost touching your muddy heels.

“Their bite is not as sharp as mine, pet.”

You scream before the sound can be stopped, spinning so fast your heel that you land directly on your red bum instead. Even without glowing tanhi dotting your skin, those dilated eyes have a way of making you glow in the night. Even more so when they dazzle up at him with unleashed fear and vulnerability.

You scramble backwards, clawing at the muddy ground until you are clumsily trying to crawl back onto your feet. Fine by him, it’s easier to close the height difference when you are back to standing. He grabs your right arms easily, pulling you back against him. The fight continues as you turn to bash your first against his abdomen, even clawing at his thighs but then another sound cuts you off again.

They are closer this time.

“They hunt in packs.” Neteyam informs you. “Circle their prey until there is nowhere left to go.”

A rustle of bushes to the left has your squirming changing from running away to ducking behind Neteyam. He allows the action, sharp teeth peeking from his grin when he feels the way your soft fingers dig into his thighs.

“My father was almost killed by a pack once. Even in his avatar form he depended on my mother’s mercy to fight the creatures off.” You shake like a leaf in the wind, your face pressed against his lower back when the sounds get louder. He almost feels bad for scaring you so much, tempted to bundle you in his arms and shush your worries away. However, that would ruin the lesson. You are the one that decided to run off carelessly into the woods without him and now you need to understand why you depend on Neteyam for everything. Why you owe him your submission and affection.

“I wonder how you would fair.” A few more wolves prowl from the bushes, inching closer. They creep forward with a hesitance at the sight of Neteyam, driven only by curiosity as your scent continues to fill the air.

“Teyam.” You whimper into his hip, now latching onto the strap of his loincloth to urge him backwards.

“What’s wrong, pet? I thought you wanted to be set free?”

A vicious snarl rip from the right and you stumble to cling to his left side now. That startled little scream is just barely muffled by the way your face is pressed into his hip.

He coos at your little pleas. “Has someone changed their mind, hm?” Any other time you would be barring your blunt teeth at him but he knows that in the height of your fear there is no resistance left for him. You’re too focused on the prowling beasts that flash their own teeth in eclipse’s glow.

“Teyam please, let’s go!” Voice caught on sobs that threaten to rise, you can barely make the words out.

Your fear is palpable, but not just to him.The aynantang [viperwolves] can sense it too. They circle and watch with more confidence as the seconds roll by. Periodically they flicker up to his looming form, as if checking to see whether or not he will be a threat against their newfound meal. It would be easy to scare them off, something Neteyam has done himself many times. He’s hunted these forests since he was a boy and his own scent is something that the creatures have learned to associate with danger.

Standing here now, however, he keeps a neutral position and one that the pack hesitantly takes as an opportunity to cinch closer. A flash of his knife and that confidence would disintegrate until the pack would scurry off into another corner of the forest.

Neteyam keeps it sheathed.

“You’re the one that ran off, little gift.” He reminds you, voice calm and cool.

“I know! I know! I’m sorry j-just please!”

“Please what, tiyawn? You have to be more specific.”

You struggle to respond properly, hands frantically switching from tugs at the straps to clawing up at his arms. Regardless, Neteyam remains unmoved, arms crossed over his chest as he observes the scene with indifference. “Please..please don’t let them-” You gasp rearing back when you spot another viperwolf emerging from the left. It’s been there for a while but it appears this is the first time your weak eyes have caught sight of it. “I’m sorry! I’ve changed my mind! Please, I’m sorry.” You cry out in a shrill voice, plastering yourself under his arm.

“Changed your mind on what?” It’s tempting to look down and see the way you so desperately seek his comfort but Neteyam is wise enough to keep his golden gaze sharply pinned on the emerging creatures.

“On wanting to leave! You can take me home just please-”

“Oh can I?” Your chin is snatched between two fingers, forcing you to crane your neck up towards him. That mask of indifference is gone, replaced only by a fierce stirness you are terrified to be facing twice in one day. “And what makes you think that is up to you?”

It’s hard to look into your eyes directly when they are bouncing wildly in every which direction. Perhaps it is your pitiful way of tracking the oncoming predators, or maybe you simply can not handle facing his gaze filled with ire. Either way, it is adorable to watch your natural submissive nature emerge. And all from a few viperwolves.

Poor thing, what would you do without him?

“I-I’m sorry.” You say, voice so small and timid that only a Na’vi would have hopes of hearing it. Neteyam’s chest rumbles with a deep purr, other hand finally coming up to run through your hair.

“I know you are, tiyawn. You just get confused sometimes, don’t you?” No response is given, instead just a gasp as another creature inches closer and you dash into his arms. This time he wraps one arm around your small frame while the other goes for his sheathed knife. The advance pauses, aynantang [viperwolves] pacing from side to side instead. Your reaction is premature but Neteyam basks in it all the same.

From the heated breath and salty tears painting his lower stomach he begins to worry that your fragile body will soon give out and lose consciousness. Keeping you tucked under his arm is the best move, easily accessible for when he needs to scoop you up without retaliation. However at this point, it seems that you are willing to do whatever it takes to earn his protection.

What a short memory you truly have. Perhaps if you listened to him more diligently like a good pet should then you would already know that his protection has been yours since the first time he saw you. He would defend you to his very last breath. Whether or not you asked for it would be irrelevant. That being said, you’ve always had the sweetest way of begging so who is he to deny himself such a pretty chorus of promises.

They flow now freely from your lips. Pleading, crying, and begging for him to get you out of harm's way. He simply shushes you, making no rush as a rigid arm tightens to pull you even closer.

The creatures are scared off within the first few hisses that leave his lips. Knife dancing under the moonlight with a deadly promise, they yip away reluctantly. Still, there is an advantage to not letting you know how easy it truly is to scare them off so he tells you to look away, to keep snuggled against him where they can not so easily see your fear.

You remain that way when you are lifted into his arms. Your thighs strain to wrap around his ribcage but you eventually manage to lock your ankles together. With your shaky limbs locked in terror you are barely in need of his supporting arm, but he wraps one under your rear anyways. You remind him of a small syaksyuk [Prolemuris] as you cling with fervor, lighting his amusement to new heights.

The walk back is pleasant, even when your shaking doesn’t stop and your racing heart beat is louder than the stomp of his feet. There is still great peace to be found with you in his arms and the promise of a wonderful night in the air. After tonight you won’t dare to leave him, not now that you have developed a healthy sense of fear and even more so once your body has taken him fully the way it was meant to.

He holds back a groan at the thought. Your smell is still just as potent as when you first ran and now it holds an extra tang of emotion that makes it all that much sweeter. He manages to pick up the tossed aside dildo on the way back, but that acts as fuel to the flames.

He has sought after your true mating for months and now that he is on the cusp of finally making it a reality it is hard to keep a rational mind. The natural urge to pin you down and take what has always been his morphs into a feral urgency that infringes on his thoughts. Although, he is determined to take his time tonight because it is isn’t enough to simply fuck you into the ground or find pleasure in that first stretch. No, tonight is about claiming you in every way possible.

About teaching not only your body but your mind that there is no one else it belongs to. No one else that can provide for you in the way he can. Utter and complete submission is his goal. But to get you there, that will take skillful maneuvering and coercion. Otherwise it would not be a quest worthy of his time or attention.

However, there is still one more way he can lock you into his life. One permanent reminder that would forever keep you shackled to him. An action that would have your scent intertwined with his so much so that it wouldn’t matter if it took. Pregnant or not the message would be clear. The confines of his loincloth feel suffocating at the thought. Would your tiny pussy even be able to hold half of his seed? What a pretty treat it would be to see it spilling out from your perfectly pink and tight hole.

Pace now quickened, nothing can take away his laser focus. Not even Lo’ak’s obvious staring as you are carried swiftly along the outer edges of the celebration. Nor Spider who tries to run across the crowd and apologize again. Neither make it to him because all that he can feel is the warmth of your softy body. The pulse of your heart. The essence that is entirely yours, filling his lungs.

Once back in the safety of his kelku [home/house] you are smart enough to not flee from his lap. He manhandles one leg to be thrown to the other side so you are properly straddling him. A sense of shyness must fall over you because you are silent while nervously fiddling with the feathers of his traditional attire. Or maybe you are still too shaken up over the little viperwolf incident to do much else.

Neteyam is unbothered by it, instead using it as an opportunity to let his hands explore. Not in a sexual way at first, just simple brushes that are sure to have you melting for him.

“Now you understand why you must stay by my side. Don’t you pet?” Voice as gentle as the hands that run up the back of your neck, he can feel goosebumps rise in its wake. Eyes still fixated on the feathers, you nod shakily. If it wasn’t so cute he would be tempted to reprimand you for such a half hearted response but it appears luck is in your favor.

His knuckles paint a trail up the back of your neck before swiping over your left shoulder. His other hand softly gathers your hair to the other side so your skin is bared for him. He thumbs at the side of your throat, feeling your pulse flicker beneath his fingers.

“Such a pretty thing like you is not safe out there.” His hands bracket either side of your face, large enough to span the entirety of your head and tilt it upwards. It gives him the perfect view of your expression when both hands smooth up towards your hairline before parting and dragging along your scalp. Lips parted and eyes fluttered closed, he knows he has pressed the right button.

“Creatures eager to snatch you up.” Neteyam draws out, nails ever so gently scratching along your roots. The shiver that races through your body is powerful enough to be visual. Massaging at the area in long strokes proves to have you breaking into pieces. Body practically limp against him, the Olo’eyktan watches with glee.

No wonder Sky People are too soft for this world, all it takes to disarm you is some well placed pets.

“And they’d be successful too,” The tips of his fingers come together to circle your hair into a ponytail. A small sound exhales from your lips, leaning into his touch without resolve. “Have you between their teeth before you could even scream.” That dark tone washes over you in a way so contrary to the warning message, his lips mere centimeters away from your own.

One little kiss, more of a peck really. That is all you get. Just enough to have you chasing after him, a motion that is hard to do when he has you anchored by the root of your hair.

“And that,” Another soft peck to your cheek, “is why you are so lucky to have me.” Neteyam allows his lips to linger longer this time but it’s still just as soft, almost more of a whisper than anything else and with the way you are trapped, there is nothing for you to do but take it. The noise that catches in your throat proves it is far from the passionate affection you desire.

“Isn’t that right?”

“Yes Teyam.” You puff, the softest whisper as you try to learn forward for more. He tutts in disapproval, a slow but firm yank to your hair following. “Y-yes Olo’eyktan.” You correct yourself with a squeak and much to his delight, the fragrance from between your thighs intensifies. He’s tempted to look now and see if it has left a spot on his loincloth.

“There’s my good girl.” He grins and finally you are rewarded with his lips capturing yours. Although slow and tender in movement the heat of the kiss is all consuming, spreading a message that can only reflect his complete control over you. Several times you try to squirm or wiggle but the hand embedded in your hair shackles you into place.

Unlike most times you become a fidgeting little thing, it’s clear that your efforts are to get closer, not further away. Neteyam is a nice man after all and so he indulges that desire. At least to a degree. He kisses you until you’re gasping for breath. He kisses you until slick is seeping through your mini loincloth. And he kisses you until those soft little lips are ruby red and chapped from the harsh treatment.

It doesn’t matter to you, that much is clear by the way you whimper once he pulls away.

“Don’t be greedy.” He smirks against your cheek.

Your greed only intensifies when he slips one hand down to untie your loincloth. His other hand remains embedded in your hair as a leash, one that proves necessary as you are eager to rut up against him. Perhaps he would feel guilty for the way you blush in shame after another tug to your hair. That is, if your reactions weren’t so delightfully endearing.

For reasons mysterious to him, humans have a habit of going against their natural needs. You are not exempt from this issue as you are constantly trying to deny your desire for him, even deny yourself the pleasure you so clearly require. It’s fortunate that you have him to override those silly concerns. And override them he does, quite easily since your body reacts like a live wire every time he is near. The smallest of touches have you aching for more.

Eywa has blessed him with such a responsive little pet and he has every intention of exploiting that sensitivity until you are screeching for him to stop.

Small hands come to dig into his feathered mantle as he idly explores the curves of your stomach. He traces up until reaching the sparkling gems of your top. With two little flicks your hardened nipples are bared for him.

It’s a rare experience to have you so cooperative as he bites and sucks at those little peaks. The emotions of that day have softened your resolve, a pattern that Neteyam makes a mental note of.

He tunes into every sensation of satin skin beneath his fingertips. Atop his thighs. Prickling beneath his lips. Like a flower you blossom for him so exquisitely. Revealing petals that are just for him. Melodic whimpers that only he has the pleasure of inducing. The irritation of Lo’ak’s infatuation fades to the background with you so pliant in his arms.

You are quickly driven to madness, or at least is how you plead when he continues to trace, worship and tease your small body. Neteyam is anxious too. His hard member presses painfully against the fabric of his tewng. However, being the first born son has taught him something that you very rarely exhibit: patience. The fruits of your labors are tenfold more exhilarating once following a period of yearning.

And you yearn for him, little gift. So much so that your dramatic begging has him holding back a deep chuckle.

A river of nectar flowing down your thighs, you act as if you will pitter into dust if not satisfied.

It will be fun training you. Making you learn to sit patiently like a good pet when that inferno of fire burns deep within you. He can devise a plethora of creative punishments for when you inevitably step out of line. Neteyam looks forward to the long process. He wouldn’t want to succeed too quickly and cut the fun short.

Luckily your spit fire attitude is sure to draw it out, keeping him entertained and challenged for a long time.

The reasoning is only further confirmed when he catches you sneaking a tiny hand between your legs. The grip in your hair finally releases only for him to sharply smack away your attempt.

“Did I say you could do that?”

You’re exasperated, pleading eyes staring up at him as a drawn out groan comes from your lips.

“Well are you planning to tease me all night or actually do something?”

You’re pinned onto your back in a heartbeat, this time his right hand curled around your throat instead of your hair. It may not be firm enough to cut off your airway but the oxygen in your lungs freezes all the same.

“Oeyӓ tiyawn I have greater plans for my pussy than using your pathetic little fingers.” He growls into your ear, watching as you are too frozen in shock to bother struggling. “Because by the end of tonight it will be filled with my seed.”

Your throat bobs with a thick gulp, stuttered words struggling to come forth but a tad more pressure against your pulse earns your silence. And to his fascination, your eyes roll back into your head. Fight it all you want, but it’s clear you have always thrived off of his domination. This power imbalance is one that you need. Satisfying that deeply locked away drive you have to be loved, pampered, controlled, and absolutely ruined.

Just in the way only he can deliver.

Squeeze any tighter and his fingers might just lose circulation. Regardless, the dildos have done their job effectively and now you are more than ready to take him. It was always going to be a tight fit, but at least there is little risk of real injury due to his preparations.

You appear less convinced on that matter when his unoccupied hand roughly tugs off his tewng. Wide eyes stare down to where his full length lays along your stomach. He has to admit that in a position like this the size difference does become ever more staggering but he has every faith in you.

“Neteyam please,” You whimper, shiny eyes staring up at him for mercy.

“Please what?” He hums. His fingers curl to massage that special spot inside while his thumb playfully runs over your clit. It has the desired effect, watching as your begging turns towards a different goal.

“Please let me cum! Need it! Neteyam please!”

Neteyam shushes you tenderly, relieving some of the pressure from you little button when he feels your cunt clench around him on the verge of an orgasm. You’ve never looked more beautiful than now, naked and spread across the little nest of blankets and pillows he arranged just for you. Long hair splayed out in every which direction and eyes already coated in a haze, it appears as if you have already been fucked dumb beneath him.

“Patience, little gift. You will cum on my cock soon enough.”

Your alarm flares up once more.

