#day 18 im struggling with the fits... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

neetily · 1 month ago

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Kinktober 2024 — Demon Whitney

— ✧ pairing: M!Whitney / F!Reader — ✧ genre: smut 18+ — ✧ word count: 10,467 — ✧ warnings: incubus demon, dubcon, mind break, degradation, breeding, creampie, aphrodisiac, bullying, name calling, multiple orgasms, blowjob, throatpie, floating sex, cervix fucking, claiming, dacryphilia, piercings — ✧ synopsis: he did warn you, after all. don't make a deal that you can't hold up, or you'll find yourself in some serious shit, slut.

— ✧ A/N: if you asked me why i struggled so much with this piece, i wouldn't be able to tell you why. i hope you're unable to see the difficulty i had when reading it, and i hope to god it all makes sense. im going insane. thank you for reading.

also, this entry to my kinktober list is perhaps the most 'lighthearted' of the bunch, so enjoy it while it lasts lmfao...

— ✧ kinktober masterlist

He knows your sordid type well enough by now, which will ultimately be your downfall.

Lonely, first and most of all. Like an abandoned little puppy kicked to the side of the road that is life, so easily forgotten about by your peers— which means that, for him, you’re effortless. Far too simple of a target for a demon of his calibre, of course, but beggars cannot be choosers in his line of work. He’s become well acquainted with that fact by now, given how long he's been night stalking after your kind.

Maybe you’re just weird, actually. Maybe that’s why you’re left sorely untouched yet, in which case it’d be your own fucking fault for not learning the rules of your community and fitting it by now; there are cues to social interaction, y’know? Or, perhaps there’s a more reasonable explanation as to why you’ve been left all alone and in his company… Like the fact that you’re into some fucked up shit, evident by the way he floats precariously in your dark and messy room, lights already dimmed for his absolute pleasure. That’s probably it, right? Nobody wants to be friends with a fucking freak who spends her free time combing through tomes of the dead, flicking through page after page to find the exact chapter bearing his name. A woman on an unholy mission; it’s understandable that others would brand you as an outcast given your penchant for, well… him.

Secondly, you’re desperate. In part because of how lonely you are, right? Clawing at your own throat for something, just a little bit of anything, really. You’re not so different from his usual clientele in that respect. He can already taste the hot hopelessness swirling in your empty heart, thick and gloopy like tar, and he can’t fucking wait to swallow it all up for you. But you were never free of sin in the first place, were you? The slight parting of your lips in sheer awe of his presence is promise enough, comparing him akin to a tall glass of water, aren’t you? He can’t blame you, a lifetime spent stranded in the middle of a desert pool is enough to make anyone desperate enough for a demon, grasping at every single straw that passes by you, just for a fucking chance at some human connection. It’s so funny how sad and pathetic you look right now, big puppy eyes begging up at him wordlessly; please, just a little bit of anything, even a closed fist would do. Pathetic little girl, fuck, his tight underwear is already tenting towards you at the mere thought of corrupting your wishes.

You should have never settled on him, don’t you know that he’s no good for you, darling?

But most of all, there’s only one true type of girl who’d even think to try and employ his services seriously enough to view him in person. Scanning through passages of bad handwriting, likely hours spent decoding and translating— all in the vain hope of meeting him... You’re quite simply a grade A fucking slut. Whether in practice or in heart doesn’t matter matter to him, it’s the same difference at the end of the day. But you, however, appear the be the latter. Fucking whore deep down, your already blushing body is a dead giveaway, just begging for a beating, ain’t she?

Poor thing, you probably don’t even understand why your tummy fills with heat upon his arrival, do you? Prickling arousal through your veins from his mere presence alone, about the only thing that you’ve done right tonight is listen to your body and sought out help.

It’s just a shame that you seek it from him, dummy.

Carefully, he remains floating in place before you. One leg hooked over the other, leaning back a little to take a proper look of your trembling frame— is that from fear? Or perhaps… excitement? He’d be happy with either option, really, because you’re a real pretty one. For a fucking loser, anyway. And your room ain't half bad; he’s fucked mortals in much more disgusting places before— he still remembers the countless basement dwellings he’s regrettably fucked in, ugh… But you, you vile little creature, knew he’d want better, didn't you? A side smirk tugs on his lips at the way you gulp at his half lidded gaze, like a lamb put up for the slaughter. Don’t wanna bite first? You have thought this through though, haven’t you? Summoning a demon, let alone one borne out of lust, is no easy task. One as strong as him, too. A swift glance down under him shows your perfected circle, each point and curve of it meticulously painted in the hopes of a successful show. And, well, he can’t rightly let you down now, can he?

His arrow tipped tail swishes idly behind him, a low hum of approval crawling up his throat as he fixes his hair for you, keeping one eye hidden behind his blonde bangs. While he certainly views your kind as the lesser race, he’s not about to look as destitute as you currently appear— standards and all that. He’s got a reputation to keep up as the number one fucker; metaphorically and physically. And that reputation seems to extend to the living realm too, if your subdued reaction to his commanding appearance is anything to go by. Dumb little girl, his cock twitches for your attention at the way you already seem to know your place beneath him.

So much so that your voice is lost on you, right? He’s been through this a thousand times before— perhaps even millions of times. So many faces, names, backgrounds. But always the same experience at the end of the day. Is he that scary? Barely there clothing keeping your mind racing as his cock bulges behind the skimpy fabric, showcasing the smallest peek of his branding tattoo upon his pelvis. His chest is on full display for your wandering eyes too, pierced for your perverted mind to dwell on; look, he communicates wordlessly with you. And like a fucking dog, you listen. Watch, his tail swirls, and your eyes, too, spin with the movement. Even his cracked horn is attractive to you, right? Perfectly sized for your grabby hands— God he can’t wait to fucking ruin you. Destroy any chance of salvation you’ve got left, if you even had any to begin with given the way you eye fuck him from the floor.

He just adores little freaks like you.

But alas, his presence seems to have sapped all of your courage. Where was that stupidly honest girl who spent all that time attempting to summon him anyway? And why did you replace her with such a meek, pretty mutt, trembling before his very boots?

It’s clear that you don’t want to make the first move— it’s rarely the case with you humans, so he steals the opportunity away from you before your small little brain has a chance to catch up with itself. You’ve fucked up now, slut, is what he’d like to say. But he’s nothing if not a business man, and he’s learnt well enough by now that he must butter you up a little, as it were, first. Formalities and all that boring shit, ugh, perish the fucking thought.

Especially since his cock is already rock hard and raring to go, he can already tell what you want from a simple glance at the way your whole body shivers at the wet spot forming against his panties.

“So,” he starts, but then you instantly flinch. And he has to try really fucking hard to suppress a sadistic smile at the sight. You've got some real pretty lips, actually. He wonders how they’ll look when stretched around his throbbing cock, all puffy and wet with spit... He clears his throat, shakes his head, and then tries again. “So, what’s the deal?”

You’ve read the rules by now, surely. They’re contained in the texts you used to summon him, his gaze flickering to the tome by your side— opened right on his page. But fuck, the human who wrote it could have at least drawn him better, surely? Looks nothing like him! The illustration does very little to capture his hard worked for abs—hours upon hours of fucking will do that to ya—nor his well cared for hair. His horns appear to remain intact on the pages too… God, it’s old. He should ask someone to update it, if only to appropriately depict his meticulously cared for beauty.

But for as stunning, quite literally, as he is, he can practically see your dumb little head working overtime to catch up to your current predicament. Self imposed, mind you. Rule number one, he can freely deny your request if he so much as wants to. He hasn’t felt the need to do so with anyone yet, so he cant see that rule being an issue now, not with someone as depraved as you. Rule number two, once he accepts your request, he must see it through to the end. He’s always prided himself on being a man— or demon, rather, that follows through on his words, so you needn’t worry there. And rule number three, you must give something up to him in the trade. Traditionally, that’d be your soul, but there are other means to please him.

He’s got an inkling you’ve not got much else to present for his tastes, though. Lonely little girl, poor in all respects, aren’t you?

“Well..?” he prompts you when you only sheepishly gulp up at him. “Out with it, mortal,” he spits the title as if it pains him to even say it, puffing his fringe from his face in feigned annoyance. It's a mere show and dance, but he figures you might appreciate it from the way you wriggle in place. “What’s the deal?”

“Um…” God, you even sound like a fucking loser. Just that one single syllable and he’s already rolling his eyes at you, though his cock nonetheless jumps at the sound of your hesitation. Stuttering and tripping all over your thoughts; haven’t you thought this through enough already? Lonely little girl, need to summon a whole ass incubus to quell the fire in your tummy? Got no humans who wanna touch you the way you need? Fucking pathetic, how utterly terrible for you, it’s laughable.

Fucking hot is what it is. Especially when you mumble a stupid little: “Y-Y’know… the usual…”

And fuck, he can’t deny the way his cock fucking throbs to life any longer at how stupidly desperate you are. Your voice is utterly dripping in loneliness, a needy plead of understanding. Of course, he does understand you. And fucking well at that, just like all of the other useless saps he’s had the misfortune of serving. But there’s a hint of something sweeter in your voice, too. A little taste of kinship, perhaps?

He can’t wait to fuck it out of you, whatever it is. Would that he could reach his fist down your throat to grab it all for himself right now, but you humans are soft and squishy and not built for such horrid actions, right?

“What’s that?” he sneers back at you, obvious in his false distaste of you. “Didn’t quite hear ya, c’mon. Speak up, human.”

He’s only giving you a taste of what's to come, he reasons with himself. You better get used to it, and soon too, if you’re ever to explore the side of you that you’ve yet to embrace. And he’s always enjoyed playing with his food, teasing with you as his cock dribbles precum against the barely there clothing he’s opted to wear tonight, flirting with his tail as it swings back and forth behind him. He had a funny feeling he’d be meeting some idiot like you tonight, so he tried his best to look the part.

“I— um, y’know… s-sex, in exchange for…”

A few more empty seconds pass, and he lets out a telling heavy sigh at your reluctance to voice exactly what you want. He hopes you aren’t this bland in bed, too. Lest he forgets that it’s often the quiet ones who are the real nasty freaks, right? Biting down on his bottom lip briefly to still his expectant heart.

“Your soul, right?” he finishes your sentence for you, snickering to himself at the way you hang your head low before nodding, as if he was the kind of company to act prude in front of. Fucking idiot.

“But,” Oh? The dummy actually has some sort of confidence? Enough to speak up with a question? His cock oozes some more, see, I was right about her. “What do you plan on doing with it? M-My soul, I mean? I wanna know before, um...”

He clicks his tongue idly. Such a let down, and yet still, lust pools in his tummy for you. He’s sure that you, too, can feel the tingles travel down to your clit. Is that why you're having difficulty talking right now? Can't catch your breath? “Whatever I want.” He answers you plain and simple, because it's true. It'd be his, you wouldn't even think about worrying over such a stupid question by the time he's done with you, so what does it matter if he answers you honestly now?

“Right, but I mean… what will you actually do with it…?”

He pauses for a moment in faux thought, then promptly follows the action up with more meaningless platitudes in the form of an absent yawn and stretch. Like he’d rather be anywhere else than right here, in your dimly lit bedroom, feasting upon your shivering body with a trembling cock and excitement swelling in his chest. “Who cares for the details, my sweet?” he internally gags at the false show he must preform before getting you under him, but nonetheless keeps you hooked on his sugary sweet lies, because he's an expert in his field. “All that matters is that I accept your request, which is what you wanted, right?”

It’s fun at least getting to watch your lagging expressions catch up, a bubbled quirk of your lips causing his chest to tighten with agitation— you’re fucking gagging for it, aren’t you? Nodding so coyly, like he’s putting words in your mouth, which he’d never; it’s against the rules of his existence. Though even if you play shy with him, he’s well aware of the darkness tainting your soul, he can almost taste the depravity in your every gasp and sigh. You just need help setting it all free, right? And, well, you can call him biased all day if you want— but he just knows that he’s the best damn demon out there to help unlock your deepest fantasies, to provide you with the lewd affection your heart oh so eagerly desires.

Losers like you always do desire, that is. Deeply, in his experience.

A tut automatically rolls off his tongue at your degenerate display, though hidden behind layers of put on shyness, he can see right through you. And he’s certainly not much better himself, he’s merely more honest. He can’t exactly afford not to be, what with the way his cock already demands your attention, red hot and angry under his panties, rubbing nicely against the soft fabric to leave him cooing for more. He clears his throat to rid the faux showmanship from his chest, letting his float drop with his heels clicking against your floorboards.

You’re so fucked, he muses to himself. Taking in the sight of your seated position by the chalked sigil on the floor, how small and soft you look down there. Humans are, always, much too soft for his liking. Unable to withstand his speed or stamina as well as his fellow kin can, but he rises up to the challenge of the glint in your eye with a puff of his chest.

It’s as hes standing right before you, tall and imposing with his fat cock pointed towards you—can you see his balls already from that angle? How fat and fucking full they are for you, the veins running along his cock just popping under your unknowingly sultry stare—it's there that he levels with you. Metaphorically speaking, because is he fuck physically dropping down to your debauched level, regardless of who he is. He’s not just cocky for the fun of it— though it is fucking fun, watching you grow smaller and smaller by the second as he inches closer, like your body intrinsically understands her place under him. But he’s got the skills and the stories to back his attitude up, to prove why he deserves to carry himself with such confidence, making sure you shake and shiver just a bit more out of apprehension before offering you a final warning.

But it’s not really a warning, not with how easily he grabs at you, swiftly forcing you to stand on two feet as his commanding presence demands of you. Wobbly knees and all, he struggles to stop the eye roll that begs to scold you at how eagerly you try to follow his instructions, whether you’re aware of it or not. It's only natural, given his lustful existence, that you'd want to adhere to him. It’s cute, you fucking predictable whore.

“Didn’t anybody teach ya not t’make deals that y’can’t hold up, slut?”

Venom spits from his tongue in the reprimand, his pointed tail swishing behind him in interest at the way you pleasantly shiver in his bullying hold, unable to speak up for yourself as he sneers down at your quivering bottom lip. And then, disgust tugs at his expression, boring dagger eyes against your woozy gaze back at him.

Of fucking course. Loser girls like you don't know what it's like to receive attention, right? Any kind, even his perversion, is good attention to you. Even if you don't understand why your tummy turns with butterflies upon his seedy inspection; look, he likes your tits! That’s enough, right? That makes you feel all squirmy in his hold, struggling to keep your composure at the way he eyes you up and down, as if sizing you up. It is, obviously, not even a fucking question. But he deeply enjoys the way you appear meek under his gaze, his presence seemingly already affecting you to the point of submission— dirty fucking mutt.

“You’re gross.” He barks at you, letting go of you without warning only to selfishly watch you fall back down onto your ass— there’s no need to treat such an awful girl like you, one who gets off on getting bullied into submission, with any kind of respect. That’d only work against his goals, right? No… lonely girls like you need mistreatment, because it’s all you’re fucking used to getting anyway. A cycle of abuse that’s led you straight to him, his cock drooling all over himself at the mere thought of your misfortune. Poor thing, you just don’t know any better! So here you are, scrambling to get back onto your knees at least as he tugs his explicit panties to the side to show you exactly what he thinks about whores like you. He can do nothing but take advantage of you, really, because it’s what your body is begging him for.

But for someone so fucking lame in every respect, you somehow manage to endear him with those big wide doe eyes and fluttering lashes staring back at his cock when it greets your line of sight. Adorning the tip is a little silver ball, pierced just for you, didn’t you know? Fat and wet, beads of precum already dripping from the metal and onto your floor with a light thud! from the way you practically drool over him already. Is his stink that strong?

He hasn’t even started subduing you with his pheromones yet, you fucking slut. Not on purpose, anyway. Maybe a little unknowingly, but it’s like he said— he can’t help himself when it comes to loser girls like you. Residing a soft spot in his heart for you in spite of his rough exterior; you’ll be so fun to toy with.

With a click of his fingers, a cigarette pops into his mouth, shortly followed by a flicker of flame between his index finger and thumb. He takes a long inhale of the stick, a moments breather to carefully watch your movements as your lips part and hot air fans across his demonic dick. Fuck, you must know what you’re doing to him, right? Barely exhaling any smoke before puffing away at his cigarette again in sheer sexual tension, and then he exhales the excess smoke across your face— a fair exchange, don’t you think? But he can’t stop himself from looking at those pouty lips. Pretty and puffy, so soft looking even from afar. It’s impossible not to want to fuck em, ruin them and make em all messy with his precum. The perfect lip gloss, don’t you think?

“C’mon then,” he prompts you nonchalantly, wagging his cock in your direction with his free hand while adopting a rather bored expression at your avid display, a smirk working its way to his lips at the thought that you probably have zero experience in this regard. So he helps, just a little. Just to get things moving for his own sake. Grabbing the base of his cock unceremoniously to tap his tip against your pouty lips, inevitably smearing copious amounts of precum across them to leave you all glossy and glazed, shit… His piercing looks so nice when pressed against your pout. “Get to work, slut.”

You huff a little, eyes crossed momentarily to watch another fat bead of pre dribble from his tip. Or are you eyeing up the silver adorning it? Wondering how it’ll feel when lodged far down your throat, further than you’ve ever felt before? “Aren’t you supposed to be working for—”

“Quit yer fuckin’ yappin’.” he scolds your question by taking the opportunity of your useless mumbles to instead shove his cock past your open lips, puffing away at his cigarette lazily as you sputter around his surprise intrusion. Sure enough, he’s here to service you, but he’s been called a selfish lover plenty times before. And he’s not about to change that for some fucking slut like you, a lowly human bossing him around? Fucking never. And besides, a little cock sucking is the least you could do for him, providing the experience he’s about to give you anyway.

But rather shockingly, you simply let him rest his tip upon your tongue without much resistance. Dribbling salty precum across your taste buds— not that you had much of a choice in the matter to begin with anyway, but it’s real nice to feel you relax around him immediately, enough so that his hips twitch further into you and his cock slips down your throat with ease. As much of it as you can fit in for a novice, anyway. You might have sucked a few cocks in your short lifetime; pity parties, no doubt. But you’re about to learn real fucking fast how to suck a cock well. Lucky you, you’ve got the best teacher for just that.

Without warning, he fish hooks your cheek. Devilish nails just barely digging in against the inside of your cheek, pulling your mouth further open for his gawking enjoyment. He leans back with the movement, towering above you to adore at half his cock down your throat. “Here,” he clicks down at you, blowing another trail of smoke against your face and likely down your throat for you to choke on. The snap of your cheek closing back around his cock causes him to hiss with unashamed excitement, trailing his nails against your scalp before grabbing at it. Rough and needy, he dribbles some more precum against your tongue— but with purpose now. “Give it a min.”

