#doing something ‘so unbecoming’ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wholoveseggs · 4 months ago

Note

I’m so upset with the lack of Daemon requests so I wanted to give you a challenge.

Reader x Daemon on a dragon. That is all :)

Ride the Sky

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Daemon Targaryen X Hightower!Reader} As the eldest daughter of Otto Hightower, your own life feels completely out of your control. But a chance encounter with Prince Daemon gives you the opportunity to step out of your cage and touch the sky.

♡♡ ahhhh I love you @elijahstwink, this was such a fun idea & I 100% believe Daemon would do this... ♡♡

4.8k words - Warnings: smut, hightower!reader, fingering, sex on dragon back, daemon being a flirt & hating Otto, kinda mentions of marital rape? tyland lannister {ew} && caraxes being the best noodle boi...

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

{Daemon Targaryen Tag-List}

@elijahstwink @starshipcookie @absolutemarveltrash @odairtrqsh @darkened-writer @cheneyq @fallout-girl219

The tower of the hand was always such a foreboding place for you. It never meant good news when you were summoned and this time was no different. You stood there, shifting from foot to foot, and finally, the man you were supposed to call father, turned around from the window. He had been watching the city below, and now his gaze was on you.

"I've heard rumors," he said and you flinched. This wasn't the first time he had accused you of doing something inappropriate. In his mind, a lady was a lady, and she should act accordingly. But it seemed no matter how hard you tried to please him, nothing you ever did was good enough.

You opened your mouth to respond, but he waved you away. "I don't want to hear your excu-”

"I wish to know what I've been accused of, then," you snapped back, your own temper getting the better of you. You knew you would pay for that later, but right now, you wanted to hear what it was.

"That you've been imbibing in too much wine and games, not focusing on your duties as a lady of the court," he said sharply, looking back down at his papers. He began writing and you stood there, seething.

"So?" you finally asked, and he looked back up at you.

"It's unbecoming," he replied, his tone laced with condescension, "Especially when you are here at court, looking for a husband. Any potential suitors do not wish to have a drunken wife. It will not look good for him."

You sighed. It was always about men, what would please them, what would make them happy. Never you. And the way Otto looked at you, the disdain in his eyes, you knew what was coming. He had been making the same noises for a while, that he needed to find a match for you, and it seemed as if he had finally found one.

"Lord Lannister is a powerful ally," he began, and you immediately felt your temper rise again. You bit back the urge to yell at him.

"And you think I'll be a perfect wife for him? A boring drunkard whose bed I'll have to warm?" you asked, and you could feel the tears welling up.

Otto's expression was hard. "I would think him being a drunkard would be something you have in common," he replied.

He could see the distress on your face and his voice softened just a little. "We must look to the future of House Hightower, and Lord Tyland would make a fine match for you."

You shook your head, tears spilling over. "I don't want him-”

"And what is it that you want?" Otto snapped.

You stared at him. You wanted so much, and none of it was the life he would choose for you. You couldn't stand it anymore, and you spun on your heel, heading for the door.

He didn't try to stop you, and you didn't care.

You didn't want to go back to your chambers, because Alicent would be there, and you couldn't face her either. So, instead, you went outside to the garden, trying to find a quiet spot where you could cry and hopefully not be found.

You found a stone bench, tucked away in a quiet corner and sat down. The tears flowed freely, and you cried and cried, wondering what would happen now, what would become of your life.

You felt as if it had been planned out without any input from you, and now you were going to have to marry a man who was full and passionless. All because it was what was good for the family, and what was best for House Hightower.

It wasn't fair.

You let out a sob and stood up, looking for something to throw, to break, just to let out the anger and frustration that was coursing through you.

Your eyes fell on a statue.

It was one of the Kings, long dead, but you couldn't remember which one. You glared at it and then, without a second thought, gave it a shove.

It didn't fall over, but it teetered a little, and then settled back.

"Is that how we honor our kings now, by toppling their statues?" "A voice said, and you whirled around. Prince Daemon was standing there, looking at the statue, and then you, a small smirk on his face.

"I-I didn't mean," you stammered, wiping your tears, but he held up his hand.

He didn't say a word, just walked over to the bench. He motioned for you to sit, and you did. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, and you tried to control your tears.

Your father loathed the prince, and therefore you were expected to avoid him. You had seen him only once or twice, and the first time you had seen him, you were a girl of ten, and he had just turned seventeen.

You remembered seeing him, and being amazed by the beauty of him. He was the most handsome man you had ever seen, and the fact that he was a prince just made him all the more alluring.

You remembered asking your father if you could marry the prince. Your father had laughed, and told you no, he was not suited for you.

Of course, that hadn't stopped you from having the occasional daydream about the two of you, and here he was, sitting next to you, while you were crying over the thought of your father giving you to an old man.

"What is it like," you asked him, sniffling slightly, "To have the freedom to do what you wish?"

He gave a slight chuckle. "Freedom is an illusion," he replied, his voice quiet, "We are all prisoners in one way or another, even kings,"

"Then I wish for my prison to have a dragon," you muttered bitterly, immediately regretting the words. It wasn't proper to speak to him like that, but he only laughed.

"Perhaps one day," he said, his gaze settling on your face. You could feel his eyes on you, and you blushed, ducking your head.

"Why do you ask about freedom, Lady Hightower," he said in an almost teasing tone, "Is your life not everything a lady could want?"

You didn't meet his gaze, and he observed you thoughtfully, you were a mystery to him as much as he was to you.

"Or perhaps, it is not," he said, his eyes narrowing, "Perhaps you want more than what your father will allow,"

There was a bitterness in his tone when he mentioned your father, the disdain they had for each other was no secret. You didn't wish to add to it, but you couldn't stop the words from spilling out.

"My father is marrying me off to Tyland Lannister," you said, and his lips curved into a small smile.

"And I assume that is why you're here, hiding in the garden," he replied, and you nodded.

He was still watching you, and his gaze made you feel uncomfortable, but in a good way. "I don't want some dull drunkard in my bed, I want..."

You trailed off. It was an improper thing to say, he was the prince, your better. You shouldn't be speaking this way.

"Say it," he said, his voice soft, yet commanding.

"I want my husband to be able to bring me pleasure," you said, the words falling from your lips.

He chuckled, a deep rumble that came from within his chest. You felt even more ashamed by his response, here was the prince laughing at you, thinking you foolish and stupid.

You stood, trying to hide the fresh tears threatening to spill. "I should return to the keep," you said, "Thank you for the company, your grace,"

You took a step, and then suddenly his hand was around your wrist. His touch made your skin feel hot and a strange sensation spread between your legs. You gasped softly, and he stood up, stepping closer.

He towered over you, his blonde hair gleaming in the sun, and his violet eyes were dark and intense, his lips were still curved in a smile, and he was close enough for you to smell him, the scent of smoke, leather and musk.

"Would you like a taste of freedom?" he asked, his voice low. "Before your cage closes,"

"I-I-Yes," you stammered.

He pulled you with him, and you followed.

He led you down the paths and out the gate, along the long stone road to the dragon pit. The guards bowed, and let him pass, and then, to your amazement, he led you into the pit itself.

"My Prince-” you gasped, but he held up his hand again, silencing you.

In the dark of the cave, you could hear them stirring, the great beasts of his house. There was a deep rumble, a sound that felt ancient and primal, and a shadow fell over the both of you.

You stepped back, fear making your heart race. He turned, and you saw the amusement in his face. "Don't worry," he said, "He won't hurt you, unless I tell him to,"

You heard the sounds of his dragon moving forward, and a large snout appeared from the darkness.

"Lady Hightower, meet Caraxes," Daemon said, gesturing to the beast with a wide smile on his face.

You could only stare as the dragon came forward. His body was covered in red scales, and the wings were enormous, his claws scraped against the stone floor, his neck long like that of a snake, and he had a crown of horns on his head.

You have never seen one up close before, only ever far away and up high in the sky. But now, here, in front of you, he was a sight to behold.

Daemon reached out his hand and the dragon nuzzled it, his large, golden eyes fixing on you. He whispered something to the beast, in the language of Valyria, and then turned to you, beckoning you closer.

You hesitated, and he smiled. "It's alright," he said, holding out his hand.

Tentatively, you reached out and touched his palm, letting him take your hand in his. It was soft and warm, and his long fingers curled around yours. He raised it, and pressed it to the dragon's snout.

His scales were smooth and hot to the touch, and the dragon exhaled a deep breath, the sound like a purr. You could feel his breath on your face, and it smelled of sulfur and heat, and underneath that, the metallic scent of blood.

He nuzzled you, his eyes half closing. Daemon smiled and let go of your hand, and you stroked the dragon, amazed.

"He's beautiful," you said softly, admiring the red of his scales and the gold of his eyes.

"Yes," Daemon replied, his gaze fixed on you.

Caraxes pulled away and then, to your astonishment, the dragon lay down on the ground. You looked at Daemon, not understanding, and his smile grew.

"I promised you a taste of freedom, didn't I," he said, and suddenly you realized what he meant.

You watched, amazed as he climbed onto the dragon's back, and held out his hand to you. "Come," he said.

You stared up at him. His hand outstretched, waiting for you to take it. You didn't know what to do. Your father would be furious if he found out. But this was an opportunity you might not get again.

Without hesitation, you put your hand in his, and let him pull you up, settling you in front of him. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly. Your skirts were in the way, and you struggled to find a comfortable position. You were suddenly very aware of the heat of his body behind you.

"Here," he said softly, his hands moving up your thighs, and then, you felt his hands bunching up your skirt, until the material was up around your hips.

The dragon raised his head, and stretched his wings, a deafening screech filling the air. You could feel him move, the muscles in his shoulders shifting, his body flexing.

With one last scream, he began to move forward, at a speed faster than anything you had ever seen, and suddenly, with a running leap, his body was rising. Daemon had his arms wrapped around you, holding on to the reins as Caraxes' wings beat against the air.

He rose, higher and higher, and suddenly the ground was falling away below you, and the sky opened up before you. You could feel the dragon's strength as he climbed, the power in his body, and the heat and the wind and the roar of his wings.

The sky was a beautiful mix of reds, oranges and pinks as the sun began to set. You could see the Red Keep and the city below, the winding streets and the river and the ocean beyond. It was a breathtaking sight.

Daemon said something in Valyrian, and the dragon gave a cry and suddenly he was moving forward, gliding along the air, his wings spread.

The horizon was endless, the clouds were around you, and the world seemed small and insignificant, all your problems forgotten, at least for a moment.

"Does it feel like freedom, lady Hightower," he murmured, his lips against your ear.

You flushed at his closeness, the warmth of his body and his voice. "Yes," you whispered.

He took your hands, placing them on the reins. You held tight, feeling the dragon move beneath you, the muscles and tendons rippling, the scales smooth and hot.

"Hold them tightly, and pull on them, to turn him," he said.

You did as he instructed, and Caraxes changed course, heading north. The dragon rumbled and roared, a loud squeaking sound that made you laugh.

You felt Daemon smile against your neck, his hands winded around your waist, one hand pressing into your stomach, and the other resting on your thigh, his long fingers curling around the hem of your skirt, the fabric flapping in the wind.

He held you like that, his grip strong and steady. You didn't want it to end, this freedom, the feeling of his arms around you and the dragon flying beneath you.

The hand that was pressed against your stomach moved lower, his fingertips brushing the inside of your thigh. You wanted him to continue, but you also wanted him to stop. It was not appropriate, and you were unsure of what to do.

"My Prince," you said softly, a hot flush coming over you. He was touching you in a way no one ever had, and the feeling was overwhelming.

"You are far too beautiful to marry some dull Lannister cunt," he said, his voice low, his lips grazing your neck. His hand slid up your thigh, pushing the hem of your dress with it. Your breath hitched as his fingers moved underneath the linen shift you wore, brushing the soft, wet flesh between your legs.

"This isn't proper, my Prince," you said, trying to focus on the reins and not the way his hand was making you feel.

"And who is here to see? Or to hear?" he murmured, his breath hot against your skin, "Only my dragon, and I don't think he'll care,"

He pressed a kiss to the spot where your neck met your shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin, and you inhaled sharply, your body arching into his. He smiled, his fingers finding the small nub of pleasure between your legs, brushing over it softly. Your hips jerked and you gasped, your head falling back against his chest.

"A woman like you should be in control of who she gives her maidenhead to," he whispered, sucking little marks onto the delicate skin of your neck, "Who gives you that pleasure you crave."

The wind was cool on your skin, but inside you burned. He was igniting a fire deep within you and you were powerless to stop it.

His fingers moved faster, circling the little bud and then stroking it. He knew exactly how to touch you, and you were helpless under his hands.

You knew that you were being indecent, letting him fuck you with his hand, your skirts shoved up, the dragon soaring through the sky. Your father would kill you if he knew. But the thought of it made you only wetter, and you began to push harder against his hand.

"That's it, chase the feeling," he breathed, his fingers moving faster, his other hand gripping your waist, pulling you back against him. You could feel the hardness of his cock, pressing against your back, and the knowledge that he was aroused by you, only made the sensation stronger.

Your hands let go of the reins and Daemon quickly grabbed them with his free hand, keeping the dragon steady. You clutched his arm, your body shaking, the pressure building inside you, your legs trembling.

You let out a cry, and then stars were exploding behind your eyes and he was whispering to you, soft and low, encouraging you as you felt yourself fall apart, coming undone.

You slumped against him, the tension leaving your body, and he was there, holding you. You felt his chest rumble with a laugh and you managed to get yourself upright.

You looked at him, his violet eyes, the smirk on his face. You reached out and touched his cheek, and then pulled him towards you, kissing him.

His lips were soft and warm, and he kissed you back, his tongue parting your lips and entering your mouth. It was a deep, passionate kiss, and when he finally pulled away, you were breathing hard.

He smiled, his eyes darting from your lips down your chest. "Perhaps we should return to the keep, my Lady," he said, his tone amused, "before we get carried away,"

You looked down, and saw the sprawling countryside, a sea of green dotted with little villages and the faint outlines of crops and farmland.

"Where are we?" you asked.

"Near Duskendale," he said, his eyes boring into you. He gave you a smile, and in that moment, you lost yourself completely, mesmerized by him and everything that had just happened.

Daemon pulled on the reins, yelling something in Valyrian. The dragon gave a loud screech, and began to descend. He guided Caraxes lower, heading for a field near a small village.

The dragon landed gracefully, his wings folding against his body. The trees and grass bent in the wind from his wings, and the few animals nearby scattered. You could feel the rumble as his belly hit the ground, and then he was still, his breathing deep and steady.

Daemon hopped off the dragon and held his arms out to you. You let him help you down, his hands sliding around your waist. As your feet touched the ground you stumbled, your legs were weak and shaky, and you had to cling to his arm to keep from falling.

His eyes met yours and he leaned in and kissed you. His lips were soft and firm, and you melted into the kiss, your fingers reaching up to tangle in his hair. He pressed you into Caraxes side, the dragon curled around the two of you protectively, his tail flicking lazily.

The beast was warm against your back, you could feel its chest expand with each deep breath, a gentle rattling sound coming from it.

Daemon broke the kiss, nuzzling into your neck. Your whole body was on fire, and you could feel the heat of him pressed against you.

"Would you like me to make you come again, lady Hightower," he whispered, his teeth grazing your skin.

"My Prince... I've never...," you managed to get out, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Better me than a Lannister, yes?" he said, a smirk on his face.

You blushed furiously, unable to respond. He was right. You didn't want to give your maidenhead to some Lannister bore. You wanted it to be him.

Caraxes curled tighter around the two of you, warm and surprisingly still, his long neck and head outstretched, surveying the area around you. His eyes were lazy, and he was making a strange rumbling sound, almost content, like a big cat.

Daemon looked up at him, smiling at the beast, then back to you, his hands moving up to cradle your face. He leaned in and captured your lips in a hot, searing kiss that had you clinging to him.

His hands dropped to your hips, pulling you closer. You could feel the hard length of him against your belly, and a hot ache settled between your legs. You had never felt like this before, so hungry, so desperate.

He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck. His hands moved down, pushing the skirt of your dress up and bunching the fabric around your waist. He lifted your thigh, hooking it around his hip.

With his other hand he unlaced his trousers, freeing his hard cock. You had never seen a man's cock before, and the sight of his had you blushing even deeper. It was thick and long, the tip pink and leaking a clear fluid.

He smiled, seeing the look on your face, "go on, touch it," he said, his voice low.

Tentatively, you reached out, your hand wrapping around his shaft. He was hot and hard in your palm, the skin smooth and velvety. You moved your hand up and down, marveling at the way he grew harder and thicker.

Your eyes flickered back up to his face. He had a satisfied smile on his lips, his violet eyes dark and intense.

"Like this," he said, placing his hand over yours and guiding you. He showed you how to stroke him, the pressure and speed. When he let go, you continued, enjoying the way his eyes closed and his head tilted back, his lips parting as he breathed heavily.

You watched him, entranced by the sight of him, his pleasure growing. He placed his hand back over yours, stilling you.

He took your other thigh and hoisted you up. You clung to him, your arms wrapping around his neck. His hard cock rubbed against the soft flesh of your cunt, and you moaned softly, the ache inside you growing.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and he thrust against you. You gasped at the feeling of his hard cock sliding against your clit, the head bumping against your entrance.

You looked up at him, pleading. He was looking down at you, his eyes dark, his hair falling across his forehead. He was so handsome, so strong.

"Please, my prince," you breathed, desperate.

He smirked, his eyes flashing, and then he was guiding himself inside you, the tip of his cock parting the soft, wet flesh.

He pushed slowly into you, and you felt a sharp pain as his cock tore through your maidenhead. You cried out, and he kissed you, swallowing your gasp.

He hummed against your lips, a soothing, comforting sound. His hands squeezed your bottom, holding you steady. He moved slowly, rocking his hips, pulling you into him with each thrust.

"I've got you," he said, his voice rough, his breath hot against your skin.

The pain slowly subsided, replaced by a delicious, aching pleasure. You clung to him, your eyes closing, lost in the sensation of him filling you.

You could hear the sound of the wind, and the rustle of the trees. The deep gentle sounds of Caraxes' breathing. And the sound of your heart pounding, and Daemon's labored breaths.

He slowed his thrusts, drawing it out, pushing hard and deep, slamming your body back against the beast with each motion. You clutched at his shirt, nails digging into the soft material, gasps and sighs and half-formed moans fell from your lips. He picked up the pace, faster now, and you both lost yourselves in it, your pleasure was all that mattered.

His face was a picture, pleasure and devotion and tension and complete and total ecstasy. Your name was on his lips, a litany of beautiful profanities fell from them, a mix of Valerian and common that made the redness in your face grow deeper. You began to grind your hips against him, rolling them as he moved with you, his movements becoming erratic. His hand came down to cup the back of your neck, holding you steady as he leaned in and captured your lips in a messy kiss.

He stilled, letting out a low groan as he pressed himself deep, holding your hips in place as he filled you with his seed. Your body shuddered and twitched and you whimpered against his mouth, clenching down on him. It was too much, and you followed him over the edge, a bright burst of light going off behind your eyes as you succumbed to the feeling.