“No Neteyam I can’t! It’s too big, it’s impossible-”

A large thumb presses over your lips to silence you. At this rate you are going to work yourself into hysterics and that would unravel all of the hard work he has done to get you here. A few more intentional circles on your clit has those protests flying out the door. It’s clear you require his help to stay calm and compliant the way you are meant to. The Olo’eyktan doesn’t mind aiding.

Your chest rises and falls dramatically as you melt under the pleasure. And when his three fingers are replaced with the head of his cock lining up, you hardly even notice. As long as that little bundle of nerves is being stimulated, you are hyper focused on seeing out that ecstasy to a finish.

A soft kiss dampens your screech when he slots in just the tip. Already his mind swirls from the sensation but Neteyam manages to reign in his focus. Little ‘no’ s and pleas fall from your lips to caress his.

“Mawey, oeyӓ tiyawn [be calm, my love]. You are being so good for me.” Another inch and it feels as if his own knees are about to crumble from how tightly you cinch around him. Small hands fists into the fabric below as your eyes squeeze shut. Neteyam shakily grasps one with his right hand, placing it along his shoulder that is now exposed with the feathered attire out of the way. “You can touch, little pet. Good girls deserve rewards.”

With your face just barely reaching chest level the Olo’eyktan is forced to bend into an awkward position every time he goes to kiss away your tears, but it’s worth it. Those blunt little nails dig into his lower back. It’s a shame they aren’t strong enough to leave marks that he can cherish.

The air from his lungs are pushed out in a rush as he plunges ever so slightly deeper inside your sweet little pussy. You tense and cry beneath him, scratching as his back in haste. Although mere seconds away from popping his load far too early he still manages to reach down and play with your poor little cunt until more of that sweet essence is trailing out.

“You need to relax for me, pet.” Neteyam grits, tail curling erratically. “Going to suffocate my cock like this, little one.” And it’s true because in all of his years of sexual maturity not once has he ever felt a pussy so tight, so responsive, wrapped around him. It drives him to the point of insanity. It takes every last bit of resolve he has left to not shove the rest of himself inside and plow you into the floor.

But Neteyam knows better than to break his toys.

The next few minutes test his mental and physical stamina over and over as you slowly take him inch by inch. Every slow push of his hips causes a domino effect of tears and incoherent cries from your sweet lips. He kisses and soothes and pleasures your trembling body until you’ve learned to relax again. Only to then restart the cycle when you take one inch more.

However, nothing prepares him for the end result. No amount of dreaming or training could ever have done the sight justice as he sees the way your soft belly bulges when he reaches the hilt. The shape of him is clearly visible, twitching so deep inside of you that it threatens to drive both of you into sensation overload.

The groan that rumbles from his throat is one that you have never heard before. So rough and unleashed that your glittering eyes dilate in response. It’s still painful, that much he can see from the look on your face. So despite every instinct in him screaming to ruin your little pussy until it can take no more, Neteyam remains in place.

Your swollen nub is red from his sensual play, nipples not far behind as he laps and kisses them like they are the last meal he will ever have. That beautiful blush now heats down your neck and torso, as if tempting him to continual his oral fixation. It accentuates most importantly that bulge of your stomach until he can’t help himself anymore, large hand spanning over your tummy to press on that area lightly.

“Can you feel me, tiyawn? Right here?” He presses again, your mouth opening in a silent scream. “Taking me so deep, pet. My good girl.”

And it’s then that it feels as if something has clicked. Your bodies becomes attuned to one another. Burning stretch morphs into something otherworldly, those soft features finally unscrewing into fluttering bliss. And he draws out ever so slightly to rut back in, your head falls back against the pillows.

He’s waited long enough. Pinned long enough. Crawled after you long enough. Now all that his body can do is take what you so freely give him. His hips snap forward without restrain, spurred on by the little sounds that pulse in the back of your throat. Little fingers scatter between gripping his muscular back and tangling into his braids.

The heat that travels from his ears to toes is so intense that it feels as if he may burst into an inferno. And he truly might, little gift. With the way you hug his cock so snuggly as if you never want to let it go, you may simply kill him. He would be happy to go that way. To leave this world drowning in the bliss of your destined union.

And for once in his life, Neteyam lets himself fully go. He chases that peak with fervent desperation. He drinks in every reaction you have to give him. And when the pleasure becomes all too much for you to take. When you grapple to crawl away from him and the mind shattering climax that is around the corner, he pulls you back down with a hiss.

“No more running, pet.” He commands, a growl emanating so deeply from his chest that he almost doesn’t recognize his own voice. He hoists your left leg around his waist, effectively changing the angle to thrust in deeper.

“Neteyam!” A screech like sweet honey from your lips as you finally tip over the edge. Body trembling so hard it takes that firm grip on your leg to keep it there, you crumble beneath him. His stamina is far from being drained as he rides you through it. Every wave of pleasure is stronger than a drug, leading him to cloud nine until he no longer wants to be anywhere else.

“T-too much.” You gasp for air but your body is already succumbing to the onslaught. He can feel the way you are ramping up again. This is far from being over.

“Give in.” Neteyam coos but the ring of that command is clear. There is no other option. That is the way it has always been because from the very beginning you have always been his. And sooner or later Eywa knew that the two of you would be here together, trapped in his love where you belong.

“Oh God!” You cry out, body sliding up the floor with every thrust.

Whether you find his queue by accident or on purpose is unclear but that first tug is enough to have his balls drawing up against his body, bracing to fly into bliss. There is a sticky mess between the two of you, slick enough to have those wet sounds filling the night air. Neteyam runs the flat of his nose over your sweaty temple and curve of your cheek.

“My little gift.” He purrs, body on the brink of rupturing. He says it more for himself than you but is more than pleased to watch the way your eyes flutter close as the sound. Trembling, squeezing, and shattering around him, those are the moments your reserve of denial dries up.

That’s how it has always been. From the first night that he brought you home, tucked under his arm, you’ve had this other side that can be taunted out. Even that night as you had pleaded to be released only to have the gag put back in, his tongue had driven you to stillness. Your screaming of kidnapping had sizzled into a series of moans and ecstatic exclamations.

There’s another side to him too.

The part of him that can finally bask in the one thing he has wanted for months. The part of him that yearns for reprieve day in and day out. The part that demands for rest- for freedom.

Now he can finally surrender himself to the magic that the two of you create. To the sparkle that runs down your cheeks. To the sensation of being embraced so tightly by your little pussy. To the way his name has never sounded better from anyone else’s lips. Eywa has finally given him this gift, his sanctuary from every other pressure bestowed upon him.

And now nothing is going to take it away from him.

Nothing will ever take you away.

Those are the thoughts that coerce his primal nature forward. The same that ramp the fire of his tongue demanding more from you. Pushing you further, harder, deeper.

“You won’t let any spill out, will you pet?” He spits between grunts.

“I-I’ll be good. I’ll be good. I’ll be good.” More of a chant on loop than anything else. One day you will beg properly. You will cry for his seed, for his babies. You won’t question whether or not pregnancy is possible as he fills your womb with his mark.

You will wear that little bow on your neck with pride.

Neteyam forces his eyes open at the precipice. Even as his body convulses and cock pulses rampantly while painting your insides white, he won’t allow himself to miss a single moment. That imprint of your expression as he finally claims you past the point of return will stay with him. The drawn in gasp that is sucked in from your red lips when you feel that warmth will be what keeps him going on day after day. Major to minor details of tonight will be his soundtrack to perfection as he pushes himself to be the best Olo’eyktan possible.

And when the day has worn him to the bone and those day dreams are not enough, there you will be. Waiting for him oh so sweetly.

“I want to sleep.”

Your muffled whine coaxes a chuckle from the Olo’eyktan.

“Then sleep.” He responds, only looking up from your spread legs for a second. So peaceful and sweet you are now, almost drowned in the hammock’s blankets and pillows. The picture of innocence and beauty only to then trail his eyes lower and find the evidence of his primal claim. His bioluminescent seed paints your weeping folds and inner thighs. A new spurt erupts from your still clenching hole only for him to push it back inside with his thumb again.

It won’t make much of a difference. There is no way your small body could ever truly hold all of it but that doesn’t stop him from teasing you all the same.

“Looks like this little pussy will need training to savor my seed properly after all.”

Eyes still closed you let out a groan, trying to rip your thighs from his fingers. You remain trapped as exhaustion finally overcomes you, only a small incoherent curse from your tongue before passing out.

Neteyam grins, reaching up to straighten the little pink bow around your throat.

Please don't be shy. Hearing your thoughts and reactions is what helps fuel my drive to keep posting. Love you, pookies<3

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plutonianeris · 1 month ago

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Asteroid Fama (408) 🖤

I just want to see you shine 'cause I know you are a star, girl

The asteroid Fama reveals the nuances of your legacy, the way your reputation takes shape and dances in the public eye.

Fama in the First House or Aries: With Fama shining brightly in your first house, your very being is a beacon to the world. Your appearance, your demeanor, and the way you carry yourself leave an unforgettable impression. People recognize you by your individuality, and your presence speaks volumes before you even utter a word. You are known not just for what you do, but for who you are, with a reputation that precedes you. The world looks to you as someone with a name worth remembering, a person whose identity is etched in bold strokes.

Fama in the Second House or Taurus: Fama in your second house ties your reputation to the material world your values, your wealth, and how you manage it all. Perhaps it's your generosity or your knack for creating prosperity that people admire. You may be known for how you turn simple resources into abundance, or for the way you stand firm in your values, even when the winds of change blow. You build a legacy of grounded success, one where your possessions and financial choices tell the story of your life.

Fama in the Third House or Gemini: In the third house, Fama gives you a voice that people can’t ignore. Whether through your writing, speaking, teaching, or simply the way you connect with those around you, you are celebrated for your intellect and communication. Your ideas travel far and wide, and you may find fame in your local community or even through your relationships with siblings. You have the gift of making people listen, and through your words, you leave a lasting legacy of thought and dialogue.

Fama in the Fourth House or Cancer: Fama nestled in the fourth house suggests that your name is intertwined with your roots, your family, and your home. Your reputation may be tied to your ancestry or the nurturing environment you create. The way you honor your origins or build a sense of security for yourself and others is what people will remember. You leave behind a legacy rooted in stability, in the warmth of home, or in the stories passed down through generations.

Fama in the Fifth House or Leo: In the fifth house, Fama sparkles through creativity, romance, and the sheer joy you bring into the world. Whether it’s your artistic flair, your adventures in love, or even through your children, you are recognized as a force of passion and playfulness. Your talents shine, whether on stage, in sport, or through your imaginative pursuits, leaving a legacy of inspiration. People are drawn to the light you radiate, and your name is forever associated with fun, creativity, and the art of living.

Fama in the Sixth House or Virgo: When Fama resides in the sixth house, you gain recognition through your dedication to work, health, and service. Your reputation is built on your tireless effort and devotion, whether it’s in healing, caretaking, or the way you approach the routine and details of life. People admire you for your diligence, for the care and precision you put into everything you do. Fame here is quiet but profound built not on grand gestures, but on the steady, unwavering commitment to making life better for others.

Fama in the Seventh House or Libra: Fama in the seventh house suggests that your fame may bloom through partnerships whether romantic, business, or collaborations. You are known for your ability to connect, to harmonize, and to create lasting bonds with others. Perhaps you’re celebrated for your marriage or a significant partnership, or for your skill in navigating relationships with grace. Your reputation is intertwined with the way you balance and uplift those around you, leaving behind a legacy of love and connection.

Fama in the Eighth House or Scorpio: In the mysterious eighth house, Fama draws fame from the depths through transformation, power, and the unknown. You may be recognized for your involvement in hidden realms, such as occult practices, psychology, or even through managing others’ wealth and resources. Fame here comes from your ability to navigate crises, to emerge stronger from the fires of change, and to transform yourself and others. You leave a legacy that’s steeped in mystery, power, and the cycles of life, death, and rebirth.

Fama in the Ninth House or Sagittarius: Fama in the ninth house gives you a reputation that soars across borders, cultures, and beliefs. Your fame may come through your philosophical musings, academic achievements, or your love of exploration both of the world and the mind. Whether through travel, teaching, or the pursuit of higher knowledge, people see you as a seeker of truth and wisdom. Your legacy is one of broad-mindedness, of journeys both physical and spiritual, and your name is remembered wherever curiosity leads.

Fama in the Tenth House or Capricorn: With Fama gracing the tenth house, your name is destined to be etched in the annals of history through your career and public achievements. This is one of the most potent placements for fame, as it places your legacy squarely in the public eye. You may rise to a position of authority, leadership, or acclaim in your professional field. Your work and achievements define you, and your reputation is built on your ability to leave a lasting mark on the world through your ambition and accomplishments.

Fama in the Eleventh House or Aquarius: In the eleventh house, Fama connects your legacy to your social circles, communities, and humanitarian causes. You are known for your activism, for your involvement in social movements, or for the wide network of connections you build. People remember you for the way you bring groups together and for the causes you champion. Your name is tied to progress, innovation, and the collective good. Fame here comes from your ability to inspire and lead, leaving a legacy that speaks to the power of community and shared vision.

Fama in the Twelfth House or Pisces: In the twelfth house, Fama’s fame is more subtle, often blooming after you’ve left the stage or behind the scenes. You may be known for your spiritual or charitable work, or for things that remain hidden or just more lowkey during your life secret projects, quiet support, or subconscious influence. Fame here may feel elusive, but it’s profound. It’s the kind of reputation that grows in whispers, becoming more potent after you’re gone, as people come to recognize the quiet impact you had all along. Your legacy is one of depth, compassion, and unseen influence.

#astrology #asteroid fama #asteroid astrology #fama #astrology notes #astrology observations #asteroid fama in the houses

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crescenthistory · 1 month ago

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Still Just Totally the Fifth and Sixth Wheel, You Guys

Pairing: Regulus Black x Reader

Summary: The two couples, and one pair of best friends who are not dating thank you very much, finally go on their not-date to Hogsmeade.

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader (she/her pronouns), use of y/n, lots of bickering and banter, mentions of black brothers drama and angst, healing brother bond, hella pining, intimate moments, talk of kissing, brief mention of hooking up, featuring rosekiller and wolfstar

Note: this is part two to this fic. part three can be found here.

“Wait, but if it’s not a date now, can’t I join?” James called from where you were all about to leave him behind in the Entrance Hall.

You almost felt bad for him, but couldn’t fight the small laughter as you were the last of the six of you to turn around to look at him.

“Sorry, Prongsy, but it is still strictly for couples,” Sirius said, and upon seeing Regulus turn to him, about to argue, he added, “or those who are best friends enough to be mistaken for a couple.”

“So unless you finally win Evans over, or get much closer to Wormy…” Remus’ voice trailed off, the apology in his tone weakened by his sight smile.

You could barely make out James murmuring “totally unfair” under his breath, before he gave a tight-lipped smile and waved. “Will go work on that, then!”

“Good luck!” you and Barty called at the same time, though in completely different tones, before your little group turned back around to continue towards Hogsmeade and this dreaded not a triple date you were somehow sort of looking forward to.

As the six of you walked, the chilly autumn air wrapped itself around you, nipping at your nose and cheeks. You were trailing slightly behind the others, arms linked with Regulus, the both of you sinking into the easy silence that had always come naturally. His long, lithe frame was stiff beside you, and though he never said anything, you could sense his reluctance. His hesitation clung to him like the cold mist swirling around your ankles.

"Still time to run," you whispered with a teasing lilt, tilting your head towards the forbidden forest that loomed dark and mysterious off to the side. “We can ditch the whole thing. Just you, me, and a pack of hungry werewolves – sounds fun, right?”