And true to his word, a minute is all it takes for him to feel your jaw slacken around his fat cock, precum laced with numbing; cause you’re a fucking baby, apparently, and need his help to suck a cock. But he’s too prideful to make this experience anything other than the best for you, if only to save his closely held reputation. He wonders if you can taste the metal adorning his tip, too?

“There ya go,” he praises you with a sickening smile, flashing his pearly white fangs as much of a threat as it is genuine joy from how easy it is to slip further down your tight throat now. “Much better, right? Slutty fucking throat, shit—”

He accidentally fucks a little too much of his cock inside all at once, coaxed into movement from how hard he throbs for your warm, wet little maw, and he has to drop his cigarette from his lips to hide a genuine moan behind his arm. The fuck— he’s never once felt so good so fast with any slut before, but the feeling of your squirmy tongue obediently wrapping around the underside of his cock as if on instinct fucking gets to him. Unfairly so, really, because he’s soon gripping at your hair even tighter, and yanking it back and forth; settling into a brutal pace from the get go. Far too mean for a slut in training like you, but he figures that if you already have pleasure shivers rolling down his spine just from throating his cock a little, you can handle further roughhousing. Must be his pierced tip, right? Cold metal to cool down the heat he fucks in and out of your throat, dripping precum right down your throat from how well he abuses you; fucking choke on it, slut.

His touch is as unjust as his thrusts down your dulled throat are, humping his hips against your cheeks with resounding slaps! against your chin with how wet with precum his balls are. Or is it spit? Drooling out from your wanton lips with his eager fucks, keeping your head pinned to his pelvis as he ruts into you with reckless abandon. Like his reputation means nothing to him the moment he watches your doe eyes roll back in impish desire and he can almost swear that he feels you smile against his rock hard cock. “Feelin’ good already, huh?” he mocks you, in spite of how much he’s acting up himself. Doing his best to save face in an effort to keep your submission by his side, but his dominance slips with every pass of his cock against your constricting throat. “Haven’t even touched ya yet, an’ you’re already gagging fr’more, aint’cha? Pathetic” he tries to laugh, but it comes out gasped and strained— embarrassing.

“You're fucking filthy,” he distracts you with more dirty words, fucking your face with a particularly cruel thrust to emphasis his explicit power over you. And you should be fucking thankful that he offered to numb your throat first with how fervently he chases the good feeling welling up in his tummy. Muscles all tight and taut, making sure you can’t escape his greedy fucks out of sheer need to stake his claim on you, to literally steal your breath away as his own. “You might look like a good girl, but fuck me,” he half laughs, cutting the sound of enjoyment off short so as to not reward you too much. That, and he has to exhale a huff of bliss from the way your numbed throat still yet squeezes tight around him with every dirty swallow you instinctively make around his tip. Like you enjoy having him violate you, using you for all your worth— that is to say, just your body. “Might look like a good girl, but y’were fucking made fr’takin’ cock, yeah?”

He knows a sinner when he sees one, and you sure looked so lonely, y’know? Creeping in the darkness of your own solitary room, awaiting the forbidden creature of lust to crawl into your lap like some dog to save you from the purity cast upon you by an unforgiving God. But, it’s even better to have his thoughts come true when he can feel how much sin you’re dripping with, staining you chin all shiny and sticky with the spit his fat cock throat fucks out of you, drooling on yourself in an eager display of want. He can already taste how desperate you are, gulping down around his cock without even knowing, because your body was made to serve, to please, and he’s not about to let the opportunity you’ve unfortunately presented to him tonight pass by.

By the end of tonight, he promises to make you his. Stupid slut, you should never have made a deal with him in the first place, because look at you now... All dewy eyed and fucked.

He could hump your mouth for hours on end, all day if he had the time, at least until it's sore. But he doesn't; or rather, he can’t right now. Because it’s downright embarrassing how close he is to cumming already, his cheeks flushed under your glazed gaze and jaw tight with barely contained restraint— not that it matters too much anyway; as an incubus, he could go on for eternity if he could be bothered to. No refractory period and what not. Load after load buried deep down in your every hole, fuck… he just knows that you’d enjoy that, especially given the fact that you brace your little human hands against the fat of his otherworldly thighs just to offer him the gentlest bite of your nails digging into his skin, like the fucking whore you’ve always been deep down inside.

He’ll thank you, maybe, someday, for seeking him to fuck her out of you.

But not anytime soon, for he’s far too enamoured by the way your tongue glides along his cock, leaving his tip sopping wet with lots of spit thanks to his incubus influence. Except, somehow better than he’s ever experience before. Like he’s finding out how everything is supposed to feel all over again, exploring that expert whore throat of yours with heavy weight behind his every thrust and a bite of his lip. You might be more sin than he is, he thinks to himself mid stroke, hips stuttering against your lips as he feels the way the tip of your tongue pokes against his slit, rolling his piercing around, and he’s fucking done for.

He immediately promises to get back at you, sooner rather than later.

“Fucking slut—” he briefly chokes on his words, unbelieving of the fact that ropes of hot seed now coat the inside of your mouth, dripping down your throat for you to gulp at when his hips refuse to let up on milking himself. His tone is as scathing as his cum is plenty, leaving you to struggle to take him for once tonight; though he hopes that it wont be the last. He does, however, carefully consider the way that you almost immediately swallow up as much of him as you can, and how that can’t solely be down to his influence on you. That isn't the naturally secreting aphrodisiacs doing, is it? “Harlot, God— fuckin’ take it then.”

He needn’t be so rude, but the way you look back at his harsh words and even meaner touch with hearts in your eyes is all the motivation he needs to continue. If you were seeking purity and kindness, you wouldn’t be swallowing every last drop of incubus cum, now would you? Laced with aphrodisiac, oops… Maybe he forgot to tell you about such details?

You’re a quick learner though, he’s saw as much. Letting his cock drop from your cum stained lips with a loud gulp of air, all sticky and white as a string keeps him connected to you, and he can practically see the confusion present on your stupid fucking face.

And like the demon he is, he takes advantage of your state of inebriation.

“More?” he rasps down at you, his heart racing at the mere prospect, cock still rock hard and an angry shade of red before your gasping mouth. “Y’want more already?” he says it with such feigned surprise, as if it were utterly inconceivable that a hole like you could want for anything but his cock rammed so deep into you that you forget your own name. An attempt to shame you from his holier than thou position, even if only because he’s much taller than you. In fairness, while he’s obviously (the most) part to blame for your sudden descension into demon-hood, clawing at his legs like a woman starved, voicelessly begging for just a little more, please, then we can be done—he knows it’s never just a little more—he thinks that he can’t carry all the burden of blame. Not when you look so fucking cute beneath him, pathetic and small, as you should be. Relying on him to take care of you, to show you how good you can really feel when no one else wanted to even think about touching a fucking loser like you. It’s your own fucking fault that you summoned a demon tonight, let alone one made in Lust’s image, and actually struck a deal with him. It’s your fault that your soft and squishy and pretty human body takes his abuse oh so well, a taunting coo escaping his lips at the way you softly nod back up at him, dumb and stupid, like it doesn't matter what he's saying, only that he's talking, and you want to listen.

It’s your own fucking fault that he can’t reign himself back in, not now, not after experiencing how well you suck cock after a little coaxing.

“Dummy.” He mocks you, adorning a mimicked pout at the way you’ve so easily been put under his spell. “Up,” he practically commands of you, adopting a snap authoritarian tone to combat his shivering spine. “On the bed, then.” He points to your lacking place of rest, following your raring steps with his own slow ones, cock bobbing between his legs with his constant erection. He can’t help it, you’re begrudgingly too cute to ignore, annoyance present in the way he shoves you into position as soon as he’s close enough to get his hands back on you. With his back resting against your bed headboard, and you pushed down to the end of the bed, he leers at the way your thighs rub together in anticipation, following your gaze down to his leaking cock front and centre. The silver ball atop it sparkling in your dim bedroom light, beckoning you forward as much as his curling finger and devious smirk does.

All it takes is a quick snap of his fingers to see you undressed, clothing falling from your body as if by magic. Demon perks or something. But fuck— he has to physically cover his mouth to hide his apparent shock, biting down on his tongue to quell the want to praise how pretty you are underneath it all.

He’s never quite met someone just like you before. How you clamber into position so easily, happily mumbling something—he couldn’t care less, truthfully, for the meaning behind your words. Only that you’re wearing such a dumb smile while hovering his rock hard cock—without a thought behind those pretty fluttering lashes. Fucked your throat so good, right? Not a single thought, no worries or anxieties… you just feel good, huh? Just as he'd internally promised you. Of course, he’s accepting of his part of the blame. It’s in his nature to seduce, tapping into his seedy essence to lull you into a state of perpetual arousal; or for as long as he sees fit, he’s sure he’s got other things that need tending to besides your pretty princess pussy today. But the innate neediness present in your actions, in the way you playfully bite your lip when ghosting your hole over his cock, letting your hands fall against his chest for stability; and worse yet, he allows you to dig your nails in again too. How you have his brows furrowing and hands automatically finding home on your hips, toying with your skin with little pokes and pinches— you’ve got him stuck, acting out of pure selfish need to tear you in two. Got him feeling a little dizzy with desire, as if this wasn’t his literal job and he hasn’t got all the experience in the world when it comes to wooing. Like you were fucking lying to him this whole time.

Which isn’t true, he knows. He has to help you stabilise your wobbly legs as you tuck them under yourself, straddling his waist like a newborn babe. You certainly aren’t as experienced as he is, but there’s something innately lewd about your being that he can’t even hope ignore. Cock straining under you, jerking in an automatic attempt to fill your hole.

Something that he wants to fuck into submission over, and over, and over again. Until you’re crying and begging for his mercy, because how fucking dare you get to him like this? Have him feeling like a fucking virgin all over again… It’s embarrassing, a humiliating clutch on his chest that he grits his teeth at in response just to bear the pain.

“Hurry up, slut,” he grabs hold of your waist tighter, showcasing his greater strength with such ease that even he’s a little surprised when you almost fall off his lap. “Don’t got all day.”

While he’s reprimanding you, he understands that ultimately, he’s the one in control. And he fucking bets that you wouldn’t have it any other way too, given how disgustingly lovesick you appear under his spell. Allowing him to manhandle you to his hearts content, a mix of sweet sighs and stupid babbles; he can just make out a repeat of please tumbling from your cock stained lips, and he’d hate to admit just how much he fucking loves hearing you beg for him out loud.

Which is strange, because he’s never felt the same way with any other unfortunate soul who just so happened upon him, intentionally or not. But hearing you completely stop breathing when the ball of his piercing runs along your slit, only to penetrate your cute little cunt a second later, is like music to his blushing ears.

Blushing ears? For fucks sake. His concentration is dwindling the longer he lets his tip catch against your entrance, simply seeping precum against your hole—not that you need it, mind you. Not with how your cunt simply drools over his cock already, you can thank the aphrodisiac for that. It's just that... He fears that if he were to move too much, he might do something he’d regret.

And he wouldn’t want to break his new favourite toy just after finding her, right?

But you mewl so gently, a soft sigh of some words, mumbled between gasps for air as he keeps you still on his cock. A little “Whitney…” escaping past your lips, promising to be your own undoing at the mere first syllable of his name.

It’s been a long fucking time since anyone has called him as such.

“Slut,” he reflexively scolds you, emphasising his frustration with how utterly and annoyingly perfect you feel when wrapped so tight around just his tip, as if you were the demon of lust, and he was your unwilling victim. “You’re such a fuckin’ slut,” his cock humps into you in one flick thrust, buried as deep as possible as soon as possible to leave you choking on his girth. You shouldn’t be letting him touch you like this, treating you as a mere pocket pussy as opposed to the human being that you really are, but he can’t deny how fucking good it feels to force his way into your tight heat, causing him to choke on his own words. “Fuck—” is all that escapes him, and try as he might to continue degrading you, the wind is knocked out of him from the perfect squeeze of your cunt, so warm and wet and fucking tight for his unnaturally fat cock, and he has to shake his head to rid the thoughts that you were made for him specifically.

Perish the thought of getting attached to your tight little cunt, he adopts a bruising grip of your waist to have you idly grind his cock, circling your hips atop his pelvis until he feels like he’s actually in control again, and not a heaving mess under you. Until he can catch his breath, and focus solely on how good your insides feel when squirming around him like that, his attention unable to choose between your scrunched up expression of pleasure as his tip humps against your cervix, or the way your cunt lips swallow his cock whole, leaving no trace of him behind.

Holy shit— There’s nothing quite like loser girl cunt, right? Needy, desperate, fucking whiny, loser girl cunt. Begging on the end of his cock while you sit atop his fat balls, once again full of cum just for you. All for you.

In reality, he knows that he’s the slut. It’s bred into him, soldered into his very DNA to fuck all the moves, including little shits like you who drive him up the fucking wall from how good you feel, dripping desperation down his cock as he lets you get used to the stretch he forces you to endure; he doesn’t want to break you yet, remember? There’s time yet to destroy this perfect little pussy, you should be fucking thankful that he’s playing nice tonight. Treating you with kindness he seldom shows with others— even if it irks him to do so.

And lest he forget his demonic ways, clicking his tongue at you once to criticise just how easy you are for him. Barely holding yourself upright on his cock as he swirls you around lazily, doing his best to keep up the dominating appearances in the face of your complete lack of such.

“Wanna see how demons do it?”

He’s not really asking you a question— he’s aware that you aren’t of the right mind to provide him a proper answer either. And even he, too, struggles to get the words out. Trembling with pleasure under you, unknowingly letting his hips roll into you just a little, a real meagre amount of friction to coax him into action. He’s as much a victim as you are at the moment. And he can’t stand that. So without waiting for your reply, he snaps his fingers at your side and strengthens his grip on your waist.

If he’s being honest, he can’t quite discern whether you’ve noticed the change of scenery before you or not, but your wobbly frame gives your body away at least. Levitating mid-air with his cock buried balls deep in your pretty pussy, floating on thin air— a small party trick at best, but there’s a part of him that wants to indulge in you. To really enjoy stealing the last remnants of innocence—if you even had any to begin with—away with one final heavy sigh. For he must steel himself for what’s to come, his heart thumping unusually at the way you flutter your lashes back down at him, pretty fucking loser, it’s a shame this life is wasted on such a good fucking fleshlight like you.

He’s never once wanted to ruin a human as much as he does with you. To utterly desecrate you would bring him so much joy, he figures. Steal your soul, remove you from all that you’ve ever known, and eat you alive. Over, and over, and over again. With varying tempos, different settings, fuck you into violation for all eternity and then some. Only then, he thinks, will he be satisfied.

Only then will your debt be paid to him, for ruining him for all else.

“Look at me,” his voice comes out all raspy, dripping with lust to immediately grab your hazy attention only for him to gawk at the dopey smile you flash his way. “Look at me while I fuck you, slut.” His hips pull down, leaving only the tip to remain inside of your cunt for you to whine loudly at. The loss of stuffing causing you to claw at his chest, a pleased hiss crawling up his throat for him to bite back with pitying laughter. You’re so fucking dumb already, with only one load of cum seeping in your tummy, his cock twitches at the mere imagined scene of how you’ll act when he fills your pretty pussy up with seed too, drowning you in his sweet aphrodisiac.

And though he has to physically tilt your chin in his direction, drinking in the sight of your shivering frame that his tail automatically curls around, it’s worth the fucking wait to witness the pure nothingness behind those pretty eyes. And they’re so teary too, of which he isn’t sure is caused by the lack of cock in your cunt, or the fear of having him ram it back into you… But he feels this burning desire well up in his tummy to produce some more anyway.

It only takes him a moment to disregard his thoughts and act purely on instinct alone, as God had intended of him. As he fucking should, finally.

Giving in to the way his tip leaks and stains your insides as his, he fucks his full fat cock back into your too tight little hole, humming contentedly at the way you instinctively arch your back all pretty and shit for him, moaning a broken string of sounds when he doesn’t let up from that first dirty thrust upwards. The sight of you struggling to take his girth and length even in spite of the additional aphrodisiac his precum continues to coat your insides with is so addictive, has him throwing even more weight behind his humps than he usually does, just to torture you that little bit more. Because you can take it, right? Because you’re now his slut, and his slut just loves to take his abuse so well, right? Body and mind, fucking you at such a pace that you’ve got no fucking choice other than to just take his brutal assault to your cunt, his tongue poking out in sheer concentration of how the effects of his aphrodisiac reap results in the tightest cunt he’s fucked yet— like you’re somehow made more susceptible to his charms or something— fuck, he can’t fucking focus on his thoughts when you’re mewling so pretty like that, dumb little baby with her tongue lolling out and pretty tits bouncing with his every heavy, claiming thrust. But you’re taking him so well, beyond his rather low expectations, anyway. And it’s distracting.

Though, it really doesn’t matter the reason behind how well your cunt sucks him off, because all that tumbles out of his dry and hoarse throat is a fucked out meagre “Tight fuck, ain’tcha?” his cheeks warming at the lacking dirty talk, but it’s not like he hears you complaining or anything. Quite the opposite, really. Leaning into his abusive touch, bruising your hips as he holds you in one place in the air, ducking and fucking his hips instead of making you move so as to leave you a drooling mess of a girl. So attractive to him, the way you can no longer form anything coherent, simple sounds of enjoyment and surprise escaping your puffy bitten lips from how often you chew on em in sheer pleasure. The complete lack of, well.. Anything going on in your head at the moment coaxes him into driving his hips into you harder, a little faster, as if begging for your attention some more. Look, it’s me that’s making you feel so good. It was worth it, right? Selling your soul for some cock, fucking idiot, such a good fucking lay, holy shit—

It’s been a while since he’s had a fuck as good as this.

But he’s nothing if not mean, watching the way you so clearly enjoy his thrusts, fucking into you with some inhuman speed or rhythm or tempo that you’re not used to— an attempt to convince you onto his side, and it’d be clear to anyone watching that it’s working. You are, however, a mere mutt to him. A sexy one at that, he’d admit only to himself. Pouting and huffing and sighing and moaning; he can find no other word to describe you other than perfect. Which is exactly why he has to be mean to you, to regain his hold over you.

So he stops. Ceasing all movement, no matter how much it physically pains him not to feel the wet suck of your insides attempting to keep him inside, bringing a thumb up to smooth over your hips, his cock throbbing with unadulterated want at the way tears bubble over your lash line to mark your cheeks a shade darker. Exactly, that’s the kind of power he wants to hold over you, forever and ever, so long as you exist. Nobody would blame him for keeping this pussy all to himself, surely.