He rested his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath, his eyes closed and a look of pure bliss on his face. You giggled, running your hands through his hair, and he managed a lazy smile.

"Think of me when Tyland is trying to stick his cock in you on your wedding night," he said, his words warm and breathy against your lips.

You chuckled, then turned sad, remembering that your wedding would take place soon, and you would never see Daemon again.

He seemed to sense your sadness, his hands cupping your face, his eyes full of promises he could not keep. He said nothing, just kissed you again and held you, pressing you back against the dragon.

Caraxes purred, you could hear a faint rattling, like old armor, and the dragon's chest expanded and deflated slowly, the rhythm soothing.

You stayed there for what seemed like an eternity, Daemon wrapped around you, his hand tracing gentle circles on the exposed skin of your thigh.

You sighed, content and warm and happy, but knowing that the spell was soon to be broken, and you would have to return to the reality of the life that had been laid out before you.

"We should be getting back," you said, frowning. You didn't want the moment to end, but you had been gone for far too long, and your maids would be wondering where you were.

Daemon nodded, reluctantly pulling away. He laced up his pants and then helped you straighten your dress. You tried to flatten the wrinkles with your hands, but there was no helping it. You had been flying, and then you had been fucked, thoroughly, by the heir to the throne, and there was no hiding that.

He grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips, his eyes full of promise and heat. You blushed, and he grinned, pulling you back to the dragon.

The ride back was slower, the dragon gliding gently through the sky, and you had the urge to cry. You wanted this feeling, of freedom and warmth and safety, to last forever.

You sat back against Daemon's chest, his arms tight around you, the wind whipping through your hair.

Caraxes flew lazily through the sky, and you could see the Red Keep getting closer, the massive walls looming large. The dragon descended, the air rushing around you, and then the beast landed in the center of the courtyard near the dragon pit, his wings beating wildly, sending clouds of dust and dirt swirling around him.

He roared, a great and terrible sound, his long neck twisting and his wings stretching. The beast was restless, and he seemed unhappy to be back in the confines of the castle.

Daemon leapt off the dragon, landing gracefully, and then turned and helped you down, his hands lingering on your waist. He gave you a wicked smile, and you blushed, unable to meet his eyes.

"I swear," he said, lifting your hand and pressing another kiss to your knuckles, "I'll burn down Casterly Rock just to get a taste of you again."

You chuckled, a blush coloring your cheeks, then you looked him in the eyes.

"And I will gladly watch it burn," you said, grinning.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek, and then he was gone, climbing back onto Caraxes and taking to the sky. You watched them disappear, the great, crimson beast disappearing into the clouds.

You stood there, alone in the courtyard, watching the sky long after he had disappeared. Your heart was heavy, despite his promises, you knew that you would never see him again.

You turned and walked back to the keep, your mind filled with memories of your time together. It was a small moment, a stolen moment, but you knew you would hold on to it…

And be reminded of it every time you looked to the sky.

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trappolia · 6 months ago

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SUNDAY IS FOR REST ── sunday x halovian!reader, 918

"do be careful, my dove," he murmurs as you straighten out the light feathers behind his ear.

"you haven't preened yourself in a while, have you?" your voice is soft, a hint of chiding to it that makes his heart flutter — there's a groggy rasp to your tone as well, having just stirred from your own dreams. sunday dares not look back at you, for there is a sweet domesticity to be found in the impression of rumpled bedsheets against your cheek and the heavy-lidded eyelids that make it known that you would love nothing more than to go back to sleep — proper sleep.

a hum resonates in sunday's chest as he allows himself to be fully immersed in the moment; early morning, messy hair and feathers, the sleepy press of lip against lip. his head tilts to the side, allowing greater access for you to tidy the feathers in question.

"you are correct. there's no need for me to do such preening in the dreamscape, though i prefer it when you offer your generous help," he replies, a mix of contentment and fondness pervading his voice.

"i'll help you only if you stay still," you grumble. your hands, which were straightening out his feathers, are now hovering just above them as sunday tries very hard not to shift in place again.

he cannot help it, truly. it is not just the factor that sunday is unused to, well, anyone touching something as intimate as his halovian wings, but also the fact that the slightest brush of your skin against his is a sensation like no other.

not that he would ever tell you, of course.

sunday nods, a silent affirmation that he will try his best to remain still, although a trace of a smile dances upon his lips. as you resume tending to his wings, each brush of your fingers brings a newfound appreciation for the sensation of your touch. he can feel the slight tingle, akin to electricity, every time your skin makes contact with his wings.

"my apologies," he murmurs, a chuckle slipping past his lips — as if he is not willing his chest to rise and fall rhythmically, having to manually breathe under your intimate ministrations. "i shall endeavour my utmost to be an inanimate statue. your wish is my command."

"haha," you say dryly.

in spite of your tone, sunday cannot help but chuckle at your jest. a cruel man he is, to find amusement in your grumpiness in the early morn. your nimble fingers gently untangle his feathers, and the sensation is a mix of tingles and warmth that spread across his wings. the act of having someone, especially someone he holds in such high esteem, tend to these parts of him that are reserved for only the most intimate moments is endearing, to say the least.

as you work, your movements deliberate and precise, your lover muses softly, "only you could make tending to feathers feel like a luxury."

"it is a luxury when you are not the one doing it yourself," you huff, hands moving around with practiced ease: smoothing a feather here, tugging a broken one out there.

sunday's chest rumbles with barely suppressed laughter at your huff of annoyance, but he remains true to his word and does all he can to keep still. his skin feels electrified with each brush of your touch, even more potent than before, and he wonders idly if it's because he's aware of how much effort you're taking in taking care of him. he is always the one caring and fussing, rather than being cared for and fussed over. it is strange, for the tables to be turnt. strange, had it been anyone else but you.

"perhaps," he manages to say between bouts of laughter, reaching back to catch one of your wrists and presses a chaste kiss upon it. "we could make a habit of this."

"is it truly proper of the head of the oak family to make a habit of keeping himself less than pristine?" you murmur.

how embarrassing; the passing thought occurs to sunday at your words. indeed, it is unbecoming for him, who stands at a position of such power and authority, to be so unkempt, so careless around you. it feels… freeing.

and so his response is a gentle tug upon your wrist, guiding your arms to wrap around his shoulders and link with his fingers. with a smile full of affection and a touch of teasing, he gently brushes his thumb over the tender flesh between your thumb and forefinger.

"i am simply indulging in the pleasure of being cared for," he answers in that same gentle rumble. "and if that means i am a tad bit less than pristine as a result, so be it."

"i suppose so," you hum, and from where sunday sits in between your legs, he feels you lean forward, hooking your chin over his shoulder. your own wings tickle his cheek, like a lover's kiss in the early morning. "preen me next?"

a low rumble resonates somewhere deep in his chest at the feeling of your breath against his neck. the closeness you've allowed between you is not something sunday takes lightly, and he relishes in it with every beat of his heart.

"with pleasure," he answers, unable to help the upwards tug of his lips as he squeezes your palms.

"let me take care of you, my dove — as you do to me."

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fillinforlater · 10 months ago

Text

Maknae Royale

Male Reader x Jang Wonyoung, Wang Yiren, Lee Gahyeon, Park Sujin (Swan), Jeon Somi, Shin Yuna, Kim Yerim (Yeri), Im Yeojin (9some)

Length: 10.000 words

Tags: live action porn, porn game, fucking for points, Team Battle Royale, squirting kink, edging kink, bimbofication, brat taming, doggy, fingering, face riding, blue balling, jerking you off, titfuck, standing sex, step-bro I'm stuck, anal, creampie, anal creampie, eating out, blowjob, face fucking, deep throat, rough sex, missionary, full nelson, against the wall, piledriver, mating press, overstimulation, porn_star!you / porn_rookies!idols

TW: even after editing, this is messy and chaotic and pure sex lol

Inspiration: the idea of a Maknae focused fic is not new, but I just went all in. This is also based on this vote I send out a while ago lol. I think I can name drop @writerpeach cuz I remember him saying sth like that.

Credit: @erospandemos for the cover art! Thabk you very much!

(A/N: One year after C.Ollection, I'm trying my best to celebrate and repeat that craziness, have fun! The beginning is a reference to Labyrinth of the Six. This is the same universe but not a sequel!)

"I was looking for copper and I found gold!"

You turn off the purring engine of your car. It is clearly not as nice as the purring of the girl you were in balls deep mere minutes ago, but let's be honest, those purrs should not be compared; one is mechanical, the other borderline maniacal. You let out a sigh as you kill the annoying lights in your car to focus on the call you just accepted.

"Hi, is this really how you're greeting me?" you respond, letting your fingers glide over the steering wheel as you watch a single car pass by in the middle of this warm, humid night.

"Oh, man, stop complaining!" the director says and laughs. You can hear him type something on an old keyboard, each tap of his fingers obnoxiously loud. "I'm going to give you the opportunity of a lifetime—something this great, it needs no greeting."

You rub your nose, then the inside of your eyes filled with tiredness and exhaustion. She was needy tonight, you gave her two rounds, 140 minutes of a hard pounding until the clock struck a merciless 3am. Yes, you were counting the minutes, it was necessary. Otherwise Jiwon’s cunt would have drained you early, which is unbecoming of a porn actor of your caliber.

"Look," you halt the director's enthusiasm with a groan. "I'm doing good right now. Money—I got enough; my love-life is good too. Maybe I'll take a break for a couple of months until my next—"

"No, listen!" he shouts in absolute excitement, like he has been enlightened by the truth. "This script, it's so fucking good! It lit a fire in me, I can already see the setting, the actresses, you—it's perfect. This can even top your Labyrinth performance—you remember, the six hotties—"

"Of course I do!" There you go. Your heart beat is picking up in tempo. How could you forget the pleasure, the absolute thrill of having sex with six gorgeous women at the same time? Don’t kid yourself, this already felt like one in a million—to flat out reject another offer that could be of this magnitude would be absolutely foolish. “Fuck it. Send me the script, I’ll get back to you.”

“Oh, you will,” the director says, absolutely certain that you will accept in a heartbeat after reading this ominous script. “I’ll start looking for actresses.”

The script is complex, wild, otherworldly—implementing it took weeks of preparation. Luckily, your part in this clusterfuck is rather simple: be hard, go hard and stay hard. The first two are deeply rooted within you. Seeing the girls’ incredible faces and even greater bodies has you ready to get a raging erection at any time, while some of their slutty mannerisms and lewd words dripping from their tongues like venomous drool urge you to go as hard and rough as you can. Hell, they’ll basically beg for you—why would you hold back?

The only issue is that there are too many of them. No matter how hot they are or how horny you are, at some point there is nothing left. You will be drained and there is no shame in admitting defeat to them. So once again, you’ll have to resort to some performance enhancers to stay hard like a diamond while drilling into cave after cave. It’s a pink pill this time, tiny, you barely notice it, both in the palm of your hand and in your throat. Take a deep breath and feel it surely doing its job already.

You open your eyes in the midst of a studio room that looks like a submarine. Dim light, large, black holes around you, each with a large porthole-like door in the middle; it feels gloomy, mysterious, unsettling. A single camera is pointed at you, live streaming each droplet of sweat running down your face. Feel the artificial warmth of a nearby heater creep up your thin clothes, giving you chills. It cannot match the heat within you.

The red light atop the camera turns off. Sixty seconds from now, one of the portholes will open. The glass in them is blurry, obscuring any view of the chaos happening behind them. You of course know the script inside out, but the girls’ are still somewhat unknown. You’ve never seen them face to face, only in zoom calls, their bodies looked fantastic and because they are rookies, they should also be tight, but you don’t know how they will handle the pressure, all the eyes on them, the revealing outfits, the unbridled sex—

Around thirty seconds now. You grab your trousers and feel blood rushing out of your legs. Feet tingle, the tips of your fingers as well. This pill, it has your heart racing somewhere, racing from something, to anything. Eyes tremble, vision blurrier than the glass before you, behind you, around you.

You’ve never felt more alive and dead at the same time.

With a loud hiss, the porthole to your left swings open, wide open, flooding your entirely empty room with copious amounts of fog and the smell of fresh fruits. The vibrant color scheme of pastel pink, magenta, light purple and white fills your view as you step into what looks like Princess Peach’s private castle, its kitchen, living room and bedroom. It’s like one explosion of cuteness and innocence, quite charming, very fake.

“Oh, he’s already here. Look, Barbie!”

“That’s not my name, Yiren. Hello, handsome stranger!”

The two girls fit the concept of the room perfectly. Such bright smiles, happiness pouring from their cute little faces; you knew they would nail this performance the moment you saw their pictures and heard their voices. Wonyoung, the tall girl with her incredibly long legs truly looks like a Barbie doll: tiny ribbons adorn her endless chocolate hair while the pink crop top and straight denim skirt make you want to play with her all night, undress her everywhere.

Yiren on the other hand blends in with the room to such a degree, you’d assume they cannot be sold separately. The chinese girl boasts hair the color of peaches, her tight white dress sparkles because of small, silver details spread across it, while her face leaves no doubt that she is, in fact, a princess.

The two get closer to you, before Wonyoung starts to speak up again, her voice in a sassy, yet genuinely adorable pitch.

“Aw, are you shy? No need to be, we’re all here to have fun. Isn’t that right, Yiren?”

“You’re right, Barbie. Let’s play some games and make it a night we won’t forget,” Yiren adds, quieter and calmer than Wonyoung, with a smile that warms the heart.

“S-sure,” you respond to the two girls bouncing up and down in front of you like hyped up kangaroos. “B-but what are we going to play?”

“You see,” Wonyoung starts. “Yiren and I are a team and we have a mission to fulfill. Can you help us?”

“I’d love to, but what is the mission?”

Yiren turns towards Wonyoung, who’s already grinning at her. They share a nod and Yiren suddenly wraps herself around one of your arms, while Wonyoung occupies the other. Feel their slender bodies rub on your limbs, their natural heat and rapid heartbeats working towards your own, increasing it with every step they guide you towards a bed in the corner of the room. It’s at least double queensized, filled with pillows, blankets and stuffed animals.

“Let me explain it to you,” Wonyoung says and climbs atop the purple sheets. “Our mission is to make this bed as wet as possible.”

“Well that sounds easy,” you respond. “Just get some tap water and dump it on here.”

“That’s what I thought too,” Yiren whispers in your ear and suddenly places her hands all over your back and chest.

“No tap water, only natural juices are allowed,” Wonyoung hums and her hands casually open her skirt. It falls on the bed and she is quick to kick it away. She looks even more tempting and ruinable in her tiny tight panties with a wet teddy bear on the front. “We need your help to get these juices out of us, pretty please?”

“Yes, pretty please?” Yiren adds and cups the bulge in your pants. “It will be so much fun, I promise. Doesn’t Barbie look tight? Don’t you want to fuck her until she bursts?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Splendid,” Wonyoung laughs and throws away her crop top as well. Meanwhile Yiren finds the hem of your pants and tugs them down oh-so easily, the only resistance is your hard member, which Yiren promptly points at her team partner who has her legs spread invitingly.

She’s so hot.

As if she read your mind, Yiren tempts you into finally going hard:

“She looks so hot. Go fuck her.”

Like a tiger desperate for food, you crawl onto the bed and tackle your prey into a mountain of teddy bears. Your fingers find the very specific teddy bear on Wonyoung’s panties, you push it to the side to find a pink slit. A final look at her glistening eyes before you press your cock onto her equally glistening slit and after some adjustments, you enter her.

Wonyoung shrieks cutely, her thin fingers wrap around your biceps’ and she holds onto them as you start to slowly pump into her. The two of you need time to realize where you are, what you’re doing, how you’re doing it. All acting for the camera is gone in this bliss, at least for a couple of seconds. Then it all comes back with Yiren, eagerly who jumps on the bed as well.

“You need to hurry up, we don’t have forever.”

You slip a hand under Yiren’s dress to quickly shut her up. No panties.

“How about you start helping, princess,” you fight back. “Go rub Wonyoung’s clit while you ride my fingers. Oh, and Wonyoung.”

“Ye-yes?” the young girl moans.

“Open your mouth wide. I need you to drool on these.”

Both Yiren’s pussy lips and Wonyoung’s normal lips—though their lusciousness and thickness is far from mere ‘normal’—part as soon as your fingers graze them. The latter is quick to slobber all over them while you recklessly pump them into her; Yiren still has reservations and instead opts to look at you with adorable glassy eyes.

“I-I feel so full,” she moans, shivers throughout her entire body. You softly smile at her and start to curl your fingers, purposefully dragging them alongside her walls while your palm reaches her clit. “Ah, i-it feels—”

Holy shit. Whatever chemical they put into this pill, it has a tendency to just kill your patience. In what can only be described as a loss of all control, your body only moves towards fulfilling the mission. Your fingers start to violently pump into Yiren’s pussy and Wonyoung’s mouth, both quickly spilling liquids out of them. Especially Wonyoung, the Barbie girl below you, becomes a dispenser of juices when you violently fuck into her tight pussy.

“Too fast, ah!” Yiren screams, her hands wrapped around your wrist, unable to prevent the surge of lust in your body.

“Fuck, sorry. I can’t stop me.” You groan, not really sorry about the stuff happening to you, to them and—oh God! Wonyoung’s tiny frame, those cute hard abs, get bulged by your massive erection. A bit of skin and muscles, pushed up by your relentless thrusts, and she is also seeing it. Is she panicking, losing her mind to how you violate almost her entire body?

Her pussy is quick to give you an answer: like a broken, public fountain, she shoots water at you, suddenly soaking your body in her warm pussy juices. With their strong, lewd smell they are the perfect liquid to stain the sheets, more than your balls or her drool can produce. Much to your dismay, most of the nectar gets stuck on you.

“Fuck, turn around,” you command the thin fuckdoll and because she is too enamored by her heavy orgasm—her tiny thighs and long legs trembling up high in the air—you grab her hips and spin her around. Now in Doggy, you keep her upright by pulling her chestnut colored hair and plunge back into her still twitching cunt.

Wonyoung is completely overwhelmed. Instead of the cute, girlie moans you’d expect from her pretty lips, she grunts uncontrollably, her voice still hoarse from your fingers that played with her mouth. The grunts, however, are nothing compared to the wet sounds coming from her pussy as you thrust into the warm cavern, desperate to get more out of it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” both you and Wonyoung groan. The tips of her fingers dig deep into a soft stuffed toy while yours knead her soft butt. The sight of it is amazing; not a big dumpy, like you’ve seen on countless actresses, but so flawlessly smooth with an impossibly tiny asshole you one day need to get your tongue into.

“Pl-please, me-me too.”

Yiren crawls closer to you, her skirt pulled up, her cunt a leaking mess that needs something inside it. The live action fucking in front of her has her on the edge, ready to do her part to fulfill the mission, but you are too mesmerized by Wonyoung.

“Wony, lick her pussy. Get your tongue into her, fuck!” you shout, lost in your frenzy.