Regulus glanced sideways at you, the ghost of a smile flickering across his face. "Tempting," he murmured, his voice soft and low, the kind of sound you had to lean in to catch. “But... it might be nice to spend some time with Sirius.” He sounded less sure about that part.

You squeezed his arm gently, offering a reassuring smile, and felt him lean further into you in response. You both knew that his relationship with Sirius had been strained, fractured by years of tension, secrets, and choices neither of them were ever fully ready to confront. That made the faint glimmer of hope in Regulus' eyes all the more important, both to you and him. An unspoken desire to bridge the gap both brothers had been toying with – you knew you would support him through it, no matter how long it took to fully heal.

"Well, if you’re sure," you replied, letting your playful tone linger, as if to lighten the weight between his words. “But the offer still stands. Any time, really.”

Regulus chuckled under his breath, his body easing a little as the two of you continued your slow pace. The rest of the group – Sirius, Remus, Barty, and Evan – were ahead, animated in their own conversations. Barty was half-draped over Evan, practically buzzing with energy, while Evan walked beside him with a brooding air, casting occasional amused glances at his boyfriend. They were a chaotic contrast, loud and quiet, impulsive and restrained, but there was an undeniable balance between them that was hard to miss.

Barty's eyes glinted with mischief as he stole a look back at you and Regulus. "Oi, lovebirds!" he called out, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "You're falling behind. Regulus, not getting cold feet, are you?"

Regulus rolled his eyes, but before he could reply, Sirius cut in with a bark of laughter. "He was born with cold feet, look at the state of him. But let him be Junior."

Contrasting statements you heard Regulus murmur beside you.

“Don’t worry, we’ll catch up,” you interjected smoothly, though not altering your pace as you gave Regulus a light tug on his arm, as if to shield him.

Finally reaching Hogsmeade, you passed through its cobbled streets, bustling with students eager to escape the confines of the castle. The Three Broomsticks was already crowded when you arrived, warmth spilling out into the chilly air from its open door. You were greeted by the comforting scent of butterbeer and the hum of conversation, the perfect haven from the cold outside.

Inside, you all squeezed around one of the larger tables near the fireplace. The seating arrangements happened naturally – couples with couples, as Barty heartily proclaimed – with Barty predictably claiming a spot beside Evan, his arm thrown lazily around his back as he chattered away. Sirius plopped himself down next to Remus, already in the middle of a bickering debate over who had a better strategy in last night’s chess game.

You and Regulus, as usual, gravitated towards each other, sitting opposite Sirius and Remus and beside Evan and Barty. You moved your chair closer to Regulus', so that your thighs were practically smushed against each other and you could hook your ankle around his. A faint smile played across his lips as he settled in. The heat from the nearby fire was welcome, but the slight tension of being roped into all of this was still palpable.

"So," Sirius started, stretching the word as if he were setting up for something, eyes flicking between you and Regulus, "what’s new with you two? Anything you'd like to share?"

You shot him a pointed look but didn’t bite. Regulus seemed content to let you take the lead on this one, his focus elsewhere, probably already imagining an escape route.

“Same as always,” you said casually, though your words were lightly laced with sarcasm. "Being unfairly dragged into your romantic schemes. Couldn’t ask for more, really."

Sirius opened his mouth to reply, but Barty cut him off. "Speaking of romantic schemes," he drawled, "Evan and I are officially a thing now, right? Isn’t that right, darling?" He nudged Evan, who simply raised a brow in his direction.

"That’s what you’ve told me," Evan said dryly, though his eyes softened as he looked at Barty.

"Exactly," Barty continued, undeterred. "But Dorcas doesn't believe us! She thinks we're playing some prank on her. Now, how do we prove it to her?"

"Why doesn't she believe you?" Remus asked, a sly smile playing over his lips.

"Barty and Dorcas have quite the history of pranks none of us understand," you explain, looking half-exasperated half-amused at your best friend. "They try to convince the other of something untrue, only to laugh at them for weeks. Last year, Dorcas made Barty believe–"

"No one needs to hear that story, Treasure." Barty cutting you off made you and Regulus giggle, both knowing why he didn't want anyone to know, while Sirius looked highly offended of being left out.

"Well, I'd like to know," he tries his luck.

"Too bad I don't care for what you want then, hm? Anyway, how do we prove it to Dorc, because Evan here thinks it's taking it too far to shag in her bed."

"I would have to second Rosier on that," Regulus drawls, mirth still in his eyes from laughing at Barty's expense.

"Me too."

"No, no," Sirius gleams. "I think you should totally do it, I have DADA with her and reckon she could kill you in just about fifty ways."

"That would be a welcome sight," Evan says. Barty slaps his arm without turning to look at him, while waving his other hand in everyone's faces.

"Yeah, yeah, funny, funny – now let's talk strategies, you tossers."

As the babbling continues, Sirius and Barty turning out to be a perfect duo who makes each other so much worse, you lean into Regulus' side, looking up at him through your lashes. He is already looking at you, having turned his attention when he felt you shift.

You mouth a you good? at him, to which he smiles and nod. Your lips mirror his when you realise it's genuine, reaching down to grab his hand under the table and squeeze it. He squeezes back, before looking up when he senses his brother trying to get his attention.

"Where did you get these freaky friends of yours?" Sirius questions, gesturing vaguely to Barty and Evan, the latter of whom's hand was currently being gnawed on by the former. Evan's face remained impassive.

"First year." Regulus provided no further invitation, blinking owlishly at his brother.

"Yeah, that's really the only way, isn't it? Merlin, they're a match for sure though."

You cock a teasing brow at Barty as he lets Evan's hand go from his teeth, only to hold it in a death grip. "You that bored already, Junior?"

"Yes, Treasure, thank you for noticing. It needs to be addressed." Barty's voice is overtly dramatic, as he digs into his jacket pocket.

He conjured up a deck of magical cards, all but slinging the container onto the table, just barely missing the candles, as he began to shuffle them with a flourish. "Let's make things more interesting. Care for a game?"

"Doesn't seem like we're given much of a choice," Sirius murmured at the same time as Remus said sure! and elbowed his boyfriend in the side.

Regulus groaned. “We all know you always cheat Barty, I catch you almost every time."

“That’s because you don't know how to have fun,” Barty replied, flipping a card over and eyeing it dramatically before sliding it back into the deck. “And obviously delusional, as I would do no such thing."

He gives you a wink and you roll your eyes, albeit with a smile.

A small fight ensues between Barty and Sirius as they try and decide on what game to play, before Remus makes a decision for all of you, taking the cards from Barty to stock them properly.

"It's everyone for themselves right?" he asked as he looked down at the cards.

"No, Treasure and Regulus always play together." Barty's comment is off-handed, going off of instinct.

"Always?" Sirius' smirk is teasing as his gaze flickers between the two of you.

"Yeah, she doesn't care much for most card games, so we usually just pair off," Regulus explains matter-of-factly, though his voice is a bit quieter than normal and his hand unconsciously tightens around yours. It's only now you realise you're still holding hands, unsure if you should use it to ground yourself or panic over.

"Yeah, they're inseparable yada yada." Evan rolled his eyes, as if you two were just horribly exhausting.

"Just like us," Barty teased in an overly-happy voice, kissing Evan square on the lips with an overdramatised smooching sound.

"Disgusting," Evan winced, wiping his mouth before wrapping an arm around Barty and squeezing him tight.

Sirius looked thoroughly confused at the boys' expressions of affection, but seemed to let it go.

You exchanged an amused glance with Regulus. "You wanna look at our cards?" you asked, nudging him gently while eyeing the cards Remus had placed in front of you. He seemed to take a moment to rip his eyes away from you before picking up the cards, moving even closer to you.

Soon, the table was abuzz with laughter, shuffling cards, and accusations of cheating flying in every direction. It didn’t take long for you and Regulus to settle into a comfortable rhythm, working together to strategise while everyone else tried to undermine each other. Even Evan, typically more reserved, joined in on the playful taunts, a small smirk on his face as Barty egged him on.

“Barty, you’ve been ‘shuffling’ those cards for three minutes straight,” Remus commented dryly, watching Barty’s theatrical motions as he tossed the cards between his hands. “At this point, you’ve either enchanted them or lost the ability to count.”

Evan, smirking beside him, shook his head. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Oi!” Barty exclaimed, feigning offence, before tossing an arm over Evan’s shoulder with a mischievous grin. “Don't you lot dare forget how naturally brilliant I am. I know numbers and I don't cheat.”

"Yeah, you sounded really smart just now, mate."

“Brilliantly annoying,” you quipped, grinning as you drew a card from the deck and slid it over to Regulus. “That counts for something, I suppose.”

“Thank you, Treasure,” Barty shot back, tilting his head as if he’d just received a compliment. “You always know how to flatter me.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the laughter bubbling up. Regulus, sitting next to you, leaned in slightly, a small smirk playing on his lips as he observed the scene unfolding in front of him.

“They can’t help it, Junior,” Sirius chimed in with a grin that was borderline feral, leaning back in his chair as he tossed his cards onto the table. “They have to deflect. It’s either that or admit they’ve got no idea what they’re doing.”

“Excuse you, we’re doing perfectly fine,” you replied, your competitive streak flashing as you glanced at Regulus. “Reg and I are winning, aren’t we?”

Regulus gave a barely perceptible nod, lips twitching at the corners. “As usual,” he murmured under his breath, flipping over a card with precise ease. “But you don’t have to tell them that.”

Your quiet, shared moment of confidence made your stomach flip, though you kept your expression calm and collected. There was something so steady about Regulus, something that made it easy to forget about the noise around you, the teasing jabs from the others, and just sink into the comfort of his presence.

“Winning by sheer luck, more like,” Sirius teased, drumming his fingers on the table. “What’s next, Reg? Gonna let her do all the work while you sit there looking pretty?”

Before Regulus could respond, Barty leaned forward with a wicked grin. “Oh, he’s definitely good at looking pretty. Right, Y/N?”

You rolled your eyes again, though your cheeks warmed at the implication. “I don’t need to answer that. Though shouldn't you focus on calling your boyfriend that, instead?”

"Yeah, I'll call mine pretty if you do the same to yours."

You stuck your tongue out at him at that, retreating back into Regulus to look at your cards.

He had stayed quiet, but you could feel the amusement radiating off him. He gave a subtle shrug, like the teasing was something he was long accustomed to. His knee bumped yours beneath the table, a silent gesture that said let them talk, it doesn't matter.

“Doesn't matter,” you added, taking another sip of your butterbeer with a smirk. “We’re still winning.”

“You two are disgustingly good together,” Barty agreed, leaning back in his chair and lazily drawing a card from the deck. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were the ones cheating.”

Evan snorted. “Shut it, Junior.”

“You adore me,” Barty shot back without missing a beat, pressing a kiss to Evan’s cheek, much to the other boy’s quiet amusement.

The group fell into a rhythm, exchanging playful insults and light bickering as the game progressed. You were deep in conversation with Regulus about your next move when you took another sip of your butterbeer, not realising a bit of foam had clung to your upper lip.

Regulus, ever observant, caught it immediately. You, completely unaware, kept talking, pointing at one of the cards in front of him and suggesting a play. He wasn’t paying attention to the cards anymore, though. Instead, his focus had shifted entirely to the butterbeer foam, and without thinking – without hesitation – he reached up.

His thumb brushed against your upper lip, so soft and natural that you almost didn’t register what was happening until it was done. His touch was tender, deliberate, like it was something he did every day. The action made you pause, your words catching in your throat as his thumb lingered for just a second longer, other knuckles brushing against your cheek, his skin warm against yours.

Your eyes lifted to meet his, and suddenly, everything else seemed to fade away. The loud chatter of the group, the clatter of cards, the clinking of glasses – it all dulled in the background as the two of you became the centre of a much quieter, more intimate world.

Regulus’ gaze was steady, softer than usual, like he was studying you, reading into something deeper. His hand hovered near your face, frozen in place as the moment between you stretched longer than either of you had intended.

You felt your breath hitch slightly, the warmth from his thumb still lingering on your skin, and the look in his eyes made your heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the game. There was something unsaid in the way he looked at you, something that hummed beneath the surface.

Neither of you spoke. The moment hung between you, fragile and delicate, like a thread waiting to be pulled.

For a second, you thought he might say something, or do something more. His thumb lingered, hovering just above your skin, and his eyes flicked to your lips, just for a heartbeat, before darting back to meet your gaze. Your pulse quickened as the silence deepened, the air between you charged with something new, something you weren’t sure either of you were ready to acknowledge.

But before anything could happen, Barty’s loud laugh from across the table shattered the bubble around you. Right. There were other people around.

You blinked, the spell broken, and Regulus pulled his hand back with a soft clearing of his throat. His expression didn’t change much – he was as composed as ever – but there was a subtle pink tinge to his cheeks that told you the moment had affected him just as much as it had you.

“Everything alright there, Reg?” Barty asked, his voice full of smug amusement as he leaned back in his chair, looking between the two of you with a knowing smirk. You felt the heat rise in your face again, but you didn’t let it show, instead giving Regulus a playful nudge under the table with your knee.

Regulus, ever calm, only narrowed his eyes at Barty in return. “Just fine,” he said coolly, though you noticed the faint curve of a smile tugging at his lips. He was used to Barty’s antics by now, and though he could’ve easily snapped back, he chose instead to let the moment pass, his arm brushing lightly against your shoulder as he shifted in his seat.

Barty, however, wasn’t done. “I don’t know, mate. You looked a bit… distracted.”

“Oh, he was,” Sirius chimed in, grinning as he kept his eyes trained on the two of you. “Completely gone. He’s mastered the art of selective hearing.”

You snorted softly, shaking your head. “I’m sure it’s just his natural state from growing up with you. Completely unbothered by all of your nonsense by now.” Deflecting, deflecting.

“I don’t know,” Remus added with a thoughtful look. “He seemed pretty focused on something else entirely.”

You were saved from responding by the loud call of Madam Rosmerta that all Hogwarts students had to leave for curfew. Groans sounded around the room, and around your very own table, but no one dared argue with her – they knew it was no use. Everyone began gathering their things, the light atmosphere continuing with playful jabs and comments flying between the group as they readied to head back out into the cold.

You and Regulus were the first ones out the door, regretfully, as you had to wait for the others. As you stood, tugging your coat tighter around you, the bitter wind immediately stung your fingers. You rubbed them together, trying to chase the chill from your skin, but the cold had already settled in deep.

Without a word, Regulus took your hands gently in his own, his long fingers wrapping around yours with a kind of care that felt second nature to him. Before you could react, he brought your hands to his lips and blew warm air onto them while rubbing with his hands, breath hot against your cold skin.

You blinked in surprise, but the gesture felt so natural, so easy, that it didn’t seem out of place. There was no hesitation, no awkwardness – just Regulus being Regulus, quietly looking after you in the way only he knew how. His hands lingered over yours for a moment longer before he slipped off his gloves and slid them onto your hands with the same gentle touch.

"Better?" he asked, his voice low and fond, almost like he was speaking only to you despite the many students bustling around you.

You nodded, feeling the warmth of the gloves and the lingering heat from his touch. “Much better. Thanks.”

His eyes met yours again, softer this time, and there was that unspoken connection again – only now it felt less like something that needed to be questioned, and more like something that just was.

“Won’t you get cold, though?”

“Nah, you know I run warmer than you.” There was an endearingly teasing tone in Regulus’ voice as he looked past you. “Plus, I’ve got you beside me to keep me warm, right?”

You bit back the always sitting prettily on your tongue, instead just nodding and pressing your nose into his shoulder as you stood close. For warmth, of course.

Sirius and Remus finally make their way outside, Barty and Evan not too far behind them. The first of the bunch give you and Regulus a once over when he sees you huddled together.