And if they did, he wouldn’t care.

But before you have a chance to voice your concerns over his limited movement— because he still continues to hump against you. Fully sheathed in your little hole, and still yet he attempts to fuck deeper with barely there humps upwards. He doesn’t mean to, it’s just what your body does to him. Leaves his mind in a hot daze, swallowing thickly in the face of your whimpers for more, please, gimmie more—

He snorts laughter back at you, rolling his eyes in a faux show of boredom. If anything, he’s barely fucking holding on, digging his nails into your hips as a last ditch effort to restrain himself. It only earns him a pretty gasp from you though, which makes his situation all the more dire.

“S’your turn.” He pats your ass a couple of times, smirking up at you when you squeal excitedly in return; you humans are always so receptive to his touch, it’d be difficult to deny how cute it is to feel the way you squirm around on his cock to prepare yourself, one of his hands coming down to support one of your legs to make the act of bouncing mid-air a bit more tolerable. Though it should be easy, he chastises you internally. Weren’t you paying attention to how well he fucked you moments prior?

“Fuck me like y’need somethin’ from me, yeah?” he taunts you, voice low and seedy, leering at your misplaced determination as you brace yourself upon his body— though perhaps his words were a mistake…

Because he certainly wasn’t prepared for you to match his energy, enthusiastically lifting yourself up for a second or two only to allow yourself to fully drop the moment you’re given enough freedom to do so, hanging on to his every gasp and groan as his mind reels to catch up to his bodily reaction; fat cock just oozing fat beads of sticky precum into your squishy hole, leaving him dazed with the full feeling of how your cunt tries to suck him in deeper, how she twitches and squeezes so expertly around his cock— he can’t fucking stand you.

So he helps, just a small amount. You’d barely even notice the way he fucks up into you a little extra when you slam all the way down on his lap, one of his hands coming up to roam over your thighs, your tummy, pinching at every inch of skin he can reach to leave you just as tingly as you’re making him feel right now. His body positively vibrating with sexual gratification, cock trembling against every inch of your cunt; all the way up to your cervix with little kisses from his piercing. It’s almost impossible to get a hold of himself, tummy muscles tense to bear the brunt of your eager bounces, arms flexed under the weight of your exertion. And he can see the sweat collect on your forehead, body warming under his incubus ways, his lewd intent to swallow you whole— soul and all. Heating you up further with his nails raking up to your bouncing tits, taking an immediate liking to how soft they feel in his perverted paw— so much so that he just has to pinch at your nipple to make you whine like a bitch in heat, leaving him in shock and awe over how much he loves those sounds you’re making in response. He’ll teach you to enjoy pain soon enough, but it’s just as much fun getting to see you wince in the mix of hurt and comfort, unsure how to react when he rolls the bud between his fingers, tugging on your overly sensitive skin for his own personal enjoyment. It’s nice, isn’t it? It hurts though, doesn’t it?

Surely you must be close now, he bets. Given that he had neglected to let you cum earlier, he’s about ready to bust again himself, meaning that he might finally allow you some release, too. The ball of arousal in your tummy must be wound up so tight by now, especially since you frantically fuck yourself fucking stupid on his cock, providing him a silly amount of stimulation— enough to let him know that you’re gone. Far too gone to think reasonably now, focused solely on simply feeling good; which means that he has you exactly where he wants you.

“That’s it,” he encourages you, though for selfish means only. He wants to keep feeling good too, it’s all he exists for, really. “Fuck, dont’cha want a little fuck trophy in your tummy, huh?”

A baby, of course, would not exist without his explicit intent. And he doesn’t intend on impregnating you— yet. But the addition of his hand that was holding your weight now moving to your tummy, rubbing the area above your womb so delicately in stark contrast to his otherwise rough treatment, seems to get you going with newfound vigour. Sat square on his cock, buried as deep as he can go in the hopes of his seed taking root, right? And it’s fucking hot to him, thinking about breeding you. Turning you into his little breeding bitch, fucking slut, you’d make the perfect little forever play thing, y’know?

And it seems you agree, pushing his hand harsher over your womb, heat spreads from his fingertips to privately mark you as his own. An instinct at best, a deep seated wish at worst. He opts not to think about it too much in the moment, far too focused on the way you grind your puffy cunt against his pelvis, as if attempting to find more cock to fuck into your greedy hole. Trying to match him?

Insatiable slut, he fucking loves it.

Despite everything that’s happened so far, form the way you must have spent so long summoning him— it’s not easy, he made it so. To how simple you were for him to seduce, a little cock sucking and you were like melted putty in the palm of his hands, or rather, on the end of his cock. All the way up to how well you ride him, like the flawless slut you’ve always been deep down inside, right? Humping his fat cock to your hearts content, hungry with your pretty bounces up and down, seeking his seed. In spite of it all, perhaps the final nail in the coffin of your devious deal is the way you desperately grab at his horns mid hump for more stability. That, in actuality, is what seals your deal for him. Renders him useless under you, a huffed growl crawling up his chest to scold your obscene action, whether you realise it or not; he’s sensitive there, especially when you tug on em so tightly, pretty pussy choking his cock almost as snugly, too.

It’s such a rash decision, how his hips start snapping up into you again, removing the option of choice from you with his sheer strength alone dictating the pace. Too fast for you to keep up with, turning you into a sobbing little fuck with the wet slap of his balls against you. Plump and so full for you, God, so fucking full again— he doesn’t think he’ll tire of you quickly. Which is a shame for you, honestly. He’s going to fuck you senseless, within an inch of your life, beyond that which he normally attains with his victims.

“Stupid bitch—” he grabs at the fat of your thighs, swiftly tipping you over mid air so that he’s on top of you, fucking away at your squelchy little hole with fast fucks and heaved breaths. Taking the opportunity of your dumb confusion to slip his pointed tail between your legs to rub away at yout slippery little clit, begging with every choked moan and groan to have you cumming already; he can’t last too much longer now. Not with your tiny human hands still yet on his horns, tugging him closer, pulling on his weak spots so carelessly— it’s about time he returns the favour in kind, no? Flicking his tail with practiced precision against your overly sensitive clit, overstimulating you into attempting to crawl away from him, pushing him off as much as you can— but it’s no fucking use. This is exactly what you signed up for, slut. His hips don’t slow down despite your protests, not even when you start to cry from the intense waves of pleasure that soon rock through you, creaming his cock so well, all sticky and messy and loud for him as he keeps his attention on your clit, circling her so good, but it’s too much for you to handle, isn’t it? His voice comes out in broken laughter, caught off by a genuine whimper of appreciation for how tight your hole gets mid orgasm.

“My whore.”

And the fact that your mind is so numbed from cumming so good—best orgasm of your life he bets—as well as the additional help from his naturally secreting aphrodisiac, broken beyond repair from the way his cock fucks right up to your cervix over and over again, ignoring the fact that you’re shaking in his bruising hold of your body, focused solely on making you feel how upset he is with your display tonight, how he intends to make you his— it culminates in perhaps the best orgasm of his life too. Chest tightening, tail straightening, eyes rolling with his head thrown back, nails digging into the fat of your tummy; fat ropes of seed are sure to follow. Heavy and milky, sticking to your insides with insidious intent, filling you so full of his demon stink that not a single soul alive or dead would even think about approaching you, let alone touching you.

But he’s not done there. He allows you the absolute pleasure of having him milk his fat cock inside of you, until you’re so full of cum that it dribbles out around his girth and drops down to the ruffled sheets below. It’s fine, you won’t be washing them any time soon. And besides, it’s fucking hot getting to watch you squirm on the puddle of white as he unceremoniously drops you back down onto the bed, your chest heaving for air as you smack down to the centre of the bed, bright blushing cheeks shooting arrows into his dead heart.

If it was fate that he was to meet you tonight, then surely fate has decided to damn you too, right? Left you pliant and unaware, submissively offering yourself up to him with your legs spreading on instinct as he gently lowers himself too to match your level. Fate has always been so cruel, hasn’t she? Ever unkind, unfair in the way he instantly pounces back upon you, pinning your wrists above your head as his cock bobs to your pleas for… Well, he can’t quite decipher exactly what you’re begging for. Only that the fat tears that roll down your cheeks turn him on more than anything before, and he needs to fuck some more of em outta ya.

He bets your cunt is all sore from his abuse by now too, huh? Red and puffy, he strokes a finger up and down once before dipping into your sopping wet hole, knuckle deep from how thoroughly he’s fucked you wide open, split you in two on his cock— “Promise,” he almost whines for you, but you thankfully aren’t aware enough to pick up on his desperation. “Promise t’make y’feel good for the rest of your sad little life.” He smiles through his words, face scrunched up in shock and awe at the way you look so pretty when getting ruined from the inside out.

Finger fucking you at the same pace as his thrusts, he’s being all too mean to you, he knows. But you can’t blame him for chasing that high of your cries, fuck, he could probably cum on the spot just from watching you helplessly endure his assault, sniffling and huffing sobs as he buries his finger knuckle deep before introducing another. Curling them at the tail end of his fucks, a dirty chuckle slipping past his lips.

“All mine now,” and he’s being truthful. You traded your soul for this, yeah? A life of solitude and cock, left hungry for his scornful touch, body forever left begging for his abuse. “All fuckin’ mine,” he promises you, for there’s no escaping his strength now that he’s had a taste of your soft body. “If only y’weren’t so fucking cute, if only y’didn’t take abuse so well—”

He hadn’t intended on making you cum three times tonight, content enough simple to play with his newfound toy until he grew bored of your whimpers for more. But he’s nonetheless satisfied when your body struggles to cum again, cute cunt convulsing around the rough pads of his fingers as he helps you ride out another good feeling. Barking laughter down at you when you have trouble catching your breath— have you even been listening to him for the past while? Do you understand what the fuck you’ve done?

Other than destroy any chance of him being content with any other hole in future. Good fucking slut.

He regrets meeting you already.

#kinktober #kinktober2024 #kinktober 2024 #whitney the bully #whitney the bully smut #dol #dol smut #degrees of lewdity #degrees of lewdity smut #whitney x reader #whitney🚬

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thesamoanqueen · 1 year ago

Text

Owner

Raiting: 18+

Warnings: smut, jealousy, my bad english as always.

A/N: It should have been my gift to @harmshake for her day but I didn’t made it in time and here Im, posting it anyway *delusional smile*

He was getting a headache, a bad one because Y/N was unbeatable at driving him crazy. He always tried to control himself, freaking out during arguments didn’t fit him well and he could successfully have done it, at least until she got involved or decided to press that button, the one she had claimed from the first second Roman laid eyes on her. Thank God she wasn't the kind of woman who liked drama or kicking her feet, but if she decided to go down that road...

Roman could count their arguments on one hand, exceptions, extraordinary events, but every time it happened from one moment to the next, escalating in a few seconds and for reasons that weren't even real reasons. And it had been like that that time too. The night before Y/N had gone out with the girls, they had gone to have fun, there was nothing wrong and he had even been fine with it, because now that his schedule was no longer so oppressive they spent more time together, both didn't have to work hard as before. The next morning she got up and he had left himself speak, a comment about alcohol that she had clearly drunk, not about her, not even trying to scold her, but from there to chaos it was a short step.

Standing in the kitchen for who knows how long, he lowered his head in exasperation, exhausted, the idea of getting something to drink to go and relax, perhaps with her now only a memory, while Y/N marched through the living room, taking random stuff and dissecting that story as only she was capable of doing.

- I can do whatever I wanna do ‘cause you my daddy when I say you're, not every moment of ma life – she crashed into him at the other end of the huge room and Roman raised his head as if someone had slapped him.

She could do what? He wasn't what?!

- What did you just say?! – he snapped, not at all intending to let that time pass.

He had never tried to stop her from doing anything, he knew well who he had decided to be close to as a partner and it had never crossed his mind to treat her otherwise. He had made a comment, a comment because he cared about her, he was always worried, even if they were together and she came up with that story? He was a man, he didn't need to control her to feed his little ego.

- Thought it was me tired, but now the one who cannot hear me is you? - she insisted stubbornly, refusing to let go and Roman gave her a warning look, his gaze dark.

- Y/N stop running that mouth

- Well if you don't like my attitude anymore, go find someone else and I'll do the same – she pointed at him and Roman knew that she was throwing everything on the table by now, but she had to slow down because he had enough now.

He wouldn't have gone anywhere, above all she wouldn't have found anyone else. She could put it out of her head to play those games with him and above all to turn around and leave him there as she was trying to do. He quickly crossed the living room, before Y/N could even disappear and grabbed her by the waist, hearing her let go with a thud all the stuff she had in her arms, struggling.

- What-Get your hands off me, lemme go-

- You better calm down- don't kick! - he warned her, taking blow with a grimace as he dragged her with him across the room - don't… no… babygirl-

- Roman put me down, ain't joking! And don't call me that! – she struck again, convincing him to put her down on the coach, to grit his teeth, irritation growing.

- No more babygirl, ain't your daddy, you can do whatever, what's going on huh?!

Frozen, Y/N stared back at him. Her arms wrapped tightly around her chest, legs curled up on the couch where she still had tried to escape him at first, even though he was literally towering over her. He had raised his voice, he never did it, except when they got to that point, but every time it happened he ended up regretting it the same instant just by looking at her. He couldn't stand those moments, because they didn't belong to either of them and for sure wasn't what he wanted for their relationship.

- You don't own me – Y/N said, refusing to lower her head and Roman ran a hand over his dark beard, inspiring, before looking back at her deadly serious.

- I own you

He knew what was going on in that head of her, because Y/N thought and thought even late at night when she should have been sleeping, she was dangerous. And that argument had been the reason she had struggled to have relationships in the past, the same one that had led them to chase each other for a year before giving a name to what was between them. It had been a stupid comment, said with a completely different intention, they both knew it, and yet she had snap.

-I do – he repeated, seeing her physically stiffen when he crouched down in front of her – as you own me – he admitted without shame.

He knew what he wanted from his life and he knew what he was willing to risk, he had never been the kind of person who liked to be led, but since she had entered his life, his vision had changed. It was like this from the moment he woke up to the moment he went to bed, it was his law, it was what he chose and what Roman committed to. He wasn't a kid, he could make sacrifices and he wanted to bear them.

-That's how things work – he explained, eyes running over her figure without forgetting a single piece, while hers studied him.

They were doing this together and there was no "whatever" for it to work. They had each other's backs, they belonged to each other and there was no one else who could replace either of them in that mission. No plan B, no alternatives, it was all or nothing, she was the one who told him first and Roman stuck to that. He could keep his mouth shut, ignore if he wanted, he had no problems, but what they were had to be clear, for better or for worse, during arguments or not.

Y/N insisted on not moving, legs still bent on the coach, shoulders still tense and her gaze fixed on him who hadn't moved an inch too, ready to take yet another blow that never came. She only needed a few words, if the right ones, to send those moments away and Roman knew he had said them to her or she wouldn't have given up. An arrogant and slightly softened grin was struggling to show itself, but he just frowned, tilting his head a little to look at her inch by inch again.

-May I touch you now? – he asked, his voice now low, soft.

- What if I say no? – he heard her ask immediately, stubborn and without mercy.

Firm in his purpose, Roman did not give up, completely unimpressed by that attitude which had single-handedly eliminated any competition long before him.

- Please – he begged hoarsely and Y/N once again didn't move.

She didn't even answer, but her dark chocolate eyes did it for her, wavering for a moment at that plea and he reached out with both hands, slowly pulling her legs off the couch by ankles. He slid one on the carpet, placing the other on top of his knees, caressing the caramel-colored skin, soft calf, her eyes pointing at him in religious silence as he went up higher, touching behind the knee to spread his hand on her gorgeous soft thigh. He felt her body vibrate imperceptibly, responding to that contact and Y/N immediately push her foot against his chest, stopping him from going any further.

-Babygirl...- he called her back, looking up again.

Still no response and Roman took the opportunity to slide her leg over his shoulder, making his way between her. His hands began to caress her again without waiting any longer, going up, taking the opportunity to take care of the other leg in the same way and in the same way, even with the other, Y/N stopped him. Roman looked at her in silence this time, he placed a kiss on her skin, pinching it with his beard, breathing in the scent of coconut and vanilla lotion, receiving a new push in return. He waited a second, just one, to collect himself, before also pulling the other leg over his shoulders and bending her on the couch, without asking or negotiate anymore, crashing his mouth onto her to get a moan.

Y/N under him struggled, trying to push him away, refusing to let him win that fight as useless as the argument they had was. He stopped her from the wrists, bracing them with a little force against the couch backrest, pressing them with some of his weight, heat rising quickly and her complaints, muffled, slowly turning into hot moans. Roman knew that she was ready to not make his life easy and repay him in some way, but he was fine with that.

He liked challenges and if she was the prize, he could take more than a couple of pushes.

Slow and unstoppable, he made his way over her. Feeling her mouth slowly indulge him, her hands stop shaking and her legs squeeze him to have his body closer, to have him where he belonged. He still refused to let go, keeping her pinned beneath him, sliding only one large hand, first around her throat and then further down, under her oversize shirt, over her breast free from any constriction. His thumb automatically went to play with her nipple and Y/N mewled into his mouth, panting hotly when Roman finally abandoned her to move down, licking her ear and jugular before biting and sucking that soft skin with the only purpose to leave his mark.

- Mmh! – a moan, strangled, still a little freaky, teeth closing on her swollen lip to stop it.

Annoyed, he looked up at her, studying her focused, breathless, cute expression. He pushed a little on her wrists, feeling her body soften and pulled her white shirt up a little more, to go down to kiss her between her round breasts, inhaling her scent, dipping his face there to devour her hungrily. Her shivers, her heartbeat dangerously close, even the sound of her swallowing while trying to catch her breath, had quickly turned that exchange into something more and bossy Roman rubbed himself against her, his cock now hard inside his gray jumpsuit. He watched Y/N bite her lip again, try to hold back, belly tense and eyes finally searching for him as he began to suck and bite on one of her dark salty buttons.

Her back always curved into a delightful arch when he paid her that kind of attention. An almost unnatural, desperate and needy arch, which Roman get never tired of holding in his hands and admiring, often asking for more, demanding everything.

He watched her throw her head back, almost hiding between cushions and his arm slid behind her back, pulling her against him, grabbing her hip so her center was in place. Y/N struggled again, breathing short, her gaze liquid with excitement and Roman tightened his grip on her wrists, freeing her breasts shiny from his saliva and quickly place a kiss on both her legs that were resting onto his shoulders. Quickly, he fumbled with his clothes, pulling them down with his only free hand, immediately feeling his erection jump to attention and Y/N gasp in anticipation.