The barely thinking, barely functioning Barbie gets her hands onto Yiren’s thighs, at first only breathing, hissing, moaning into the princess’ crotch. It’s enough for Yiren to finally take the lead, forcing Wonyoung’s face straight onto her puffy lips, and the younger surrenders. She kisses and licks all over Yiren’s delicious cunt, the bundle of nerves atop it never left out. Yiren shudders.

“Oh God, oh Go~d, fuck!”

Yiren is louder than a fucking bomb when she explodes onto Wonyoung’s face and more importantly, the bed. Her nectar splashes all over the sheets, their color darkening beneath her knees. Finally, the three of you have made significant progress, and you are eager to make more. Especially Wonyoung seems to be more turned on than before; her pussy is even tighter, her walls ripple as she continues to eat Yiren out.

“You like that, huh? Your face deep in her pussy?” you ask her and give her cute ass a firm spank. “Such a dirty princess!”

“Yesh!” Wonyoung shouts, pressing her behind into your pistoning cock.

“You like my cock fucking you senseless, getting into your insides? You want it all, deeper?”

“Yesh, pleash!”

“Try to push me out, Wonyoung, squeeze me with your stupid little pussy!”

“Ah, shit, fuck! I’m—”

Yiren shuts her team partner up by grinding on her face. It’s enough to send Wonyoung into an orgasmic frenzy—again—and the moment you pull out, she squirts—again—everywhere. It was amazing, absolute bliss for you, but you are not there yet. You need to cum, inside a hot, clenching hole and so you disrupt the two princess’ love making.

Yiren fits perfectly into your hand. She is almost as light as Wonyoung, so you pick her up and place her on the head of the bed. The young woman is still frozen in surprise, her eyes uncertain, then shocked when you spread her legs wide and align your cock with her pussy.

“Oh God, it’s t-too big,” she whines even before you’re inside her.

“You can take it, Yiren, you’re such a good and pretty princess,” you mindlessly groan as you stare at her, then her nipple peeking out above her increasingly bunched up dress. “Now cum all over me.”

Yiren is too easy. Only a few strokes of your cock alongside her velvety walls and her entire body ripples. It starts with her cunt, soon goes to her torso and limbs, before she squirts like a broken garden hose. If the bed was a garden, countless flowers would bloom in it—and Wonyoung wants to make sure you stay to help them.

“You have to stay,” she whines. “Stay inside her and make her cum again.” She pushes you, forces you to almost slip inside Yiren again. From the corner of your eye however you see a red light, the indicator that you have to switch scenes right now.

“I think I did enough.” You pull away Wonyoung’s slender arms and Yiren’s feet trying to get you back inside her. “Get some toys or use your fingers. I’m not playing for your team, you need to play together.”

Yeah, sure, something like that was in the script. Luckily, even these two remember that the show must go on. At least Wonyoung does. The Barbie gets handsy, waving you goodbye while plunging her beautiful, long fingers into Yiren's cunt. What a waste that you won’t cum on those digits tonight.

"Have fun~" Wonyoung cheers as you disappear from her view, towards the next porthole which is already open.

Before you can take in the next setting fully, a nude, masked woman greets you by pulling your face down into her sizable cleavage.

"Quick, get him in here," another voice, feminine yet deep, straightforward yet mysterious, calls and you feel hands all over your body, as they drag you into the room. You only catch glimpses of its interior, a dark, unsettling dungeon with iron bars and cold, smooth walls, akin to the setting of certain Japanese videos you—a friend of yours—used to watch—for scientific reasons.

"Here, pin him down."

That voice just now is truly incredible, if only you could see who it belongs to. Unluckily, you only get to see the ceiling as four hands throw you onto a table. Those two are strong, you think, because your back hurts at the impact.

Suddenly, your view gets replaced by a smooth pussy and jiggly thighs trapping your head on the wooden surface. You take deep breaths, the strong smell of arousal quickly filling your nose. A finger boldly flicks your cockhead.

"Oh, you're really turning him on, Gah," the other woman says, your pulsating cock in her fist. "Ride his face, and I think we’ll get our first points soon."

"Wh-who are you?" you barely squeeze out, words drowned out by drowning in Gahyeon's pussy juice.

"I'm Swan, but we don't have time for that. We need to win this game, which is why you have to suffer.

"Sorry, by the way."

Before you can respond, Swan's fist goes up and down your length with the violence and speed of a raging tiger, ready to fucking destroy you. Tears spawn in your eyes, precum at your tip. She drives you to the edge and keeps you there with rhythmic pumps while you imagine her face in horny delight.

"Is he there yet?" Gahyeon asks, her voice raspy and cruel.

"Why don't you ask him?" Swan responds and twirls her tongue around your balls. You twitch.

Gahyeon lifts a leg and her deadly eyes stare through a terrifying mask right at you. "Tell me when you're about to explode,” she snarks and to put emphasis on her following words, she presses a long finger nail into your abdomen. “If not, I'll kill you.

“And start licking, for fucks sake.”

She plants herself back down before you can answer. She can live with your eager tongue on her thick folds as an analogical agreement. Through Gahyeon’s almost soundproof thighs you hear her passionate groans and Swan’s continuous spitting in her hands and on your cock to get you wet and ready for more of her soft hands.

You can’t deny that they are excellent. Yiren and Wonyoung both had tight, cozy holes, but something about Swan grabbing your dick and mercilessly pumping and twisting it makes your spine tingle. She quickly gets you to arch your back and moan into Gahyeon’s pussy, which has started to glide back and forth over your visage.

“Such a nice cock,” Swan moans. “Look at it, Gah! The head is already burning, I can feel that he’s close.”

Swan puts her second hand on your base and presses her lubed up palm on your underside while she starts to destroy your tip with violent pumps. She is a vicious succubus, trying to get your seed out efficiently without care for your sensitivity. With Gahyeon using your face like a saddle, your mind is left on hold when you loudly tap the table to signal your imminent arrival.

“Swan, now!”

The moment Gahyeon shouts, Swan is gone. No more delicate fingers to hold you, no more fists to jerk you, nothing to stimulate you. You thrust your hips up into air, unable to cum, unable to get your well-deserved release. Those fleeting seconds where you want only one thing are absolutely ruined by not getting this one thing—and then it’s over. You come back down with a devastated sigh.

“That’s one,” Gahyeon says and looks down at you in between her legs. “But we need more.”

“I agree,” Swan says, adjusting her position in between your shivering legs. “Get him to cooperate, I’ll do the rest.”

Gahyeon once again is faster than your attempts at remonstration. She puts her small hand on your throat and carefully increases the amount of weight on it. You gasp in dread before Swan places your still hard cock in the valley of her enormous tits. The valley then turns to a compressed trap where only your glans peeks out.

'Oh fuck', you want to, need to scream but it's futile with Gahyeon's enthusiasm to rub her labia on your lips. Swan shows a very similar need to torture you, her hands eagerly digging into the flesh of her melons and moving them up and down—both at the same time, then at different times, faster, then slower but with more pressure—is she trying to get you killed?

Death by titfuck. That will be an eyecatching epitaph.

"Do it faster," Gahyeon orders her teammate emphatically. "We need to get the score up."

"I know," Swan says, her voice a bit strained. "It's just unfair, you know? Getting him ready again and all that. But I think, fuck, we’re getting there. Look at his tip, isn't it cute?"

Swan licks the slit on your cockhead, cleaning the precum from it and you have to tap out again. You are so close once more, but a terrible gut feeling lets you doubt that you will cover Swan's tits with your cream. You’ve never felt so sick about being right, when she pops you free from the heavens between her large breasts.

They are right there, God dammit.

"That's number two!" Swan gleefully shouts and looks at your pole, pointing at the sky, sensitive and ready to explode, but your balls turn blue again. This can't be healthy, with how frustrated it makes you.

"Use your mouth this time, Swan—"

"Oh yeah? Why don't you do something for once?"

"Huh? We agreed on this earlier! I'm doing my part! Look, he can't even say a word."

"Pl-please," you interrupt the girls' discussion. "Let me, please, let me cum already!"

"Sorry, pal." Swan's voice is soft, and her tongue on your dick is even softer. "But we need to ruin you even more. That's how we're going to win."

"Th-then ruin your own orgasms," you plead with numbness in your mouth, caused by Swan's mouth on your barely numb manhood. "Th-this is cruel."

"He's got a point," Gahyeon thinks out loud. "Ah, fuck this game. If you can get me close, boy, I'll let you escape."

This might be your only chance to get out of this vicious cycle of ruined orgasm and painful edging. So you actually channel all your focus of your lips, tongue and teeth—whatever Gahyeon likes—on her clit. It's surprisingly easy to make her thighs around your ears squirm; Gahyeon's pussy is now wetter than Swan's mouth wrapped around your cockhead.

Suddenly, Swan gives you everything. She forces you to bottom out in her mouth, grow to full hardness once more while she violently gags. She might have been in absolute control over you for the last couple of minutes, but she is perfectly able to make her mouth a slutty hole for your cock. A soft, dominant deepthroat queen with massive tits—she is going to be a super star.

In a surge of ecstasy, fueled by Gahyeon's sweet juice, you buckle your hips upwards and force Swan to choke a little longer on your length. The young woman is not irritated however. After a single breathe she is back to going up and down you cock, sucking along it until your fucking dead.

You know she's going to ruin it again and the only way to pay them back is by ruining Gahyeon's orgasm as well. You finger the pussy above you and quickly flick the blood-filled lips and nub, until she cries out. Then you stop, then Swan stops. She is the only one satisfied—another two points for her team.

You blink a couple of times. Gahyeon, groaning like an enraged bull, has the busty Swan pinned to the metal bars of this dungeon and with all her hatred, slaps the younger's wet cunt.

"Now it's your turn, bitch!"

"Ouch, stop!"

"No. I want to win and you want to win too, so you better ruin yourself on my fingers. Now!"

This is your cue to leave. The dungeon fills with Swan's deep grunts and groans as she finally gets to witness what she put you through again and again and again. You'd love to help Gahyeon; there will be no need for it though. The masked girl is willing to do whatever is necessary to win.

Across from the dungeon, the second to last door is already open. The room mimics a dimly lit laundromat with a dozen or so washing machines. You step inside, cock in your carefully stroking hand. After all, you’ll have to be hard for the next scene, which will be the complete opposite of the last.

“Hello? Can somebody help me?” someone cries (let’s be honest, it’s much closer to a desperate moan) from behind a pile of freshly dried laundry atop a clothes rack. There is a sincere lack of intelligence in that cry, like said person is unable to help themselves. Makes you feel chivalrous.

“Hey, how can I—help you?”

The sight you find behind the pile has your speech a bit halted, interrupted by how, in a room made for washing clothes, someone is severely lacking them: A gorgeous, busty blonde, in nothing but modest, white underwear, though you notice that the bra is at least a size too small and unable to fully carry the weight of her tits.

"Oh, please help me," she moans again. "I think I've picked the wrong bra for me. Can you help me cover so no one can see my boobies while I look for the next?"

What the fuck? This is so fucking stupid on so many levels. How could she—and why would she suggest—what is even happening? The cliche about blondes must be true, because this one is not only dumb as fuck, but also hotness at it's peak. From bust to bottom, no, even to her toes, her body is amazing and tempting.

"Uhm, sure, why not. Can I know your name first?" you politely ask while not so politely getting behind her and cupping her breasts.

"I'm Somi. Thank God your hands are so big, no one can see my boobies now, hihi."

Is it innate for her to sound this silly? If not for this setting, you’d be worried; no human can ever be this stupid, only a buffoon would act in such a way. But maybe Somi’s IQ is just a bit lower than the average person—or maybe she knows no boundaries? The rules of public decency and inappropriate, sexual exposure might be foreign to her? You don’t know. You just know that her boobs are soft and bouncy, two handfuls of pillows to rest your head upon, of stress balls to knead when you are, you know, stressed.

You seem to know a lot more than her, especially because she still tries to find a bra able to hold up her breasts in the midst of clothes which all have two things in common: they are colorful and they are skimpy. It’s like the laundry of a whorehouse with how many short and skin tight skirts, dresses, fishnet stockings you find, let alone the short tops or all the lingerie. Speaking of which, Somi has finally found a bikini top that might be able to do the deed your hands are gleefully doing.

“Do you think this one is good?” she asks, holding up a new, purple bra while you slightly press at the bottom of her tits to watch them wobble on your finger tips.

“Try it out, because I’m not so sure with your massive boobs.”

Somi giggles and tries to put on the bra. You leave enough room, really, you do, for her to tie up the thin strands, but Somi is unable to. She mewls a couple of times before you go in and securely tie up the strands yourself. You are promptly rewarded, because the blonde decides to bend down and press her ass back against your crotch, your exposed cock, rapidly hard again at the touch of her cotton panties.

“Thank you, again,” Somi says and pushes her chest up for all to see. “What do you think, is this good?”

“Somi, is it possible that you are fucking stupid?” Oh, that sounded a lot harsher than it should have. The tension is quickly palpable. You hear someone gasp from the other end of the room.

“W-why?” Somi’s question is abashed, a bit shocked; even in this state of complete bimboness, she still looks so good.

“Because these bottoms don’t fit your top,” you say and pull at the side of her panties until they snap off of her hips. “You should change them. White and purple don’t fit together all too well.”

Somi looks down at her cleavage, the purple lace engulfing her tits, then to her thighs which have been parted by your cock. The tip peaks from in between her legs and you softly groan out the pleasure her perfect gap gives you into her ear. There is no mere hint of slickness from her heat, there are ridiculous amounts of evidence of it, proof spreading all over. It’s a clear case of horniness, you better resolve the issue immediately.

“You’re right,” Somi mumbles, thighs swaying. “I should look for the right bottoms. They should be in here.” Things couldn’t get any better, because now Somi is bending over, hands in the pile of clothes, while your hands are in the plentifulness of her ass. You hold her steady, align your cock with a hole that looks so ready to get fucked and then push forward. Somi almost stumbles forward, but you save her from making an even greater mess of this place by continuing to make a mess out of her.

“Oh God,” she moans, a pink crop top in hands. “I-I can’t find it.”

“Continue, continue searching,” you groan back and slam your hips forward, then backwards, your cock entering and exiting her cunt at will—your will is strong, overpowering every small exhaustion in chase of that first true release of this messy pornographic shoot, a shoot where teams fight to win, yet this “team” does not even have a target goal.

Somi’s goal is to be stupid, oblivious to your cock gaping her pussy open time and time again, and for this being her first time on cam, she is excellent. Of course, her dumb moans can’t be deactivated, you doubt even a ball gag can fully do that, but a benevolent interpretation of this scene allows for these moans to be of desperation. Somi just really wants to find these purple bikini bottoms—your cock spreading her pussy and the camera lens on it is just a side product.

“Da-damnit, fuck,” Somi seems to give up, defeatedly grabbing the edge of the table while you hold onto her shoulders to get faster, deeper inside of her. “They are not h-here.”

“Maybe you need to take a step back and look at it from afar,” you tell her and all it takes is a pull at her shoulders and Somi stands straight up. From now on, your thrusts go upwards and Somi can casually bounce along while her dizzy eyes try to process the color purple amidst a pile so colorful, every pride parade would become envious.

Your arms instinctively wrap around Somi’s small waist. You need to keep her here, can’t let her get away, not when you are this close to finally cumming. Your balls are aching, your tip is stimulated and you know that it will be glorious. Somi’s body, from a face that could make news just for its beauty, paired with a pair of perky, large boobs, amplified by a tight, muscular midriff, killer hips and strong, full thighs, she has to be everyone’s type.

People will click on her videos millions of times, yet you are about to be the first to cream her, you can call dibs on that pussy, no male rival co-star stands a chance. Your cock is ready, your legs able to give more power into the final thrusts when suddenly—

“Oh, I found it!”

—Somi leans forward, hand stretched out, ready to grab what has always been on top of this entire pile, in your view forever, in everyone’s view forever, only Somi took forever to find it: purple panties. No, they can’t ruin your perfect orgasm. You heartlessly push Somi against the table, head first into the laundry. Her scream now muffled by a dozen of clothes in her face, you manically fuck your load into her doggy until cum floods her cavern and clothes flood the laundromat floor.

Every part of you is twitching, so is Somi and her pussy. A bit more, a bit more, she squeezes out of you, but she is full. In the midst of all this chaos, this silly, flushed bitch was able to grab the panties. You give her tits a harsh slap to awaken her from the cock induced slumber.

“Put them on, quick, before we make a bigger mess.”

Somi obliges, though shaky. You help her by holding onto her hips, her tits, all those things you could grab forever. When your shaft falls out of her pussy and you watch her catch most of your load with the tight panties, you want to push them to the side and just fuck her full pussy again. That’s when you notice someone down the aisle of washing machines—is it Somi’s teammate?

“Who the fuck is th—”

“Help, I’m stuck!”

This one is a classic. A trope so beyond stereotypical, everyone knows it. Just like the dumb blonde, this one can be found on every porn site ever. The only thing missing is that she calls you stepbro. That would be a bit too much though. Her ass sticking out of one of the washing machines while she absolutely tries to get back out of it is already cliche enough to you.

Oh yeah, she’s also completely naked.

“Oh no, Yuna is stuck!” Somi states the exposition for the viewer, who is utterly uninvolved in the engaging plot they stopped paying attention to since this video's thumbnail. “We need to help her!”

Somi waddles towards her partner. You see trails of cum running down her legs, unceremoniously dropping to the floor and making a lewd, sticky mess of it. She seems unbothered, just like you, and the camera absolutely loves it. The view then switches from this to a new, exposed and impressively large ass.

“Help, help,” Yuna shouts again, metallic reverberation unable to dampen the stupidness in her voice. You had filmed a scene like this one already, but there are no complaints whatsoever. As long as you can get your hands on Yuna’s ass, pull those cheeks apart and get the first view of those two smooth, clean holes, why would you complain?

“How did this happen, Yuna?” Somi asks worriedly, arms alongside Yuna’s frame, definitely ‘pulling’ on her teammate's waist, while your mind imagines all the ways you could rim Yuna for hours.

“I wanted to pull my underwear out of here,” she responds with a whine. “But now I am stuck!”

Go figure, she is brainless as well. Both of them are, but nature has instead given them the envy of millions of women: divine bodies that are effortlessly sexy and beautiful. Smooth skin, toned legs, curves to die for—in your admiration you notice that your energy is returning quicker than ever before.

It might not fit the story, the narrative, the game, but in this moment of bliss, you couldn’t care less. Knees bend, cock guided by your thumb, you press your tip against Yuna’s ring and find the entry into her asshole to be a lot easier than expected. Her moan bounces through the washing machine just like her boobs bounce in surprise.

Confusion has Somi frozen, her body only reacting when you put force in your thrusts, enough power to make Yuna hit her dumb head against the back of the washing drum. A profuse whimper made metallic, not that you care, but Somi seems to get back into the real world where she is still as moronic as before.

“H-how is this supposed to help Yuna?”

It’s not. Tell her that. Tell her and Somi will continue complaining like this without getting any pleasure from you. Serves her right, won’t make the scene any better though, thus you find her neck with your hand and find her eyes with yours. They sparkle knowingly.