“Well, I’m glad to see tonight didn’t change my mind whatsoever that you two are a thing, whether you know it yourselves or not,” he says in a neutral tone, though his creeping smirk betrays him.

“I didn’t know that was still on the table,” you say dryly, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Of course it was!” Sirius scoffs lightheartedly. “You two, sitting there together, basically telepathically in sync. No wonder you always team up for cards – it’s frankly disturbing.”

“Oh, come off it, Siri.” Regulus wasn’t looking at Sirius when the comment slipped off his tongue, so he couldn’t catch the slight hitch at the sound of his childhood nickname. You smile softly at him, but he keeps his eyes on Regulus, seemingly trying to keep steady.

“As your big brother, I don’t think I can. It’s my duty to meddle”

“Leave the kids alone, sweetheart,” Remus says, coming up beside Sirius with a knowing smile. “You’re just jealous you’ve never been able to sit quietly for more than five minutes, let alone work together with someone without bickering the whole time.”

Sirius gasped in mock offence. “That’s because I have passion,” Sirius declared, flipping his hair back with a grin. “It’s not bickering if it’s done with flair.”

Barty finally stepped out to hear that, and, always ready to cause more chaos, chimed in. “Oh, please. You lot wouldn’t know passion if it hit you in the face. Now, we”—he pointed between himself and Evan—“are the real deal. You should’ve seen us strategising earlier. Absolute power couple material.”

“You weren’t even playing together, Barty,” you commented, but he gave you a look that said please.

“My life doesn’t revolve around you lot, we have other things to strategise about. Like Dorcas.”

That received a few “right”s from around the group, to which you lovingly rolled your eyes. Barty blabbered on about something, stalling the group from beginning to move back towards the castle, and you took the opportunity to turn back towards Regulus.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and trying to school your expression as you studied what you found there. The soft crinkle around his eyes, the quiet warmth swirling around his otherwise cool irises. You took his bare hands between your gloved ones, rubbing lightly at them to keep him warm, as promised.

For another beautiful moment, the two of you stood still, lost in your own world. The noise of the others faded into the background as Regulus’ eyes flicked to your lips, just for a split second, before meeting your gaze again. His hands move to hold each of yours independently, fingers intertwining with yours, despite that exposing his skin back to the cold air again.

You felt the flutter in your chest again, and for a brief moment, you wondered if he was thinking the same thing you were – that maybe, just maybe, there was more between you than friendship. Before either of you could say anything, you pulled your gaze away from his, focusing it back to your group of friends, who seemed increasingly eager to walk home.

“Alright, lovebirds, you done being all cute, or do we need to give you more time?” Barty said, looking at you with a smug look on his face.

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, but you quickly brushed it off, shaking your head. “You never quit, do you, Barty?”

“Never,” he replied, flashing you an exaggerated wink. “You know me too well.”

Regulus shot Barty a sharp look, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Maybe you should find a new hobby,” he suggested dryly. “One that doesn’t involve sticking your nose in other people’s business.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” Barty grinned. “Besides, I’d be out of material if you two would just finally–”

“Barty,” Evan interrupted, giving him a pointed look as he slid an arm around his waist. “Let them be.”

Barty pouted dramatically, but he relented, leaning into Evan as they started walking. “Fine, fine. But I’m just saying – it’s only a matter of time.”

Sirius looked baffled at how easily Evan made Barty shut up, mumbling something about we should always bring him with to Remus.

Regulus shook his head, his arm brushing against yours as you fell in step beside each other, trailing behind the rest of the group. Your hands were still warm inside his gloves, and every now and then, your shoulders would brush as you walked, the quiet connection between you speaking louder than words ever could.

Regulus glanced down at you, his expression thoughtful. The quiet between you felt comfortable, but there was an intensity in the way he looked at you, something that made your breath catch again.

All that was running through Regulus' head was how beautiful you looked in the nighttime, surrounded by cold air that came out in white puffs when you breathed. How beautiful you had looked inside by the fire, laughing beside him, butterbeer foam on your lips – or better yet, his thumb on your lips. He realised as he walked that you were always on his mind like this, and you were always so unbelievably beautiful.

And finally, he realised that when he had looked at your lips, he wanted to kiss them.

Regulus knew that if he ever got the bollocks to do so, Barty would never let him live it down.

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scottiexmariee · 1 month ago

Note

Hi~ ok so I have a request for a LAD headcannon. One where u wanna learn a new dance trend thats lowkey pretty spicy and if the boys reject then u say ur gonna go ask someone else (preferably someone they know like Greyson. Jeremiah, Thomas, one of the twins). Thank u so so so much and take all the time in the world

LADS Boys vs. Spicy Tiktok Trend

Characters: Xavier x Reader | Zayne x Reader | Rafayel x Reader | Sylus x Reader

Summary: How the boys would react to you threatening to ask someone else to assist with a spicy TikTok trend

Warnings: NSFW. MINORS DNI. Suggestive Content, (Implied Smut), Potential Lumiere spoiler if you aren’t familiar with lore

Wordcount: 2.7k

Masterlist

Note: I had way too much fun with this prompt. This is my own interpretation, so I hope this is what you wanted <3

“Well? What do you think?” You asked, studying Xavier’s face as the video you were showing him looped for the third time. He was next to you on the couch, studying your phone as if it were a foreign object, unable to form a coherent thought about what you were showing him.

There was a new couple’s dance trend circulating TikTok, and it was top priority to get Xavier on board with doing the trend. It was…a little provocative, to put it mildly. The dance started off innocent, but had a move at the end of it that included a little bit of grinding on your partner. You had absolutely zero intentions of posting it. Truthfully, you just saw an opportunity to rile Xavier up, and you were going to take it.

By the time the video looped for the fifth time, you waved your hand in front of his face. “Hellooo? Anyone in there?”

As if snapping out of a trance, Xavier finally blinked. Several times, actually, clearly trying to process whatever the hell you just made him watch. His eyes landed on you, and the poor guy looked like he had no idea where to start with his thoughts.

“Uhhhhh….”

“Let me guess,” You began, folding your arms indignantly, “you don’t want to do it,”

Xavier averted his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I…don’t know how I feel about recording that.” He finally said, finding a very interesting spot on the floor to stare at.

You figured he’d say no. Unfortunately for him, you’d planned ahead. You already had your dialogue choices preselected, and now it was time to roll.

“I’ll just ask Jeremiah, then,”

Xavier’s eye twitched, but he recovered quickly. He gave your thigh a playful squeeze as he shook his head. “Good luck. He knows better,” His tone was light, but you knew he wasn’t joking.

He was right. Jeremiah absolutely knew better. In fact, Jeremiah would likely have a panic attack if you even attempted to ask him to do something like that, simply out of fear of Xavier’s wrath. Jeremiah had once been subtly threatened over a completely innocuous conversation, and the deceptive softness in Xavier’s tone when he made the threat nearly had Jeremiah sputtering. (“You have nice teeth. It may be beneficial to find conversation elsewhere.”) Jeremiah didn’t look you in the eye for weeks after that.

The Jeremiah line, as predicted, was ineffective. With a sigh, you decided to default to your ‘in case of emergency’ tactic.

You stretched, trying to appear casual, doing your best to prevent a smirk from slipping. “I bet Lumiere would do the trend with me,”

Any traces of amusement that had been present on Xavier’s face vanished in an instant. The tension in the air thickened as soon as the words left your mouth. Xavier’s eyes narrowed, his expression hardening as his eyes locked onto your faux innocent face. The message was clear: you did NOT just say that.

Truthfully, you hadn’t meant to actually piss him off. However, the thought of Xavier essentially beefing with himself was too good to resist sometimes. You thought he’d gotten over this by now.

“I’m not sure I heard you correctly,” He said, his tone deceptively calm. If looks could kill, you’d be dead on the floor. This was a warning. He was giving you a chance to backpedal.

“I’m just saying,” You said, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened with his mood shift.

“You would prefer to do an indecent trend with Lumiere?” He questioned, his tone still eerily even, despite the clear annoyance in his eyes. You needed to be very careful with your next answer.

“I would prefer to do the indecent trend with Xavier,” You teased, cupping his face in your hands and giving his head a gentle shake. He softened slightly at the contact. “We don’t even have to post it,”

He rose from the couch, catching your wrist in the process and pulling you with him.

“Xavier? Where are we going?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

“To do the trend,” He responded, his tone much lighter than it was previously. “I’ll do it so Lumiere doesn’t get the chance,

Zayne stared at you with an expression that could only be described as unamused. You had made an attempt to show him the newest couple’s dance trend, quietly tossing in a comment about how you two would ‘look good doing that trend.’ Based on his complete lack of a reaction, you had your answer without him even needing to open his mouth.

You pulled your phone away, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “It’s not that bad,” You said defensively.

That was a blatant lie. If you tried to shake your ass as hard as the girl in the video you’d just shown him, you’d probably throw out a hip. You, however, were on a mission to spice up things with Zayne a bit, and the new trend was a perfect excuse to make an attempt.

….it had sounded better in your head.

“It’s aggressive,” He responded dryly. “I would recommend a psychiatric evaluation if I saw you doing that,”

If you weren’t desperate, his comment would have been hilarious.

“Guess I’ll wait for the pink slip,” You retorted, leaning back in your chair. “because I’m doing that trend,”

“It’s a couple’s trend,” Zayne responded, his expression deadpan. “Do you intend on doing it alone?”

You pursed your lips, searching for an answer. An idea came to mind, and Zayne stiffened upon seeing the flash of mischief in your eyes.

“I wonder if Greyson would try it with me,” You mused. You had no intentions of actually asking Greyson, you were simply just trying to press buttons now.

Zayne's eyes narrowed, and it was the closest thing to a reaction you’d gotten out of him so far. He looked almost offended, and you actually started to feel bad. However, the guilt dissipated the second Zayne responded with his ‘professional’ voice.

“That’s highly inappropriate and unprofessional,” He chided, his brows furrowing as he spoke. “and it would be rather unbecoming of my assistant to participate in something indecent with my significant other.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. That was a bad joke,” You said, reaching for his hand. He allowed you to grab it, but it did nothing to quell the absolute bewilderment your comment had caused.

“If you won’t actually do the trend with me, would you be willing to just practice?” You asked, purposefully lowering your voice to ‘bedroom’ tone.

Zayne’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. He was definitely listening.

“I mean, you could consider that as an exercise, right?” You continued, rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb. “And exercise is good for you, right?” Your tone was borderline teasing now, but it seemed to actually be working.

“It is,” He responded. “It increases blood flow, reduces the risk of heart disease, can increase dopamine levels—“

You squeezed his hand, giving him the flirtiest look you could muster.

“Well, Doctor Zayne, could you help me increase my dopamine?”

His resistance was crumbling quickly. Between that look on your face and the tone of your voice, it was getting harder and harder to deny you.

Especially when he knew what your real intentions were.

With a sigh, he softly grabbed your hand and rose from his spot at the table, his initial protests long forgotten.

“Phone stays on the table,” He warned, just to be safe.

As he lead you toward the couch, you couldn’t help but giggle.

Your plan had completely derailed, but in a way, you were still getting what you wanted.

As soon as you saw the newest couple’s dance trend circulating, you knew that you and Rafayel would absolutely OWN it.

You could already picture how hot he’d look with some shirt buttons undone, chest *slightly* exposed, swinging his hips with yours in tune to the beat of that catchy song. You two were going to absolutely devour this trend.

….Well, that was the plan, anyway.

He was willing to hear you out until he saw examples. By the third video, his ears were very pink, and he was staring at your phone like it had personally offended him. The amused smile he’d sat down with was no longer in the vicinity.

When he finally found his voice, the protesting was immediate. “Nope. Nuh-uh. Not happening,” He said, shaking his head vigorously and shoving your phone away from him. He wiped his fingers on his pants as if he’d touched something dirty. He then rose from his seat, very obviously about to attempt a swift exit.

“Raf, please!” You begged, nearly tripping over your chair as you followed after him. You caught his sleeve, tugging him back toward you. He didn’t budge. “We’d look so good. I’ll literally start begging,”

He shook his head vehemently. “I don’t even want to imagine the headlines that would cause. Nooo way, (y/n),”

“When have you ever cared about what the headlines say?” You protested, giving his sleeve another tug. “Please! It’s just one video! I’ll never ask you to do a trend again!”

“I’ll agree to this when I see sharks driving cars,” He responded, skillfully escaping your desperate grip on his sleeve. He began heading toward the kitchen in an attempt to put as much distance between himself and this conversation as possible.

Fine. Let’s see how he likes this.

You retrieved your phone from the table and began typing a phone number. Rafayel paused and looked over his shoulder at the sound of your nails tapping against the screen.

He fully turned around when you hit the ‘call’ button and raised your phone to your ear.

“…who are you calling?” He asked, already heading back toward you, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Thomas,” You replied casually. “If you won’t do it with me, then—“

Your phone was confiscated before you could even finish your sentence. Rafayel held your phone above his head, his other hand pressed against your forehead, effectively keeping you an arm’s length away. Rafayel quickly ended the call before Thomas could pick up as you began to protest.

“Oh come on!” You cried out, arms flailing as you tried to retrieve your phone from Rafayel’s air jail.

“Apologize or I’ll swallow it,” He threatened, holding your phone higher above his head. “You can’t call other men or be influenced by dance videos if I eat your phone,”

You stared at him, beyond incredulous. While Rafayel did have a flair for the dramatic, the look on his face alone made you hesitant to call his bluff.

“You’d rather swallow my phone than do a 10 second trend with me?”

“You were calling Thomas! What does he have that I don’t?”

You folded your arms, glaring daggers at the man holding your phone hostage. “I only called Thomas because you refused.”

Rafayel scoffed, his expression nothing short of indignant. “Oh, so you’re just a traitor then? Gooot it. And to think I shared my smoothie with you earlier,”

“If you don’t like me anymore, just say that,”

Rafayel’s mouth dropped open upon hearing you use one of his ‘drama queen’ lines against him. He could not believe you had the nerve to use his own words for your own petty gratification. “You—“

He sighed, releasing your forehead from his palm. Your phone, however, was still in air jail.

Rafayel was silent for several moments, and you could almost physically see the gears in his brain working overtime.

“What if we compromise?” He finally asked, eyes landing directly on your face.

“Compromise?”

“I’ll do the trend with you. But you aren’t allowed to post it. Nuh-uh. It’s for our eyes only.” He finally lowered your phone from above his head, keeping it just out of reach as he continued speaking, “and if you post it anyway I will literally put a curse on you.”

You paused, your eyes flitting between Rafayel’s face and the phone that was still firmly in his hand. You considered your options, and after a small internal debate, you decided that this was as good as it was going to get.

“Okay,” You affirmed, holding out your hand for your phone. “Deal.”

He smiled, finally handing your phone.

As the two of you began to walk to the closet to find a change of clothes for the video, Rafayel spun to face you.

“Also,” He began, “You know how you said you’d never ask me to do a trend again?”

“Yes?”

“I’m holding you to that,”

The day had dragged on. Sylus had spent most of the day holed up in his armory, and the twins were out doing who knows what. Mephisto wasn’t great company either, and his beady little eyes got uncomfortable after a while. You were absolutely consumed by boredom, which lead to you scrolling on TikTok for far too long.

Right as you were finally about to throw your phone out of pure frustration, your algorithm came in clutch and graced you with a video from this week’s newest dance trend, a suggestive little couple’s dance. You bit your bottom lip, already feeling flushed at the thought of Sylus with his hands all over you like that.

It was sexy. It was flashy. And it was absolutely the cure for your boredom.

Your feet were moving before you’d put any thought into it, carrying you straight to the armory.