- What do you say sweetheart huh? – he asked hoarsely, pressing it against her perfect ass, while also freeing her too – do you want me to ask nicely or not?

-Lemme-e go- he heard her repeat, but this time he knew that her intention was not to run away.

- Please babygirl? – he chanted into her ear, almost crushing her beneath him.

- Please… daddy – a meow more like a moan and Roman released his grip on her wrists.

Her hands grabbed his face instantly, forcing him into a kiss he would never refuse and then wrapping around his torso, scratching his solid neck with demand, as he thrust into her without waiting any longer. Her folds were soft, welcoming and every single time he ended up searching for the bottom, that exact point that made her tighten around him in a vice from which Roman always hoped not to escape. His body was shot through with every sigh of Y/N, every single moan and prey to an uncontrolled reaction his hips moved reflexively, thrusting and pinning her down.

They hadn't fucked like this for a long time now, since they were nothing and their encounters seemed more like a desperate attempt to leave their mark on each other so that no one else could get in the way or hope to. Now those thoughts, those doubts were far away, but Roman still felt in the bottom of his chest the urge to claim her, to give her everything and because of that, he took advantage of his strength to turn her onto her side, leaving one of her legs down. From that position he could push at another angle, holding her round buttock, straightening his back.

- Like tha-aht, yes-

-Yeah, let's strech my pussy good…-he growled hungrily, giving her an appreciative slap on the ass and the moan that Y/N let out was accompanied by her throbbing walls.

- There-yes there!

Quick, rough, he knew that neither of them would last long, but he put a hand on her belly anyway, touching his bulge, hitting that spot and observing, satisfied, the whitish ring that had already formed around his cock. He saw it spread across his entire length, back and forth, again, while Y/N tried to hold him between her folds, inside her sweet cave. He licked his lips, savoring her moods from a distance, pressing with his fingers where her mound welcomed him, feeling his own hardness, his thumb sliding further down to play with her swollen button.

A couple of thrusts and Y/N exploded beneath him in a succession of gasps, hands gripping the coach cover, eyes closed tightly and that wonderful arc that Roman moved again, to take her from behind, pushing himself onto his knees to have her into a press. Frantic, he let his head loll, pounding frenetic through his orgasm, refusing to give in until Y/N slapped her hand against one of his arms and he pulled out quickly, missing her warmth instantly.

A growl left him, but just as he had felt that unpleasant absence, he welcomed Y/N who had sat up to take him into her soft mouth, licking both of their juices with a moan of appreciation. With one arm resting on the coach backrest and the other hand holding the back of her head, he watched Y/N wrap her lips around the tip, suck until she tore the soul out of his lungs and then swallow him almost in his entire length to allow him to empty himself inside her.

- F-Fuck, open wide, so warr-rm-

He held her in place, moving on impulse, feeling the heat of his own body mix in Y/N's throat, her tongue pampering him until the last drop dirtied her mouth and his long fingers extricated themselves from the curls that he had pulled away from Y/N’s bun, stroking it affectionately, feeling the pop of that dangerous mouth that released him after having swallowed and cleaned up the mess of both of them. Breathing heavily he let himself fall down, pulling her against him as messy as he was, realizing only after long, infinite minutes of silence that at the end they had both managed to relax there together even if how, they had gotten to that point, had not been what he imagined.

He tilted his head, seeing her clinging to him with that tired look that he was responsible for this time and he couldn't help himself, leaving a kiss on her forehead that made her lift her chin to look up.

- We made it again – he noticed, seeing that adorable pout that she reserved only for him.

She who would have eaten alive anyone out there without a second thought, with him instead every now and then she gave into the temptation to behave like a little one and as long as it was her, Roman could handle anything. She owned that right and privilege.

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyyaanna @angelreigns444 @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @claymorexpunisher @keybladeofsteel @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @darqchilddaydreamz @meggylynnloves @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @reignsx @reigns-central-blog @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @thedonsfactory @snowpanda18 @brattyfics @mzv11 @romanreignseater @tribalchiefdaily @2baddies2furious @vebner37 @depressedneedingrevenge @cyberdejos2 @usosthetics @mahi-wayy @jxtina-86 @harmshake @harlem11680 @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade

#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns oneshot #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x y/n #roman reigns x female reader #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x you #wwe smut #wwe fanfiction #roman reigns fanfic

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killerlookz · 5 months ago

Text

Joost Klein x Goth!Gf Headcannons

content: SFW and NSFW headcannons below the cut, 18+ MDNI, this work contains rpf and has been tagged as such, do not continue if that makes you uncomfortable

SFW Headcannons

You're pretty much his personal makeup artist now, anytime he wants to do his fun little facepaint looks (like the mime or kiss makeup) you're the first one he's asking to help him out

He absolutely doesn't mind you kissing him with your lipstick on and is in no rush to wash off the dark-colored lipstick prints you leave on his cheeks after you do so, sometimes letting them sit there for hours while he goes about his day.

You can't tell me that this man doesn't absolutely love going to the goth clubs. It's definitely a different speed than he's usually used to, and some of the music may be a little slow for his taste but that man just absolutely loves dancing and the nightlife in general.

He definitely dresses up to "fit in" to go to the goth clubs too! Putting on whatever black items he can find in his closet, usually a pair of rugged black jeans adorned with a thick belt either studded or with a big buckle and some black shirt he spent far too much money on. He usually ends up looking more like he's about to join Opium or Drain Gang than he does goth, but your heart entirely melts at the fact that he's trying.

You absolutely inspire him to buy a pair of New Rocks (side note im actually surprised ive never seen him in new rocks they're very his style lol) and he just absolutely towers over you in them, which he finds very amusing (cue him teasing you about being "short" even though the platforms of those shoes are like 10 cm, making him like 198 cm/ 6'5)

If you are wearing big shoes and they start to hurt he will absolutely carry you back to wherever you need to go- The same goes for if you're breaking in new shoes- you're out and about together and all of a sudden you start treading behind him, walking awkwardly due to the blisters forming on your heels and the backs of your ankles- and he knows, you don't even have to say anything, he just stops dead in his tracks, and bends down for you to get on his back.

Thrifting/ DIYing dates!!! It becomes a tradition for the two of you to go out to thrift/consignment stores and pick out pieces for the two of you to style or DIY into something. He loves it especially when you DIY things for him, and always shows off the clothes/accessories you put together for him, "Oh you like my necklace? Yeah, my girlfriend made it for me."

He laces up your corsets for you! No longer do you need to struggle trying to reach behind your back to tie your corsets. He's always so delicate about it too, "You're sure I'm not squeezing you too tight?" Running his hands all along your sides and your hips after he finishes tying it shut.

He definitely just thinks you are so cool, despite having his own unique style himself, he is just in so much awe of you being yourself, and just genuinely finds you to be the coolest person on Earth, whether its the way you do your makeup, or dress, or the music you listen to, he's just obsessed.

He'll absolutely tease you a little bit though, cue him singing "Because toniiiight will be the noiiight that I will fall for yewwww over agaiiiin" at you because he knows it pisses you off *just a little* you'll chastise him for that being emo not goth, but he still finds it funny regardless, and he loves seeing that little smile you give him when you're trying to pretend to be mad at him, but really you're holding back a laugh

He loves when you wear his necklaces or his fancy belts to accessorize with

Getting tattoos together is a muuuust, he's not so into the idea of matching tattoos, but just spontaneously on a whim being like, "hey do you wanna get another tattoo today?"

NSFW Headcannons

You CANNOT count how many new fishnet tights you've had to buy from Joost being far too impatient to get you undressed, bending you over, lifting up your skirt and just ripping the flimsy fabric open, not even bothering to take them off of you.

However, when the sex is more romantic he absolutely loves taking his time with you, so delicately removing each of your layers (and us goth girlies know... we wear a looot of layers lmaoo) he just loves being all sensual about it, he also just for sure enjoys teasing you with how excruciatingly slow he is about it.

Loves seeing how much he can ruin your makeup, whether its smudged lipstick or eyeliner dripping down your face, the messier the better.

In addition to fucking up your makeup he loves when you go down on him while you're wearing lipstick, the way your lipstick smears as you take him in your mouth, god he finds it so hot.

Obsessed with when you wear leather or latex!! Oof the way the tight, shiny material hugs your body, he cannot get enough, and honestly is ready to take it off of you the second you slip it on.

He absolutely adores you in lace too (especially black lacey lingerie) when you wear lacey tops with nothing but a bra underneath... (same can be said for a fishnet top) oooooh girl he is absolutely feral, the way you're technically "covered" but still exposed in all the right spots... whew

If you have long/pointy nails he looves feeling you dig them into him as he fucks you,

Whenever the two of you go out to the goth clubs things definitely get very steamy, always ending up with his arms wrapped around your waist and your ass pressed against his crotch as your bodies move together to the dark, slow, synthy music.

He loves it when you bite him! Always calling you his little vampire as you suck on his neck, leaving pretty little lovebites and lipstick smudges on his skin. (vampire/blood kink goes brrrr wait what who said that hAHAHHAHHA)

Fucking to goth music is a MUST... not sorry about it, bands like Depeche Mode and She Wants Revenge are top tier sex music, him mumbling along to Tear You Apart, his lips pressing into your neck, sending vibrations down your spine as he slowly undresses you.

Also fucking while watching horror movies hehehehe, there's just something about the suspense and tension that gets your blood going, one second you're watching the TV anxiously, and the next second he's on top of you as you're begging for him to please fuck you.

#joost klein #joost klein x reader #joost klein smut #joost klein x f!reader #joost klein rpf #rpf

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bonezone44 · 6 months ago

Text

Illuminate Me (18+)

Uncle!Dave x Fem!Reader

tags: body insecure!Reader, Soft!Dave, nylons, public sex, exhibitionism, unprotected p-in-v. Pet Names: little niece, sweetheart, doll, good girl.

Word Count: 1,5k

Author's Note: We got a new dirty Uncle over here! Come and get 'im!

-----

Your step-dad's brother, Dave, gets you a job at his office. Then he takes you to buy a whole new wardrobe of professional attire. While shopping, you try on a pair of nylon stockings in a large fitting room with lots of mirrors. Dave stands behind you in black slacks, blue shirt, and red tie. His blazer is laid across one of the chairs. He wraps an arm around your waist and slides his thick fingers down your front. He lightly rubs your clit through the sheer material.

"My little niece looks beautiful, doesnt she?," he murmurs in your ear with a smirk. His eyes look at yours through the mirror.

You're barely able to focus. His body is warm behind you and his lips tickle your cheek. He smells like expensive cologne and it makes you ache.

"Answer me, sweetheart," he says coolly.

You swallow thickly. "S-she does."

"She does what?" His fingers never stop rubbing you.

"She... she looks beautiful," you say, with your cheeks on fire. It feels like the filthiest thing in the world--to compliment yourself out loud. To compliment your looks in the presence of someone else. In the presence of a man. Especially considering what you have on. An old bra that fits wonky and a fresh pair of nylons that go high above your belly button, smoothing out all your features.

Dave's other hand slips beneath the satin fabric of your bra and exposes your breast. "She feels beautiful, too." He presses his hardness against your ass.

Dave intoxicates you. His hot breath on your skin. His teasing hands. You want to take off your clothes and fuck him properly.

The fingers on your clit move further down, poking at the nylons' liner, prodding against your entrance. He rubs back and forth, between your clit and your entrance. His large hand encompassing the entire space between your legs.

"You're my favorite, you know that?" He says as he tortures you. "I would dress you up and play with you every day if I could."

He never stops smiling, either. Your heart races in your chest. Your body is warm and tingling all over. You want to fall to your knees and wrap yourself around him. You want his cock inside you.

"Would you like that, sweetheart?" He asks, biting his lip. "You wanna let Uncle Dave play with his favorite doll?"

You nod quickly. "Yes, Uncle Dave," you stutter.

"Good girl." He pushes your upper half forward, and your hands fly up to brace yourself against the mirror. Dave’s hands poke and prod between your legs until you hear a loud rip. "Good girl," he hisses. "Good girl."

Next thing you know, his bare cock is pressed against your soaked entrance. You barely register the burn of him stretching you out--your whole body is on fire and you're desperate. You stare into his eyes through the mirror as he stares back into yours. He looks as if he's in pain--his brows pulled tight and his lips snarling. You don't dare to look at your own body or expression. But you know your mouth is hanging open, gasping for air as he maneuvers inside of you. Your eyes close on their own, waves of pleasure overwhelming you with each of Dave's measured thrusts. Your hands are firm against the mirror. You feel and hear Dave's breaths against your right ear. He's pressed up against you. His hands squeezing your breasts. He grasps at your belly, too, unable to fully grip it through the nylon material.

"Open your eyes, sweetheart," he says tenderly. It's a struggle for you, but you comply. His eyes are in shadow and there's a smirk on his face. "Look at my beautiful doll. Look how gorgeous she is."

Your close your eyes again. Your chest goes tight. Was he mocking you? Why was he smiling and calling you beautiful? Was this all some big joke? Part of you wants to curl up and hide--it takes everything you have to keep your hands on the mirror. You close your eyes and hang your head down towards the floor. You don't know how to feel. You try to focus on the sparks of pleasure his cock brings you.

He stops moving, leaving his cock inside of you. You want to shrink even more. Your fingers tremble against the mirror. Now there's nothing! There's nothing to focus on. Nothing to feel. Nothing to distract you from the hateful voices in your own mind.

"Open your eyes, sweetheart," he says again, but you shake your head. You want to disappear. You want to start over. You wish you were never born.

He pulls out of you and you pull your arms around yourself. You want to run, but you're essentially naked in the middle of a clothing store. Dave's the one who drove you here. There's nowhere to go.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he murmurs. He's at your front now, wrapping you in his arms.

"Nothing," you whisper.

"Look at me," he coos.

You shake your head again.

"Look at me," he says much more sternly. It scares you enough that your eyes burst open. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I don't know," you stutter, because you don't. You don't know what's wrong anymore.

"Yes, you do. You know what's wrong. Tell me what's wrong." And he sounds so certain about it that maybe he's right. Maybe you do know what's wrong.

You close your eyes and think about it. Thinking about what made you stop. "I feel stupid. I feel like a joke."

"Why do you feel like a joke?"

You glance at his face. He doesn't look angered by your answer like you thought he would be. He looks concerned--confused. "I'm so ugly--"

"No," he says with the same certainty as before.

Now you're confused. "But--"

"No," he repeats coolly. "No, you're not. You're beautiful." One large hand rises to cradle your face. He speaks to you so matter-of-factly, with the same certainty as before. You begin to question everything you've ever told yourself. You close your eyes and breathe. When you look at him again, he's calm--patient. No one's ever been so patient with you before. You put your face into his chest and breathe him in, breathe in his cologne and his warmth. He leaves one hand on your cheek and steps back, pointing at the mirror. "Look. Look at how beautiful you are."

You look, but your mind doesn't register that it's you--that it's your own body reflecting back. Breasts pulled out of your bra. Hole ripped in your stockings. You shake your head.

"Why would I lie to you?" he asks with a shrug. There's no pressure to his question. He sounds genuinely curious.

"I--" you don't know how to answer. You're not sure why he would. You don't know what he gets out of all of this. He was so handsome, professional, powerful. There were secrets he kept, but everyone has secrets. And something about it tells you that the secret is definitely not another woman. Unless he has some alternate family somewhere--but you work with him now. You know his business trips are just that--business. You've even bought the plane tickets for him and booked his hotel rooms.

And why would he lie to you? Why would he be so patient and giving of his money and time? Your own parents had never offered so much. They were frustrated when you asked for just ONE new outfit for your new job. And here Dave was buying you an entire wardrobe--and gladly! Maybe it really was affection. Maybe he did have feelings for you. Maybe he did find you beautiful. And maybe it was the truth--maybe you were beautiful.

"I'm beautiful?" you asked, with tears in your eyes and quivering lips. It wasn't registering fully, but the feeling in your gut told you you were getting somewhere better than where you were before.

"You're gorgeous," he shrugged again.

You looked at him with a nervous smile of appreciation. He was so sweet. You'd never met a man so sweet. "Thank you."

"For what?" he smiled, caressing your cheek.

"Everything," you choke out through your tears. But they were happy tears.

"That's what uncles are for, sweetheart," he grinned. "For spoiling their beautiful nieces." He stepped closer to you. "Do you want me to keep spoiling you?" He said low, under his breath. You nodded immediately with an excited smile. He got behind you again. "Brace yourself." He smirked.

You put your hands on the mirror again. And instead of looking at Dave the whole time, you looked into your own eyes as he pounded into you and tapped your clit through the nylon material. 'I'm beautiful. I'm beautiful. I'm beautiful,' you told yourself again and again. It was a blur of pleasure and healing and wholeness. Dave rushed to cover your mouth when you came. You two hadn't been very discreet AT ALL for being in public.

The store associates were charming enough to not say anything when you rang out. It probably helped that Dave was easily spending several grand on your purchase. The woman at the counter gave you a tender, knowing smile as she handed over one of your many bags.

"Let's go out for lunch," Dave said with a proud smile as he grabbed your hand. You agreed, feeling lighter than you had felt in years.

+++++

#dave york x reader #x reader

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mcverse · 2 years ago

Text

✧ Paring: Tsu’tey x Na’vi! F! Reader

✧ Requested: Yes/No

✧ Type: Longfic

✧ Word count: 7.7K

✧ Warnings: Angst, Suppressed feelings, Oblivious reader, insecurities, Slight obvious Tsu’tey at the start, Tsu’tey gaslights just a little bit, Jealous vulnerable Tsu’tey, awkward banter, hurt to comfort I guess?, slow burn

✧ Side Bar: Tsu is so fiiiine. Can you believe I slept on him at first? Crazy, what’s was I thinking?? I ENJOYED THIS SO THANK YOU FOR SENDING IT IN BABE; TOOK 4EVER CUZ ITS LONG — srry im shitty at arguments :( i avoid anything feelings irl

✧ Omnitalk: I know that the Tsahik and the Tsakarem are technically the only healers in the clan, but I just feel like y’know there could be more but they just don’t match that level of greatness. My reasoning: there’s more than one doctor in the world, what if a whole group of warriors got hurt, the Tsahik can’t cater to them all, at least I don’t think so. ANYWAY that concludes my Omnitalk thanks for stopping by

please keep in mind that all characters in my stories are always 18+, and although I can't monitor who reads my work, if you are not 18+ I advise that you do not engage in my page or stories.