“You really are the dumbest thing alive.”

A pull and Yuna is out of the drum. Blonde hair flows down her back, hides her frail shoulders and in the reflection of the metal drum you see her lips in a light, glistening pink. They are full and made for sucking. In the sea of her endless, golden hair, your hand twists and twists until Yuna voluntarily raises herself from the ground and arches her back towards you. Your goal is not to kiss her lips (though that would be one hell of an experience) but to drown her in Somi’s cleavage.

“What are you—Yuna! No, don’t pull it down, I-I just found it.”

Sweat evaporates from your temple when you see those lips wrap around one of Somi’s nipples and begin to lewdly suck on it. The thrill is engaging, Yuna’s ass invites you back in and it’s with ease that you fuck her puckered hole. You poke the depths of this suffocating cavern and Yuna begins to poke all over Somi’s body. The dumber blonde hesitates briefly, hands first on her thighs, then Yuna’s until she ends up below her friend.

“Now you are trapped,” Yuna giggles and drool leaves her mouth in purposefully large amounts, able to transform the valley between Somi’s tits into a canal.

“You two are so fucking stupid, fuck, fuck your hot bodies.”

You are starting to lose it, for every word they utter, your intelligence gets insulted but your arousal heightened. You spank Yuna’s ass and she tightens to the point where you need to give it your all to fuck her faster. What an odd time to notice that they haven’t told you their task yet. How can you help them get points? Shit, what was in the script again? Are you really that much smarter if you can’t remember?

“Yuna, Yuna, that feels so good,” Somi moans out and sways on the floor from side to side until you press Yuna right on top of her. With their incredible bodies entangled and you nonstop fucking into the tight ass, their sensitive spots have to rub each other, nipples on nipples, clits on clits, and Somi is the first to collapse. “Oh my God, I-I’m about to wet my panties, oh no, Yuna!”

“Me too, my butt, I’m going to cum from my butt!” Yuna’s silly fucked body, and her silly face and her silly feminine voice have you on the verge to become silly as well. Both blonde’s indulge in their wet, heavy orgasms and you push your tip back into Yuna so many times that you flood her with a pent up load that momentarily shuts down your brain.

So this is how they feel all the time—brainless but blissful. At least stupid bitches fuck good.

“Oh, Somi, there, there is so much in my ass~”

“Really? Can I feel it?”

Somi puts two fingers against Yuna’s puckered hole, but before she can get a scoop of your load that is still hidden in the tightly clenching butt, Yuna stands up. “No, Somi, ew,” Yuna shouts, moans, something in between, again. “You have to eat it straight from the butt, like this.”

You are back in the hub room, all the rooms finally open. Before you make your way to the last room, you decide to take a quick look into each scene you’ve already participated in that only users that buy the premium pass (which is off 69%, only today on k-jizzers.cum) can still watch:

In the first room, Wonyoung and Yiren sit on the edge of the bed, fingering each other's pussies until they violently squirt all over the mattress. Both of them look sweaty and exhausted, but they continue to drink water and share saliva to go for another round. Stay hydrated, everyone.

“Let’s do this, Barbie, I know your tiny body can cum again!”

“O-okay, b-but only if you kiss me.”

In the second room, Swan is fully naked, her backside turned to you. She is tied to the metal bars with handcuffs on both of her wrists. Below her is Gahyeon, thrusting a dildo up into that tiny tight cunt, while her own hole is stuffed with a loud bullet vibrator. They are really committed to this game.

“I swear, Swan, if you cum again, I’ll kick your ass, literally!”

“S-sorry, Mommy, I try, try, try—I’m so close!”

In the third room, well, those blondes finally found a way to snowball your cum, not from mouth to mouth, but ass to mouth. Yuna sits on Somi’s face, head thrown back, unable to not moan as your white spunk oozes out of her. Bon Appetit.

“Oh God, don’t put your tongue in!”

“But he tastes so good, let me be greedy this one time.”

The final room is a classroom, unmistakably. It has an old blackboard, a long desk for the teacher, smaller desks and chairs for the pupils. No matter when or where you’ve been to school, this will surely evoke memories of forgotten homework, endless lessons and bratty students.

“Ew, is that the new guy?” you hear someone complain from across the room, disgust in her voice, fingernails rapidly typing on her phone.

“Oh yeah, but what did you expect? At least he gives some big dick energy,” a response follows promptly, though this time they both look up from their phones and stare at you. You quickly find coverage behind the teachers desk to hide your manhood. A miserable attempt that has one of the girls outraged.

“Ayo, what the fuck? Do you think you’re some kind of teacher now?”

“Maybe he is here to teach us a lesson, lol.”

Did the girl on the left, in her messed up blouse and way-too-short checkered skirt, the waistband of a light brown thong on display, just like her midriff and navel—did she just say ‘lol’ out loud? Well, at this point the viewer will neither cringe or notice, too good is this material, too hot their bodies.

“Maybe he is here to teach you a lesson for breaking the dress code,” the girl adds as she approaches the desk.

“Yeri, you—you’re worse than me! Everyone can see your bra, what the fuck,” the other girl shouts and goes in for a slap on Yeri’s butt. The impact has you peeking out as a small melee breaks out.

“At least I tried, Yeojin, unlike you. Where is your skirt, your blouse? I can almost see your tits.” Yeri reaches for Yeojin’s chest, which is covered by this tiny, one piece swimsuit, so tiny in fact, even Yeojin’s small body seems to spill out of it. When there is so much shortness, of course Yeojin’s shorts are no different. Her shorts are actually shorter than Yeri’s skirt, which is already quite short—

“You tried?” Yeojin shrieks and tugs at Yeri’s blouse, accidentally undressing her. Who could have known, the bra below is actually a bikini top. “It’s falling off of your body.”

“Ts,

“Hey, you fucker! Get out already, we got some beef to settle.”

Yeri kicks the desk and you hear pencils roll down from it. They surely have not forgotten about you and your assumed big dick energy, so it was no use to continue hiding. You crawl out and straighten your posture, clearly taller than the two young women who don’t waste time looking up and gawking at the height difference. Both sets of hands go straight to your abdomen, your crotch, your cock. Yeojin is the first to pump, rubbing her fishnet sleeves carelessly over your sensitive tip.

“Watch it,” you hiss and get fistfuls of their hair, which to your surprise does not faze them at all. “You two are running your mouth, spewing bullshit. This is no way how you should treat people older and taller than you.”

Yeri frees herself easily from your grasp and you gasp when her knuckles dig into your stomach. It wasn’t really a punch, but somehow, she has you stunned. A smirk appears on her feisty features. “Watch it, asshole. This is our classroom, you’re the one below us. If you want some respect, don’t flex with your height. Flex with something else. Proof your worth.”

“O-oh yeah? And how should I do this?”

“Fuck us,” Yeojin casually says and pulls back the skin on your cock to the point it hurts and all the surging blood forces you to peak stiffness. “You get points for every position, the more creative, the better. Show us that this thing is more ‘do-er’ than ‘show-er’.”

Their eyes are the epitome of ‘fuck-me’ eyes, hell, they imagined fucked you the moment you entered, and in your mind, you’ve fucked them in every conceivable way possible. With all this imaginary fuckery, it’s about due time for the real fucking to start, though it’s definitely bugging you that these small, bratty girls get to start it off and lead the way.

Guess your positions have to be rough.

“Fine,” you sigh and get ready to push Yeojin down to her knees, but there is no need. She takes the short fall and her lips aggressively wrap around your tip before you can overthink your decision.

“No need to agree, it wasn’t up to you anyway,” Yeri laughs and you feel her fingers roam your upper body, everything from butt, back, nape to stomach and chest. She lingers there for a long time, cupping your pecs while you imagine cupping her surprisingly big tits—then Yeri dives in and starts to suck one of your nipples, while Yeojin bops her head back and forth.

“You tiny bitches.” They make it hard to breathe, their sluttiness and sloppiness is excellent, their enthusiasm matches that of Wonyoung. “You greedy, evil little things. You’ll regret that.”

“We’ll see about that,” Yeojin moans when your cock pops from her luscious lips and you’re back to receiving harsh, painful pumps from her fishnet clad hands. “What’s stopping you, huh?”

Nothing, really, so you don’t keep them waiting any longer. You reach into the back of Yeri’s bikini bottoms while simultaneously finding a good grip on Yeojin’s ponytail. A bit of adjusting on both ends, suddenly there is nothing but sounds of horniness, of rampant, uncensored sex. Well, there is of course a lot more than that, but who could think of anything else—

—but Yeojin’s cock-sucking lips sucking cock. They are the only thick thing on this miniscule rookie pornstar. You jerk your hips forward and her nose meets your base. You keep it that way as her tight throat struggles with your size and saliva spills from her lips.

Yeojin’s gags seem to turn on Yeri, her wet pussy dripping on your fingers as you rub it, never too fast, to keep her on the edge to—yeah, teach her a lesson. Look at that needy face, that heaving bosom, she is so desperate for more stimulation, but could never admit to it. Yeri’s pride keeps her from begging for your fingers to twirl inside her cunt.

“Is that really how you want to do it?” That’s as close to a beg as you will get from Yeri, nonetheless, you’ll give her more rubs. All this struggle is unbeknownst to the viewer, who can only see Yeri’ ecstatic face and wide open mouth as you finally insert two digits in her cunt. “That’s better, fuck.”

“Ride my fingers, Yeri. Impress me, and I’ll fuck you on the desk.”

“You, you will either way,” she chirps back, voice about to break when you thrust knuckles deep and curl, all while making Yeojin your sex doll.

Those gags of hers have become too dangerous though, so you take a step back and intensely watch as Yeojin coughs up lots and lots of saliva, letting it run down her pretty little face, her throat that was just stuffed like some obscene christmas chicken. In disbelief you watch her wipe her tears away and grin on, as if she wasn't just fighting for her life. Nothing can get Yeojin down, her brattiness is unreal.

Yeri does not seem amused at the lack of attention you give her. She pulls your hand out of her pussy and waddles towards the desk. In a burst of creativity, you grab her and slam her on the desk, on her back. Yeri winces in pain, but you already have her entrance exposed and filled before she can complain. And complain, she shall never again.

“Fuck, so big, be ca-care-ful!”

“Now that’s—oh God, you’re tight—now that’s not what I expected from you,” you groan manically, as you pin Yeri down with both your eyes and hands. “Shut up and take it. I want to see your tits bounce.”

Out of nowhere, Yeojin’s thin hand creeps under the thin string of Yeri’s bikini top and pulls it off. Finally, you can see those modest breasts swing freely while you do what you’re best at: plunging your fat cock into a wet cunt. Yeri moans, in a deep craze, deep pleasure, her hips grind in circles so you have to pin her down harder, hands in the soft flesh above those hips—just fuck faster and lose your mind.

“Yeri, your pussy looks so full,” Yeojin giggles and brushes stray hair out of her friend’s ecstatic face. “Don’t tell me you’re already about to cum?”

“No-no, never—”

“Oh great, cuz I won’t let you,” you promptly say and pull out of that stretched hole, gaped and absolutely desperate for an orgasm that was right around the corner. A few more pumps and Yeri would have been gone, her first on cam climax was so close.

But now it’s Yeojin’s turn. After all you want those points—or is it their points? You don’t care, you just hook your arms underneath her thighs and pick her up. She’s as light as she looks and her pink cavern is as snug as you anticipate. Yeojin holds onto your neck for stability, while you split her open further and further and when she leans into you, you feel your cock bulge her.

“Fuck, fuck, that’s the spot.” Use Yeojin like a fleshlight, an upgrade to her sex doll mouth, and she surrenders to the pleasure. Wasn’t this supposed to be Team Bratty or something? This is more—

“Team Cockhungry, absolute sluts,” you shout at her but Yeojin is just mindless and her lips quiver anxiously whenever you’re not guiding her small body up and down your cock. “Yeri, get on the wall. Present your ass to me, if you want this cock again.”

Yeri nods, only focused on you. She needs a second to find orientation again, while you make Yeojin lose all orientation as you spin her around and fuck her full nelson. An insane idea by the producers, stand and carry sex for the finale, but with a girl this small, it’s actually possible. You are still the unrestrained engine that pistons and pistons until Yeojin is ready to burst.

“Not yet, not yet,” you coo as you ruin yet another orgasm. A wet pop when you remove yourself from what could be a perfect hole for cockwarming, breeding and many other lewd adventures. The industry will empty their pockets to get a video with this pocket pussy girl. But for now, she is all yours and quite dismayed.

“You, you dick, better make it up later,” Yeojin says, voice deeply judgemental. It has to be ignored, because first, you have to make it up for a certain someone who wasn’t satisfied with your fingers or a short missionary fuck. Yeri needs you again, deep and hard, while her fragile legs try to keep her upright.

You watch the side of her face, the lip bite, the palms flaking off the wallpaper, the thighs trapping you and your cock is already on her labia. Yeri rubs her love juice all over your rod and you follow her plea and take the lead with a thrust that can be heard around the world.

“Fuck, it’s deep, your cock is deep in my pussy.” The disbelief in her voice sounds genuine, just like the attempt to crawl up the wall to drop back down on your cock. Yeri wants you to hit her cervix, finally cumming all over you but you need to savor this position more.

“Deeper than anything else.” A hand in her hair, you press everything of her against the wall. “I know you like it deep, your best spots are there. You’re a slut for large cocks, you only want them while standing up.”

“No, I need them to pick me up! Lift me up and fuck me, break me open deeeeep!”

Yeri must have been so envious of Yeojin. You might have picked the wrong girl to lift on high and fill from below. You can still make it up though; Yeri’s tits are repurposed as handles to pull her back onto your chest, feet suddenly flying. You might be blinded by strands of her hair all over your face, but you can still feel the weight of Yeri down on your cock, while you’re still drilling into her. She is getting higher, not only physically, but mentally. She loves nothing more than to be watched while a huge shaft fucks her. The stimulation sends her into a sea of bliss, a deep ocean, like the puddle of girl cum beneath your feet.

“I’m going to cum on your cock,” Yeri screams and tries to choke out a load from your balls, yet all she is choking you with is her hair on your face. “I love it, y-you can finish with me—”

The last time the camera captured someone cum so hard was about thirty minutes ago, either Wonyoung or Yiren, but unlike Team Princess next door, Yeri does it involuntarily. You pound the squirt out of her sloppy cunt until your legs become a slippery lubed mess and you almost slip on the cheap classroom floor. Yeri shouts and whines, the inside of her pussy still rippling when you pull out of it.

When you place Yeri back against the wall and feel the somewhat cold studio air brush past your erection, you realize that Yeri was close to getting you off too early. You are throbbing, surfing on the edge, almost getting blue balled. The only thing that can save you is Yeojin and the only thing you see is her ass, as she props herself up on all fours in between the chairs of—

Who counts chairs and who fucking cares? Just slam your cock into her ass and hear her screech in shock at the sudden fullness of her back entrance. There will be no ruined orgasm for you this time, Yeojin’s ass is your guarantee and you doubt her brattiness will return. Not when she moans so submissively. A question remains as you bury yourself repeatedly in Yeojin’s rectum: how can she be shocked when it's all lubed up and relaxed and eager to take you back inside like the pussy of a veteran porn star?

Yeojin really was born for this job. Her petite frame will be perfect for various porn sites related to kinks: size difference, stand and carry, small tits. The videos of her getting bulged will become legendary amongst the horniest or Reddit and Tumblr communities. Guys will have their way with her, her head will be spinning after some huge guys have her unconventionally spitroasted in the air or one of those tall, muscular women takes her for a ride on a strap-on.

They won’t have to worry about anal from her, because Yeojin takes it legendarily, narrowing at just the right time to go beyond the audio-visual perfection that is her penetrated ass—in simpler words, it feels as good as it looks. She can rival Yuna or maybe form some butt slut dream team, that’s how fucking amazing fucking her ass is.

“Yeri get back here, I’m close,” you promptly announce whilst scoring again by forcing Yeojin into a prone position and marking her shoulders with tender bites. Yeri struggles to find footing, only able to push forward because of all the tables and chairs. When she finally reaches you, you give Yeojin your final pumps as her entire frame is struck by an orgasmic earthquake.

In this day and age, everything has to be fast, even porn has to fit the 15 second shorts, reels, tiktok culture, so you start to cum in Yeojin and push Yeri to the ground at the same time. Then you reach for Yeri’s butt while holding back as many spurts as you can, to get her in this sweet piledriver and then paint both the outside and inside off her petite yet bubbly ass. It’s perfect for a short clip, that little teaser that plays when you’re about to click on the next JAV thumbnail on that shady site.

The HD or 4K settings across all screens can never do the real sight of a blissfully filled Yeri justice, as she eagerly spreads her own cheeks and everyone gets the awesome view of cum that seeps out of a gaped ass. The upside down (pretty, little, risky) baddie cleans off that hard-working cockwith her formerly bratty mouth. Deep exhales through her nose send a nice, warm stream of air around your base, which finally loses stiffness, the tension, it comes crashing down in the well-known post-nut clarity.

In this clarity however, you find Yeri’s final defiance; her lips will not let go of your cock and her tongue on your sensitive slit makes you curl your toes and whine out the agony which shoots up to your head like electric shocks. To top it all off, you feel Yeojin grin behind you when she wraps her slender arms around your midriff. This wasn’t in the script!

“The shooting might be over,” the tiny girl whispers. “But we are not done with you.”

“There are still a lot of points to be collected.

“And you will collect all of them.”

2K notes · View notes

lumiambrose · 8 days ago

Text

✰ full house

the devils month - day thirtyone

featuring: jing yuan x den heng il x blade x f!reader

summary: the general's "old friends" pay him a visit, where they get to meet you, his cute little toy for the first time.

tags: smut, foursome/gangbang, choking, spitting, implied squirting, face fucking, praise, degredation, p in v, finishing inside, triple penetration, dan heng has two cocks fight me.

wc: 3.5k

your arrangement with the general is quite simple. he makes sure you don’t get drafted into the cloud knights, despite your family's wishes, and in return, you keep him company. you see, being general is quite a straining duty, and therefore the jing yuan rarely has free time of his own; hence, relationships and intimacy are almost unknown to him. of course, until you came along. your little deal has been going on for a while now; it has almost been a year since it started, and life is great. he dresses you up, treats you to the finest dishes in the luofu and makes your eyes roll back in the best way possible.

the only “downside” is that you can’t deny his sexual advantages, but ninety-nine percent of the time, you’re in need of good dick anyways. today is no exception.

right now you’re lounging in the general’s office while he’s managing some paperwork. your day had been mostly uneventful—that was until the doors to his office abruptly opened. in walk 2 men, one with dark hair and a sour expression, the other definitely a vhidyadara, with a more neutral expression. despite your shock, the general doesn’t seem fazed at all. in fact, he seems quite happy. he gives them a short nod as they enter his office, taking in the familiar room and making themselves at home.

it’s not long until their eyes settle on you, confused as to what a mere thing like you is doing in the great general's office.