You all but crashed through the door.

“Sylus~” You chirped, zeroing in on him with a shit-eating grin on your face.

He looked up at you, eyes softening at your expression.

“Well, don’t you just look delighted,” He drawled, patting his lap for you to have a seat. “What’s the occasion?”

As you climbed into his lap, you pulled up the video you’d added to your favorites and held it out for him to watch. He did so without questioning it, but you could see the subtle expression change as he tried to process what he was seeing.

When the video ended, he returned his gaze to you, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing.

“Well?” You poked his cheek, searching for any hint of his thoughts in his expression.

“That was….modest,” He said, his voice laced with a level dry sarcasm that only Sylus was capable of.

“Will you do it with me?” You asked, getting straight to the point.

Sylus chuckled, the sound deep, rich, and like music to your ears. As quickly as your hopes rose, they were quickly squashed by his next statement.

“While I’m flattered that you think I’d be a good candidate for…that,” He began, gesturing toward your phone, “I’m going to have to decline, sweetie.”

Short, sweet, and to the point.

“Ugghhh, but I’m so bored!” You whined, tossing your head back in exasperation.

Sylus watched your mini-tantrum fondly, desperately fighting off a smirk. “If you’re bored, you could always hang out with me in here,”

You glanced around the room. It was clear that he’d been down here messing with several different weapons, and by the looks of things, he was nowhere near done.

You loved spending time with Sylus. On any other day, you would have jumped on the offer, just to be near him. Today, however, your boredom had reached its climax and you were certain you would combust if you sat down here and watched him meddle with various weapons.

With a defeated sigh, you removed yourself from his lap and began sulking toward the door. “I guess I’ll just go find the twins,”

Truthfully, you hadn’t meant for it to come out that way. You definitely weren’t going to bother them with the trend, but that was definitely how Sylus took it. You heard the distinct sound of a weapon being set down onto the table.

“No need,” He said gruffly, abandoning his task and rising to his full height. You turned and quirked an eyebrow, not understanding the sudden change of heart.

He closed the distance between the two of you, looping an arm around your shoulders as he passed.

“That…’trend’ gave me a better idea for a boredom cure,” He said, leading you out of the armory.

“Oh? Tell me!” You chirped excitedly.

Sylus shook his head. “It’s more of a show than a tell,”

While you didn’t get to do the spicy TikTok trend, Sylus had cured your boredom in a different spicy way.

You were reeeally thankful for that trend.

Thank you for interacting <3

If you enjoyed, please leave a like or reblog!

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lnds sylus #lads sylus #sylus x reader #love and deepspace xavier #xavier x reader #lnds xavier #lads xavier #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #lnds rafayel #lnds zayne #lads rafayel #lads zayne #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #lads headcanons #lnds headcanons

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usedpidemo · 3 months ago

Text

Cruel flower (Jo Yuri)

“You sure you really like my dress for today?”

For the record, this is the fifth time Yuri has asked you this question. Whether or not you disagree, your choice doesn’t matter. She’s going to show off, and for good reason.

You’re not the only one anticipating some antics on stage.

To be fair, they’re not exactly the kind of antics you’d expect, as though one makes a fool of themselves like it was part of a humiliation ritual. Yuri is much more intricate and flirty, as seen with her choice of outfit for today’s performance. It’s tasteful with a hint of sexy, yet easy on the eyes. The kind that leaves your mind questioning as to why she dresses herself like someone she’s not, even if you enjoy staring at her bewitching appearance.

She makes your heart race in countless ways you never knew could happen.

“I mean—even if I said no, you’ve already made up your mind. So what is the point,” you tell her, covering your mouth, your gaze peering down at the garter and stocking combo completing her floral ensemble. To say they complement her would be an understatement; even by her relatively tame standards, this is a little too bold and showy for her fans.

But the thing is, it’s not her normal audience she’s performing for. Thousands of fans are lined up all over the convention floor, mainly to see their more popular favorites. Not helping matters is that she’s one of the rare handful of soloists, the number which you can count with just your fingers, which typically don’t generate as much interest as an average group. Right from the start, she’s fighting an uphill battle, and this is her one of the limited opportunities to steal everyone’s hearts and attention, especially on a bigger platform.

Yuri turns around from the mirror, having put on the finishing touches of her makeup, facing you with a dour, mocking pout. “You’re no fun.”

Indifferent, you brush her off. Her contemptuous responses are part of the package, something that encompasses your daily routine. The less you entertain her, the better and the wiser you are, especially during these more serious times. You’ve learned that you find yourself less likely to fall in danger when you don’t give Yuri even the smallest of openings.

Unfortunately, it’s a lesson you have to be reminded of more often.

“But you gotta admit, I look really good, right?” she questions you, as if you haven’t been ogling her from the moment she presented herself to you in just her lingerie, garter and stockings. The dress is just the cherry on top of what you consider near perfection.

It’s intentional trolling at this point.

“I don’t know,” you tell her, hiding no hint of sarcasm. “Could use a little less”—you suddenly stammer—”You know—”

“Could use a little less what, babe?” Yuri approaches you, seated on the couch, pressing her palms on your knees, smirking, plotting. The thin layer of dress sweeps forward, revealing some cleavage and her necklace. She’s all up in your face, her lips nibbling on the ridge of your ear, her neck flashing a still fresh hickey from earlier in the day, her hot breath sending chills down your spine—her favorite form of showing affection.

If you had any less restraint, you’d take her on this very couch, rip off her clothes and fuck her on said mattress in every position imaginable. Forget the crowd, much less the fact that you’re in a backstage room, where the walls are paper thin, so much so that even the slightest sounds can be heard from the outside. No matter how you spin it, there’s always clear and present danger waiting for the most inopportune time to strike. This is how Yuri gets you: by putting you both in the most uncomfortable situations possible, career be damned. It isn’t due to a heightened sense of thrill under duress, but it’s just the way she is. Insatiable.

As easy it would be to fold right then and there, you make it a point to keep her in check, much to her disappointment. In a way, you’re kind of her unofficial co-manager, except you just so happen to share the same bed with her.

“No,” you tell her, holding face, holding her by the wrists, rising from the couch and leading her against the makeup table. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Fuck you,” she replies, not hiding her frustration. She matches your stern glare with of her own, but she comes off as more of a spoiled child than an actual threat. There’s more charm to find than seriousness in Yuri’s cutesy features. “You really are no fun at all, asshole.”

Releasing your grip on her hands, you make a concerted effort to fix up her loose dress, then leave a peck on the cheek. All while you admire the little details that complete her look. You can’t help but kiss her softly, inadvertently calming her down. Undoubtedly, she’s pretty, but she’s even more special today.

“It’s only a what? Thirty minute set? It’ll go by in a breeze,” you tell her, as if she hasn’t been going through the festival circuit just the other month. On her part, it feels way longer since she performed in public, and that’s in no small part to her spending all her spare time with you more than anything or anyone else—to the point of being overly attached.

Yuri sighs, rolling her eyes, hating the notion of being away from you for more than a few minutes. She makes one last hail mary effort to lead you on by wrapping a leg around yours, but you immediately catch on and put her in place. She’s so visibly miffed, that it’s easy to feel any sort of sympathy for her, but you know this little devil is going to exploit your kindness and bury you in the process.

“Please,” she pleads in her softest tone, ready to drop to her knees on command. “I don’t even need you to fuck me like a whore, but—please—let me suck your cock instead. Let me take a warm load down my throat and I’ll be good to go.”

Try as hard as she can, the idea passes through one ear and comes out the other. You don’t budge. Not in the slightest.

“Please, babe—promise I’ll let you use me anyway you want.” Right on cue, Yuri sheds tears, eyes wide and bargaining. “I’ll let you tie me up and tease me with your toys like the bad girl that I am. Just give me this one thing. Please.”

Still, nothing she does changes your mind. You even toy with the fact she’s needy as hell. “Didn’t you just call me an asshole, asshole? Why would I let you suck my cock, let alone shove it anywhere near you or inside you?”

Her facade immediately disappears in place of self-defense. “Oh come on. I call you asshole all the time, asshole. Since you like that word so much, here: asshole, asshole, asshole. I bet it’s because it reminds you of how much you love using my—”

Unamused, you interrupt Yuri by backing her against the table again, imposing your superior stature over the frankly petite idol. She doesn’t look intimidated, and for good reason: you won’t do a damn thing to hurt her. Despite the clear assertion of power, it’s actually the opposite—she recognizes that you’re falling into her hand and gets off on bothering you.

“Go on. What are you gonna do? Spank my ass? I bet you’d love to do that to me now, do you?” Yuri’s chuckling, grinning wickedly through every word, knowing your attempts at punishing her only serve to derive her pleasure instead. Either way, it’s a lose-lose situation. Fold and risk your frisky relationship to the public at your expense, or only delay the inevitable and continue to be tormented at every chance she gets. The trouble never ends.

You end up backing away and leaving her alone in the room. You remember; it’s a miracle. “Just—act normal,” you tell her, sounding defeated as you open the door.

—————

For the most part, she does.

Yuri is a natural performer, as usual. She never really needed you to begin with. You found her like this. Any sign of weakness or doubt is virtually unrecognizable.

Being near the front has its benefits. For one, you’re merely a stone’s throw away from Yuri, meaning you don’t have to strain your eyes or constantly turn to the screen. No LED panel can truly display Yuri’s in all their glory. It also means when her earpiece randomly stops functioning, you’re a few inches away when she decides to entertain the fans with typical fanservice: giving high-fives, completing hearts, partaking in pictures, and so on. While everyone around you has their phones and lightsticks raised, you’re just watching along, basking in the moment, watching your girl do the thing she loves the most, besides doing you.

Yuri passes by your section, and immediately recognizes you on sight in the midst of the crowd. She throws a wink and a kiss in your direction—much to everyone else’s delight, but not yours. Apart from that one scene, there isn’t much fanfare or anything fanciful that you haven’t already seen from her. After only five songs, she bids farewell to the audience.

Minutes later, you reunite with her backstage at her assigned dressing room.

“Well well,” says Yuri, waiting by her lonesome at the makeup desk as you enter, sounding self-indulgent. “I did it, babe. Wasn’t so hard.”

Of course. Yuri can keep herself in control; she just chooses not to. It’s hardly a surprise to anyone, especially you.

“Were you expecting a cookie?” you comment, making sure her head doesn’t leave orbit.

“Don’t be such a bitch,” she retorts, pouting her lips, irked at your remark. “Just say I did a good job. Being kind costs nothing.”

“And being an asshole also costs zero,” you retaliate, never letting up on the sarcasm. “Good job.”

“And? You’re missing one more thing.”

You raise an eyebrow, growing slightly crabby. “What? Isn’t a simple good job already enough?”

“C’mon.” Yuri steps forward with all the confidence in the world. The change of attitude in the room is sudden, abrupt. One quick shove sends you stumbling back onto the couch. Before you’re able to react, she straddles herself on your lap, having all of the leverage. “You know I gotta get my reward after every performance, babe.”

No matter where you turn, you end up back at square one: against Yuri. Her hands lead your wandering gaze toward hers. “God, Yuri, no—”

She shushes you, places a finger between your lips, shaking her head in disapproval. “I did my part. It’s only right that you have to return the favor. That’s the rules.”

“What rules?”

Yuri laughs. Shoots you this inviting, alluring look that’s asking—begging—for trouble. A perfect encapsulation of who she is whenever you’re alone together. Her fingers begin to pick through the buttons of your dress shirt, your countenance slowly unraveling as dread and danger clouds your mental functions. No amount of ignorance can save you. You’re trapped.

There’s your answer.

As if that wasn’t enough, the finger between your lips is now replaced with hers. A kiss. Deep. Tender. Passionate. She’s engrossed in the moment, cupping your face to pull you down with her, forcing you into submission. There’s no escape. Whatever resolve you have left she gradually weakens, until you eventually close your eyes and reciprocate those feelings back at her, too.

It’s a good thing you locked the door beforehand, as if you knew this was going to happen.

You’re stuck in this fervent position for what feels like an eternity, when in reality, it’s only been a couple of minutes. Despite the precarious state you’re in, there’s something sincere when it comes to Yuri. Probably because she’s the only person on this planet with a face that could look innocent while clearly committing the act. Still, she’s up to no good, and she has you exactly where she wants you to be.

She pulls away from the kiss, her eyes glazed, her lips melding in the shape of a moan, even though you’re still clothed—for now.

“Jesus, Yul, we really should—”

A second kiss interrupts your desperate plea. Yuri doesn’t want to hear any part of it. She knows what she wants. No amount of resistance will deny her this opportunity. She finishes unbuttoning the last of your shirt, slipping it off before throwing it aside, caressing your bare shoulders. All this while shaking her head.

Pulling away from your lips again, she slips one of her dress straps down her shoulder. “I don’t fucking care. I want you now.”

Clambering off your lap, Yuri tugs at the hem of your pants, jutting your hips forward. You can only watch helplessly while she strains her lanky arms, unzipping your trousers, pulling on them again and again until they pool around your ankles and shoes. Her eyes fixate on your groin, gleaming at the welcome sight: a growing bulge beneath your boxers.

“How long have you been hard for me, hm?” She swipes at your erection a handful of times, each touch eliciting an airy groan from your lips. Biting on her lower lip, the sensation arouses her even further. “Did I dress a little too sexy for you today?”

If you could talk at that moment, you would say yes. The entire time you’ve been watching her on stage, your primary focus was her outfit over everything, including her soulful voice. As flattering as the simple but sexy ensemble was on its own, it’s even hotter in motion. It reminds you of when you first met in a similar place. Instead of thousands in attendance, it was only a handful of patrons at a small bar. And out of the dozens she could have ended the night with, it happened to be you. From the moment you laid your eyes on each other and exchanged smiles, you knew there was never going back.

You’re aimlessly pulling at strings, hoping to find a way out, a miracle. Instead, you’re digging your grave even further. The other strap falls down, pulling the rest of her dress along with it. Not of her own volition, with the culprit being your own hand. There’s nothing worth saving at this point, not even yourself.

What a way to surrender. You haven’t answered her question formally, yet she understands what you were going to say.

Yuri leans forward, her attitude as bold as it's ever been. Despite her pretty smile, the hint of cleavage right in front of you sweeps away your gaze. Every part of her is a sight for sore eyes. She shudders, closes her eyes, slowly grinds herself against your throbbing bulge, finding your place beneath her even more suffocating. You can only sink back on the couch, moan along and let her neediness weigh you down.

As the garment slips further down down her lithe frame, landing at the waist, you bury your head against Yuri’s neck. Romantic as it may look, it’s anything but. She keens against your ear, her nails scratching at your nape—all while you clamp down on her collarbones. Her whines sound needy, wanton, shameless. Her voice echoes beyond the four corners of this room, removing any pretense to any innocent soul passing by. Conveniently, music from the main stage is loud enough to cover your little act.

Maybe she really had it planned out all along.

While Yuri remains preoccupied by her senses betraying her, you reposition her away from you towards the table. You never let up on the passionate kisses and bite marks till her creamy, pale skin glows a deep shade of red. Then you twiddle with the zipper on her corset, sharply yanking it down, almost snapping the clasp in your haste to undress her. Fortunately, you manage to push the rest of her lingerie down to her waist, enough to where you can feel her bare figure with your hands.

Asserting your control—something you should have had the entire time—you lay Yuri face down on the sofa, clambering yourself on top of the powerless idol. Manhandling her is as easy as breathing; she folds at the slightest push and prefers to be used as a means of personal release.