Your temper had always been something that you struggled with. Patience wasn't exactly your forte, but you knew how to keep your cool in most situations. You weren't a saint by any means, but it took a lot to push you to the brink of losing control.

Thankfully, you had Eywa to turn to when things got tough. She provided a sense of guidance that helped you stay calm in moments when it would have been easy to let your anger get the best of you. Without her, you knew you would have snapped at him long ago.

Tsu’tey.

His reputation preceded him wherever he went. A true embodiment of the warrior spirit, he exuded strength and bravery with every step he took. During the battle against the sky people, his ferocity in both defense and protection of your people and land was unparalleled. He possessed razor-sharp reflexes and a keen mind, which made him merciless in battle—traits that marked him as a natural-born leader, fit for the title of the Olo'eyktan.

And yet, it seemed that you only experienced the negative aspects of his character. The origins of your rocky relationship with the current Olo'eyktan were fuzzy, but it felt as though your paths crossed every day.

As one of the best healers in the village, it's already challenging enough to do your job with how reckless the warriors were, but with him lurking around was considerable worst. While you respect him and assume the feeling is mutual, tension always seems to arise between the two of you.

You couldn't help but wonder why Tsu'tey always had to be around when warriors were injured. You were more than capable of handling the job on your own—after all, you had been trained by your mother and had been practicing as a healer for as long as you could remember. You could tend to the wounded with your eyes closed.

But for some reason, Tsu'tey always seemed to show up when warriors were injured on his watch, which happened more often than it should. It was confusing because these were skilled warriors who should not have been injured so frequently. You’d think he’d match your concern but Tsu’tey appears unfazed. In fact, he seems content to stand there and watch you work.

That didn’t change the fact that you hated to endure it. Every time Tsu’tey appeared, the air around you seemed to shift, and you could feel his penetrating gaze fixed on you as he stood over your shoulder. Even though you knew iit was possible he was here to ensure you didn't make a mistake, you had never slipped up in your tending to the Na’vi.

You longed for him to give you some space and allow you to breathe. A day without his stupidly handsome face, always twisted into a scowl, would be a blessing. It was suffocating to have him lurking around, making you feel uneasy as you work. Instead of letting it affect your tending to the Na'vi, you let harsh words slithers out of your mouth. They were words that no one would dare to direct to the Olo'eyktan, but they weren’t you.

"Do you not have responsibilities to attend to as Olo’eyktan, Tsu'tey?” you break the silence, keeping your hands steady on the Na'vi in front of you, despite your desire to turn and push Tsu’tey out of your healers hut.

He nods, shifting his gaze from your hands to the side of your face, "Yes. One of my duties is to ensure proper care for our people," he replies matter-of-factly.

You click your tongue, silently apologizing to the Na'vi when you realize you have grazed his wound too harshly. Then you turn your attention back to Tsu'tey, "You keep saying that, but do you not think I am capable of caring for them alone?" you ask, peering at him and study him.

His expression doesn’t change from the scowl but you knew your words had affected him. Over time, he had become easier to read, his emotions slowly surfacing through subtle gestures and expressions. You noticed the way he gulped slowly, his ears flicking downward, and his tail switching off to the opposite side.

Looking up seconds later, your eyes met and you pause, catching a knowing gleam in his gaze that no one else seemed to have noticed but you. Perhaps you had been paying too much attention to him, a realization that he had definitely overstayed his welcome.

A small smile played at the corner of your lips as he responded, already anticipating the snarky comment that would leave his mouth. Despite finding him annoying and wanting him to be around less often, you couldn't deny that there was a certain charm to the unpleasant side of him that showed a few pleasantries you didn't mind all too much.

“You might be a healer now but you’re the same reckless girl from your upbringing.” Tsu’tey averts his eyes to the silent Na’vi, “Can’t even be gentle when it’s needed. Maybe you would be better off among the warriors.” He tilts his head towards you, wearing a barely noticeable smug expression.

You sigh deeply to cover up the slip up on your demeanor and dismissed the Na'vi by patting him on the shoulder, "In three days, come back so I can change it," you instructed him as he nods and left the hut.

After staring at he same space the wounded Na’vi was in, you turned completely to Tsu’tey, who was already looking at you with a concentrated look. He straightens his posture, puff out his chest, and crosses his arms when he notice you looking at him.

“Unless you have more wounded warriors hiding somewhere, I’m kinda busy.” You gesture to the many supplies that you had to clean up, “It’ll be reckless of me to leave it around and cause another accident.” You mock his earlier statement, slightly ticked off that he brought it up in the first place.

Tsu'tey let out a disgruntled humph, his eyes momentarily leaving yours and wandering over your body. You couldn't help but feel self-conscious under his gaze, but as he took in every freckle and pattern, every smooth surface his eyes could reach, you also felt a flutter in your stomach. His gaze flickered hastily back up to yours, and he uncrossed his arms, silently giving you an affirmative nod before turning to leave the hut.

〰〰〰〰〰〰

After that odd encounter, it seemed as if a switch had been flipped in Tsu'tey's demeanor. The once stoic and tense warrior still came to your healer's hut, but now the exchanges between the two of you were different. The words that were once laced with venom and hostility now held a playful tone, something that was unexpected from the serious Na'vi.

In no way were you complaining, it beat his normal uprightness but it was a bit perplexing. Why had Tsu’tey suddenly become so much more relaxed and friendly around you? It made you question his motive, though you knew if he really had one, he’d mostly likely be upfront about it.

That doesn’t mean it still made any sense. You observed that he never acted in such a manner with any other warriors, and you weren’t the only one to notice. The warriors in the same hunting group as him, the same ones who get injured come in and feel uncomfortable yet curious at the different Tsu’tey.

The next time you see him, it was mid-morning when he entered the hut, following one of his men like usual. As soon as he caught sight of you, his ears perked up at the brief smile you sent his way. You quickly averted your gaze to focus on the injured Na’vi in front of you. You let out a sigh of annoyance as you saw it was Kenuk, who had been in your care four times this week, with injuries that hadn't even healed yet.

“Kenuk, how many times do I have to tell you to be careful!?” You scold him as he took his usual seat in the center of the room, Tsu’tey staying off to the side. You turned away from them both to grab some supplies before hurrying back to Kenuk to examine his wound. You couldn’t stop the frown from forming on your face when you saw the large scrape on his side. Though it wasn't deep, the size of the wound was concerning.

You reached for a wet cloth and began to softly clean his wound, but apparently, it was not soft enough, as a groan escaped Kenuk’s lips, followed by a chuckle, “More than I'd like,” he answers truthfully, looking down at you as you worked, “You're not exactly gentle.”

Tsu’tey grunts beside you, “What I say.”, clearly referencing the comment he made two weeks ago. Despite not looking at him, you could feel the smug expression he always wore, and it annoyed you to no end. Both he and Kenuk were getting on your nerves with their accusations of you being rough and insensitive. You knew you were capable of being gentle; you were gentle. Maybe Kenuk was just being overly sensitive. Perhaps he needed to toughen up.

“Prrnen, you’re soft just like one. Sensitive too,” you retorted, deliberately applying a bit more pressure to Kenuk’s wound to make your point. You smiled as he winced and shot you a warning glare. Ignoring him, you set aside the damp cloth and reached for the healing ointment, the one you knew would make him whimper like a baby.

Tsu'tey notices this, drawing in his attention as he raises a brow at your choice. He's not a healer, but he's had his fair share of injuries and he knows that the ointment in your hands stings the most. He was accustomed to the stinging sensation it caused, but not everyone had his high tolerance. Did that comment get to you that much?

Just as you both thought, Kenuk pulls away from you in seconds, trying to get away from your touch. "Shit!" he curses, about to get up when a firm hand grabs his shoulder and forces him to sit back down. It belongs to Tsu'tey, no surprise given he's the only other person in the hut. But it's surprising that he's helping.

"She can't do her job if you move too much." There's a moment of tension between the two Na'vi as they lock eyes, almost as if they were having a silent conversation. Eventually, Kenuk concedes, muttering a begrudging "fine" and shifting his body to give you better access to his wound.

You glance over at Tsu’tey, his tall and imposing figure commanding attention even in the dimly lit hut. "Thank you... Ma Tsu’tey," you say, the words feeling foreign on your tongue. You've shown gratitude to others before, but never directed towards him. You and Tsu’tey have never been nice to each other, at least not until a few weeks ago.

You went back to focus on treating Kenuk's wound, you find your eyes wandering over to Tsu’tey's muscular frame. It's not a habit of yours to be distracted by someone's physique, but there was something about him that drew your attention. You force yourself to look away and focus on the task at hand. "How are you the most wounded warrior in the village, hm?" you ask, trying to distract yourself from your thoughts. "Your health is important, skxawng.

As soon as you ask the question, you expect an immediate response, but instead, an uncomfortable silence lingers, causing you to pause and study his face. His expression is devoid of his usual goofiness, which only increases your concern.

“I asked a question," you convey, brows furrowed in confusion.

He clears his throat and looks away, avoiding your gaze. "The Chief," he murmurs finally. The second the name spills from him, you snap your head at the man in question.

Tsu’tey tenses up under your watchful gaze, feeling a flush of heat and clamminess rise within him. He wants to look away, to avoid the intensity of your stare, but he can't bring himself to do it. It’ll make him look weak, he couldn't afford to look weak, not in front of you. And for some inexplicable reason, he actually craves your attention at the same time, whether under good reason for bad.

“You did this?” You can't believe what you're hearing. The thought that Tsu'tey was responsible for Kenuk's injuries never crossed your mind. On the one hand, it seems improbable that he would do something so reckless, but on the other hand, it fits with the abrasive and confrontational persona that you've come to associate with him.

Tsu’tey lets out a huff of frustration and crosses his arms tightly across his chest, his body language tense and defensive. “They need to learn,” he grumbles, his lips pursed as he takes a moment to consider his words, “If they can’t win against me, how can they survive out there?”

As you process his words, you realize with a sinking feeling that the "they" he's referring to are all the injured warriors who have stumbled into your hut over the past few days. Did Tsu’tey injure all of them? The thought is both impressive and upsetting, and you can't quite decide how to feel about it.

“I didn’t expect that of you,” you say, looking away and continuing to treat Kenuk. You drop the ointment in favor of picking up the leaf wrapping, “Do not worry, Kenuk. You are in great hands. I’ll take care of you anytime.” You give his upper arm a strong squeeze when you finish wrapping.

Unbeknownst to you, Tsu'tey's eyes lingered on the spot where your hand had rested on Kenuk's arm. He knows that this is your duty, one he saw you do plenty of times but that touch felt more intimate than he liked. Though he couldn’t figure out why he didn’t like it, he just felt extremely uncomfortable and irritable having to witness it.

As you exchange words of farewell with Kenuk and turn to put away your supplies, Tsu'tey lingers behind, thoughts swirl with confusion. He can't shake the feeling of unease that has settled over him. He has never felt this way, he never had to. He was confident in everything—teaching, hunting, and battle but this.. this felt different and he doesn't know how to process it. He glance at you one last time before silently exiting your hut too.

You turn back around to get more intel on the injured warriors who come to see you often, but Tsu'tey is not there like he usually is. You wonder where he could have gone, but quickly push the thought out of your mind as you greet another Na’vi walking in.

〰〰〰〰〰〰

Initially, becoming a healer wasn't your dream. Your mother, may she rest in peace, was determined to pass on the family tradition to you. The lessons on herbs and their medicinal uses felt tedious and unexciting to you. You longed to roam beyond the boundaries set by for you, to hunt like the mighty warriors you idolized and fly on the backs of Ikran without a watchful eye.

Perhaps this is why you sometimes struggle to find the gentle touch and calmness required of a healer. But Eywa, the guiding spirit of Pandora', had other plans for you. Even before your birth, she had chosen you for this path. To test your abilities, she presented you with a challenge—a friend in need, requiring your knowledge and care.

Through this test, Eywa showed you your true calling. Despite your initial reluctance, you rose to the challenge and used your skills to help your friend. And from that moment, you knew that you were destined to become a great healer, chosen by the spirit herself.

So you wondered why you she was testing you again. You had already proven your worth as a healer in the village. So why were fewer and fewer warriors seeking your assistance? Had you not fulfilled your duty correctly?

These thoughts plagued your mind as you sat in your hut, surrounded by jars of herbs and vials of medicines. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of self-doubt, wondering if perhaps you had lost your touch.

But it wasn’t adding up the more you thought it over.

You knew that every warrior who came to your hut left with the progress of being healed. You took pride in your work and tried to be as friendly as possible, never having a real disagreement with anyone. So what was the reason to your sudden decline in business? You shake your head, trying to dispel the doubts that had been creeping in. Sitting around in this hut waiting wasn’t going to help you find out faster.

Leaving your hut, you greeted the Na'vi as you walked through the village, heading towards the only place where your business thrived: the training ground. When you arrived, the training wasn't yet finished, so you stood off to the side with a few warriors who were taking a break. You were content to wait, watching as Tsu'tey led the training. This is the first time in a few days since you’ve seen him, admittedly you miss him and the aura he was giving off in the field only fueled that.

In that moment, watching Tsu'tey command the training grounds, you couldn't help but feel drawn to him in a way you never had before. The way he moved, the strength in his stance, the confidence in his voice... it was all so attractive.

You were conflicted because you knew that, in the past, you had found his demeanor aggravating and even off-putting. But here he was, exuding qualities that made your heart race and your stomach flutter. It was unnerving to feel this way, especially towards someone who had never shown you any interest or affection.

You were sure that your slow growing feelings for Tsu’tey were just a momentary lapse in judgment. After all, he was the Olo'eyktan and had important responsibilities to fulfill, which you could never be a part of.

You tried to convince yourself that your attraction to him was just a silly crush that would soon fade away, especially since it was entirely one-sided. It was a well-known fact that Tsu’tey still grieves over his previous love, and you didn't want to add to his emotional burden.

Letting out a deep sigh, you turn and spot a familiar face in the group of Na'vi. It was Kenuk, you must have missed him when you first arrived, as he was standing between two other Na'vi. A smile spreads across your face as you walk over to greet him and the others.

After exchanging pleasantries, you turn to Kenuk, "Mind if we talk?"

He looks at the other two Na'vi beside him before nodding and following you a few feet away, out of earshot. Taking a deep breath, you get straight to the point, "Why haven’t any of our people come to see me lately, do you know the reason?”

Kenuk groans and his ears pull back, anticipating the inevitable conflict. It was no secret that he frequently visited your healer's hut with the future leader of the clan, so he knew he would be caught in the middle of your mess at some point. The problem was that he didn't know what to do. Both Na'vi involved were senior to him, and whatever he said would betray one, if not the other. The weight of his dilemma was evident in his downturned expression and hesitant words.

“…I don’t know.”

Your eyes narrow as you look at Kenuk, his guilty face betraying him. He knows more than he's letting on. You don't tolerate liars and Kenuk's demeanor only confirms your suspicions.

"Are you lying to me, Kenuk?" you ask, your tone firm and unwavering.

Kenuk frowns, his ears twitching at your disappointment, “We were told not to. Uh, not exactly not to but," he trails off, struggling to explain the situation. You wait, your impatience growing by the second. Finally, he blurts out, "The Chief has been saying things."

This information catches you off guard. Why does Tsu'tey have anything to do with this? That doesn't make sense. Weren't you both just getting along? To sabotage your living... that's unforgivable. But you don't want to jump to conclusions; there has to be more.

You're hesitant to ask; this might break your calm streak. You can already feel your body heating up at the possibilities, "What kind of things?"

Kenuk shifts uneasily on his feet, looking as though he'd rather be anywhere else but here. You can practically feel the tension radiating off of him as he reluctantly begins to speak, "There have been some male Na'vi asking about you, I don’t know why. But Chief Tsu'tey," he starts, his eyes darting away from you, "He told them that you're too rough. You're the opposite of gentle, too strong."

A snarl rises up in your throat. It's always about that, isn't it? Why should a healer have to be gentle? You're proud of your strength and resilience, but it seems like others see it as a flaw. You're about to speak up when Kenuk continues, his words making your blood boil even hotter.

"And you're too strong-headed like a flathead ram and have a loose tongue. You act impulsively and fearlessly, without regard for the consequences,” he gulps, looking you in the eyes, “He says you're dangerous and should be avoided. That you'll do more harm than good, opposite of a healer.”

Your vision blurs as your anger finally boils over. You know exactly what he's getting at, bringing up that damn conversation again. The conversation that you thought bad changed everything between you two.

But he was still the same arrogant jerk, and now you were starting to regret your newly developed feelings for him. He didn't deserve that, not with the way he was acting. Who did he think he was?

The fury inside you is building with each step you take towards the training ground. Eywa may have been able to calm you in the past, but this time you're beyond her reach. The storm that is forming inside your head is one that even Eywa can't control. That man, that future Olo'eyktan, he's gone too far this time. His words about you being too strong, too strong-headed, and loose tongued have crossed a line.

As you approach the training ground, you notice that the session has ended and Tsu'tey, alone, was putting away the weapons. Your feet pound against the ground, announcing your presence before you even reach him. Tsu'tey looks up at you with a raised eyebrow, his expression curious but wary.

You stop just a foot away from him and your nostrils flare as you stare him down. You might look incredibly intimidating to you, but to him, you look like a pouty toddler.

"What is your problem?" you spit out the words, your anger palpable. The intensity of your gaze could have burned a hole through him.

Tsu'tey's focus shifts entirely to you, abandoning the weapons he was putting away. He narrows his eyes, “Whats going on?” He was confused by the urgency in your approach, as you seemed to be babbling without actually getting to the point.

"You have a lot of nerve, telling these things about me." you exclaim, your voice trembling staring at the source of your rage, “I expect better of the future clan leader!” Your hands were balled into fists at your sides, your heart pounding wildly in your chest, matching the way you were feeling.

Tsu’tey takes a moment to process your words, his eyes studying you intently. His brilliant mind races against an invisible clock, trying to formulate a solution to the problem he has caused. He didn't think you would find out about his lies, or perhaps he was in denial and not thinking rationally when he spread them.

As he stands before you, he considers apologizing for his mistake. He didn't mean to upset you, and it was never his intention to cause you pain. However, as he looks into your eyes, he remembers how the other warriors asked about you, and the brief moment he shared with Kenuk that he tried to forget.

He came to realize apologizing wasn't an option for him, despite the guilt weighing heavily on his mind. He couldn't bring himself to utter the words because he didn't feel genuine remorse for all of his actions. While he regretted that you had suffered the consequences of his lies, he couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for sabotaging the potential suitors who had shown interest in you. In his eyes, they weren't worthy of you and he couldn't bear the thought of you ending up with someone who didn't deserve your love.