“what is that doing in here?” the dark-haired man spouts, clearly unimpressed by your presence.

the general lets out a chuckle, “her? don’t mind her. she’s simply keeping me company.” he finally looks up, doing a one-over on the three of you, giving you a short smile as he turns back to face his friends.

“how unbecoming of you, dear general. keeping a concubine at your disposal,” the dark haired man gestures dismissively in your direction, stepping further into the room, closing the distance between him and the general.

jing yuan steps away from his desk, making his way down to the lower area of his office, past his friends, and to the sofa, occupying the space next to you. “now, now, blade, no need to be so aggressive,” he grips your thigh, giving it a tight squeeze. “or are you perhaps jealous? she’s quite the pretty thing, isn’t she?”

the man you now know as blade scoffs, rolling his eyes at the display. "jealous? i have no reason to be." he stalks closer, looming over the two of you on the couch. "i just think it's pathetic, is all. a man of your stature, reduced to rutting with some common whore."

the other man finally speaks up, his calm voice cutting through the tension. "enough. it’s not our position to interfere in jing yuan’s affairs." he steps forward, making his way to the sofa. "although, i must agree, she’s quite a stunning catch, general."

jing yuan smiles, his gaze never leaving yours as he addresses his friends. "indeed, den heng, she is quite stunning. and very talented as well." his hand slides higher up your thigh, his fingers tracing teasing patterns against your skin. “especially on her knees.”

dan heng chuckles, his teal eyes glinting ever so slightly. "i can certainly see the appeal." he takes a seat on the other side of you, his large frame dwarfing your own. "perhaps we should stay and enjoy the general's hospitality a while longer, hmm?"

blade looks like he wants to object, but something in jing yuan's expression stops him. he settles for a scowl, crossing his arms over his chest. "fine. but make sure your whore behaves herself.”

you do your best to pay blade no attention, instead glancing over at the two men on either side of you. the general's touch is igniting a familiar heat in your core, letting sinful thoughts fill your head. a blush slowly creeps up your cheeks.

dan heng notices your reaction, a slow smile spreading across his face. "looks like the lady is eager to please." his hand joins jing juan's on your thigh, teasing your smooth skin.

jing yuan hums in agreement, his thumb brushing over your clothed sex. "mmm, indeed she is. and i aim to take advantage of that." he meets your gaze, his dark eyes smouldering with promise. "would you like that, dear? to have us use this slutty little body of yours?”

your breath hitches, your hips shifting restlessly under their combined touch. "yes," you whisper, your voice trembling with need. "please, i want... i want you.” you lock eyes with blade, looking down on you. “no—i need you. all of you,” you plead, catching his attention too.

jing yuan grins, his eyes darkening with lust as he takes in your pleading expression. "Such a needy little slut, aren't you?" his hand slides beneath your skirt, his fingers brushing against your damp panties. "don't worry, sweetheart. i promise by the end of the night, you’ll be fucked dumb by us.”

dan heng chuckles, his own hand joining jing yuan's beneath your skirt. "indeed, we'll make sure this slutty little body of yours gets the thorough fucking it deserves." he presses a finger against your clothed sex, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp.

even blade seems to be wavering at the sight of your needy expression, his gaze specifically drawn to the sight of your flushed cheeks and parted lips. "i suppose there's no harm in indulging a bit," he mutters, moving closer to the sofa.

jing yuan smirks, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. "good girl. now, let's get these off, shall we?" he tugs the flimsy fabric down your legs, tossing them aside carelessly. “now on your knees, my pretty slut.”

you comply, of course, moving to kneel before them. jing yuan grins, his eyes dark with lust as he takes in your body beneath him. "that's it, my little slut. on your knees where you belong." his hand slides into your hair, gripping the strands tightly as he guides your head towards his crotch.

dan heng mirrors his actions, his own hand fisting in your hair as he pulls you closer to his own clothed erection. "open wide, whore. gonna use this pretty mouth of yours."

blade watches from the sidelines, his expression a mix of disgust and reluctant arousal. but as your tongue darts out to wet your lips, he seems to discard his hate. with a muttered curse, joins the other men, unfastening his pants and freeing his hardening cock.

jing yuan smirks, his grip on your hair tightening as he frees his cock, just before pulling you to face his member. "suck," he commands, his voice rough with need. "go on, show us what that slutty mouth can do."

you part your lips, allowing him to slide his throbbing length into your mouth. you moan around his length, the taste of his precum coating your tongue as you begin to bob your head.

dan heng grunts, his own cock twitching with anticipation as he watches you service jing yuan. "fuck, pretty," he breathes, grabbing your right hand and dragging it to palm his erection. "c’mon, keep me busy with your hands."

you fumble with his pants, messily freeing his erection, no—erections. you can only spare him a quick glance, given how your face is busy taking jing yuan. but you can feel it nonetheless—two hardened lengths grazing your fingers, and they’re big. you alternate between the two cocks, stroking and playing with them, eliciting sweet sounds from the dragon while you’re bobbing on the general's length.

blade steps closer, his expression unreadable as he watches you work. but as jing yuan pulls you off him, your mouth parting with a wet pop, he seems to make up his mind. he grips your face roughly, forcing your gaze to meet his.

"you want all of us, slut?" he growls, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips. "then open up. i'm going to fuck this pretty little mouth until you're choking on my cock."

he doesn’t wait for a response; instead, he thrusts forward, forcing his thick length past your lips. he’s much larger than you expected, making you gag slightly as he hits the back of your throat, but he doesn't relent. his hips snap, meeting your face as he fucks it with brutality. tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you struggle to breathe, but in all honesty, you’re quite enjoying the situation before you with the three men.

while your attention is divided between the vhidyadara and hunter, jing yuan takes matters into his own hands. kneeling down to meet your level, he starts to tug at your robes. his movements start off delicate, trying not to ruin the expensive garments he bought for you. but to no dismay, he’s not making any progress. he lets out a muttered curse under his breath as he opts to rip the garments instead, desperate to see your naked body displayed for him.

the rough motion makes you squeal around blade’s length, getting quite the reaction out of him as his grip on your face tightens, fucking you harder. the cool air hits your body hard, instantly sending a shiver throughout your entire body. jing yuan's hungry gaze rakes over your exposed self, his hands skim over your curves, his touch possessive and demanding as he pulls you flush against him, away from the other men.

he swiftly picks you up, holding you in his firm arms while he moves you according to his will. he throws you down on the now-free sofa, with your ass up in the air. ever the generous general, he gestures to his two old friends, offering your body to them. “go on, pretty. be a good whore for us,” he coos as he watches from a distance, hand fisting his cock. “you gonna be a good girl and let them fuck you silly, hm?”

your response comes out in ragged breaths, due to the harsh treatment from not just the general—but his friends too. "please," you whimper, locking eyes with dan heng, pleading as you look up at him. "fuck me. use me like the slut I am.”

your pleading expression makes dan heng's eyes darken with lust, his gaze roaming over your exposed body with a sense of hunger that he doesn’t even try to hide. "such a needy little whore," he growls, stalking closer to your body. "begging for our cocks like a bitch in heat.”

he grips your hips, his large hands spanning your waist as he positions himself behind you. you can feel one of his thick lengths pressing against your wet cunt, teasing your entrance with slow, deliberate touches.

jing yuan chuckles darkly from his position in front of the sofa, his hand still fisting himself. "indeed, she is. my pretty little slut, so desperate to be filled and used."

blade scoffs, finding his place at your face once again, his expression emphasises the digust in his eyes as he towers over you. "pathetic," he spits, though his hips keep on thrusting forward, his cock sliding against your cheek. "reduced to rutting with a common whore." despite his harsh words, you can feel his length twitch against your skin, smearing his precum all over your face. you lick a small droplet on the corner of your lips, tasting the salty liquid before peppering him with kitten licks.

your desperation is evident at this point. den heng’s grip on your hips tightens as he grinds against you. "fuck, such a slutty little cunt," he groans, his voice rough with desire. "i bet you'd let anyone fuck your tight little holes, wouldn't you?"

his words send a shiver down your spine, your stomach clenching as he teases your entrance with one of his cocks, while the other rubs your sensitive nub perfectly. you're so close to being filled, your body aching for the stretch of cock.

jing yuan seems to sense your desperation as well, his hand sliding up your back as he leans in close. "Mmm, such a wet little cunt," he groans, his thumb circling your clit. "I bet she'll let us do anything we want to her, won't you, my pretty slut?"

replying seems impossible at this point, so instead, you push your hips further against him, grinding any friction you can get while you moan around blade’s length. you don’t look behind you, but you can hear a condescending tsk from dan heng’s direction. although you’re taken aback as you feel something light trail up your back, you do your best to ignore it; you can only manage for so long.

you try to turn around to see what’s tickling your delicate skin. but before you can catch a glimpse, the same mysterious object wraps around your face. its ends are soft as it slithers down to your neck, tightening around it, making you gasp for air. it’s then that you realise that it’s his tail—he’s a vhidyadara, of course; it only makes sense for him to have one.

it’s with the movement of his tail that he finally enters you, pushing into your tight cunt at a painfully slow pace, making you feel every burn from being stretched around his cock. you cry out at the sensation, “oh, fuck!” you gasp, your body shaking from being so full. “s-so big! so full—”

he smirks at the way your body is shaking, his hands gripping your hips as he begins to thrust, his cock sliding in and out of your slick folds while the other continues to perfectly rub your clit. "that's it, take it all, you little whore," he growls, his hips snapping against your ass with each brutal stroke. "this is what you wanted, isn't it? to be stuffed full of cock?"

jing yuan, watching from the best view in the house, chuckles darkly in front of you, the pace he set on himself slowly speeding up. "indeed, she is. my pretty little slut, desperate to be used like a cheap whore."

blade is surprisingly quiet, letting out grunts here and there as he continues to fuck your face, mesmerised by your wet eyes looking up at him. you bat your eyes at him like a helpless dear, which only made him harder, showing no mercy as he fucks your throat even harder. occasionally landing a few slaps to your poor cheeks. he’s close, so he grabs you by the hair and pushes you down on his cock one last time.

“dumb bitch,” he breathlessly spits. “take it all, you fucking slut,” with that, he lets out what you can only assume is a low moan as he empties his load down your throat.

he pulls away from your mouth, a trail of saliva dangling between his cock and your lips. “open,” he commands.

you part your lips for him, showing the cum mixed with your own spit inside your mouth. to your surprise, blade leans down, spitting there too, mixing his own saliva with yours. “swallow,” of course, you do. leaving him somewhat satisfied. “what an obedient slut, good bitch.”

after licking the remains of blade’s cum off your face, the grip around your neck pulls you up so you’re standing on your knees. to your dismay, dan heng pulls out, leaving you completely empty. you whine out, disappointed in the three men. that is, until jing yuan grabs hold of your fragile body, lifting you up to place you on top of him as he sits down on the sofa.

“what’s wrong, dear?” he coos, feigning pity. “are you that desperate for my cock?” he grips your chin, forcing you to look at him. “well go on, ride my cock. fuck yourself dumb for me, okay?” in an instance, you’re shifting your weight to slowly sink yourself down on his cock, letting out a loud cry as you completely sit down on him. although as you try to move, you find yourself being blocked once more, by that familiar feeling around your neck.

dan heng, who makes his presence evident behind you, grips your ass while he whispers into your ear. “not yet, silly girl. thought you wanted to be stuffed full, ain’t that right?” one of his hands is now holding his cocks, aligning the first with the very same hole that jing yuan is occupying and the other with your, currently empty hole.

he pushes in slowly, giving you time to adjust. you’ve never been so full before. part of you thinks you should be worried; at this rate, they’ll probably break you. but this is what you asked for, no? so you sit there and take it like a good cocksleeve, your limits being tested as dan heng finally bottoms out inside of you, placing a small kiss to the back of your head. “good girl,” he whispers. “so good at taking cock, aren’t you?”

instead of riding the general as he initially planned, he grips your hips, hoisting you up so he can instead thrust inside of you, moving at a brutally mean pace. normally, this would be fine. he’s trained you to be the perfect fucktoy for him. but as you’re currently finding out, taking him and two other cocks is quite the challenge.

you cry out, your slutty moans filling his office. at this point, you’re definitely loud enough for the guards stationed outside to hear you, but they know better than to interrupt the generals ‘private’ affairs. you’re crying, tears streaming down, landing on your breasts. you can’t even think straight; even if you could, what the hell are you supposed to think about when you’re so full of cocks.

your pleasure only heightens when you feel a new sensation, something wet and hot gliding across your breasts. you manage to spare a teary glance to realise that it’s blade. sitting next to your general, he leans in closer, lapping up the tears that fall onto your plush tits all whilst stroking himself.

it’s all too much, you can feel your orgasm approaching you rapidly. and apparently, your general can too. “what’s this, pretty?” he murmurs in a lustful tone. “you like being used by multiple men that much? you gonna cum f’me? cream mine and den hengs cocks?” his breath etching into the sides of your neck is only pushing you further; the hot heat making your sensitive skin feel like it’s set ablaze. “go on then. make a mess for me, my pretty little slut.”

you didn’t even notice until it was too late, but during the general's words, the vhidyadara man found his own release. his hot cum spurting out of both cocks, filling you up in both holes. he’s a mess, groaning and moaning at the sensation of being milked dry, babbling into your other ear about how you’re such a pretty concubine.

of course, he won’t pull out just yet, though. i mean, the very concubine herself hasn’t come yet. despite the overstimulation, he keeps going, fucking his cum deep inside of you while he whispers into your ear. “just like that. taking us so well, aren’t you?”

you’re quite desperate yourself; the grip you have on jing yuan is much stronger than before, leaving crescent marks all over his biceps as you grind into the cocks. you’re so close, you can practically already feel it.

whether it was den heng’s whiny moan in your ears, blade’s teeth biting your sesitive nipple, or jing yuan hitting that one spot that makes you see stars, your orgasm hits you hard. harder than ever, if you dare say so. you scream out, moaning the general's name as your vision goes blurry for a moment, gushing out all over jing yuan’s lap and definitely the sofa. the way you’re clenching around him is also enough to send him over the edge, fucking his cum deep inside of you as he rides out his own high. and of course, blade, who’s watching the entire scenario unfold before him, pulls you to face him. your tits are on full display as he shoots his load all over them, letting it drip down your aching body.

collapsing on top of jing yuan, you finally have a moment to catch your breath. you’re covered in sweat and heaving hard as dan heng pulls out and makes himself comfortable on the sofa. you though, decide to stay and rest on your general, cock still inside of you, keeping the cum from earlier sealed. he himself is also out of breath, dazed expression falling across his face. he seems satisfied, but that’s not all. you’re sure you can sense something else in his eyes.

your thoughts are confirmed as he clears his throat. “good girl,” his voice is low, tickling the area next to your ear. “you took us so well, you really are my perfect little cocksleeve.” he sends a reassuring smile your way as he tucks a stray piece of hair away from your face. although, his gaze quickly shifts into something… darker as the hand on your hip slowly trails down to the curve of your ass.

“so well that it’s only fair we return the favour…” he holds your chin gently and you lock eyes with him once more. “isn’t that right, gentlemen?”

taglist: @ryescapades @143-ilyuu @maruflix @pixelcafe-network thank you @katsutora for proof reading <3

©lumis kinktober 24' ─ do not translate, repost, copy any of my works

#✰ ─ the devils month #ambrose.fics #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #hsr smut #hsr x reader smut #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x reader smut #honkai star rail smut #jing yuan smut #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x reader smut #jing yuan hsr #den heng x reader #blade x reader #den heng smut #blade smut

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makoodles · 1 year ago

Text

ミtìohakx

[tI.o."hak’] P F n. hunger

🍓 pairing: tsu'tey x human fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, tsu'tey pov, misunderstandings, vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), reader has nipple piercings, size kink, human x na'vi sex

🍓 wordcount: 18k

masterlist

it's been far too long since i wrote for my grumpy boy, so here were go! tsu'tey is really horny in this one guys lmao i'm sorry

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

There is something wrong with Tsu’tey.

Like, seriously wrong.

This isn’t necessarily a new sentiment to him; he’s been wondering if there’s something fundamentally broken in him for some time now, as if Sylwanin’s death had damaged him more than he could even tell. In the long and painful years following her death, he never so much as glanced at another woman with passing interest. In fact, he had convinced himself that he was no longer capable of experiencing anything even close to romantic or sexual feelings with anyone other than his first love.

Even when he was betrothed to Neytiri, his feelings never developed past fond friendship. Their mating would have been a duty, albeit one he was content enough to perform if it meant that he could serve the clan and maybe, finally, put some of that awful, bone-deep loneliness behind him. But while he loved Neytiri dearly, he could never drum up any real physical attraction beyond the aesthetic appreciation of knowing that she was a beautiful woman.

And that was fine. Tsu’tey never really had a problem with that. He had mostly resigned himself to never experiencing that kind of love again, even if the thought left him hollow on the inside. He’s always been proud to be the kind of man that throws all he has into all into his community and friendships and duties, but he can’t help but wish things were different. It feels a little as though he’s standing stagnant while everyone around him moves on.

The Omaticaya rebuild when the Sky People leave; families are built, bonds are made, and the People move forward. Everyone but Tsu’tey, it feels.

Tsu’tey, instead, finds himself tragically, humiliatingly preoccupied with matters that would surely never have even occurred to him before the war with the Sky People. Well, only one matter, really.

Instead of doing what is expected of him by finding a mate and settling down, like most other men his age in the clan, Tsu’tey finds himself distracted in a way that is completely unbecoming. He goes through his usual motions of hunting, weaving, carving, training, and yet he feels distant from it all, as though his thoughts and attention are elsewhere.

When he’s not carrying out his duties, he’s mortifyingly distracted by just one of the little sky demons that lingers around the village. You.

It would have been unthinkable for him only a few years ago. Even now, Tsu’tey can’t help but wonder if some essential part of him is broken. It’s the only way he can think to explain why you have captured his attention so completely.

There’s nothing special about you. Tsu’tey’s not completely delusional; he can recognise that you’re just a regular Sky Person, nothing impressive. You can’t hunt, you are bad at weaving, and you look odd. You are so tiny and weak, nothing like the willowy and strong women of his clan.

And yet, all of your odd differences are what end up endearing you to him. Tsu’tey has always felt compelled to protect, to serve his clan and defend his people. You’re small and soft, with your strange little face and pretty eyes, and you have no way of defending yourself. Perhaps that was how his fascination with you had started, but it’s since grown into a tentative… friendship, almost.

You visit the village almost every day, to help out where you can or to accompany Norm or even sometimes (and Tsu’tey sometimes has to centre himself to make sure he’s not reading too much into your alien behaviour) just to spend time with him.

“Hey, big guy,” You call out, like you always do, sashaying your way across the village towards him.

Tsu’tey doesn’t look up from where he’s sitting outside his hut, carving a small wooden bowl. It takes quite a bit of effort to look unaffected and casual, especially when his tail had begun to curve around his legs from the moment he had picked up on your sweet scent on the breeze.

“Demon.” He greets back. He chances a quick glance up at you from beneath his eyelashes, hoping you don’t notice.