Reaching from behind, you rest a hand on her chest. You squeeze; she yelps. The feeling of her nub held between your palm while drawing out little, saccharine noises from her dirty lips scratches that sweet spot in your brain perfectly. It’s an addicting sensation you can’t get enough of. She is unable to fight back, her nails digging deep into the fabric of the couch, desperate to hang on, only to find herself going weak at the knees.

More and more, you find yourself losing control, becoming more ravenous. You quickly shed your boxers, pushing them down as far as your knees, your struggling cock freed from its restraints. Your noises are turning more primal: less human, more animalistic, as your grip on Yuri tightens. You lay her body flat on the couch, make use of what little space is left, before digging between her legs to strip the panties beneath her skirt.

Part of you wants to slip a finger or two in there and play with her clit. It’s inconsequential, if not a small diversion from what really matters. Until you remember just how far off the beaten path you’ve already gone. If you don’t fuck her right then and there, you just might lose it.

Pressing the head of your cock along her lips, you come to a predictable conclusion: she’s soaking wet. Wet enough to raise some deep concerns. Your breaths tense up as you slowly enter and the walls pulse around you; the gap between you and her couldn’t be any narrower.

The groan you release as you bury yourself to the hilt is worth a thousand reliefs. Nothing is as satisfying as that first entry into Yuri’s tight, suffocating pussy. Every single time.

“Oh—fuck—” you blurt, immediately overwhelmed by the rapid surge of heat. In response, she lets out this sharp, echoey moan, stretching her head ever so slightly forward as she endures the stabbing sensation. The feeling doesn’t last long; you pull back, her walls pulsating against your cock, only to plunge right back in.

The little discomfort soon dissipates for pleasure. Yuri’s so intoxicatingly tight, so hot when you fill her with your cock. That’s why despite the uncomfortable scenarios she puts you in, you always fold, because you feel right at home in her cunt. It would be a disservice to take her like some dainty, delicate doll. And you wonder why she’s always so needy.

Spreading her thighs wider, you fuck her, slowly foregoing the comfort of a slow grind in favor of a erratic, torrid pace. Each thrust you deliver is hard, emphatic strokes, as if to prove two points: that you don’t take lightly to her antics, and that you will always overpower her. You shouldn’t be deriving any joy from this, but you’re loving every second using her as she wanted: as an outlet for your frustration.

As for Yuri, she’s just as pathetic and helpless as always. Reduced to a heaping pile of moans and mewls. Her national position. Her favorite position. You should be wondering just how incredibly manipulative and conniving she is, getting you to act out for a little miscreant like her, when she should have known her place by now. Ultimately, there’s no point; there’s nothing that will get her to change her wicked ways, and every consequence only serves as her motivation to push you even further.

The sounds filling the room are almost indistinguishable. Whether it’s the supposed thumping on the door or skin against skin, you don’t know. You’re twisting her dark hair around your finger, and her keen and shriek are one and the same. Meanwhile, your other hand can’t decide between her waist and her ass, both sensitive and satisfying to the touch. You’re both too engrossed in each other’s pleasure to care about anything other than the relentless collision of your bodies. At this point, you’re certain it is, in fact, a knock on the outside, but it will eventually disappear. They all do.

Yuri is shaking, violently trembling, gripping to the couch’s handles, desperate for air. ‘More—harder—fuck me—’ she begs in repetition, every word spilling like a prayer. It’s amazing how she holds up against you. You wonder if her goal is to be seen like this—to be recognized as the fucktoy and brat she is. You can only contain her for so long; it’s only a matter of time before it blows out of proportion. That’s the thrill of the chase—to avoid being found and to escape with an inch of your life.

Your grip around her hair reaches a fever pitch, your teeth gritted and your breath heaving. You want to say you’re close, but that’s basically asking for trouble. Still, you can’t bear it any longer. “So close, Yuri. I’m gonna cum—”

“Fucking do it. Cum all over me. Inside me. Anywhere you want,” is her response, with you pressing her down on the couch out of fear any more filth from her lips will upend you quicker, when in reality, you were already in the process of falling apart. As far as vulgarity goes, it is among her tamest. You’re delaying the inevitable by only a few precious moments.

Then she cums. Unannounced, out of the blue. For all you know, she could have been screaming into the void the way her cries are muffled by the sofa.

Her juices flood your cock, almost making you snap in return. The feeling overwhelms you beyond definition; it takes every last bit of resolve not to break down right then and there. With a sharp draw from her warmth, her slick leaks from her cunt, spills down to the couch. Coating every inch of your shaft, the suffocating heat of her pussy pulls you right back in, and that final thrust sends you over the edge.

All that pent-up want and tension, unglued in an instant.

Ignore that you let out this hoarse, powerful grunt from the depth of your lungs as you fill Yuri’s cunt with every last drop you have, as if you haven’t been fucking her multiple times a day for the last two weeks. The spillage on her skirt and dress doesn’t matter; as long as she feels every last speck of your cum inside her. You find solace on her shoulders, pushing your throbbing cock deep into her cunt over and over as you blast fleck after fleck that seemingly never ends.

Eventually, you crash down on the other side of the couch, opposite where Yuri’s face rests. Taking a minute to catch your breath, you get a glimpse of your handiwork: your cum continuously spewing from her sopping cunt, down to the now soiled linen, the damage long-lasting, if not permanent. Had you torn the dress and skirt concealing her inner thighs, the signs wouldn’t have been any more obvious.

It takes a little longer than normal for you to gather your bearings. After all, you were straining your legs in a crowded room an hour before this little escapade. But you’ve been through worse—way worse.

When you finally regain some of your strength, you grab the still exhausted Yuri by the waist and bring her in front of the dressing room mirror. Her bare chest is in clear view, with her dress all crumpled up at the midsection; it’s going to require more than a simple fix.

“Look what you made me do, you fucking brat,” you hiss, giving Yuri a thunderous slap on her ass. She sees it as not a punishment, but as a reward for pushing you far beyond your comfort zone.

She can barely move a muscle, but is able to respond in spaced out breaths. “Told you it was better than the bedroom.”

You respond with another spank. Then another. A few more. More than you can count. Each hit as thunderous as the clap of her cunt. You know it’s not going to stop her; she knows you can do nothing else.

Her hands cling to the desk, her breaths still heavy, while you slowly rip through the skirt, foregoing any logic. You catch a peek of even more of your handiwork, her ass burning with the same fiery red as the rest of her shapely body.

Spreading her supple cheeks, you line your cock between her pussy and her legs, resting your head forward beside hers. Grabbing Yuri by the hair, you tilt her face down, moaning against her ear as your bodies entangle together. “Fuck you, Yuri. Sincerely, fuck you, fuck you. Fuck. You.”

With half an eye opened, you catch a glimpse of your reflection, and it’s as messy as you expect. Yuri’s mouth is spread in a deep, wide ‘O’ shape, still riding a prolonged high, while your fingers are all over her. On her breasts. In and out of her hair. The image is arousing enough that you instinctively push your bodies forward. You can feel your cock hardening again.

But right as you get into a rhythm, a knock on the door again snaps you from your shared daze.

“Well? Bodyguard, you better go and get that,” she says with a slight smirk, her cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

You throw your head back, groaning in despair. “Fuck’s sake,” you mutter, much to her delight and laughter.

Yuri shimmies from your clasp, picking up pieces of her now ruined dress before walking to the bathroom, while you hike across the room to gather your wear. If there’s one thing about sex with her, it’s how filthy it gets. Clothes scatter everywhere, she’s loud enough to draw attention, and despite everything, it’s hot and messy in all the right ways. You end up fucking her in positions you never thought you’d ever try.

You barely make yourself presentable as you pick up the door, only to be greeted by a blonde beauty on the other side. Her dress immediately stands out; it’s simpler in both design and color (a plain black all over), yet so daring, it makes Yuri seem conservative by comparison. She knows what her best assets are and how she’ll flaunt them for all to see.

What also sticks out is her natural accent. “Hey. Don’t mind if I ask, but is Yuri around?”

With the narrowest of turns, you manage to ascertain her presence, or lack thereof. “You barely missed her, Somi. She just left.”

“Did she tell you where she went?”

“No idea.”

Somi pouts. It’s a familiar look. “But I just heard her voice here. It was really loud!”

“You just gotta text her. I seriously don’t know where she went off.”

Her eyes wander down to your ragged appearance, a stark contrast to your blunt tone. The loose belt, the partially unbuttoned shirt, the rolled up sleeves of varying folds. It’s a disaster of epic proportions, and you can barely hold it together. “You sure nothing’s happened in there?” she asks, hiding the littlest of grins. “You look kinda rough.”

“I’ll be fine. Just had to deal with”—you pause, a moment stretched out longer than it should have any right being—“some stuff.”

“Right.” Her eyes peek into the back, even with your best efforts to gently block her view, only to find nothing and no one. She considers her options, before saying, “Surely I can just wait till she comes back? I mean, you’re her bodyguard—”

“I don’t think that’s a great idea.” You shut her down immediately. “When she returns, I’ll let her know you were looking for her.”

There’s that trick again: a loose strap sliding down her shoulder. Her hand is glued to the doorpost, unwilling to move, expression undeterred. “I’ll just wait here. We still have a final goodbye to do for the fans. Don’t worry. I just really need to talk to her.”

Her friendly smile turns into a mischievous grin.

It’s deja vu.

—————

The goodbye never comes.

Some poor random idol has to take Somi’s MC job at the eleventh hour because she’s nowhere to be found. Despite security’s best efforts, she couldn’t be seen, and neither is Jo Yuri, for the last sighting of the two is them leaving the venue by themselves, one after the other. Apart from a handful of disappointed fans, their absence can be hardly felt by everyone else.

Not a soul knows where they went—and they never will find out, nor will they ever care. Only you may have the smallest of clues, for you are buried between two pairs of legs, preoccupied with eating out pussy while your hands squeeze on a couple sets of breasts in the cover of a hotel room.

—————

(A/N: HE HAS RISEN, BABYGIRL! *IRIS INTENSIFIES*)

(For real, what a trip these last two months have been. I'm feeling conflicted about it all. I could easily have published like five to seven fics in that time period, but no! Life gets in the way sometimes, and let's just say it gave me roadworks that stretched on for miles on end. I already told you about the flu/cough arc, and it's all in the past now. Like I said, college has started up for me, and this could be my final academic year before I have to deal with thesis/internship shit before eventually graduating, so I really am on borrowed time. I really should have used my time better when I was healthy, but it is what it is.)

(I really wish this was longer, considering the gap between the last fic. Writing these past two months has been hell, like I had writers' block on steroids, if that even is a thing. I fucking scrapped two fics, including one that was 7000 words in before I made the executive decision to restart the entire work from scratch. I don't know. I'm very perfectionist about the process. Writing is hard, man. Everyone's been killing it lately (including some incredible returns) and I don't know where my place belongs in this. But what matters is that you've been waiting for me and giving me best wishes during some really challenging times. With only four months left to go, let's finish the year on a high. Got nothing else meaningful to say, Yuri's KCON outfit is just really fucking hot. This would feel wrong if I didn't mention Box somewhere, so shoutout's to them XD Thank you for reading!)

#smut #kpop smut #yuri #jo yuri

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starkeysprincess · 3 months ago

Note

Trying this again since link didn’t work🫶🏻

P! Link this was inspired by😌: https://twitter.com/lilayura_/status/1723131249324171400?s=46&t=fLXiXk2nW8WPhuZDNsKA1g

Bully!Rafe punishing reader like this after she smarts off to him at Top’s party in front of everyone. Just going absolutely feral having her at his complete mercy. Spanking her ass, taunting her with the most evil degrading shit, and torturing her until she’s brain dead mush under him🫠 and then sending a video to everyone at the party to show them how much she really hates him😌

•°. *࿐ HUMILIATE YOU LIKE YOU HUMILIATED ME

you ate with this link, I’ve been drooling over it 🫠 ALSO im tipsy as fuck rn so I apologize in advanced if this is complete ass 😭

pairings: bully!rafe x reader

warnings: use of vibrator, mentions of bondage, mentions of overstimulation, degradation, mentions of video recording, 18+ mdni

you were trying to have fun and enjoy Topper's party but were fed up with Rafe and his nasty comments. you've never been the type to talk back, always taking insults with a grain of salt but you were at your breaking point, especially when you've done nothing to deserve the way he's been treating you.

if you knew smart-mouthing him would lead you to where you are now, you would've kept your mouth shut.

"this is what happens when you wanna fuckin' disrespect and embarrass me in front of everyone" he gritted his teeth, earning a yelp from you when his hand roughly landed on your ass.

"p-please" you squirmed under him, your wrists and ankles burning from harshly tugging at the binds that held them together. "p-please" rafe mimics, increasing the setting on the magic wand that was held to your clit.

"sluts like you need to learn their fuckin' place" he snorted, pulling your panties to the side, pushing the vibrator further onto your clit.

your mascara stained your face from your tears, "Rafe, 'm sorry!".

"sorry isn't enough, you can keep acting all big and tough but everyone will know how much of a whore you are" he chuckles, enjoying every single whimper and moan that he pulls from you.

your cunt clenches around nothing from his words, the pressure against your sensitive, puffy clit becoming too much.

“your mouth says you hate me but your cunt say otherwise, you’re practically fuckin’ dripping” Rafe snorts, “gonna show everyone how wet you’re getting f’me without even touching you”.

“humiliate you just like how you humiliated me” he spat, his large, calloused hand pulling your ass cheeks apart, pressing the vibrator further against your pussy, "but i know a slut like you would enjoy that, huh? bet you enjoy being nothin’ but a hole to fuck”.

"r-rafe" you sob out, your tears blurring your vision, "that's right, lemme hear you begging f'me to stop" he grins, holding your hips down when they buck against the vibrator.

your eyes roll back, words slurring as you cum again for the fifth time and you're begging for him to stop, "i can't" you hiccup. "you can't or you won't? either way, it doesn't matter, 'm not stoppin' till you've learned you're fuckin' lesson" Rafe scoffed.

Rafe's hand comes down on your ass once again, "i don't give a shit if you're crying for me to stop, you're gonna keep takin' what i give you until you pass out for all i fuckin' care".

"if you know what's best for you, you'd keep your whore mouth shut and take it or so fuckin' help me, i'll shove my cock so far down your throat to shut you up, yeah?" he threatens.

Rafe smirked, knowing you had no choice but to take it, your pussy throbbing and you could barely form words, drool spilling out of your mouth and onto the sheets as your legs shook from being overstimulated.

your brain felt fuzzy, turning into mush as you cum once again, you failed to realize he was recording the entire time, "shit, look at how fuckin' pretty she is when she's nothing but a drooling, cock hungry whore f'me".

Rafe saved the video, airdropping it to everyone at the party before tossing his phone onto the mattress, fingers spreading your pussy open before pushing them into your tight, wet hole.

tagging: @oceandriveab @babygorewhore @nemesyaaa @rafesthroatbaby @annoyingassleo @fae-of-prey @bunnyrafe @sturnioloshacker @redhead1180 @shawtycoreee @drewstarkeys-world @starkeyisthelastname @heartsforvin @usergeta @rafeinterlude @rafecameroninterlude @kisses4angel @hallecarey1 @eddieslut69 @hyperfixationgirl @starkeysheart @blckbrrybasket @flvredcas

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loveemagicpeace · 7 months ago

Text

🏹Astrology Notes 🛼

People with many aspects of Neptune, especially Neptune Square North Node, can get into bad paths (alcohol, drugs...) many times they look for a solution by running away from problems. In life, they struggle with many difficult, incomprehensible, strange things. They may come across many people who deceive them.

Pluto opp chiron - can illustrate that you never really get over your traumas that were inflicted on you when you were little. Many times you can carry a swordsman's side inside you and never really let it go.