He knew he was being selfish, but he couldn't help the overwhelming new feeling of possessiveness he had over you. Every time he saw someone else try to get close to you, it made his blood boil with jealousy. He knew he couldn't have you for himself, but he couldn't bear the thought of anyone else having you either. So, he used his influence to spread rumors and lies to scare off anyone who tried to pursue you.

Deep down, he knew it was wrong and he hated himself for it, but he came to really enjoy your company and he can’t continue that if you were mated. So, even though he knew he owed you an apology for his behavior, he couldn't bring himself to do it, not without admitting to himself that he was wrong in wanting you all to himself.

Despite the storm of emotions brewing inside him, Tsu’tey chooses to hide them behind a mask of indifference, "They were the truth," he says, though he immediately regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. He knows he should be honest with you, to tell you how he truly feels, but he can't bring himself to do it. "I have a duty," he continues, trying to justify his actions, "I simply directed them to someone better." His feelings for you has grown slowly and unexpectedly, yet he can't bring himself to confess his true feelings to you.

You were taken aback by his words. They hit you like a punch in the gut, leaving you feeling winded and vulnerable. Your mind races, trying to make sense of what he's saying, but his words are like a jumbled mess in your head.

“How could you say that?” Your voice is barely a whisper as you go silent, the realization hitting you hard. This had to be linked to your past somehow. You look back up, your eyes filling with hurt and confusion, “That’s not me anymore. I’m not that reckless girl anymore. I’m capable, just like every healer here.” You try to reason, try to get him to see that you have changed, that you're not the same person he once knew. You thought he saw that you did.

Tsu’tey's face hardens, his eyes flashing with a mix of frustration and resentment, “I did what is best for our people.” Another lie, yet he still couldn't stop.

You feel betrayed as the conversation goes on, your anger rising just as quickly as it came to you in a moment of vulnerability, “What about me?! Did you not even consider what that means for me?” You feel hysterical, like you are imagining all this. You had to be.

Tsu’tey's jaw clenches, straightening his posture as he tilts his head tauntingly at you, “What about you? It’s very selfish of you to not consider your people.” He smacks his tongue on his teeth, “You are everything I said and possibly more. I did what I had to do. If you don’t like it, you’ll have to learn to live with it.”

That was it.

That was your 13th reason last straw.

“I hate you,” You confess coldly, looking him dead in the eyes, “and you're the one causing trouble, Tsu’tey, not me” You turn away slightly, a scowl that could rival his play on your lips and your eyes scanning him in disgust, “You may be the Olo'eyktan, but you don’t deserve it.. nor my respect.” You leave after those words, wanting to get as far away from him as possible, before he breaks your heart even more.

〰〰〰〰〰〰

It has been two long, torturous weeks since the bitter argument that left you feeling raw and vulnerable. The memory of Tsu’tey's harsh words still stings like an open wound, and you find yourself unable to shake off the anger and hurt that consumes you. You refuse to be anywhere near him, knowing that the mere sight of him would trigger a fresh wave of emotions that you are not ready to face.

Despite knowing how ridiculous it is to completely avoid someone in a community as small as yours, you can't bring yourself to do anything else. You spend most of your time cooped up in your healer's hut, only venturing out occasionally to hunt for herbs or attend to few non warrior patients. The thought of bumping into Tsu’tey fills you with dread and you do everything in your power to stay away from him.

You avoid the training ground like a plague, knowing that Tsu’tey is often there, leading the warriors through their daily drills. You know that as a healer, it's your duty to attend to the warriors' injuries and ailments, but you deny yourself that luxury. You can't bear the thought of being in the same space as him, even for a few moments.

But then, Tsu’tey and a small group of warriors leave on a hunting trip, and it feels like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. You can finally breathe again, without the constant fear of running into him. You know it's not a permanent solution, but for now, it's enough. In his absence, you find peace, and you try to focus on your work, hoping that time will heal the wounds that Tsu’tey has left behind.

Within his absence, you discovered yourself being drawn outside more and more often, collecting an assortment of herbs for your medicinal balm while soaking up the natural beauty that surrounded you.

In moments of pure stillness, your mind would occasionally wander back to the conversation with Tsu’tey, but in the midst of this tranquil setting, it all seemed insignificant. It was as if Eywa was leading you towards a celestial epiphany, prompting you to recall the things you had forgotten and encouraging you to generate and safeguard something entirely novel.

Even now with you were so lost in the beauty of the forest, eyes closed and queue connected, that you were completely oblivious to the sound of footsteps approaching from behind. It wasn't until a hand gently touched your shoulder that you jolted in surprise, quickly un-sheathing your weapon and whirling around to confront the intruder.

You raise your brows in shock before quickly lowering your weapon as you recognize Raa'te, one of the warriors who had stayed behind while the others were on the hunting trip. Despite Tsu'tey's words, he has been one of the few warriors who haven't stopped coming to your hut, and you were grateful for his company.

Over the past few weeks, The two of you have been spending more time together lately, and you've come to appreciate his kind and gentle nature. He was a rare and refreshing presence in your life..

"Raa'te, you scared me," you say with a chuckle, shielding your weapon and felt a sense of relief that it's him and not someone else.

He grins mischievously, his hands still raised in a peaceful gesture, "I mean no harm, I promise. I just wanted to see if you wanted to come with me to see the return of the hunting party. The horn has sounded, and they should be back any minute now." He lowers his hands, peering down at you softly.

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to be anywhere near Tsu’tey, but the hopeful expression Raa'te was throwing at you is too much to resist. Signing, you nod your head, "Okay, let's go," you mumble, grabbing your bag of herbs and going towards the village together.

On the way back to the village with Raa’te, the two of you engage in light conversation. He seems genuinely interested in getting to know more about you, and you find yourself opening up to him more and more. It's a refreshing change from the other warriors who often just talk about themselves.

Raa’te even takes the initiative to carry your bag for you, a small act of kindness that doesn't go unnoticed. As you approach the village, you can hear the sound of cheers and excitement in the distance. The hunting party must be returned.

At the front of the hunting party, Tsu'tey stood with his chest puffed out, basking in the cheers and adoration of his people. You couldn't help but feel a pang of disgust in your stomach at his display of arrogance.

It’s frustrating how someone can evoke such strong emotions in you, both positive and negative. You shake your head, trying to push those thoughts away, but your attention is drawn back to him, much to your annoyance. After all he's done, there were plenty of others in the tribe with better potential.

Raa’te was full of surprises today. He leans in close to your ear and whispers, "I could have gone on the hunt, you know?" You turn to him with a curious expression, wondering why he didn't. He smiles at you, thinking you look adorable and then blurts out what's been on his mind lately, "because I'm more interested in you right now."

You felt your cheeks heat up at his boldness, looking down to avoid his gaze. Despite the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, you appreciated his honesty.

You couldn't deny that Raa'te's presence had a certain charm to it, and you found yourself drawn to him in ways that surprised you. His kindness and genuine interest in you were a welcome change from the tension and uncertainty that seemed to permeate every interaction you had with Tsu'tey.

"You're courting me?" The question slips from your lips before you can stop yourself, surprised and a little embarrassed that you hadn't noticed until now. How could you have missed the signs? Raa'te had always been there for you, lending a helping hand and offering thoughtful little gifts that always brought a smile to your face.

Raa'te chuckles at your question, his gaze curious as he looks at you, "You haven't noticed?"

You shake your head, feeling a little ashamed that you hadn't seen his intentions before. "I've been busy with other things," you murmur, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. But the truth was, you had been so wrapped up in Tsu'tey that you hadn't even considered the possibility of being with someone else.

"Like the Chief?" Raa'te asks knowingly, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks more at the mention of Tsu'tey's name.

You snap your head up, your eyes wide with surprise, "How did you—"

"The whole village knows," Raa'te interrupts, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You let out a frustrated groan, dropping your head in embarrassment at the news. It was mortifying, but in hindsight, not entirely unexpected. Anything related to the Chief had a way of spreading like wildfire in the village, so it was only a matter of time before rumors started to circulate. You just didn't think it would happen so quickly.

"I'm sorry, Raa'te. I didn't mean to lead you on," you say, looking back up at him with a heavy sense of guilt. He had been putting in effort, and you hadn't reciprocated at all.

He gives a nonchalant shrug, "It's okay. I just thought I might have a better chance if he was out of the picture. Guess that's not happening," he says, gesturing behind you.

You turn around to see what he's looking at, and your eyes meet Tsu'tey's. The Chief is staring at you with an unreadable expression, and for a moment, you feel a rush of panic. You quickly turn back to Raa'te, hoping that Tsu'tey didn't hear your conversation.

Despite not hearing the conversation, Tsu’tey’s sharp mind allowed him to discern the situation to a certain extent. He had learned from his group of warriors that Raa’te had chosen to remain behind to court you properly, which only stirred up feelings of anger within him. He knew he had no right to feel jealous or resentful towards Raa’te, especially after the way he had mistreated you. He understood that he was no more deserving of you than anyone else in the clan.

Even with this knowledge, Tsu’tey couldn’t shake the terrible feeling he had inside. After the first week of avoiding him, he had plenty of time to reflect on his mistakes and realized that he had made a grave error.

The fact that you were avoiding him hurt him deeply, even though he knew it was justified. However, a nagging voice in his head convinced him that if you were doing it on purpose, he should do the same. He knew it didn’t make sense, but he couldn’t help but feel terrible and foolish for giving in to that temptation.

As he watched you walk away with Raa’te, it felt like you were taking his heart with you. He couldn't believe that he had caused this outcome upon his return. It was cruel, and he knew he deserved it, but at the same time, he didn't feel like he should have to endure it. All he had to do was apologize, but he wondered if it was enough for you to forgive him.

He truly hoped so because the thought of seeing you with someone else was going to drive him up a tree. He regretted not telling you how he truly felt and why he acted the way he did. The fact that he couldn't handle his emotions like he would with an Ikran made him even more frustrated.

As night falls, Tsu’tey finds himself determined to confront the confusing and unsettling situation between him and you. With a sense of unease gnawing at his gut, he makes his way to your home, hoping to get some clarity and put an end to whatever this was.

However, his heart sinks when he finds your hut empty, and he can't help but let his mind wander into dark thoughts and "what ifs." In a last-ditch attempt, he decides to check the healer's hut, where he heaves a sigh of relief at the sight of you shuffling around your medicine.

As the drape of your hut flutters, you stop your work and look towards the entrance, hoping it's someone who won't disrupt your peace. Unfortunately, it's Tsu'tey, his ears flat back and a scowl etched on his face. You immediately regret looking up as you feel a rush of tension in the air.

The expression on his face is still hostile, but there's a hint of vulnerability that you've never seen before. You both stand there in silence, neither of you uttering a word. The atmosphere is so thick you can practically cut it with a knife.

His voice, low yet firm, echoes inside your little hut, "I'm sorry."

Did the Olo'eyktan—no, did Tsu’tey just say "I'm sorry" to you? You wonder if you're starting to hallucinate after seeing him return. You can't remember him ever apologizing before, at least not without a fight.

"Great Mother," you mutter in disbelief, your eyes widening. You struggle to process his words, wondering if this is truly the same Tsu'tey you know. "Who are you and what have you done with our Chief?" you ask, half-jokingly. This behavior is unlike him, leaving you uncertain.

His glare brings you back to reality, silently conveying the seriousness of his words. You take a moment to gather yourself, realizing that this apology is genuine and you must respond accordingly.

“I acknowledge the strength it took for you to admit that you were wrong. Thank you,” you say, your brows furrowing as you glance off to the side. It wasn't exactly what you wanted to say, but you had been mulling over the situation for weeks and decided that being the bigger person was the best course of action.

Tsu'tey notices your hesitation immediately and steps further into the hut, basking in the dim glow of the a flickering flame. Your eyes drift back to him unconsciously, taking in his handsome features - his high cheekbones and chiseled jaw - and you find yourself falling for him all over again.

"But?" he prompts, sensing that there is more to your statement than you are letting on.

You pause, chewing on the inside of your cheek as your eyes flicker between his, which seem more honest and vulnerable than you've ever seen them. What were you going to say? How could you say it? Should you say it?

"Just say it," he urges, his scowl growing deeper. He was growing impatient in a situation that deserved patience. He knew this, but he also knew he didn't want to wait any longer. "Speak your mind freely."

"I thought you said I was too loose-tongued," you state a little too harshly, as the wound was only two weeks old.

Tsu'tey purses his lips, answering without hesitation, "You do. You're not afraid to state your opinion to our people or your Olo'eyktan," he glances downwards at the ground. "I respect it."

You tilt your head in confusion at his statement. Wasn't he the same person who spread rumors about you and drove away your business? It's flattering that he thinks you're not afraid to speak your mind, but it doesn't change the fact that his actions caused you harm.

Curious, you test the waters, "What about me being stubborn?" His eyes flicker up to meet yours and his lips twitch in response,

"You are. You've been avoiding me since the fight. I'll say that's stubborn enough," he admits.

You pout and cross your arms defensively, "With reason!" you retort. After a moment of hesitation, you ask, "What about me not being gentle? You have everyone thinking I'm some woman who knows nothing but toughness."

Finally, a playful smirk spreads across his face, his eyes lighting up. What happened to the Tsu’tey who wanted to take this serious? "That's also true. I meant it when I said you're better off as a warrior... but you're great as a healer too."

There was a heavy moment of silence as you processed his words, your body feeling hot under his intense gaze, but you didn’t look away. You were debating on what to do next, whether to take his words to heart, or forgive him. He sounded sincere enough, but was it enough?

“Why…Why hurt me?” You finally mutter, the question that’s been weighing on your mind for weeks. It was the one that you desperately didn’t want to share, the one that would show so much vulnerability that you didn’t know if you wanted to give that to him yet.

But Tsu'tey understood the weight of your question, his smirk fading as he grew serious. serious. A few seconds passed before he sighed heavily through his nostrils, “I wasn’t myself.” He confess, continuing as he caught your look of confusion, “My pride and foolish jealousy blinded me. I failed to see that my actions were hurting you, and that was the last thing I wanted.”

You do a double take as he continues speaking, his vulnerability at its highest peak, “I was a skxqwng for letting myself become clouded with such feelings but I didn’t know how to deal with them.”

“What are you trying to say, Tsu’tey?” You ask, holding your breath as his expression grows softer by the second. It's a side of him you've never seen before, and you don't think anyone else has either. But it has your heart threatening to jump out of your chest and your stomach doing silly flips.

“I’m saying… Oel ngati kameie, [Name].” He walks closer, stopping in front of you. He raises his hand to your cheek, which you lean into as you stare at him in disbelief. All the anger you felt has vaporized like it was never there because all you can see is Tsu’tey looking at you like your the most treasured thing in the world, “If you’ll have me, I will make my wrongs right.”

You take a deep breath and close your eyes for a moment, trying to ground yourself. It feels like a dream, but the warmth of Tsu’tey’s touch on your face is real. You open your eyes again, looking up at him, “Oel ngati kameie, Tsu’tey.” You whisper breathlessly, feeling the weight of the moment.

Tsu’tey’s eyes light up at your words, a wide smile spreading across his face as he brings his other hand up to cup your cheek. He looks at you so happily that the sun would be envious of his light. You realize that you really like this version of Tsu'tey and want to see more of it.

He looks down at your lips, and you can feel your own breath hitching in your throat, “Can I kiss you, Yawne?” He mumble, looking back back in your eyes.

You don’t even need to think about it – the answer is a resounding yes. You want to feel his lips on yours, to hold him closer, to lose yourself in the moment.

Without answering, you grab him by the shoulders and pull him towards you, pressing your lips to his in a fervent, passionate kiss. The space between you feels too great, and you crave the feeling of his body against yours.

It was in this moment that you realized how thankful you were for all the ups and downs that had led you here. The moments where you had lost your cool, the times when you had been too stubborn to see the truth, and the moments of sheer frustration had all been worth it. Without them, you wouldn't be here, in Tsu'tey's arms, feeling like you had finally found your home.

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hillbillyoracle · 1 year ago

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Androgynous/Masc Leaning Capsule Wardrobe Ideas

In honor of International Nonbinary People’s Day, I offer you the clothing advice I wish I had like 15 years ago. I prefer a small well curated wardrobe but it is so tough to pull that off as a nonbinary genderfluid person. I spent years struggling to make my capsule wardrobe work for me. Every example I saw was either with feminine clothes or with the world blandest men’s clothing.

For reference, I’m AFAB and live in Kentucky - very hot and muggy in summers, can get quite cold (-20 F) in winter but it’s usually mild with highs are in the 30F-40F range most days. This is the advice I’d give my younger self if I could.

Focus on 10-15 Core Items

While I am fluid, I consistently spend most of my time “inbetween” these days. Having a neutral to masc learning main wardrobe with some feminine items to mix in wound up working best for me. So here’s the masc leaning base wardrobe I recommend.

~3 x Button Ups - I went with short sleeve Hawaiian shirts for myself because I love bold patterns. You can find a lot of Hawaiian shirt these days that don’t have stereotypical “island” patterns on them while still being pretty light and breathable in summer. If your style leans more classic, consider oxford cloth button ups. You might need more button ups if you work in a business casual setting.

~3 x Tees - I like graphic tees, specifically hand screen printed ones so that’s what I go with. But if your style is more classic then consider investing in some good quality solid color tees.

~3 x Casual Tops - for me this is a tank top, turtleneck, and a Henley. But you might consider a collarless button ups, plain long sleeve shirts, and ringer style long sleeve shirts.

~3 Pants - for me, I have black and stone washed denim since those are my favorites. I look for tapered fits over skinny or boot leg where I can. I have one pair that’s a jogger style I quite like. You might look for chinos or khakis if you have a more formal dress code at work but they’ll still work with graphic tees and other tops if you style them right.

~3 x Layers - for me this is a cardigan, a flannel, and a hoodie. You might consider v neck or crew neck sweaters, cable knit sweaters, and fair isle sweaters as well.

Feminine Clothing Module

What’s nice about this approach is that you can then create a feminine clothing module that plays nicely with your main wardrobe.

For me this looks like

1-2 Dresses - I have a maxi tee dress and a long sleeved linen dress since that works more for everyday wear for me.

1-2 Skirts - I don’t have any presently but the next big feminine swing I have I’ll be ordering a nice linen skirt in my favorite color.

1-2 Casual Tops - I don’t have any presently after my last big wardrobe edit but business casual shell tops, camisoles, and cowl neck tops work well here.