Then he does a double take, his head snapping up to look at you again as he completely forgets to feign disinterest.

Tsu’tey is used to having you around the village, and he’s used to stifling his embarrassing attraction towards you as best he can. What he’s not used to is the sight of you wearing such tiny little shorts, or such a tight top. The alien fabric is stretched tight across your breasts and so thin that he can see the subtle shape of your nipples beneath the taut fabric.

His stomach does an odd sort of flip, leaving him dizzy.

It's not that he’s shocked by your body – you are still entirely covered (and he tries to quash the disappointment that niggles in the back of his head), and he has seen many female bodies before.

But this is you, and he has never seen so much of you before. The sky demons are confusingly modest and oddly ashamed about their bodies, which means that Tsu’tey has simply had to tackle his odd embarrassing attraction to you with nothing more than his imagination. To see you now like this feels like a physical blow.

Tsu’tey inhales so sharply that he nearly chokes on his own breath. “Tawtute, what—?”

“You said we could go swimming in the river today.” You say, raising the weird little hairy ridges on your brows.

Ah, he thinks, a little dazed. He had said that. It had been a moment of madness, on his part. He had been trying to come up with an excuse to invite you to spend more time with him, and the added incentive of getting to show off some of his skills to you had made him over-eager and excited.

“Mn.” He grunts, his eyes glancing down over the length of your legs, your soft squishy skin all exposed by your tiny shorts. They’re hitched high on your hips, which draws his eyes to your waist and then up again to your breasts, where your top clings to the soft round shape of them.

His eyes follow your hips as you cock them to the side, your hands landing on the curve of your waist. Damn. He… he should really be familiar with the shape of you, by now. You’ve been a near constant presence in the village since the moment you had made the decision to stay behind on Pandora to live in the shoddy human outpost in the nearby forest.

He knows what you look like. But he’s never really seen you in clothes this tight and small before. It’s stupid. Really stupid. He can’t really explain why the sight of your squishy little thighs in those shorts has turned his thoughts into a pathetic buzzing mush of white noise.

You tilt your head, obviously waiting for him to say something. Your eyes are all shiny, looking at him with an expectant smile.

“Yes.” Tsu’tey swallows thickly, forcing himself to his feet. “You wish to swim.”

The thought is a little thrilling. Perhaps he will even be able to catch a few fish in front of you as well. Showing off physical prowess is just one way of impressing a potential mate, and while it’s not initially what he had intended with the offer, the idea of putting on a mating display for you makes excited heat simmer low in his belly.

“Well, you offered.” You remind him, biting at your lower lip under your mask. Your mouth looks all glossy and wet, more so than usual; he wants to touch your lips more than anything.

“Yes. I offered.” He nods, looking down at you as you stand in front of him.

Ah, the height difference is going to his head a little – your face is just level with his belly button, your head tilted all the way back so that you can gaze up at him. His cock twitches at the sight.

“Come.” Tsu’tey says, trying to shake off his distraction before he embarrasses himself.

Just like always, you happily follow after him as he leads the way away out of the village towards the forest. He glances over his shoulder a couple of times, just to make sure that you’re still there.

“I was thinking that after swimming, we could go for a walk,” You say, your little legs working overtime in an attempt to keep up with him. “I’ve been craving that fruit you let me try last time. You know, the one that looks like a blue balloon, but is pink on the inside and really sweet?”

He slows down so that you can keep pace with him more easily, his eyes drawn down to you as you walk. You don’t seem to be wearing your strange little chest covering that usually covers your breasts under your other top, which means that your soft breasts are bouncing lightly with every step you take. Tsu’tey nearly trips over his own feet when he notices, because now it’s like he can’t keep his eyes off you.

The Sky People are demons, a plague on his planet and his people. But you are so bright and sweet, always excited to see him and spend time with him. And your soft body is so different to the Na’vi women he’s used to – you have so much give to you, squishy and bouncy where Na’vi women are firm and lean, especially in places like your thighs and breasts and little tummy. Tsu’tey has never struggled with his self-discipline as much as he does around you.

“Kllpxiwll.” He says, his voice coming out a little less strong than he’d like. “Yes. We can walk later.”

You beam at him, making his tail lash around his ankles. Your cheeks squish up when you smile like that, and his fingers itch with the desire to squeeze at your face.

“Great!” You say brightly, before reaching out to take his hand in yours.

This time, Tsu’tey really does trip. He manages to regain his balance quickly enough that there’s a chance you didn’t notice, but then he looks down at you with wide eyes. Your hand is so small, your little slender fingers curling around his much larger palm, and Tsu’tey swears his heart skips over a beat at the feeling.

Ah, you need his hand for the balance – you hold tight to him as he helps you step over logs and through the long glowing grass between the huge trees. You use your grip on him both as leverage to climb over some of the obstacles before you and to make sure that Tsu’tey keeps his pace slow that you can keep up.

You even glance up at him, your expression uncertain and a little vulnerable, as though you’re unsure how he’s going to react to your touch. He can understand why; he’s never been shy about letting his distaste for your kind known.

But you’re different. He wonders if you know it – you must know, right? It must be obvious to you, how he looks at you with starry, moronic eyes.

He looks away, struggling to keep his expression cool and neutral. He lets you hold his hand but doesn’t squeeze back, nervous about how tiny your hand is in his and how he might hurt you without even meaning to.

After a moment or two you withdraw your hand, biting at your lip as a small frown tugs at your brow.

When the two of you reach the river, Tsu’tey turns to you and waits. He feels as though he’s holding his breath, watching and waiting as his stomach turns flips. He feels antsy and itchy, his fingers twitching as he forces his face to remain as still as possible.

You raise your eyebrows, tilting your head as your mouth twitches in amusement. “Is there a reason you’re glaring at me like that, babe?”

Tsu’tey frowns reflexively; you’re always calling him strange little nicknames that he doesn’t understand, and he’s yet to decide whether he likes them or not. He decides to focus on the other part of your sentence.

“I am not glaring.” He protests, though he doesn’t relax his face. This expression mostly comes naturally to him, and he doesn’t really want you to see him open and mushy anyway. “I am—I am looking.”

“Okay,” You drawl, drawing the word out. “Looking at me?”

“No. Get in the water.” He says, and it accidentally comes out sounding like an order.

He’s lucky you’re used to his brash manner and blunt attitude, because you just roll your eyes at him instead of taking offence. That’s part of the reason he finds you so lovely, always so sweet and bright even when he makes a mess of communicating with you. His tail coils, so relieved that he hasn’t messed this up yet with you.

When your small hands reach for the button on your tiny shorts, Tsu’tey can’t help but stare. You push the strange rough blue material down over your thighs, and he takes a steadying breath through his nose as you push them down to your ankles.

It’s the first time he’s seen you so exposed, so vulnerable – so… human. Your body is perfect. Beautiful. Soft and curvier than a Na’vi woman, so much smaller than him. He feels a little guilty about the way he’s looking at you so lecherously, but he can’t seem to stop.

He feels his mouth go dry, but he can't bring himself to look away. He's never seen you like this, and he'd never forgive himself if he missed this opportunity just to look.

You step out of your shorts, left in just that thin white top and tiny bottoms that he has heard you call ‘panties’ before. They are small, more revealing than the loincloths worn by his people, so thin and dainty. They cling to you, and Tsu’tey swears he feels his thoughts dissolve into pure nothingness at the realisation that he can practically see the outline of your—

“You’re coming too, right?”

Tsu’tey blinks, a little dazed. When he speaks, his voices comes out a little too sharp yet again. “What?”

You’re looking at him, your eyebrows raised and scrunched a little as you stare at him. You’re confused, he realises, and it takes a moment to realise that it must look as though he’s been glaring at you yet again.

It’s just... That... is a lot of skin. It feels illicit in a way that he’s not used to, because he doesn’t normally see this much of you. It feels like human modesty is now rotting his brain if this is how he’s reacting to just the sight of your bare legs.

“You good?” You ask, and you sound a little uncertain now. “You look… you look kinda angry.”

Tsu’tey manages a grunt, but he doesn’t trust himself to actually speak. His tongue feels too big for his mouth, and he’s sure his words will just come out clumsy and thick. He glances away from you before picking at the ties of his battle band around his waist, drawing it away from him and settling it aside in the phosphorescent moss. He feels naked without it, though he doesn’t remove his tewng.

“I am not angry.” He says at last, pleased with how steady he sounds.

You just hum, and step away from him towards the water. He watches you go, his gaze trailing over all your soft flesh. This cannot be normal. Human women are not supposed to be this attractive, and Na'vi men are certainly not meant to be attracted to them.

And yet... he can't resist sneaking glances at you whenever the opportunity presents itself. Your bare skin, your soft body, your bouncing breasts, your lips... you’re driving him mad. His twitching cock beneath his loincloth means that there is no chance of pretending he doesn’t know how attracted he is to you.

You step into the water, letting out a breathy noise of surprise at the temperature. “Oh, it’s cold!”

He watches you walk ahead of him into the river, his eyes are drawn to your hips, then your waist, then... he feels his face grow hot. Get a grip, Tsutey. You're being ridiculous.

But... oh Eywa...

Tsu’tey just breathes. He closes his eyes for a moment, just to collect himself. He’s being an idiot. He’s better than this; he is a warrior, a hunter, he has been trained for leadership and has fought alongside Toruk Makto. There is no good reason for a human woman to bring him to his damn knees like this.

You wade in a little deeper, until the running river water gurgles around your thighs. Then a little further, until the current is rippling around the bare skin of your waist. Then you keep going, until you’re submerged up to your neck, and you’re making a scrunched up little face as you hiss through your teeth.

“Shit! How can the water be this cold when it’s so hot out!” You complain again, your nose all wrinkled.

Oh.. you’re just adorable. Tsu’tey feels his fingers twitching again, wanting so badly to touch and squeeze and pinch.

You glance back over at him, and give him an odd little look. “Hey, are you coming? I didn’t come here just to swim by myself!”

Tsu’tey stumbles slightly as he makes his way to the edge of the water. Fuck, he’s just a mess of warring emotions right now. All he seems to be able to do is stare at you with hot, hungry eyes.

He glances away again, unable to keep looking at you any longer. He takes a deep breath and dives into the water, keeping his body straight as an arrow as he spears through the water and surfaces only a few feet from you.

The water is cold, but he finds it refreshing. It shocks some awareness back into him, makes him feel a little more normal and less stunned.

You squeal with laughter as his dive splashes you, throwing your head back as you bob in the water nearby. You paddle a little closer to him, swimming a little deeper until you’re treading water next to him.

“It is cold.” He breathes. It’s the only thing he can think of to say that’s even mildly intelligent, yet it sounds like it falls entirely flat.

But you just giggle as though he’s told a wonderful, highly intelligent joke. His ears twitch, relishing the sound of your laughter.

Tsu'tey swallows thickly, his eyes drawn down to your chest. Your thin white top has turned translucent, and clings to the soft shape of your breasts. Through the thin wet fabric, he can see the prominent shape of your nipples.

“I’ve been looking forward to this swim all day,” You’re saying, blissfully unaware Tsu’tey going through his crisis right at your side. “It’s been hot – honestly, the cold water is a bit of a relief, right?”

“Mngh.” Tsu’tey makes an odd grunting noise, before inhaling sharply and tearing his gaze away from you.

He dips down, allowing the river water to engulf him as it rushes over his head. He half-heartedly hopes he drowns, too, but that thought only lasts a moment before he resurfaces and takes a deep, grounding breath.

He can do this. It’s fine. He enjoys spending time with you, especially when he gets to steal you away from the village and the outpost and gets to enjoy your company away from all the curious eyes of the clan. He likes the feeling of having you all to himself.

He swims with you for a while, enjoying the feeling of the water current running over his skin and stealing looks at you as often as he can without you noticing.

You’re so small and soft, and you look pretty in the glow of the sunlight filtering through the trees that shelter the river. He swallows thickly. It feels like he’s witnessing something he never imagined he’d be allowed to see. Your hips. Your waist. Your soft thighs. Your… everything. Fuck, he wants you.

Eventually, you tire, and paddle your way back to the riverbank. Tsu’tey follows as if he’s been magnetised, orbiting nearby you as you clamber your way back onto the sand. Then you lay out on the bank in the sun to dry off, and Tsu’tey feels his pulse throbs hot and heavy in his throat.

He climbs out after you, his tail swinging low as his eyes trail over your figure. Your wet clothes cling to you, the soft fabric of your panties sticking to your hips and your translucent white top revealing almost everything to him.

He settles next to you, unable to look away from the way your nipples are firm and stiff where they're pressing against the thin top. Then his brow furrows, and he cocks his head.

“Tawtute…” He murmurs before he can think better of it, laying on his side as he looks down at you. “I.. may I ask you a… question?”

“Mhm. Of course.” You say without opening your eyes, enjoying the gentle heat of the sun warming your skin.

Tsu’tey swallows, wonders very briefly if he should keep his thoughts to himself, but his curiosity burns at him. He knows very little about Sky People, and he’s never truly felt any real impulse to learn more. But you’re laying next to him right now, and he finds himself very intrigued indeed about your body and possible… physical differences between you.

“It—Sky People bodies are different to ours,” He says. He attempts to keep his voice steady and as confident as possible, and possibly overcompensates by simply scowling. “It looks—it looks as though you have more nipples than we do. Why is that?”

Your eyes fly open, wide and startled beneath the clear material of your mask, and you stare up at him for a long moment of bewilderment. “I—excuse me?”

Tsu'tey flounders for a moment, thrown off by your tone, heat rushing to his face. "It looks as though—”

You glance down at yourself as he gestures clumsily at your chest, barely covered in your translucent white human fabric. Your expression clears as realisation hits, and then you bite your lip as though you’re trying not to laugh.

“Oh.” You breathe, placing your hand over your breasts. “No, sweetheart. They’re just—they’re just pierced.”

Tsu’tey stares at you uncomprehendingly. “Pierced?”

You nod, and Tsu’tey blinks. The revelation takes him by surprise, though he’s still not entirely certain what you mean by it. Human women pierce their nipples? To him, your breasts are already the most beautiful thing in the world. Why would you want to poke holes through them? What is the thought process behind that?

"Why?" he finally asks, his tone bewildered. "What is the purpose?"

“It’s not.. it’s not that there’s a purpose..” You trail off.

In the ensuing silence you stare at him, as though begging him to understand what you mean, before apparently realising that he isn’t going to. You bite your lip, then glance around as though checking that you’re still alone with him.

“I guess… well, nudity’s not a big deal for Na’vi, right?” You murmur, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your top. “Is it alright if I take this off?”

Nudity certainly isn’t a big deal to his people, not in the way it is for any of the tawtute. The Na’vi are comfortable in their bodies, and so the strange modesty of the Sky People is completely foreign to him. He has seen female breasts every day of his life, the chest coverings worn by the women of his people designed to decorate rather than conceal, and yet he has never in his life been filled with such an all-consuming desire to see a pair of tits before.

“Yes.” He says immediately, keeping his face as cool and unreadable as possible in an attempt at hiding his sheer desperation. “It is no ‘big deal’.”

You hesitate another moment, looking shy and a little embarrassed as you fidget with the hem of your top.

His focus is fully on you now, all his senses trained firmly on the sight of you. The desire to see what lies beneath that flimsy garment is becoming overwhelming.

Let me see, He thinks to himself. Just let me see, and maybe I'll finally be satisfied.

Finally, finally, you tug your top up and off. Tsu’tey inhales so deeply and sharply he nearly chokes on it. His eyes are drawn to your bare chest, transfixed. Your breasts are soft and squishy, perfectly shaped. And for the first time, he sees the small silver bars nestled into your nipples, which are firmed up after the cold of the water. They glitter in the sunlight, capturing his attention and holding it in a vice.

Oh, no, He thinks desperately, feeling a pang of desire deep in his loins. Far from satisfy him, the sight has only made him hunger for more. He wants to touch, especially the odd metal that glitters at your breasts.

“See?” You ask, as if he could have ever missed the sight before him. “My piercings.”

“Mmm.” Tsu’tey manages to get out. His voice is deeper than he had intended, and a little stiff. “I see them.”

You smile, as though you’re waiting for a reaction, but Tsu’tey is a little struck dumb. He watches the light of the sun shining on your wet skin, the way your breasts gently swell and fall with each exhalation of your breath, the subtle gleam of the silver of your piercings. The longer he goes without reacting, the more your expectant smile begins to fade.

“What are they for?” He manages to swallow thickly as he asks.

The question makes you laugh, which isn’t a reaction he had intended but is certainly a sound that he always cherishes.

“They’re not really for anything,” You murmur, reaching up to touch your own breast. “They’re just meant to look good, I guess.”

Tsu’tey’s tail lashes restlessly, and he wants so badly to replace your hand with his much larger one; he knows you would look so small beneath his palms. He glances swiftly at your face, and wonders if you would be upset if he touches the little silver bars that decorate your tits.

“This is… this is what is considered attractive to Sky People?” He asks. It comes out in a croak; too much of his energy is being diverted to trying to keep his hands still and to himself.

Your smile begins to fade again, your brow creasing. “Um… sometimes, I guess. You don’t.. uh, you don’t think so?”

That is a loaded question. How is he supposed to answer that when you’re laying on the riverbank beside him with only a thin, wet scrap of fabric covering your most intimate parts? He already feels as though most of the blood in his body had redirected downwards; his cock is pulsing, enough so that he can’t actually think anymore.

All he can do is grunt like a damn talioang. Your face falls further.

“I guess they must seem kinda strange.” You murmur. You must be growing self-conscious, because you start to cover your chest with your arms.

The sight of you trying to cover that perfect view from him sends a bolt of panic through him, and he just stops short of tearing your hands away again.

“You do not have to cover,” He says quickly, before he can think about it. “Like you said, it—nudity means little to us. I do not care.”

“Right.” You say, your voice gone a little bland. “It means nothing to you.”

Tsu’tey knows that your attitude has changed, fallen a little flat. But you’re laying right there, soft and small and squishy, displaying more of your bare flesh than he has ever seen from you, and he can’t pull his thoughts together.

He feels no better than the moronic young warriors that push each other around and whisper nonstop about the women of the clan. He is a skilled warrior, an excellent hunter, and a good provider for the whole clan – he is also experienced with women, so he can’t understand why the sight of you is turning him into a hormonal teenager again.

“Nothing.” He agrees stupidly, still struggling not to be too obvious with his staring.

You purse your lips, but drop your arms all the same. Tsu’tey tries not to goggle.

Oh no, He thinks miserably to himself as he watches the little barbells in your nipples sparkle in the sun. I really am broken.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

Tsu’tey is quite certain that he’s made a fool of himself in front of you.

He’s never been good at expressing himself or his emotions, and his attraction to you scares him as much as it excites him. He alternates between reticence and putting his foot in his mouth, between being unable to meet your gaze and being unable to look away.

He probably looks deranged. He feels deranged.

To make it worse, he knows that his interest in you is obvious to anyone in the clan that watches him interact with you for even a short time. He feels the eyes on him all the time, watching, often looking vaguely sympathetic, which is somehow worse than the horror he had been expecting.