Mercury opp chiron- you have a hard time expressing or talking about your pain. It can often take a really long time to talk about what's bothering you.

Mercury conj Pluto- you can always be secretive about what you say. It could also be that a part of you is always hidden behind words.

The aspect of the moon and Saturn indicates the relationship the person has with his mother. People who have very strong aspects with the moon and saturn can be very attached to their mother and the mother has a great influence on them. It also shows that this person is not emotionally open and can always keep their feelings inside.

Dynamic aspects (opposition, square, inconjunction, semi-square) between Saturn and Jupiter indicate that a person can be full of hope at one moment and completely desperate at the next. These aspects are often associated with suicide. Because people can hardly bear such strong energy.

There are differences: Sagittarius is much more changeable than Jupiter, more freedom-loving and irresponsible. Sagittarius is less likely to symbolize the acquisition of material goods. Also, being a sign and therefore a less powerful symbol than a planet, it is less likely than Jupiter to operate at an excessive level. Sagittarius is less likely to signify waste, excess, or arrogance. Sagittarius gets along best with planets like Mars, Uranus, and the Sun, which are fast-moving, energetic, and not resistant to change.

Strongly emotional planets do not do well in Capricorn because the sign tends to repress emotion in favor of discipline. The Moon is particularly difficult here, because Capricorn will not allow the Moon to enjoy being dependent on others, a mode of relationship that is absolutely essential to the Moon’s functioning at some point in life. Venus is also not at its best, because its emotional criteria for choice are likely to be subordinated to practical criteria. Venus in Capricorn can also indicate an attraction to older persons who can serve as authority figures as well as lovers.

The Pisces symbol is two fishes swimming in opposite directions, and like Sagittarius and Gemini, Pisces is traditionally referred to as a dual sign. There are two types of Piscean: the advanced (Pisces as the last stage in the evolution of the archetypal ego or self) and the primitive (Pisces as the stage just prior to a new beginning in Aries).

Pluto in the 3rd house can represent a very strong bond with a sister. So separation with your sister can very difficult if you live far apart. You can create a beautiful and strong bond with your sister.

Mars in the 5th house indicates a difficult birth and problems with children. Children may be restless, aggressive or angry. It is important to look at aspects.

Jupiter in the 9th house often indicates good intuition and prophetic dreams. So it is important to remember your dreams.

Virgo rising people are so beautiful. I notice that women have beautiful faces and skin. Men, on the other hand, have well-developed eyes and bodies. I would say that virgins can have more beautiful beauty than technical ones in the subsign. Otherwise, it depends on where Mercury falls in the house, but still, their beauty is very naturally beautiful.

Moon in the third house indicates sensitive emotions and feelings. Moods change quickly.

The Moon in the fifth house indicates great success for children. Also a person very dedicated to fun.

Moon in the sixth house can mean too much strain in terms of health. Lots of public contact. It can also mean insecurity and health problems in the first 7 years.

Mars in 7th house can mean that the individual is too open in relationships and dealings. It can also mean that he is jealous, intense and controlling.

Mars in the 11th house means you can be argumentative and want things your way. Many times the need for freedom is strong.

Mars in 12th house- the individual is interested in hidden things. You can join things that are secret. You like to work in the shadows. And you present your things when you are sure of them.

Uranus in the first house often shows that your personality is very unique and special. You have an energy that others find rare and interesting. You are a person who does not like drug treatment and prefers to find a different way (natural way of treatment). You want a job that is free and you don't like being controlled by others.

Uranus in the seventh house indicates premature engagement or marriage. It also means inharmonious relationships (if the aspects are not good). It also indicates a relationship in which one is ingenious and clever.

Uranus in ten house people are prone to emotional or physical loss through one parent. It is said that people with this position are also inclined to have two professions at the same time. It is important for women to check if her Uranus is in the 10th house of a man. Because this can indicate that the man is more focused on his career than her.

A person with mercury in the 9th house will always know at least 2 foreign languages, if not more. These people learn foreign languages very quickly and quickly understand others. They often prefer foreign languages.

Mars in Libra -A person can be quarrelsome and inharmonious. But it's not always like that. It depends on what aspects the person has. Person can be very passive aggressive and hides a lot of their energy. Many times they do something, but in reality they want something completely different. They can place the blame on others in many cases unless the person has Venus in good stabile sign.

Chart ruler of 8th house in 5th house -if it is in bad aspects, it can indicate the possibility of miscarriage, loss of a child at birth or in youth.

Chart ruler of 8th house in 8th house symbolizes benefit from the dead. Interest in immortality, spirituality. If the ruler is in an bad position then there can be problems with dying.

Chart ruler of the 9th house in 4th house travel is necessary for family matters. Property comes from relatives and partner.

Chart ruler of the 9th house in 6th house means handling due to travel. As well as good success abroad. If the aspects are in an unfavorable position, it can mean illness while traveling.

Chart ruler of the 9th house in 7th house means marriage in a foreign country or marriage with a foreigner. It often symbolizes a person living in another country. If it is in an unfavorable position, it may mean that relatives oppose the marriage.

The ruler of the 10th house in the 1st house- can mean a lot of ambition and talents. But it can mean loss due to father.

The ruler of the 10th house in the 6th house- symbolizes a humble position in society. Treatment can be an important part of an individual's life. If the aspects are bad, it can mean loss of career due to health.

Ruler of 10th house in 7th house- indicates benefit from public. Lawsuits are positive and marriage can bring fame.

Ruler of the 10th house in the 11th house - symbolizes the fulfillment of dreams. Strong and influential friends help the individual.

-Rebekah🧚🏻‍♀️🦋

#astrology #zodiac signs #astrological houses #birth chart #astrology observations #moon #my notes #planets #energy

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froggibus · 5 months ago

Note

🍦- Wally West PLEASE

Something body worship, like reader feels insecure and he reassures them or wally comes back after a mission and thinks reader is just the most gorgeous goddess while they're doing something super mundane like reading on the couch or binging movies

Electric Love - Wally West

Pairing: Wally West x fem! reader (uses fem pronouns + has a pussy)

Genre: smut/nsfw, mild angst + hurt/comfort

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: when Wally catches you feeling down about yourself about how you look in a bikini, he’s determined to remind you how beautiful you really are

CW: young justice! Wally (but could be read as comic! Wally too), established relationship + you live together, insecurity & body image issues, light emotional break, Wally rips your clothes off hehe, porn with plot, kinda long start sorry, praise, oral (f! receiving), unprotected sex (make good choices), creampie, rough sex, mating press

I was so excited to write this one I had brainrot abt it all through work (& made the worlds worst caramel macchiato ever cause I was so distracted) i really really loved both ideas you gave me but to suit the summery vibes i chose the first part! however i WILL be filing away the second part for future use! thanks so much for joining in on the fun <3

this is part of our Summer Suntacular event! come check it out!

You frown as the nylon fabric snaps against your skin with a crack. You tug on the waistband of the bikini bottoms one more time, seeing if this fifth and final time will actually make the red high waisted bottoms look acceptable. It doesn’t.

“No,” you mutter to yourself in the mirror. With a sigh, you slide your hands up to the matching top, shifting the tiny triangles to try and cover the slightest bit more of your skin. “Absolutely not.”

As much as you loved the ruffled, scarlet bathing suit when you’d seen it in the store, you don’t love it nearly as much now that you have it on. The fabric sits awkwardly, digging into your skin and bulging in all the wrong places. You take a deep breath, blinking back tears.

“Walls!” You shout down the hall, forcing your voice to be as steady as possible. “I changed my mind. I’m not going.”

Your boyfriend is at the door in an instant, sliding so fast across the wooden floors that he almost slams into a wall. Bracing himself on the chipped paint of your doorframe, he tilts his head at you.

You hate the way your voice shakes as you try to speak. “I can’t go.”

Wally’s gaze softens as he takes you in completely. From your bikini that’s almost the exact shade of his suit, to the glossy sheen of your eyes that tells him precisely how you’re feeling.

“Baby.” He releases the door from his grip and shuffles slowly—slower than you’ve ever seen him—towards you. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

He stands close behind you, green eyes fixing on yours through the mirror. You flick your eyes down, opting instead to stare at your socks and spare yourself the embarrassment of Wally seeing you this way.

You shift your arms to hide your stomach, as if that will hide the way the bathing suit disfigures you. “I feel awkward.”

“Awkward?”

“I—” The lump in your throat is almost unbearably thick, and as you open your mouth to speak, the floodgates burst open. “I look horrible! It’s so embarrassing, Walls.”

Your knees wobble and you pitch forward, the hard floor beneath you looking so incredibly inviting—but Wally catches you before you can fall. His strong arms pull you to his chest, using his own body to support yours.

“Don’t look!” You sob, “please don’t look.”

He lifts a gentle hand to your cheek, brushing away the fat tears that sizzle their way down your skin. Gone is his usual goofy demeanor, his supportive side shining through.

Wally keeps a firm hold on you while you cry, occasionally using his hand to brush away stray tears. “Let it out, it’s alright,” he murmurs in your ear.

You dig your nails into your palms in an effort to ground yourself, coupling the motion with deep breaths. Wally murmurs praise to you the whole time, embracing you as you come down from your breakdown.

When you’ve finally stopped, Wally brushes away the final tears before they can fall and gently strokes your chin until your eyes meet his in the mirror. He offers you that famous, shining grin—his smile only growing brighter when you give a hesitant one of your own.

“Now,” he says softly, gripping your chin firmly in his calloused fingers. “Why is my girl so down on herself?”

You loose a sigh, glancing at the awkward red fabric still clinging to your body. “It’s just this stupid bathing suit.”

Wally follows your gaze, narrowing his eyes at the clothing as if he could laser it off. He drops his hand from your chin and runs it down your side.

Beneath his touch, electricity crackles, filling your veins with liquid fire. He fixes his hand on your hip, fingertips just barely sliding themselves into your waistband.

“This is what’s giving you so much grief?” His hot breath fans over the side of your neck. “This stupid scrap of fabric?”

Even the air conditioning isn’t enough to stop the heat that follows Wally’s touch. You let your eyes flutter shut, basking in the way his fingertips slip further and further down your bathing suit bottoms.

Your enjoyment is cut short by a sharp tug and a loud ripping sound, snapping you out of your daze. You notice all too late as cold air hits your exposed core and Wally holds up the tattered remains of your bikini bottoms.

“Wally!”

“What?”

You stare slack jawed at the shreds of what was once your bathing suit. “That was expensive…”

As if he can’t hear you, Wally suddenly grabs the centre of your top and rips it clean down the middle. The nylon slips down your shoulders and pools on the floor, leaving you completely naked.

“It was making you upset.” He shrugs. “I’ll buy you a new one, alright?”

“The bathing suit wasn’t the problem…”

“Then what is?” It’s more of a challenge than a question, his green eyes crackling with mischief.

“I—”

“Don’t you dare say you’re the problem.”

You almost laugh at how quickly he cuts you off. You don’t answer him, opting instead to lift your chin and meet his eyes.

He plants a gentle kiss to the side of your neck. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He kisses the inner part of your shoulder. “I think you forget that sometimes.”

“N-no,” you say shakily, though you’re unsure what part you’re replying to.

“Really?” He exhales, the feeling of his breath on your sensitive, exposed skin making you shiver. His voice is almost a whisper when he speaks next. “Let me show you how pretty you are, baby.”

Wally has you laying on your back in your bed before you can even react, manhandling you with all the care in the world. He cups your face gently, pressing his lips against yours and stealing all your breath away. The familiar, intoxicating scent of citrus and coffee feels your nostrils—peculiar, but unmistakably him.

He pulls away, leaving you out of breath. You can only manage one deep, shaking breath before he’s touching his lips to the centre of your collarbone, gently nipping at the sensitive skin. Your chest flutters in response.

Wally looks up at you, his gorgeous green eyes dark with lust and filled with love—all of it for you. He plants a kiss to the centre of your chest, keeping his eyes on yours as he moves to give a sloppy kiss to each nipple. You swelter under his touch, fireworks exploding in each new place he kisses.

“Pretty, pretty girl,” he coos, kissing his way down your stomach and to your hips. “Fucking beautiful.”

The heat in your core nearly boils over when he makes it to your hips, his tongue swiping across the skin just beneath your tummy. His hands slide to grip at either thigh, separating them to make room for himself in the middle. Despite the heat threatening to consume you, you shiver in anticipation.

Wally looks at you one more time, pure adoration in his gaze, before diving into the aching heat of your cunt. From the first brush of his soft tongue against your throbbing clit, you’re so gone.

“So fucking good,” he mumbles between your legs, the vibrations only adding to your pleasure.

You can’t help but buck your hips, thrusting against his face in a desperate attempt to get more. Wally steadies your wild movements with a heavy hand to your tummy, pressing down till it makes the knot building inside of you impossibly tight. You shut your eyes and grasp desperately at something—anything—to ground you during his relentless assault on your heat.

Wally whines as your fingertips tangle in his hair, but says nothing. He shifts his grip, grabbing your thighs and tossing them over either shoulder. The backs of your knees ache from the sudden stretch, but it’s a welcome distraction from how fucking hot you feel and how fucking good his tongue feels lapping your gushing cunt.

He pulls away for only a second to take a breath before shoving his face further in, his nose bumping against your clit harshly. You suck in a breath, throwing your head back. You’re wound so tightly and everything is so incredibly, impossibly hot, every movement he makes threatens to send you over the edge.

Wally spurs forward, practically suffocating himself in your cunt, and begins tracing circles around your aching hole. His scalp aches from where you tug at his fiery red strands, but you taste so fucking good and you look so goddamn pretty, he’d welcome anything you’d give him right now—even the pain.

He dips his index finger inside of you, and before he even bottoms out, you’re unravelling. You thrash beneath his grasp, the only thing keeping you from seizing violently is his hand holding your stomach. The world around you blurs, tears pricking at your lashes as your cunt spasms and gushes on Wally’s face.

He doesn’t let up as you come, keeping his finger inside to give you something to clench around. His face stays buried in your cunt, gladly accepting all your sweet juices onto his waiting tongue. It’s so hot and so messy, coating his lips and dripping down his cheeks and staining his t-shirt—but he doesn’t care. Not when you taste so good, not when you’re so gorgeous.

It takes nearly a minute for the world to come back to you, and even when it does, it’s still spinning. Your chest rattles with each breath, heart seemingly pounding as fast as Wally runs.

He pulls away from your cunt with the biggest grin on his face, the whole lower half of his face glistening. “Fuck,” he groans, licking his lips. “Fuck, you taste so good.”

Despite your breathlessness, you reach out with a shaky hand to tug at the collar of his shirt, fisting the fabric and pulling him towards you. Wally gladly follows, crashing his lips against yours and slipping his tongue in your mouth.

You’re both breathless, panting from the heat and the friction, and when he pulls away, a sloppy trail of spit connects your mouths.

Wally almost cums right then and there just from how you’re looking at him—lips all puffy and swollen from making out, stars in your teary eyes.

“God, baby, don’t look at me like that.”

You tilt your head at him. “Like what?”

“Like I should fuck you till you can’t think anymore.”

And just like that, the fading fire in your core roars to life once more. “Wally,” you mumble, reaching for him again.

“Say you’ll let me.” He bats his eyes at you. “Say you’ll let me fuck that gorgeous, gorgeous cunt.”

“Please fuck me, Walls.” You look up at him through your lashes. “Please.”

Wally has his pants down to his knees before you’re even done speaking, not even bothering to pull them all the way down. He dips two fingers into your folds, collecting your slick and eagerly rubbing it down his hard length.

You prop yourself up on your elbows just so you can watch as he lines his tip up with your opening. He pushes his hips forwards, the tip of his cock just barely slipping into your cunt. You suck in a breath at the slight ache—his width is always a bit of a shock—and let yourself fall back into the pillows.