1-2 Layers - I have a linen blazer in a women’s cut and a long striped duster. You might consider a kimono style shrug/wraps, sweaters in a more feminine cut, and women’s cardigans

You don’t need a lot here because so much of the main wardrobe can be mixed with a feminine element or two and it becomes much more feminine - especially if you’re AFAB but even if you’re AMAB. It doesn’t take a lot a feminine clothing to make an over all outfit look more feminine and subtle touches work just as well as more overt styles ime.

Sizing

Sizing is tricky as hell. I’m plus size (size 18-20 in women’s pants) and especially trying to find masculine stuff with the right fit is a pain. I really recommend going in to try things on if you’re able but if not get comfortable with the idea you will likely need to send things back. Yes you can take measurements but those measurements are still listed with different proportions in mind.

For men’s clothes I lean toward a slightly oversized fit - as most men I’m around do. For women’s clothes, I lean toward a slightly tight fit - as most women I’m around do. Look at the people around you and see which fits they lean toward and opt for that where you’re able to for yourself.

Shoes, Outwear, Special Occasions

Shoes - I tend to opt to go neutral in my shoes and outerwear. Not in color or pattern mind you but gender. For shoes, I currently have 3 pairs - a pair of crocs (with spikes), running shoes/sneakers (old Champion brand slip ons), and a pair of Doc Martens. These are good options if you’re AMAB too because the sizing is unisex or available in similar styles for men and women. Other good options are Vans, Chucks, any hippie sandal brand you can think of. “Nicer” shoes are great but often pretty gendered. I lean toward getting “nicer shoes” that are opposite my assigned gender when I do grab them.

Outerwear - I also tend to opt for gender neutral options for outerwear too. Since it doesn’t get terribly cold here, I stick to a micropuff jacket from North Face and layer a black denim jacket over it when it gets cold. When I wear it with masc stuff, blends in. When I wear it with feminine stuff, it adds a slight edge I like. Pea coats are decent options as well. If you live some place real cold, a lot of the long winter coats are basically the same between genders, just different fits.

Special Occasions - I would recommend not worrying about special occasions until or unless they come up. I have the same two “special occasion” dresses that I’ve been using for years because they come up so rarely and I can’t bare to spend too much money on something I’ll wear maybe once or twice a year. Formal wear is highly gendered and if you learn androgynous it’s a tough needle to thread. For those events with hosts you know, it’s worth reaching out to them to see what they think makes an outfit “formal” - could be nicer cuts or materials, could be rigid gender norms - can’t know until you ask.

For most special occasions, I do not know the host, so I default very structured looks in accordance with my assigned gender. Still feels a bit edgy but no ones gonna have the guts to say it’s wrong. For AMAB folks you might do the inverse, more flowy looks and colors while still adhering to your assigned gender. All depends on the level of familiarity you have with the hosts and the flack you’re willing to catch.

Outfits

Some masc leaning outfit ideas:

button up, hoodie, pants, boots

graphic tee, flannel or cardigan, pants, sneakers

turtleneck, pants, boat shoes

button up, tie, cardigan, pants, chelsea boots

Some fem leaning outfit ideas:

button up, cardigan, skirt, sneakers

shell top, wrap, pants, sandals

graphic tee, skirt, sneakers

dress, sandals

Conclusion

Hope this was helpful to someone out there!

#nonbinary #androgynous #nonbinary fashion #international nonbinary people's day #genderfluid #genderfluid fashion

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futurecorps3 · 1 year ago

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Hey ! I was wondering if you could do something with Remus and it’s a reader that’s not curvy at all like small everything. If not it’s totally ok ! P.S I really love your work ! Have a great day/night !

𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐲!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Masterlist<3

MINORS STAY AWAY I'LL BLOCK EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU, THIS IS +18!!!

See also… All marauders versions in my marauders masterlist<3

Thank you so much nonnie! Make sure to take care of yourself<3 have a nice day/night too. Hope u like this:)

-Remus is not one to look at bodies and judge or make determinations based on that. He loves you and you love him, that's it.

-Gender and beauty standards are made up and fed to us to make us feel bad about ourselves, so fuck that shit!!!!!!

-MY BROTHER IN CHRIST THE WORSHIPPING.

-He doesn't even do it consciously, he loves your body that much is all

-"You're gorgeous, bug" and trails your body with his hands while looking at you lovingly ugh <3

-Adores you in his sweaters as well

-Girls look better in real tight sweaters no matter the size of their boobs!!!

-Sleeps on your chest under his sweaters, yes. Yes, for comfort.

-He loves how you look in his Bowie shirts because they're loose enough on the chest area but not enough that he can't see how your nipples perk all cute n shy<3333

-SUCKS YOUR BOOBS HELLO????????

-Saliva strings from his lips all the way to your tits, you swear you haven't seen a prettier thing in your time alive

-Loves kneading your ass when you cuddle or make out<3

-Nicknames related to beauty. It helps when you call him "pretty boy" or "handsome"

-So he figures they help you too when you struggle a bit with confidence!:)

-"Morning beautiful", "Need help pretty?", "Let me get that for you gorgeous." ALL IN THAT THICK WELSH ACCENT IM GOING TO FAINT.

-Ofc if it makes you feel patronized in any way, he'd stop, but if you like them boy oh boy

-He showers you in them.

-If someone from this trio knows how cruel people can be is him

-Won't stand up for anyone's shit if they comment something on how he "could do better" or sorts

-Will and has walked up to the person talking shit and confront them. "Seems like you have lots of shit to say, huh? Go on, m'here now"

-Makes them apologize to you directly, rather aggressively

-He thinks people who talk crap about other people's bodies are the absolute scum of this Earth, so you can imagine how he gets when it's his girl they're talking about.

-Remus knows how it feels to be ashamed of something that you can't change and how people make you believe there's inherently something wrong with you

-Both of you are so very supportive of each other in terms of body insecurity (in other aspects as well ofc)

-You help each other heal and understand that you've never seen someone as pretty as the other. You don't need to fit a preconceived idea of beauty. You're gorgeous.<3

#remus x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin headcanon #remus lupin hc #remus lupin smut #remus lupin fluff #remus fluff #remus lupin x reader #maraurders #the marauders era #marauders era #the marauders #harry potter marauders #marauders x reader #marauders smut #marauders #remus lupin #remus lupin x you

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v3nusxsky · 1 year ago

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Hiiiiiiiii !!! First hello glad your reading this, wanted to say, you write absolutely amazing! Love it.

This is a request, hope your interested.

Can you write Chubby Reader x Larissa. Where Reader and Larissa are married and by Larissa efforts ( unprotected shape-shifted sex ) reader gets pregnant. While there’s a parents meeting in the school, (students knows that pregnant Reader & Larissa are married with a baby on there way, parents don’t know.) a single student’s father begins to flirt and try to seduce a 6 month pregnant Reader thinking she’s single. Larissa turns passive aggressive and manages to run the single father away, and showing everyone who Reader belongs too by wrapping a hand around Reader’s swollen middle and resting a hand on Reader beautiful baby bump. In the night in the privacy of their bedroom, Larissa shape-shifted cock pounds Reader’s needy wet cunt, to show her who she belongs to, while gently grasping Reader’s baby bump on her hands and moaning about how gorgeous reader is by being pregnant with her child and how she will keep reader always pregnant. (Can you put Heavy breeding kink, mommy kink, doggy position, cock warming.)

Bump 18+

*Authors note~ i couldn’t seem to fit cock warming in their im sorry! This is one of my favourite tropes though I had a blas writting it*

Trigger warnings~ heavy breeding kink, mommy kink dom l sub r pregnant r shifted dick praise kink worship? Oc jake mentioned

Prompt~see ask^^^^

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Marrying Larissa Weems is nothing short of a dream come true, but carrying her child? Out of this world. By the gift Larissa was bestowed with you were blessed with a beautiful baby girl that you we're currently six months pregnant with. Your little Arwen Saige would be here soon, the students of Nevermore were all buzzing at the prospect of a new arrival, they even went as far to throw a little baby shower last weekend. It was adorable and such a surprise for you and Larissa. You'd have to remember to thank Enid for that day.

This weekend was parent's weekend so you made sure to adorn a lose fitting dress to conceal your beautiful bump just enough to make it slightly less noticeable to the parents. It went smoothly at the start, parents weren't really taking much notice of the potions teacher, Larissa did her speech before settling down at the table with you and some students who's parents didn't come to see them. It was sad but some of the students had been at this very same table since their first year and had got use to the disappointment but some were new and fresh faced, and struggling to understand what was happening now. The look of abandonment fresh in their eyes alongside poorly hidden tears.

When it came to mingling you were immediately caught in a conversation with Jakes dad about how his grades were poor. Truly he should be doing better than he was but he was a very complicated young man and you knew his mental health was struggling. He mentioned the recent death of his late wife and how Jake needed a mother figure. Jake did nothing but rave about you and apparently that made you a prime candidate.

Larissa couldn't help herself, she noted the way he looked at you. Her wife. Like you were free and claimable, you were not. You are hers. She immediately came to stand behind you and place her hands on your baby bump, moving the clothing to show the bump more defined. A simple kiss to your cheek, and a gentle rub to the bump as Arwen kicked her other mothers hand. With a sickly sweet smile, Larissa managed to tear you away from his preying eyes, guiding you away with her hands on your bump showing everyone who's you both were.

The rest of the day went smoothly, you sticking with Larissa as she placed her hand on your stomach whenever she could, a soothing measure. As soon as you both retired to your bedroom Larissa was on you instantly, her lips making home on your neck and leaving purple blemishes in their wake. "Ris" you whined tilting your head back to give her more skin to work on. You're pregnancy hormones had been wild recently, alongside cravings. But this, the need to be taken by her over and over again. An insatiable desire for her to help you. "Ris please please I need you" you whimpered with need as you moved her hand off the bump and to your needy core as best as as you could do. "Okay darling, I know love. Mommy's gonna fix it baby, gonna stuff your needy cunt with cum until it can't hold anymore" she purred while shifting her anatomy.

"Mommy" you mewled feeling it pressing into your body as she tore through the clothing creating a barrier between both of you. That was how you found yourself on your back Larissa mercilessly pounding into your absolutely soaked cunt walls. One hand on the mattress to hold herself up while the other hand caressed where Arwen laid. Her mouth working on showering your swelling breasts with love and attention, taking extra care as you were feeling sensitive these days. "Mommy! God mommy I god fuck" you whimpered as the head of her dick bumped against your cervix repeatedly.

"God, the way you're gripping me darling, can't wait to fill you up with my cum. You're so beautiful like this. All round and full of our child. Gonna stuff you full with my cum. You're always gonna feel me inside you baby. Gonna keep you pregnant with my children forever. God these breasts, the way they got bigger as you prep for our Awren" she panted and moaned with the labour of her thrusts. With your heightened sensations due to your hormones, it wouldn't take much more to having the coil snapping and throwing you into pools of ecstasy. The same process happened time and time again in different positions, Larissa’s favourite was you on your hands and knees as she supported your bump.

You came with her hand caressing your stomach as your fluttering walls clamped down around her shaft which triggered her own climax. Larissa's warm white spurts of cum painting your walls white. One thing pregnancy had done for you meant your orgasms were that much more overwhelming now but also you became sensitive quicker. "Mommy, no more please no more" you whined causing Larissa to hush you as she worked you both down and cleaned you both up. Truthfully she could've gone round after round with you but not wanting to hurt you or Arwen she happily settled between your legs to place sweet little kisses on your bump. "Hi baby girl, mommy loves you wen wen, so so much. You're gonna be the most beautiful baby every darling, gonna take after your momma."

Arwen choose that moment to kick you stomach, where Larissa's lips had just pressed. "Oh you cheeky little monkey. "We love you so much Wen now you be a good girl and not keep momma up tonight my darling" she murmured before she gave your daughter one more kiss goodnight. "Ris?" You whimpered, "I uh um I'm craving orange sorbet." Larissa chuckled and moved to grab a cover, "right away my queen, we must give our princess what she requires."

Word count~ 1205

#anon answered #v3nusxsky answers #fanfic #anon requested #principal larissa weems x reader #principal larissa weems #larissa x you #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader #larissa weems smut #principal weems #weems #weems x reader

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ntll · 1 day ago

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On the one hand I’m happier than I’ve ever been. On the other hand I really struggle when my life is like 80% good because I focus so intently on the unattainable. When I was 18-19 this happened too. My life was soooo good, so much better than it has ever been and so I spiraled about the things I couldn’t fix. When I’m miserable I just don’t think about those things bc all I can do is focus on the minute im in.

Idk. Im trying to just keep moving through it. Walking a lot. Im thinking I might get a bike soon? Idk I’ve been putting off getting one for like a year because I fear I won’t be able to rise one/im not fit enough to ride one. But im doing 15k steps regularly without any soreness or being overly tired at the end of the day so I should be fine right??? Idk. ��

#anyway something changed when I was sleeping in my car for that little while #I used to be sooooo hyper vigilant #I wouldn’t even use both headphones during broad day light on main roads 😩#and now I’m #going for walks at night hood up both headphones in walking past constrction sites zero situational awareness #such a peaceful way to live actually. if I die I die #jk it would be horrible but. can’t be living with that in mind 24/7 #if I get a bike it’ll be wheels only after dark tho

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arcielee · 1 year ago

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Farewell Wanderlust

Warnings: As always, MDNI, 18+ SA mentioned in passing/implied, abuse implied, death mentioned in passing, sexual inexperience, prostitution, oral (f receiving), p in v. Pairing: Osferth x OFC Word Count: 5075 Summary: Torn from her home country, Keavy finds herself trying to survive across the Irish sea. She happens across Uhtred and his motley crew, and finds herself befriending a monk who is determined to become a warrior. Author’s Note: Still very much a hybrid of the show and the books, with me adding flare as needed to fit the narrative. We have 2 more chapters to go! Anyway, enjoy. 💜 Thank you @annikin-im-panicin for being my beta reader and my muse! 💜 Please let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist! Dividers are by @saradika Taglist (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @sylas-the-grim @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @tssf-imagines @triscy @assortedseaglass @whoknows333 @shesjustanothergeek @heavenly1927 @greenowlfactif @larlarle @babyblue711 @fangirlninja67 @tinykryptonitewerewolf @lauftivy @vintageypanwitch @heimtathurs (Bold means it would not allow me to tag you!)

Chapter 5

Keavy did her best to keep busy, as her mind now seemed plagued to relive that failed intimate moment with Osferth before he had left for Beamfleot.

She thought of the warmth that bloomed from him that evening in the barracks, and how it prickled beneath her palms while her hands skimmed across his scalp. Her eyes appreciated the sharp angles of his face, admiring his defined jawline, his pointed profile of his nose to the natural curl of his pink lips. She noticed how his eyes were clenched, his knuckles white with the hold on his lap, and she allowed her fingers to skirt his jaw, cupping his face; only then did he open his eyes to look at her.

Keavy remembered the plume of crimson that washed over his cheeks as he lifted his hand to cover her own, and he turned his face to press the mouth she was just admiring against her palm, his lips soft. It was cold with his release and her arms fell boneless to her sides, watching as he stood up and pressing closer towards her.

She struggled to breath as his large palms moved to rest on her hips, and she was certain she was vibrating with the way her heart fluttered within, but Osferth did not seem to notice. Instead, he just asked her, “May I kiss you?”

It had to be her curse, her misfortune, that the damn Irishman chose that moment to barge through the door without thought, wearing a knowing smirk that played underneath his beard when he saw how they recoiled from one another. After Finan left them, she watched Osferth grab for his scabbard and she felt desperate for his touch, to kiss him, the tingle of his lips on her palm thrumming with the thought to capture his mouth with her own.

Somewhat emboldened, she had reached for him but only managed to catch his sleeve. She balked under his brilliant blue eyes and could only manage to say, “Return to me, Osferth.”

And she could feel the blood rush to her face from the small smile he hinted, from how careful he was to take her hand and the touch of his soft lips to her knuckles, with a gentleness that caused her heart to bruise against her chest bone.

I will, Keavy. I promise.

It was the echo of his words that fed a passion that fermented within her; she wished she would have kissed him and that intrusive thought repeated itself, filling the quiet. So Keavy was determined to stay busy, attentive to Gisela, to the children, to any task needed to be done as she waited for Osferth and the others to return.

“Regret is a useless, poisonous emotion,” Gisela had warned her but with her honeyed tone.

Keavy found there was only so much that could be done in a day before the quiet would come, accompanying the orange and purple hues of dusk, bringing along an unease that settled over like a heavy fog.

That evening, after the children were already abed, Keavy seated with Hild and Gisela at the table for a shared supper with a second round of the bitter ale; it was to help the time pass, but mostly she swirled the last bit at the bottom without taking a sip.

Gisela was mending a tunic, her focus on her stitching. “They will come back.” She did not look up from her hands but her voice was soothing, like she was stating a fact. “Uhtred always comes back,” and only then did she peer up at Keavy, wearing her sly smile. “Besides, did not Osferth promise he would return?”

Keavy burned with the direct question, her focus on the wood grain table as she ignored the soft laughter that fluttered between them. It was then that the door of the great hall creaked open, and the head of Edwin bobbed in excitedly. “Lady, they returned!”

The return of the Lord of Coccham reawakened the village with a roar of celebration. Bundles of sticks were brought and bonfires lit, creating pillars of warmth that spread throughout the growing night’s cool air. The doors to the hall were propped open, with the music of a lute, a vielle, and shawm reverberating throughout. The table was filled with cold cuts, cheeses, fruits, and mugs were passed around, the same bitter ale served for all in attendance; it was easy to be swept away, but Keavy pushed through with a determination to her steps.

She spotted Uhtred seated with Gisela pulled onto his lap; she glowed with laughter, with her felicity that her husband was back, and he seemed happy, mostly, but sorrow was pendent amongst the warriors returned. Keavy noted missing faces, Rypere and Clapa, unmistakingly gone, and soon there were toasts to confirm, cheers for those who were lost and now in Valhalla.

Keavy fell back against a wall, allowing her eyes to sweep over the faces in search of one in particular. It was Finan who brought her attention, with his loud bellow to cheer the champion of Beamfleot, and that is when she saw him.

Osferth cut through the crowd, a beacon with his broad smile that lined his cheeks with his dimples, the bloom of red blotches that peeked through his pale complexion. His eyes met with hers and she saw the crinkle that framed the corners before he broke away, weaving through the crowd and reaching for her hand.

Keavy took it, as she understood she always would for as long as it was offered. She followed as he pushed through, pulling her out front and away from the noise; the festivities seemed muted within the hall, though the music still spilled through the open doors and dissipated into the night.

They walked towards one of the bonfires and he stopped to face her, a golden hue of color from the flames that washed over him, giving him an almost kingly glow.