Mercifully no one has said anything to him just yet. At least, no one of any great importance.

“So, you’re telling me that she was laid out next to you, practically naked, just to show off her pierced tits, and you did nothing?” Jakesully demands, his voice like the constant droning buzz of an irritating insect in Tsu’tey’s ear.

Tsu’tey chews sullenly at some roasted teylu, trying and failing to tune his Olo’eyktan out so that he can enjoy his meal.

“Come on, man, seriously.” Jakesully is nudging him now, like an infernal pest. “She took off all her clothes for you, and you didn’t try to—”

“Ma Jake, there are children here.” Neytiri says primly from Jakesully’s other side. She has also been trying her best to ignore her mate, rocking the baby in her lap, but now she sends him a warning glance. The sting of her glare is dulled due to the fact that she’s visibly trying not to laugh.

“Sleeping babies, they got no idea what I’m talking about.” Jake says dismissively, though he adjusts baby Kiri in his arms and leans into his wife’s side all the same.

Tsu’tey shifts where he’s sitting next to him, and allows his gaze to wander across the gathering. He is still waiting to catch sight of you, to see you approaching from across the campfire.

“I’m just saying, man, you’re so obviously into each other that it’s actually painful to watch—”

Tsu’tey grunts irritably. “I am not discussing this.”

“You like her, and she’s all over you!” Jakesully insists. In his arms, Kiri starts to gurgle, and Jake hurriedly raises her up to his shoulder to rub at her little back.

“She is my friend.” Tsu’tey says stubbornly, focusing on his dinner.

Jakesully scoffs. “I’m your friend, but you don’t see me sitting in your lap or holding your hand or getting naked—”

“We are not friends.” Tsu’tey scoffs.

“Ouch,” Jake drawls, rolling his eyes. “Damn, man. I thought we were close.”

Tsu’tey grumbles, scowling into the distance. The irritating thing is, he thinks that he and Jake are close. Admittedly, they still have their rocky moments; Jakesully has earned Tsu’tey’s respect, but he is also an infuriating man and Tsu’tey has always been easy to rile. But… despite their frequent bickering, Tsu’tey has come to trust his judgements.

Tsu’tey purses his lips and picks at the remaining teylu in his small carved bowl. “You… think that she may return my feelings?”

Jake groans, holding the baby with one hand as he covers his face with the other. “You’re killing me here.”

On Jake’s other side, baby Neteyam starts to fuss in Neytiri’s arms. She sighs, pressing a kiss to her son’s chubby cheek before beginning to rock him gently. She’s been listening with as much patience as she’s capable of, though the whole conversation has been punctuated with her eyerolls and scornful hisses.

“Why do you not talk with her, Tsu’tey?” Neytiri asks in a tone that suggests she thinks both men are idiots. “Explain how you feel to her.”

Tsu’tey just gives her a look of disbelief. It’s like she doesn’t know him at all. When has he ever talked about his feelings before? He prefers to just feel things intensely and then shove it all down very deep until it inevitably bursts right out of him.

It’s been a long time since he’s felt like this; not since he was a teenager fumbling his way through his feelings with Sylwanin. It’s especially embarrassing to know that it’s a sky demon that’s eliciting this reaction from him, and that his closest friends are witnesses to his humiliation.

“I am going to sit with the other tsamsiyu,” Tsu’tey sniffs, pushing himself up from the log. “Perhaps they will have some more intelligent conversation.”

Neytiri scoffs, sounding more scornful than offended. “I doubt it.”

“Besides,” Jake adds, grinning at him over Kiri’s little downy-haired head. “Here comes your little bestie.”

Tsu’tey nearly breaks his neck with how quickly he turns his head, and surely enough there you are. You’re stepping across the gathering, smiling politely at one of the old women who says something to you as you pass by her.

He hastily sinks back down beside Jake, ignoring his pointed snickers.

The closer you get, the more details Tsu’tey can see. You’re all neat and clean, still wearing those tiny shorts. But you’re wearing a different top now, this one green like the verdant leaves of the trees that tower overhead, and now he can see that you’re wearing your odd little breast covering under your top. It pushes your soft breasts up and together in a way that’s very enticing, although he is admittedly a little disappointed by the way your strange little decorated nipples are hidden beneath the padding.

“Hey, big guy.” You call out, your voice as cheerful and bright as always.

Tsu’tey’s ears twitch towards you eagerly, his nerves lighting up at the sound of your voice.

“Tawtute—” He begins to greet, but immediately chokes as you reach them and promptly climb right into his lap.

Oh fuck. His every muscle tightens, and all of his thoughts are frozen at the feel of your soft body moulding to his – you’re so small and so squishy, your soft body yielding so easily to the hard muscle of his chest.

He goes to grab at your hips as you nestle yourself into the cradle of his thighs, before panicking and grabbing at his own legs instead. He grips at his thighs harshly, his nails digging into his own skin hard enough to almost draw blood.

“Hello.” He manages to get out, sounding thick and a little stupid.

“Hi.” You reply, smiling up at him as though you think his inability to speak is adorable.

“Jesus Christ.” Jake mutters from off to the side.

Tsu’tey bares his teeth at him from over your head, but Jake is too busy sharing suggestive looks with Neytiri to even notice.

You shift, and he nearly swallows his tongue when your soft bottom settles neatly over his crotch. He panics as he feels blood rush south, and he hurriedly grabs at your hips to shift you from his crotch to his thigh, hoping that you hadn't felt his body respond in arousal.

“I—I have something for you,” He blurts, grabbing for the small carved wooden bowl he had set carefully by his side; he’s just been waiting for you to arrive. “I collected kllpxiwll berries for you earlier.”

Your eyes widen beneath your breathing mask, a pretty smile brightening up your face. “Oh, these are my favourite.”

“Yes, I know.” Tsu’tey says. His hands are still resting on your hips, enjoying how delicate you feel perched in his lap, but he feels a thin thread of panic underlying his delight. You’re so fragile, and he’s so terrified that his big rough hands will hurt you accidentally.

As you settle your bottom back onto his leg again with the bowl in your hands, he does what he does best and shoves his feelings deep, deep down. He will not allow himself to be driven mad by his desire for a human, however soft and warm and pretty you may be.

“Wow,” Jake drawls from his side. “That was really kind of you, Tsu’tey.”

"It is nothing." he replies, his voice coming out rough. "You are my friend."

It makes him want to bite his own tongue off to have you like this against him, but he forces a relaxed grin anyway. He can feel that it comes out strained, because inside he feels like he’s losing his mind. Your closeness is intoxicating, and he cannot stop himself from brushing his free hand against your thigh.

But you’ve tensed in his lap, the little bowl held tight in your lap. Under your mask, you’ve started to frown.

“Your friend.” You repeat blandly.

Jake winces at his side, and Tsu’tey suspects that he’s already put his foot in his mouth. But your soft, plump ass is seated so damn close to his cock beneath his tewng that he just can’t think straight.

“Yes.” He says dumbly. “We are friends.”

You purse your lips and look back down at the bowl of kllpxiwll berries, picking at them distractedly. “Right.”

Tsu’tey’s tail curls, uncomfortable with your sudden silence. Are you angry with him? His eyes drop down to the fruit he had gathered for you, his stomach sinking. Is it not to your liking?

“Do you not like the kllpxiwll?” He asks, leaning over your shoulder to try and get a glimpse of your face.

He can vaguely hear Neytiri make a sound of pure derision off to the side, but he’s trying his hardest to block both Jake and Neytiri out.

“It’s nice.” You say, though you don’t sound very enthused.

Tsu’tey frowns, but then you move to get comfortable and your ass nestles itself right over the ridge of his hardened cock and he swears that his vision tunnels and turns entirely dark for a second. He panics, then grabs at your hips out of pure reflex and bodily lifts you off of him.

You yelp, obviously startled, your arms windmilling as Tsu’tey thrusts you at Jake before leaping to his feet. He can see the way Jake is staring at him as though he doesn’t know whether he should laugh or not, and the way that Neytiri looks faintly disbelieving, and the way that you look all ruffled and startled as you look up at him as though waiting for an explanation for why you’ve just been so unceremoniously booted off his lap.

“Sorry, I—” Tsu’tey begins, his throat tight and much too dry as he tries desperately to come up with an excuse that has nothing to do with his dick. “You were too heavy.”

Jake’s face screws up in yet another wince before he buries his face in baby Kiri’s shoulder as though he can’t bear to watch Tsu’tey humiliate himself.

You’re still staring up at him from where he had inadvertently dumped you on the ground, your face the picture of confusion and hurt. “I’m too—what?”

Tsu’tey dithers for a moment, feeling terribly exposed. Why had he stood up? It’s only a matter of time before both you and Jake notice that he’s had a very physical reaction to you sitting perched in his lap. Neytiri has already noticed, though she’s been kind enough to direct her gaze pointedly skywards.

“I will fetch you water.” He blurts, before turning on his heel and positively fleeing.

It’s a coward’s move, leaving you confused on the ground like that, but he feels as though if he doesn’t get away from your smooth skin and pretty smile he’s going to drown.

You’re just a human, he tells himself over and over. You’re not supposed to be that attractive. You’re not supposed to do that to me. That was just me being weak.

Tsu’tey only pauses when he’s on the very edge of the gathering, taking a moment to breathe.

You’ve always been such an affectionate little thing, but his nerves can’t take so much physical contact from you. You have no idea how much restraint he is attempting to exert, how difficult it is not to press his face into your throat and leave his scent behind all over you, or to keep his hands to himself instead of allowing them to wander all over your plush skin.

But he doesn’t want to make a move on you; harbouring these desires for a Sky Person is bad enough, but the possibility of being rejected is even worse. Both because of the humiliation of rejection, and because Tsu’tey doesn’t know what he’ll do if you decide it’s too awkward to be around him anymore. He doesn’t actually know what you want from him. You had laid out almost naked next to him, but you hadn’t made any advances either. He isn’t even sure if you like him or if the Great Mother just has a cruel sense of humour.

Tsu’tey is a little clumsy when he grabs at a waterskin, glancing across the gathering. Even from this distance, he can see the unhappy frown on your face as you speak with Jake, who is visibly trying to appease you. Neytiri has taken both of the babies in her arms, tucking Neteyam into the woven net carrier on her chest so that she can hold Kiri in the crook of her elbow as Jake speaks to you.

Tsu’tey winces a little and glances away again, reluctant to watch the aftermath of his outburst unfold.

A few of the warriors nearby are drinking fermented pasuk liquor, and Tsu’tey wordlessly takes a skin and takes a long gulp of it. His silent drinking earns him a couple of odd looks, but none of them seem willing to comment on it and he’s too busy drinking and trying to ignore the ache in his crotch to explain himself.

“Are you well, Tsu’tey?” One of them finally asks, a little hesitantly.

“Fine.” Tsu’tey says brusquely. His manner does not invite any further questions, and his peers fall obligingly silent. “I am taking this.”

He clutches the skin as he prepares to return to his place at the cookfire beside you, though he pauses to take another drink before he goes anywhere. From this distance, you look a little calmer; you’re listening closely to whatever Jake is saying, nodding with a little frown of concentration.

“Tsu’tey?”

He nearly jumps out of his damn skin. He had been so distracted that he hadn’t noticed the soft-footed approach of Saeyla, who has come up on his other side.

“Saeyla.” He greets, his ears pinning back in apprehension.

Saeyla smiles, but doesn’t blink. The effect is unnerving, and gives the impression of a predator watching him. He takes another deep drink from the skin, hoping that perhaps it will help him come up with some way to salvage his pride.

“You look stressed, karyu.” She notes, taking a careful step closer.

Tsu’tey tenses, his brow drawing into his usual scowl. “I am not your karyu anymore. You have passed your iknimaya.”

Saeyla just nods, still smiling a little. The air between them feels uncomfortable, but Tsu’tey wonders if he’s the only one that notices. He still feels rather awkward about how he had rejected Saeyla so harshly that night she had approached him beneath the Tree of Souls. He does not regret rejecting her, but he does feel as though he could have perhaps done so a little more gently than he had.

But while Saeyla has been avoiding him in the months since, it seems that now she is starting to get over some of the hurt he had inadvertently caused. It is a relief to see that she has decided to take a mature approach.

“I was wondering if you could help me,” She says, tilting her head. “One of the beams in my kelku collapsed, and it is too heavy for me to lift by myself.”

From the other side of the gathering, Tsu’tey can see you get to your feet and a bolt of panic shoots through him. Why are you standing? Where are you going? Are you leaving?

“Uh, yes,” Tsu’tey says distractedly, beginning to step away from Saeyla and back towards where he had left you. “I can help.”

“Later? After the gathering?” Saeyla asks, beginning to follow him.

“Yes, yes, later.” Tsu’tey agrees, waving her off before hurriedly leaving her behind.

Walking through the dinner gathering is like attempting an obstacle course, and Tsu’tey is distracted as he tries to avoid stepping on the tails of the gathered clan. Luckily, many seem to sense his urgency, and they sweep their tails close to their bodies as they watch Tsu’tey hurry back over to where he’d left you with Jake and Neytiri.

“Tawtute,” He says when he reaches you again, his ears pinning back. “Your water.”

You look a little surprised at his abrupt return, though you bite your lip and take the waterskin he’s offering all the same. “Oh.. thank you.”

As you pull your mask up and raise the waterskin to your mouth to take a sip, Tsu’tey spares a glance at Jake and Neytiri. Their expressions are about what he had expected; Jake still looks as though he’s trying not to laugh, while Neytiri looks distinctly pitying. Tsu’tey winces, and quickly looks away again.

You’ve only just taken a sip of the water he’s brought you when you choke on it, coughing and spluttering. “Oh— what the fuck—” You gasp, hurriedly fixing your mask back over your face as you heave for breath.

Tsu’tey’s stomach sinks, glancing at the skin that he had handed to you and then at the second one still in his hand.

“Uh—wrong one.” He grunts, snatching the skin of pasuk liquor back out of your hand before handing you the other one that’s filled with water. “… Sorry.”

You’re staring at him with some disbelief now, your eyes watering a little from the strength of the alcohol beneath your exo-mask. “Have you been drinking?”

“No.” Tsu’tey scowls, then amends, “A little.”

You goggle at him with a look of faint astonishment, before you turn to look at Jake. Tsu’tey shifts, feeling rather unfairly jealous, and scowls when he sees you and Jake share a significant look.

“Right.” You say. You sound a little stiff, but you manage to conjure up a sweet smile all the same. “Well. I’m, uh, I’m going to head back to the outpost.”

“Oh.” Tsu’tey says. He hides his disappointment the best that he can, keeping his face still as his tail curls down by ankles.

“But, maybe you could walk me home?” You continue, your eyelashes batting at him.

For the first time, Tsu’tey realises that you look a little different. Your eyelashes are darker and longer, your skin tone smoothed out and even, your cheekbones a little shiny. Your lips look plumper and glossier too, a little redder than their natural tone.

He blinks at you, distracted and a little flustered by your appearance.

“Yes.” He says moronically, hastily passing off the skin full of liquor to Jake, who looks at it in bewilderment.

That makes you brighten, and you reach for his hand hesitantly as though you think he may pull away from you. Tsu’tey watches the way your small fingers intertwine with his much thicker ones, and feels his pupils expand as his tail coils in excitement.

He’s aware of the glances and whispers he’s getting from the rest of the gathered clan, and the irritating eyebrow wiggles he’s getting from Jake, the wolfish yet encouraging grins he’s getting from the warriors that he had taken the alcohol from, but he’s not focusing on any of it. All of his attention is directed towards you as you lead the way towards the forest.

“You look… nice tonight.” He murmurs, low enough that it’s just you that can hear. It comes out awkward, but he means it genuinely.

You glance up at him, and your face relaxes into a smile. You look so damn sweet, clinging to his hand and beaming at him. His heart is thudding hard enough against his chest that he swears it should be visible from the outside, and his own mouth twitches into a hesitant smile in return.

“Yeah?” You ask, your little white teeth gleaming in the remnants of the firelight as you lead the way towards the forest. “I put on a little makeup to come see you.”

Tsu’tey has no idea what that means, but he likes the idea of you doing something specially for him. He feels rather smug as he follows along after you, taking small steps to try to match your pace.

The two of you have only just reached the treeline when Tsu’tey hears a call of his name, and he pauses and glances over his shoulder to see that it’s Saeyla. She’s jogging after him, her ears pricked high in interest.

“Tsu’tey,” She says with a coy smile. “You are still coming to my kelku later?”

You pause at his side, turning to watch her approach. Tsu’tey feels flustered, though he can’t put his finger on why. Your gaze is intense when it comes to rest on the side of his face, waiting for his response.

“Yes, later.” Tsu’tey agrees, eager to be rid of her.

Saeyla smiles, satisfied, her eyes drifting once to you at his side before she turns and saunters away.

Pleased to be alone with you once more, Tsu’tey turns back to you. He can hardly contain his feelings; his ears keep twitching, his tail is coiling and flicking in anticipation, and he can’t tear his eyes away from you. It’s so far from his usual demeanour that it’s embarrassing, but you don’t seem to notice; you’ve never been very good at picking up on Na’vi body language.

You let go of his hand and start walking again faster than Tsu’tey had been expecting, and he jolts into action to try and catch up with you. Your lips are pursed, all glossy and very appealing, and Tsu’tey almost walks into a low-hanging tree bough as he’s staring at you.

His desire for you is simmering at a low boil in his belly, impossible to ignore. It makes him ungainly, clumsy with his limbs and his words, makes him uncharacteristically stupid.

How is he supposed to pursue this? The ways of Sky People confuse him, though he has tried his best to understand you and your ways of thinking. He doesn’t know the customs of human mating, and he doesn’t want to accidentally harm or offend you. Perhaps he would be better off waiting for you to make an advance, but to even think of you making such a move makes him feel so... vulnerable. It's terrifying.

It takes a few moments to realise that he’s been so lost in his own thoughts that he hasn’t noticed the silence that’s settled between the two of you. He clears his throat and increases his pace so that he’s fallen in stride with you.

“You are quiet, tawtute.” He says carefully, questioningly.

He’s not expecting you to scoff, nor shoot him such a bland, unimpressed stare.

“Are you being serious?” You demand.

Tsu’tey blinks. He’s surprised by your sudden change in mood, and wonders if he should be treading carefully now. These sudden attitude changes are bewildering; is this a human thing?

“Yes,” He says slowly. “I am being serious.”

“Unbelievable.” You mutter, promptly speeding up once more.

You don’t get very far – your legs are comically shorter than his, and it takes very little effort to keep up with you.

The outpost is not far from the village, and even with your short legs the two of you arrive at it in no time. To Tsu’tey’s confusion, you march up to the entrance with hardly a second glance at him.

“Tawtute—?” He begins, stepping after you as you ascend the little steps up to the door.

You whirl, startling him into taking a little step back.

“You’re going to Saeyla’s after this?” You demand.

Tsu’tey stares at you, wondering if you’ve gone mad. Why are you asking him this when you had been present for the conversation?

“Yes.” He says slowly. “She asked me to.”