Wally gently presses down on your stomach, groaning at the way you clench around his cock as he bottoms out. The tip of his cock perfectly brushes your gspot with every shaking breath he takes while he forces himself to stay still.

The second he feels your walls ease up, he’s pulling out and slamming his hips back into yours. His thrusts force all the breath out of your body, each one rougher than the last. Despite how aggressive his movements are, you know this is restrained for Wally, that he’s holding himself back on your behalf.

“Wish I could stay buried in your cunt forever.” He pants. “Never wanna let you go.”

Wally leans further into you, propping himself on his arms while his hips slam into yours hard enough to bruise. Breathless moans are forced from you with every movement, Wally pressing his lips against yours to drink up each sound you make.

He folds you in on yourself, your knees pressing into your chest and allowing him to go even deeper. He buries his face in your neck, half panting and half kissing you.

“Wally.” You gasp out.

The feeling of his cock just barely brushing your cervix is more than enough to have the knot in your stomach building. You wrap your arms around him, curling your fingers and digging them into the muscles of his shoulder blades.

“S—shit,” he groans. “Feels so damn good.”

He gently nips at your neck, rolling his hips into yours and finally sending you over the edge. Heat floods through you, all of your muscles seizing as your orgasm rolls over you. You close your eyes, digging your hands even harder into Wally’s skin, desperately riding out wave after wave of pleasure.

Wally’s hips stutter, his thrusts getting sloppier, and then your clenching, gummy walls are sending him over the edge with you. He forces himself as deep as he can, bottoming out just as the first waves of hot cum flood through you.

The aftershocks of your orgasm are so exhausting that you can hardly feel Wally collapse on top of you, bearing the full weight of his body. The two of you pant in unison, chests fluttering together. With every breath he takes, his soft, sweaty hair tickles the side of your neck.

Wally lays tangled with you for a few minutes, his cock still buried inside of you while he regains his strength.

Finally, he sits up with a grin. “So,” he says, “how’s my beautiful girl feeling?”

Wally laughs when you give him a weak thumbs up from below him. “Good.” He smiles. “And don’t you ever forget it.”

summer suntacular | masterlist | dc masterlist

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

#wally west smut #Wally west #Wally west x reader #Wally west x you #the flash smut #the flash x you #the flash x reader #kid flash #kid flash smut #kid flash x reader #young justice smut #young Justice x reader #x you #x reader

409 notes · View notes

anatay004 · 7 months ago

Text

𝐈’𝐦𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 | 𝖥𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖮𝖽𝖺𝗂𝗋 (18+)

𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘬’𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘗𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘢. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘰𝘧𝘧. 𝘚𝘰, 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥…

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫’𝐬 “𝐢𝐦𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤”

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘐'𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘶𝘵

𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦.

YOU FOUND IT FUNNY.

Hilarious, actually.

How something so simple — so harmless, could make Finnick's jaw tick with anger. At first, you chose to dismiss it, cataloging his behavior as something as silly as him just being an asshole. But then you began to notice it more often until the ticks in his jaw were death glares and backhanded comments.

And, surprisingly, it all started with a compliment. Back when the lovers of District Twelve won their games President Snow had thrown an enormous party in their honor. As a Victor, you'd been forced to attend the event alongside Finnick Odair; whom the people of Panem loved to interlace you with. Yes, he was from your District. And yes, he was gorgeous.

But, curiously enough, you both detested each other.

Perhaps, it had something to do with the fact that he lived right across from you in the Victors' Village. Or that you'd been mentoring tributes with him for years. Or that he loved to step on your garden on his way home just to make you knock on his door and watch you throw a fit about it.

The list could go on — infinitely.

But, on that particular night, when you were forced to interact with the lovers of District Twelve; Peeta's eyes caught your attention amidst the conversation.

"Your eyes are beautiful." You'd said, harmlessly, as you tilted your head to scrutinize his features curiously. Peeta simply blushed and mumbled something along the lines of, "Thanks. You are very beautiful yourself."

But that was enough to send Finnick fuming.

And, simultaneously, you'd managed to piss off Katniss too; who more than often tended to get under your skin for various reasons you didn't care enough to list. So, in your personal opinion, it was a win-win situation for both of you. You pissed off Finnick. And Peeta pissed off Katniss.

At first, you did it for the fun of it, but then the aftermath of the interaction set ablaze your skin in the most pleasurable manner you'd ever experienced before. Seeing Finnick so pissed — so angry, was a mercurial high you'd never experienced before. Its bone-deep effect was enough to turn you greedy and that greediness eventually turned into a routine.

So, when you were reaped for the Seventy-fifth Hunger Games and left with no choice, but to be stuck with Finnick again; you tried to make the best out of the situation. So, you entertained yourself by flirting with Peeta, which was the easiest and most effective way of pushing down on Finnick's bottoms. You flirted with him in the elevators, in the training room, and — sometimes, even in the rooftop.

Anywhere near Finnick sufficed, really.

It was the highlight of your day.

And it was easy to keep the act with Peeta; he was surprisingly good at toying with words. And the best part, in your opinion, was that neither of you took the game seriously enough to build something more beyond that.

So, it was fun — until one day it was not.

The day before the games, when you were waiting for Finnick to finish his interview with Caesar Flickerman backstage, was when your own little game ended up hitting you in the butt. Under the limelight, you could appreciate the green hue in his eyes as you watched him through the screen. He was gorgeous, you couldn't deny that, and it almost irked you how much he knew that as he smiled at the camera; dimples creasing.

Naturally, the audience cheered for him.

"You're drooling, sweetheart," Peeta's voice broke into your reverie and, almost instantly, you threw him a glare over your shoulder. "Careful, I might just think you want him too.

"Who?" You asked, feigning innocence.

"The tall, blonde muscular man in front of you."

"Oh, him?" You turned back to face the screen, trying to act nonchalant. "I don't know him."

Peeta scoffed, incredulous at your indifference.

"Well, for someone you don't know, you sure seemed interested enough to piss him off." He acknowledged, shifting closer to your frame.

"Guilty?" You quipped, allowing the warm skin of his arm to brush against yours. "Besides, you love pissing Katniss off. And trust me, she's way worse at hiding her dislike toward me than Finnick is."

"She's not." Peeta quickly objected, and you rolled your eyes. "Besides, she's different."

"She tried to shoot me once."

"I said different, not sane."

"Besides, she looks at me like she wants to hunt me down and eat me." You confessed, subconsciously sweeping the brunette a glance. To your luck, she wasn't paying attention to you; too preoccupied talking with Johanna about the wedding dress she was wearing and whatnot.

"I could eat you." Peeta suddenly grinned, and it took everything in you to not let your mouth fall agape. "Sorry, old habits die hard."

"I knew you weren't as innocent as you pretend to be," You laughed, completely oblivious to the words Finnick had just blurted out on stage. "What?" You asked Peeta when you noticed a shift in his expression. "Did I say something?"

Peeta swallowed hard. "No, not you..." He trailed off, and you instinctively followed his gaze back to the screen. "But your boyfriend just did."

"My what?" You exclaimed.

"I can't believe it!" Caesar suddenly gasped, relishing the way the audience loudly cheered for something you'd just missed."Finnick Odair and (Y/N) (Y/LN), ladies and gentlemen, are officially our lovers from District Four!"

"What the fuck?" You cursed, trying to dismiss the heat that was traveling up your cheeks as you took in this new information. Peeta, on the other hand, found the situation quite entertaining to watch.

"How long were you planning on hiding this from us, Finnick, huh?" Caesar confronted, and the audience naturally laughed along with him. "Tell us, what more are you hiding from us? We are dying to know, aren't we?"

The audience cheered loudly.

It was so swift, the faint smirk that itched Finnick's lips as he thought about his next words carefully (as if he hadn't planned them out already). But the expression had been there — for a split second, and you'd caught it. Fuck me, you thought, when you recognized the malice behind the familiar gesture.

"We are expecting a baby."

No, you weren't.

But you should've seen their faces.

The statement alone was enough to make you falter on your spot. For a moment, you watched as the audience stood up from their seats and erupted into an inconsolable mess. Demanding answers and, surprisingly, even for the games to be stopped — for the sake of your child. His child.

"Congratulations," Peeta remarked, and you almost forgot he was standing next to you.

"I'm not pregnant!" You hissed, throwing the blonde a look. Belatedly, catching the teasing smile that curved his lips as he raised his hands in defense. To his luck, your attention was quickly redirected to Finnick, who'd happened to step back into the room with a nonchalant expression on his face.

You made sure to waste no time in confronting him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You venomously hissed, pushing him back in evident anger.

"Are the pregnancy hormones hitting you already, sweetheart?" Finnick deadpanned, relishing the way the skin of your face flushed.

"You bastard." You spat, almost throwing daggers at him, before realization quickly flitted across your face. He'd just labeled you as his on live television; he'd just made you his ally and forced an act to fall upon you. "Oh, fuck me."

A grin stretched across his lips. "I thought I did." He said, just loud enough for Peeta to hear.

But he only blinked in response.

"Wha — no we didn't!" You argued, dismissing the looks that you were starting to receive from the Victors. What the hell was wrong with him?

"You should relax," Finnick dared to suggest, and it took everything in you to not slap that grin off his face. "It's not good for the baby.

"You fucker —"

" — okay, separate." Haymitch suddenly interjected, forcing you to step back from the blonde. "Whatever this is, you need to keep it together, and — you, sweetheart, are about to step on stage in front of all those people. So, I suggest you cool it down and follow along with his little act if you want to stay alive. We are in the games, honey, remember that."

You supposed Haymitch was right; the damage had already been done. The least you could do was take advantage of the situation, but that; somehow, managed to piss you off more. Now, you were stuck in a fake relationship with Finnick — scratch that, you were stuck with Finnick and his baby.

You clenched your jaw tightly as you tried to quench the fire that retaliated in the pit of your stomach. You hated this; you hated Finnick, but more importantly — you hated not having the upper hand in the situation.

"(Y/N) (L/N), you're up next."

With a knot in your throat, you managed to collect your thoughts and follow the directions you were beckoned to. But not before pushing past Finnick on your way upstage, "I hate you."

He grinned. "Break a leg, baby,"

A few hours later, you found yourself inside an elevator. You were on your way back to your floor, where you were hoping to get a much-needed rest. Today, as you could tell, was not your day. Most of the tributes were already back in their rooms by the time you'd stepped inside the elevator and you were thankful for that. So, you threw your head back, shut your eyes, and leaned against the wall to enjoy the fleeting and rare bouts of silence.

Until the doors parted.

"Oh, fuck me!" You audibly groaned, when you opened your eyes and caught sight of Finnick's figure.

A smirk stretched his lips. "What's wrong, baby?" He deadpanned, pressing the number to your floor.

You rolled your eyes. "Fuck off."

"Mhm," He clicked his tongue, stopping just in front of you. Establishing a dangerous short distance between you two. "That's not the way to talk to me."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Excuse me?"

He gave you a one-shoulder shrug. "Given, you know, the fact that I'm going to be the father of your child."

Irritation alongside anger shoots down your spine; forcing your body to visibly vibrate. Or, perhaps, it was the electric tension in the elevator that made you shake— the small gap between you and Finnick. Whatever it was, you tried to dismiss it. "I'm not pregnant!"

Finnick watched you for a moment; without a word, simply examining your features. After a minute, when you were almost certain he was going to back off and leave you alone, he added. "But you could be."

You froze on your spot, trying to keep your head from reeling as you thought about his words. He must be joking. "You think you're funny, don’t you?"

"Think about it," Finnick suggested, taking a deliberate step closer. Instinctively, you fell back a step. "We could get you pregnant. Take all the sponsors. Make the Capital love us," Your back hit the wall. "And that could save our asses in the arena again. Easy win."

Inwardly, you found yourself considering his suggestion — for a split second, before reality (and embarrassment) washed over you. "That would never work." You said, matter-of-factly, before straightening your posture and looking at him in the eye.

"Want to test it?"

The elevator stopped.

"You're sick." You hissed, taking advantage of the opening of the doors to exit the situation, but before you could even take a step out — you were pulled right back in. Within a blink of an eye, your back was pressed against the wall and your arms were pinned over your head as Finnick Odair looked down at you with evident amusement on his face.

"What?" He breathed out, ignoring your loud complaints and attempts to escape him. "Can't handle a taste of your own medicine?"

Incredulous, you blinked. "What?"

"I know you do it on purpose." Finnick elaborated, and your eyebrows knitted together; unsure of what he was referring to. He must be losing it, you thought.

"What the hell are talking about?"

"I know about the game you play with Peeta."

Oh.

Your face dropped.

That game.

Then you frowned as you belatedly realized he was getting back at you. Well, two can play that game.

"Is that a fantasy of yours or something?" You tried to change the subject elsewhere, dismissing the way Finnick rolled his eyes as you played dumb. To your luck, you couldn't quite fool him or escape him.

"I could ask you the same thing,"

"What is it to you, anyway?" You questioned, narrowing your eyes at him. Suddenly remembering you could easily take the upper hand in the situation. "What I do or don't do with Peeta?"

Finnick's jaw ticked.

"Oh, I see," You teased, puffing your chest out; trying to gain advantage. "It bothers you, doesn't it?"

A chuckle escaped his lips; low and humorless, as his eyes traveled down to follow the movement of your chest. "You think I'm threatened by lover boy?"

Your lips twitched. "Admit it."

Finnick's lips suddenly stretched, dimples creasing as he looked down to stare at yours. "You're crazy."

"I can tell when somebody wants me, you know?" You toyed with him, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible when his eyes suddenly darkened with a shade of green you couldn't put into words. Jesus, you thought to yourself, he's stupidly gorgeous.

Finnick's eyebrow raised. "Is that so?" He dropped his voice to a whisper, leaning deliberately closer to your face until his breath was pressing against your skin.

And it was then; in that moment, when it suddenly dawned on you that you had to make a choice. The choices were simple — no-brainer: curse him out, flip him off, or take him back to your room.

"What's wrong, baby?" Finnick chuckled when he noticed the sudden shift in your demeanor. "Nervous?"

Pick your poison, babe.

"You wish." You retaliated, a little faintly, trying to keep yourself from giving in. "Asshole."

"God, you're incorrigible," Finnick whispered, but before you could open your mouth to answer back, his lips crashed onto yours. The kiss was rough and it clouded your head momentarily; you don't think anyone had ever kissed you like this before. But it didn't matter because you reciprocated with equal fervor — to no one's surprise, and quickly followed his lead.

Heat retaliated in the pit of your stomach when his knee parted your legs, sliding his thigh in between yours as he deepened the kiss. Your arms eventually fell to your sides when he let go of them; putting his hands to better use as he ran them down your body. Down your neck, your chest, your hips, your ass.

But you didn't attempt to escape him this time.

"We're in an elevator." You reminded him, breathing heavily as he slid his hands underneath your dress.

"Mhm," Finnick hummed, dismissing your comment as his mouth trailed down your neck. As if he almost didn't mind the inconvenience; the morality wrong misconduct. "I'm in the middle of something."

Take him back to your room.

A small chuckle escaped your lips. "Come on, we're not animals." You beckoned him, ignoring his audible groan as you dragged him out of the elevator. But before you could step out — you abruptly stopped in your tracks, making him stumble right into your back.

"Jesus, you want it here or there?"

"Shut up!" You shoot him a glare over your shoulder, trying to hide the faint hues of pink that tinged your cheeks. "I still hate you, by the way."

Finnick's laugh ricocheted off the walls; warm and almost contagious. He knew it wasn't true.

"As long as you have my baby, sweetheart."

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