And Keavy felt the same desire bloom in her lower abdomen, the flutter of her heart with the realization that he was now close enough to touch, to reach for him, to press onto her tiptoes and press her lips against his own.

“You came back,” she said instead, burning from her intrusive thoughts. She could not stop her smile, so bold that she felt the ache of her scar with the gesture.

“I told you I would,” his tone was solemn, but she saw how his lips curled upwards with his words. Osferth exhaled and then reached to pull something from his waist, a large blade with a handle of leather bindings about the width of a wrist.

Her stomach lurched with recognition and her eyes met with his, wide and searching. “He is dead?” her voice was almost too quiet to be heard.

But he always seemed to be listening. “I killed Sigefriend, “ he confirmed as he placed it in her outstretched hands. “This is for you.”

The steel was cool against her palm and the blood sticky around the base, but she recognized it all the same, even without the detailed scabbard Sigefrid had worn over it. Its weight was an anchor, rooting her to the spot as she processed his words.

That Osferth had killed Sigefrid, how he brought her the blade of the man who once tormented her, and with it so much more.

It was another moment that passed before the men called out for Osferth, their blotto cryouts echoing into the night and beckoning him to come back. Keavy watched Osferth and how he brightened with the newfound comradery that battle always seemed to bring.

He looked back at her, almost pained to stay. She knew this was the acceptance he craved, his place knitted amongst Uhtred and his men; as much as she wished to reach for him, to press against his chest and capture his mouth, she instead softened her smile. “Go,” she encouraged. “Enjoy your night, champion of Beamfleot.”

There was a flush of color to his features, or perhaps it was the warm tones of the fire they stood by. Osferth bowed his head and left her poised, her hands sticky with the blood stained leather she gripped before she finally returned to her room.

Only when she was behind the closed door did she allow her tears to freely flow, an overwhelming relief to know Osferth was safe, that Sigefrid was dead, but an ache that still seemed to haunt her.

She looked down at the dagger that was no longer attached to that Dane, as he was no longer alive in this world. Keavy had sought Osferth for a kiss and instead, whether intentional or not, he had given her control of her life, of her destiny once again.

With this gift, Osferth showed that blood of a warrior that was interwoven with the royal ichor in his veins and Keavy thought to the last night with her maim, her last words spoken–you are far too pretty to survive across the sea, and it seemed that curse followed across the Irish sea with her.

She knew, in time, that Osferth would find a beautiful woman better suited for the status he was creating. Nonetheless, she swore her devotion to him, in whatever capacity that he would have her; Keavy knew she would be content to be a part of it, all the same.

+ + + +

Love is a powerful thing, the priest Pyrlig once said.

For Keavy, the emotion was cradled next to the vengeance rekindled by the gift of the blade Osferth brought her. She awoke early the next day and found Hild, determined to prepare as a warrior; the nun said nothing, but accompanied her to the blacksmith where she requested the steel to be forged into a seax.

They returned to find the chainmail that Hild gifted her and she smiled when she saw Keavy with it on. “You are a bit taller than me. It suits you better,” and Gisela agreed.

Stiorra watched them, her eyes wide with the sight before she announced that when she was grown, that she would also become a warrior. Gisela picked her up with a kiss to her cheek. “You have time to train until then, little one.”

And so with her secondhand armor, her seax and dagger, Keavy would accompany Uhtred and his men when they traveled the shores of the Temes, clearing out Danes and slavers. She was quick with her smaller blades and always welcomed any tidbits offered from Finan or Sihtric; she also enjoyed the intimacies she would share with Osferth, from how he rode alongside with her, to how they would stay up late around the fire.

When they were called to action, to fight, she found a sense of satisfaction with the bloodshed, with how it would soak into the earth while one miserable soul was chosen to return with a heeded warning.

Uhtred towered over, the tip of Serpent-Breath pressing into the throat of the chosen survivor. “You will go back to your rats’ nest and tell anyone who cares to listen,'' his tone would warn, “beyond Lunden the River Temes belongs to King Alfred and it is guarded by Uhtred of Bebbanburg.”

For the longer campaigns, Keavy would remain in Coccham. Time seemed stagnant, the only hint of its passing was the change in the weather, from the summer rains to the large autumn leaves that blanketed the ground, and always a crisp chill that perpetually hung in the night’s air.

Life would always bloom with their return, whether for a day, a month, or longer, and Keavy cherished the time she was allowed with Osferth. He would return unannounced, a welcomed shadow as he watched over her care of the children.

He would step in to help with their studies, as Oswald developed a passion for the written word and Osferth hummed his pride. “A scholar at heart,” he said, tapping him on his nose and the boy blushed, giggling.

“What will Uhtred say,” Keavy was smiling as she braided back Stiorra’s hair–the girl no longer had the taste of patience for flowers to be woven, adamant that a warrior would not have the time. “What will he think when he finds out that his only son wishes to learn and his only daughter has a growing bloodlust?”

“I will remind him that knowledge is a weapon as well,” and there was a dust of pink across his cheeks with his returned smile, “and that I will do my diligence so his children are formidably armed.”

Keavy admired how the years matured Osferth, how his face had leaned and his sharp features hardened, but that same kindness complemented the cerulean blue of his eyes still. He was lean, but his shoulders broadened and were toned from his years of wielding a sword; he’d grown apt behind the blade in a way that Uhtred boasted.

Always unchanging was the comfort she felt within his proximity, and how she remained ever-present whenever he was in Coccham. She was elated with their return in time for the blōt month celebration; cattle were slaughtered and there was ale by the tun so no tankard was ever empty, while the instruments were freshly strung and ballads twanged into the night, accompanied with heorisms regaled both bold and loud.

Keavy found her way to his side, as she always had, and he seemed anxious to pull her away, off into the night, by a fire as if they were back on the shores of the Temes. The glow of the flames caused shadows to dance across his features, his same severity with his furrowed brow.

Her own quirked with his demeanor. “What’s the matter, Osferth?”

“What am I to you?” His voice was soft with his question.

It was unexpected and she felt her cheeks burned, watching him carefully before she realized the quiet beneath the stars and the roared celebration that spilled from the great hall. “What am I to you, Keavy?” he repeated, his arms folding behind and resting on his lower back.

It was a moment before she could find the words. “You are everything to me, Osferth,” she began, truthfully, as her tongue unstuck from the roof of her mouth. She willed herself to close the space between them, but found she was rooted to the earth. “You awoke a warrior within me that I was not sure even existed, and allowed me to take control of my life, my destiny,” her eyes finally looked to him and his lips drew into a thin line, “I owe you everything and even then it cannot compare to what you have given me.”

Osferth looked away, unaware of how her hand fell to the hilt of her seax when she finished. He was quiet and she then stepped forward, pressing to the balls of her feet and pressing her lips to his cheek. He turned to look as she pulled back, the ghost of a kiss across his lips.

Keavy paused a moment, her hand still resting on his chest and her tongue wet her lips to taste him, before she pulled away. She meant to return to the barracks, but instead her feet pulled her outside the gates and towards the docks.

Only then could she finally breathe, and her exaggerated exhale caught the attention of a familiar shadowed embrace: Uhtred standing behind Gisela, his arms wrapped around her growing belly. Even though it was early in the pregnancy, Gisela told her she was confident it was another boy.

She faltered, deciding to leave and allow them their privacy when she heard Uhtred call to her. “Keavy!” And she shyly made her way forward, grateful how the night hid the warmth she felt in her cheeks.

“You are hiding from someone,” Gisela smiled with her words.

“I am,” she admitted.

Gisela looked to her husband and they both turned to face her, allowing the light of the stars and the moon to highlight them. “And who might be bothering you?”

“No one, lady,” Keavy was quick to correct, then paused before she added, “I feel I am the one who is bothering him.”

Her smirk remained. “Well, then, who is it you are bothering?”

“Osferth, lady.”

And there was a look that was shared between husband and wife, something Keavy was both aware and unaware with their silent exchange. Gisela pressed a kiss to the underside of Uhtred’s jaw and she smiled as she whispered in his ear.

“Keavy,” Uhtred exhaled. “You could not bother him, as the man is hopelessly smitten with you.”

The warmth in her cheeks now burned. “Lord?”

“Osferth,” he clarified and Keavy looked to see how Gisela smiled at her, the mixture of her excitement and her smugness. “He is besotted with you, Keavy, and has been for years. You should go to him, as I fear he will never make the first move.”

His words echoed in her head and she looked again to Gisela. “I told you, fate has brought you here for a reason,” she reminded Keavy. “But you must allow yourself a chance.”

And with those words, she rushed back.

+ + + +

For Osferth, it began with the constant jesting from Finan and Sihtric, how they teased him about what they said was only an infatuation, but he knew otherwise. He agreed with the priest, that love was a powerful thing but it was also maddening.

In truth, he was unsure how to approach the subject, to recreate that moment spoiled, and instead swore a silent devotion with its partnered torment. Osferth could not help but adore Keavy, with the wit she carried and her smile that remained with him when he was away from Coccham. Though he did not care for the risk, he respected her natural tenacity with her smaller blades, and a warmth curled in his chest when she showed him the seax crafted.

“I carry it with me, always,” she had told him.

When she joined them, he made sure to keep at her side. When he paced his horse with her own, he would remember how well she had fit in front of him, his cheeks burning with their conversations; Keavy would give updates of Oswald, how the boy asked for him, how Stiorra been given a wooden sword and sulked because she wished for steel.

At night when they camped and the men curled around the fire for whatever warmth they could get, it was Keavy and Osferth who were the last to fall asleep with their soft murmuring that fluttered between them. With the autumn months, there was a beginning frost that covered the ground and with it a threat of snowfall that hovered heavy, chilling in the air. But for Osferth, it was excuse enough.

“If it is too cold…” and he balked for his words, watching the smile that curled on her face.

“May I move closer to you, Osferth?” she finished for him and he nodded mutely as she moved her mat and furs, cuddling close to him in a way that almost felt sinful. She nestled against his chest, an enveloped warmth, and his heart beat until his bones rattled, but soon her soft breathing lulled him to sleep.

When morning came, he woke with a shadow that spread over and saw how Sihtric watched, his bicolor gaze steady and his brow lifted. Osferth appreciated the Dane’s discretion, a silence as they broke down the camp and returned to Coccham; not a word was spoken until they were back on the road again.

“Osferth,” Finan sounded pained. “Fuck her already, I’m begging ya,” and Osferth reddened from the bold words, “or fuck someone. To get over one woman, you can get underneath another, but this pining is insufferable.”

“Traitor,” Osferth breathed and Sihtric only grinned.

They eventually stopped in a city on the skirts of the kingdoms, a place where Finan and Sihtric pooled their silver and bought a woman for Osferth. She was lovely, with vivid blue eyes that peered from under dark lashes, bold against the auburn shade of her hair that was glossy and held a floral scent. Her smile was framed with full lips, her hand slipping into his own and beckoning him to follow her to her bed.

In the privacy of her quarters, she was incredulous with his request. “You only wish… to learn?”

“Yes, lady,” and he pursed his lips, his drawn expression decorated with the bloom of red blotches.

“And that is all, truly?”

Osferth only nodded.

“Oh, my,” and her realization glowed, warming her painted features. “You are in love?”

He could not answer her but his silence was confirmation enough; with the silver already paid, she disrobed and pulled him towards the mattress with her pitied gaze. She was kind, patient with him, with her soft guidance of his hands to explore the anatomy of a woman with his fingertips. He had enough intuition to follow in tandem to her soft pants and gasps, a glow of pride watching the bloom of her climax flutter over and the clench around his digits that confirmed her release.

She was flushed and laid against the pillows, her heart thrumming underneath the sweat sheen glow of her bare skin. “May I see what you have to offer?” her curiosity had the best of her when she finally regained her breath.

Osferth obediently disrobed and she felt her thighs clench at the sight of him. “My lord,” she breathed, a lusty haze over her half-lidded eyes. “Are you certain that you do not want to lay with me?”

He did not, but thanked her for the services rendered. The following day, as they made their way back to Coccham, did Osferth relive those intimate moments, his mind flitting over the instructions of the whore while also shamefully wondering what sweet sounds Keavy capable of, and how he wished to find out.

“It is hopeless, lord,” the bawdy tone of the Irishman brought him back to the present moment, atop his horse with the crisp air licking his face. Osferth peered towards the men and their smiles exchanged. Uhtred did not look back, but he saw how the corners of his eyes crinkled as well. “We thought the whore would clean his mind of her, but here he is…”

“Helplessly besotted?” Uhtred offered and only then did his head turn, a kind glimmer in the blue of his eyes. “Osferth, what do you intend to do about this? Allow this pining to accompany you across Northumbria?”

He still was not sure.

“A woman has telltale signs–”

“He is oblivious of them, lord!” Finan cut in.

Uhtred continued over the low chortle from the rest of the men. “There will be a moment presented and you will only need to respond to it.”

Coccham was already thrumming with celebration for the blood month when they returned. Osferth cleaned and changed, weaving throughout the crowds and its combination of music playing and laughter, the rich spices of cooked meat and spilled ale heavy in the air.

Osferth was determined to find her and Keavy followed him, without question, without hesitation, and they came to the outskirts of the festivities, distant enough to allow some privacy. The golden amber of the fire made her glow, a warmth to her features, accentuating the gold ring that complemented her green eyes and her smile exaggerating the dimple from the scarring on her cheekbone.

She has suffered so much, it reminded him. Uncertainty settled over him and came out in the question. “What am I to you?”

And her answer was lyrical, painting him in a light he did not feel was earned. He felt morose, as though there was a debt owed, so lost in that thought that he only caught the end of the kiss; he tried to catch her arm, to bring her close.

Instead, he allowed her to walk away.

Osferth remained rooted to the spot, his eyes looking over the flames that licked the logs and he heard the bawdy tone, once again, of the Irishman. “Don’t let my pet name rot your brain, baby monk,” and he looked to see his mug raised towards him. “You are still a man.”

His words sparked and Osferth left with a renewed vitality to his steps as he made his way towards the barracks, his knuckles rapping with urgency against her door. Moments ticked away before he realized its vacancy, and felt the returned uncertainty that smothered his fire to find her. Instead, he slipped into his room, lighting a candle and sinking into the mattress, his head heavy in his hands.

There was a soft tap on his closed door and he did not look up, just a muffled call out. “Come in,” knowing already it would be Sihtric, or Finan perhaps, coming to tease him still.

But it was a quiet entrance, accompanied with the familiar scent of rosemary and thyme, with the hint of rose petals. He looked up to see Keavy close the door behind her, leaning against flushed with the pink hues that spilled from her cheeks to her chest, that rose and fell with her silent breaths.

Osferth was quick to push himself to stand, a step towards her. “Keavy, earlier, what I meant to ask you–”

His question was stilled on his tongue as she moved to press her lips against his, the welcomed warmth as she melded against his chest. It was chaste and when she shifted, his arms moved to wrap around the small of her waist, pulling her flush against him. With his soft moan, her tongue was hesitant to taste but he reciprocated, meeting with the languid pace she set.

Her touch was shy and his fingers flitted over, taking their turns to remove layers until they were both bare. He noted her trepidation, the solemn expression that robbed him of her sweet smile that he always carried with him. Osferth cupped her face and she leaned into his touch, his thumb careful to trail the scar along her jawbone.

“I would never hurt you,” he whispered with a kiss, a promise. “I will only go as far as you allow.”

His heart pulled with the curl of her lips, the glimmer of gold halo from the candle lit reflecting in her eyes. “I know,” and Keavy kissed him again.

Osferth combed his fingers through her soft curls, the smell of roses now lingering with his touch, and he pulled her closer, walking her towards the bed. She moved to lay back against the mattress and his pupils swallowed the blue of his eyes at the sight of her, with how the rose coloring flushed her in the most enticing way.

Keavy pushed back up to her elbows and his gaze watched the natural slope of her breasts, the soft folds of her curves. “Osferth,” her words were both bashful and bold. “Come here.”

And he obliged, kneeling between her like before an altar, his lips touching the inside of her knee with a trail of open-mouthed kisses towards her center, hot against the silk of her thighs and each carefully placed to savor, to bask in a scent that was so intimately her own.

The sweet sounds that spilled from her kiss-swollen lips caused his cock to twitch. “Osferth,” she breathed, her back arching with his touch, taking handfuls of his dirty blonde locks, pulling him closer.

His palms molded into the inside of her thighs, a gentle squeeze so she was aware as he moved towards her center, his fingers flitting through her dark curls over her silken folds. His tongue was tentative, gentle to begin, and listening for the unmistakable gasp that left her lips, fueled from the passion that was curling at the base of her spine and pinning her to the bed. Oferth hummed against her cunt and her thighs tightened around his face, but he pressed forward with the curl of one finger, and then another, pushing within her velvet walls until she melted with his touch.

“Osferth,” tears brimmed her eyes, her words, and her hands grasped at the bedsheets. “Please, don’t stop.”

He hummed again and its vibration, in tandem with the ministrations of his fingers, his mouth, tipped her over the edge. Her ecstasy spilled, flushing throughout her body, a ripple of gooseflesh and her nipples peaked with her pleasure as he continued throughout its entirety, and before he pulled his fingers from her, he placed a gentle kiss to the bloom above her entrance.

As he cleaned his fingers, she reached to pull him towards her, capturing his mouth with a hungry rapture, enjoying her taste on his lips. His kisses and caresses renewed, with an unadulterated adoration for every inch of her skin bared.

“Osferth,” she begged between pants, “I need you.”

Osferth burned with her words and was careful to shift his weight, a genial glide as he sheathed inside her cunt. He paused, burying his face into her neck so she was unable to see his pained expression from how she clenched, steadying his breath as she feathered kisses along his jaw, to the soft divot underneath.

This is how it is meant to be, was the sweet thought that waltzed across her mind as he turned to capture her mouth. Keavy hummed against his lips, “Osferth, please,” she repeated and only then did he begin to rock against her hips.

The slow motion of his hips rekindled a prurient pleasure that coiled within her, her nails biting against his pale skin and leaving crescent marks on his shoulders. Osferth panted between his fevered kisses against the curve of her neck and she mewled pitifully with the crash of her second release, with a clenching desperation for his own peak and he groaned, with a low rumble from the back of his throat as he followed after.

She settled against his chest, curled in the bedsheets and their bare limbs entangled, with nothing but the soft exchange of their breaths. In the quiet, there was a burning curiosity and she dared to ask him. “How long have you felt this, Osferth?”

And she felt his rumbled hum vibrate throughout his chest before he answered. “Always,” and then he placed a gentle kiss on her hairline.

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