You purse your lips again. “Saeyla, your old student?”

“Yes.” Tsu’tey repeats, beginning to frown.

“Saeyla, who asked you to mate?”

“There is only one Saeyla in the clan.” Tsu’tey points out, a little confused.

Your nostrils flare, and he realises a moment too late that you do not like that answer at all. He flounders for a moment, trying to find a way to salvage the conversation, but he doesn’t fully understand what you’re irritated about.

“She asked for help,” He says, keeping his voice low. “She wishes for help with her kelku.”

“No doubt.” You say archly, your eyes narrowing. “I guess she’s a friend of yours as well.”

Tsu’tey would not have gone so far as to call Saeyla a friend, but he supposes that she had made an extra effort to approach him to mend some of the awkwardness between them. Tsu’tey had always interpreted their relationship as a mentor-student one, so her abrupt confession the night before the clan had gone to war with the Sky People had taken him entirely by surprise.

“In a way.” He says, unsure how to express all of that.

Your funny little alien face seems to tremble for a moment, settling into an odd expression. Not for the first time, Tsu’tey wishes you had proper ears and a tail so that it would be easier for him to tell what you’re thinking.

“Right.” You say, your voice a little dull. “Well, that’s great.”

But then you turn around and march up to the door of the outpost, and it hisses open to let you in. Tsu’tey perks up, frowning. Are you leaving now? You’ve never left without giving him some kind of little hug or squeeze to his hand, or a promise to see him tomorrow.

“Tawtute—” He begins, but you don’t turn around.

“Goodnight, Tsu’tey.”

“I will see you tomorr—” He begins, but the door slides shut with a firm hiss before he can finish.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

It takes most of the day before Tsu’tey realises that something is wrong.

Hardly a day has gone by in the last few months that you haven’t shown up at the village to watch him train and cook, or to entice him out swimming or walking or gathering. While it was once met with annoyance on Tsu’tey’s part, he has come to enjoy your company. He looks forward to your arrival now, his whole body primed and eager as he waits for you to come to the village.

But the following day, you’re nowhere to be seen.

You don’t arrive for the morning meal, and you never come to watch him train. He waits around in the afternoon, trying to look busy as he waits for you to come to the village. When you don’t show up, uneasiness begins to creep in.

He waits for dinnertime, but you don’t come to eat with him either.

He eats in silence, frowning broodily into the fire and casting frequent glances towards the forest as he waits to catch a glimpse of you. He has to deal with sympathetic and questioning glances from Jake and Neytiri all evening, which makes his skin itch. They don’t ask questions, which arguably makes it worse.

Tsu’tey doesn’t even make it to the end of the meal before he stands, making the decision to seek you out instead of waiting around.

“Good luck, man.” Jake mutters rather ominously.

Tsu’tey doesn’t bother with a reply, abandoning his half-eaten food as he marches into the forest. He’s irritated to find that he’s worried. You had been in poor humour the night before, and he’s a little bit anxious about why.

It doesn’t seem like a coincidence that your mood and attitude had changed so drastically after the two of you had crossed the human boundary of nudity. Had he gone too far? Had you been uncomfortable? Perhaps you had realised that he was looking at you in a way that decidedly surpassed friendship, and you didn’t like it.

The outpost is a shoddy eyesore of human architecture, and it makes Tsu’tey’s nose wrinkle everytime he sees it. Despite all the time he’s spent with you, he rarely visits the outpost itself, but needs must.

It takes a frustratingly long moment for him to work out the mechanism of the door, and then he has to stand there with his tail whipping around impatiently as the door compresses shut and the atmosphere is forcibly converted to air that’s breathable for humans. When the second door opens up to allow him into the outpost itself, he muscles his way in and takes one of the stupid little masks to loop around his neck so that he can take infrequent sips of air.

The outpost is cluttered with demon technology and strange furniture, and Tsu’tey picks his way around the metal floor with his nose wrinkled. He dislikes the way it feels against his bare feet.

The first person that sees him is Norm, who’s sitting at one of the messy desks with his head in his hands. It’s rare to see him in his human form, his odd dreamwalker body tucked away for the night, but Tsu’tey grunts a greeting out nonetheless.

Norm doesn’t react the way he had expected. He jerks to his feet, eyes widening at the sight of him, and he blurts, “Oh, thank god. You’re here to apologise, right?”

That gives Tsu’tey pause, and he stares at Norm in some bewilderment. “Apologise?”

Norm doesn’t appear to hear him, too busy glancing over his shoulder towards the back of the outpost as he scurries a little closer.

“Man, she’s been upset all day.” Norm keeps his voice low, as though he’s worried you’ll hear. “Just—go in there and talk to her.”

Tsu’tey frowns, but he’s already drifting towards the back of the outpost. The shoddy building is split into several sections; one for working, one for recreation, one for sleeping. There’s probably more, but Tsu’tey has never bothered looking too closely at it. All he knows is that Norm has gestured to the back of the building, towards the sleeping area.

“She is resting?” He asks, keeping his voice low to match Norm’s.

Norm scoffs. “Uh, no, I wish. She got some of that fruit wine you guys drink at celebrations. She’s a little bit… uh…”

Ah. You have been drinking. Tsu’tey feels curiosity bubble up in his chest; he’s never seen you drunk before. In this moment, he wants to see nothing more.

“I will speak with her.” He murmurs, before leaving Norm behind in favour of ducking into the back section of the outpost.

The building is rickety and mostly partitioned with fabric curtains rather than the doors that the Sky People tend to favour. As such, Tsu’tey can hear the way Norm is shooing whatever other demons are left over out of the building, presumably to give him some privacy with you.

He finds you laid out in a bed near the back, floppy-limbed and sloe-eyed as you speak with another sky demon. You’re talking with your hands, clearly feeling very passionate about whatever the subject you’re discussing is.

Tsu’tey lets his eyes wander over you, enjoying the brief moment he has before you realise he’s there. You’re wearing thin white fabric shorts covered in some sort of blue pattern, and a small little top that only reaches your midriff. You look so comfy, so warm and soft in your cosy little bed as you drink Omaticayan fruit wine and complain to your friend. Tsu’tey feels a buzzing start up in his belly and the tips of his fingers; he wants to touch you so badly it hurts.

The other sky demon spots him first, her eyes widening at the sight of him as she leaps off the bed. It takes a beat longer for you to spot him, but then you’re scrambling to your feet as well.

“Tsu’tey—” You start, almost spilling the fruit wine in your hand all over your bed. “What are you—”

“You did not come to the village today.” He says before you can finish, stepping closer to your bed.

The ceilings in the outpost are high to accommodate the bodies of the dreamwalkers, so he towers over you as kneel up on your bed, frowning up at him. He feels his cock twitch; he knows he’s bigger than you, obviously, but the size difference between you feels so stark now that he’s looking at you all curled up in your bed, rumpled and a little disheveled from the wine.

“I’ll—I’ll see you later!” Your friend blurts, before turning and rushing out.

Satisfied now that he is alone with you, Tsu’tey allows himself to sink to his knees by your bedside. Even on his knees, he is slightly taller than you in your bed.

You look a little flustered, clutching your cup of wine to your chest as you blink at him with wide eyes. It draws his eyes to your breasts, and with a little thrill of delight he sees that the fabric is sheer enough for him to get a good look at the outline of your nipples all firmed up beneath your clothes.

He so rarely sees you without the mask, and he can’t help but notice how sweet your little face looks without the clear barrier. Your eyes are all glossy and a little hazy from the wine, and you’re looking up at him as though you can’t quite believe he’s there.

“Are you alright?” He asks quietly. The moment feels so delicate, as though he might inadvertently shatter it with a raised voice, so he keeps his voice low and even as he reaches out to stroke over your squishy cheek with a single finger.

To his surprise, you jerk away from him, once again almost sloshing the wine all over yourself. You roll off the bed, holding your cup high, until you’re on your feet in front of him.

“Yes!” You say, and your voice comes out high-pitched and a bit shaky. “Fine, I’m fine. Why are you here?”

For a moment, Tsu’tey just stares at you. You’ve never pulled away from his touches. It’s always been him that’s been jittery around you, nervous in case he hurts you or pushes too far. But now you’re wobbling away from him and avoiding his gaze, and that makes something that feels a lot like panic settle into his bones.

“You are upset.” Tsu’tey notes, shuffling a little closer to you on his knees as you retreat.

“No, no, everything is fine,” You’re insisting, visibly unsteady on your feet as you totter around. “I don’t know why you’re here.”

It shouldn’t be cute, but Tsu’tey is coming to admit to himself that he finds everything about you unnervingly endearing. He watches as you struggle to straighten out your rumpled little clothes, admiring the way the thin fabric clings to you. You look embarrassed and a little self-conscious, as though he’s caught you out.

“I was waiting for you,” He murmurs, reaching for you again. He keeps his hands slow, as though approaching a wounded nantang. You’re such a jittery little thing, but you don’t pull away this time, allowing him to place a hand carefully on your hip. “You did not come to see me today.”

“I figured you’d be busy.” You say, your tone snippy and a bit bratty. “Thought you’d go and hang out with Saeyla today.”

Tsu’tey stares at you. What does Saeyla have to do with this? Is this why you are so upset?

“Syulang,” He murmurs, foregoing his usual nickname for you for a much softer one. “You always have much to say. Please talk to me. I am not understanding why you are angry with me.”

For a moment, he thinks that you aren’t going to speak to him at all. But then you grip your little cup of wine and raise it to your lips, drinking one deep gulp before looking at him in the eye with fiery determination.

“I’m embarrassed,” You snap. “I’ve been basically throwing myself at you for months now, so excuse me if my ego is a little bit bruised. The least you could have done would be to let me down gently instead of letting me embarrass myself in front of everyone—”

Tsu’tey goggles at you, hardly able to believe what you’re saying. “Tawtute—”

“No,” You interrupt sharply, pointing your finger towards him. “Don’t. You said I could talk now.”

Tsu'tey falls obediently silent. His tail curls around his thigh; he’s a little surprised by the way he physically reacts to your sharp tone. He’s never heard you sound so firm before.

“I’ve been—I’ve been wearing all that silly makeup, and wearing all those skimpy tight clothes because I thought you’d look at me more!” You continue, your voice trembling a little. “I’ve been following you around like a pathetic puppy, and sitting in your lap at dinnertime, and holding your hand, and—and—”

You’ve been hoping for him to look at you more? Couldn’t you tell that all he ever did was look at you?

“And then you just tell me that I’m not attractive, and you toss me out of your lap, and tell me that we’re just friends, and you tell me right to my face that you’re going off to sleep with your ex-girlfriend—”

Tsu’tey sputters so hard at that that he nearly spits, horrified.

“I never—” He starts, his eyes wide as his tail curls under his legs, his ears pinning back.

“You did!” You burst out, teary-eyed. “When I was practically naked in front of you, I waited for you to say something, to give any sort of indication that you might like what you were seeing, but you just glared at me and said nothing at all!”

Ah. Tsu’tey has never hated his resting scowl as much as he does in this moment.

“And then yesterday! You said we’re just friends, then you threw me off your lap, and then you said you were going to Saeyla’s kelku right after walking me home—” You continue, beginning to really work yourself up.

“No!” Tsu’tey blurts, reaching out and grabbing at your hand. His blue palm engulfs your much smaller one, and he holds it as delicately as he can. “No, you have misunderstood, syulang.”

“God, I don’t even know why I like you,” You sniffle. “You’re so rude.”

“But you do,” Tsu’tey murmurs, his eyes still wide at the sheer novelty of it. “You like me. You cannot take it back now.”

“Oh, you’re such a dick,” You hiss, yanking your hand out of his. “Did you come here just to rub this in my face—”

“I threw you out of my lap because you were sitting on my cock and I didn’t want you to notice how hard you made me.” The words escape Tsu’tey’s mouth before he can think about it, but you finally fall silent.

You look a little stunned, actually, and Tsu’tey figures that he’d better start talking quickly before you come back to yourself and remember that you’re angry with him.

He pulls your cup out of your hand and raises it to his mouth, draining the wine in it himself in an effort to cultivate some liquid bravery. The taste bursts sharp and syrupy across his tongue. Of course, he thinks as he licks a dark drop from his lip, you would favour the cloying sweet wine. It suits you.

“Syulang, pretty girl, I do not like when you are upset.” He murmurs, shuffling closer on his knees. You don’t pull away, watching him come and allowing him to rest his hands on your hips. “Please listen.”

You’re still gaping at him, clearly a little thrown off by him stealing your wine from you. He takes advantage of your momentary silence by launching into his explanation. He hardly knows where to begin, but he decides to start with the most heinous accusation.

“I have never been intimate with Saeyla,” He murmurs, his thumbs stroking over your hips. “Never, tawtute. I have not been intimate with anyone in a very long time.”

Your throat bobs a little nervously, but you don’t interrupt.

“I have been taken with you for many, many months now,” He admits, and his ears flatten a little in embarrassment. He is not used to discussing his feelings, and it feels unnervingly vulnerable. “I know that I am grumpy, and rude, and I do not always express myself well. I have never been good at talking, and I can be too arrogant for my own good—”

You breathe out a shaky laugh and sway a step closer, as though you’re hardly aware what you’re doing. Tsu’tey’s grip tightens carefully on your hips, his breath catching in his chest as he urges you closer yet again.

“I have been so full of desire that it has been difficult to think,” He confesses in a low whisper. “It has been humiliating. I had thought— I did not want to scare you—”

He never gets a chance to finish his explanation. He’s partway through his sentence when you launch yourself into his arms, and he cuts himself off in favour of wrapping his arms around you to stop you from bowling the two of you over.

You start kissing his face all over, peppering eager little butterfly kisses all over the tanhì across his forehead and cheeks and all over his flat nose. He can’t help the delighted rumble that’s ripped out of his chest at the display of affection, and he tries to follow your lips with his face when you start to pull away.

“You’re so stupid,” You whisper, and Tsu’tey is so pleased that you’re smiling again that he doesn’t even feel offended about that. “I’ve been jumping in your lap and holding your hand every chance I’ve gotten. I took my clothes off and sunbathed practically naked with you, and showed you my tits—”

“I thought we were being friends.” He says thickly, leaning forward again in the hopes that you’ll give him another kiss. Even on his knees in front of you as you stand, he is so much larger and bulkier than you; it makes him want to tuck you away and keep you safe forever.

You groan, tilting your head back as though you’re in pain. “Tsu’tey. You’re killing me here.”

He can’t resist the temptation of your head tilted back with your throat bared, and leans forward to press his face into the crook of your neck. He rubs his cheek against your pulse point, feeling satisfaction bloom in his stomach as his scent is spread all over the vulnerable skin of your throat.

“I am sorry, syulang,” He murmurs, his lips brushing over your pulse. He feels you shudder against him, and clutches you tighter. “I thought it was obvious how I felt. The whole clan knows. Do you not see how they watch us?”

The laugh that leaves your mouth is a little thready, and your hands come to rest on Tsu’tey’s shoulders for balance as he nuzzles into your shoulder.

“I thought they were looking at me,” You whispered. “Because I was so obvious about how I liked you.”

Tsu’tey shakes his head, trying to hide the silly grin on his face into your soft shoulder. You like him. All of those months of ridiculous pining and yearning and humiliating stifled desire, only to find out that you desired him too.

“So…” You whisper, and he can hear the smile in your voice. “So, you did like my piercings, then?”

Tsu’tey groans, his fingers spreading wide over your back as he pulls you closer. You’re so much smaller than him that his hand spans almost the whole width of your back, and his heartrate picks up as he feels your soft body press into him.

“Yes,” He murmurs, his ears pinning back in muted shame at the admission. “I liked them.”

The smile that breaks over your face at that is almost blinding, and he’s surprised by your enthusiasm when you grab at his jaw and haul his face closer so that you can capture his lips with your own.

The fact that he’s kissing you nearly stalls his brain, but then he feels the softness of your lips and the wet heat of your tongue, and it feels as though his nerves are set alight. He grunts, using the hand on your back to hold you close against him as he kisses you back eagerly.

He’s trying to be as cautious as possible, worried about hurting you, but you don’t seem to share his concern. In fact, your fervor surprises him. You push at his shoulders, and though you’re not strong enough to shift him he follows your unspoken order anyway, until you’ve guided him all the way back to your bed.

He gasps, his vision going a little blurry as you begin trailing kisses along his jaw. He grabs at the mask to take a few clumsy breaths of air, his body hot and tense as you kiss him.

“Bed,” You breathe, pushing at his shoulders. “Get on the bed.”

“Tawtute,” He says, swallowing thickly. “Should we— do you wish to take this slow?”

You pause then, pulling back a little so that you can level him with a look. He’s always found your strange little face difficult to read, but even he can tell that you look decidedly unimpressed right now.

“You think I want to take this slow?” You repeat, nose crinkling. But then your expression grows a little unsure, and you start to pull away. “Oh. Do you want to take this slow?”

“No.” Tsu’tey says, far too quickly.

The two of you just look at each for a moment, blinking. Then Tsu’tey stands, his knees slightly wobbly after kneeling before you for so long, and sinks down onto your bed. It’s a tight fit, the bulk of his body hunching forward slightly as his knees bunch up, but his slight discomfort is forgotten immediately when you climb up into his lap.

Over the last few months, you have sat in his lap many times. This time is different – this time, you’re straddling his crotch, your lovely thighs bracketing his hips as your soft bottom rests over his cock. You’re still kissing him, your soft lips trailing all over his jawline then up to his mouth again, swallowing the appreciative grunts that pour from his mouth.

When he had imagined this, often late at night with his cock in his hand, he had pictured you soft and eager and sweet – and you are all of those things, but nothing could ever have prepared him for how hungry you are, how impatient and greedy you are as you push him back onto your bed and follow him down. Your bodies are pressed so tight together that there’s hardly an inch of air, yet you seem determined to wriggle even closer.

Tsu’tey moans quietly, leaning back among your threadbare pillows as you do your best to devour him. Your mouth is small, but you happily open it wide as you lick into his mouth, your little tongue tracing over his sharp canines in a way that makes him shiver.

“Can’t believe we had this conversation when I’m in my fucking pajamas,” You murmur into his mouth, pressing your soft fabric-covered tits against his wide chest. “I wanted to be wearing something sexy for this.”

All he can do is close his eyes against the onslaught of your lips and teeth on the exposed skin of his neck. Your small hands smooth over the planes of his chest, hot and possessive as they crawl over the front of his body.

“You are very beautiful, syulang.” Tsu’tey breathes, his hands finding a firm hold on your waist as your weight settles over him.

Then you grind down, and he’s already so aroused but now he can feel the heat of your pussy through those tiny damn shorts of yours and the noise that’s torn from his chest is completely undignified.

He grabs at you. It’s rough and presumptuous and honestly Tsu’tey isn’t even sure it’s a conscious decision, but before he knows it he’s grabbed you by the waist and is pulling you down to grind against his cock.

“Fuck,” You gasp, and Tsu’tey nearly loses it. “Oh god.”

You shuffle back a little, and Tsu’tey nearly audibly whines when he loses that glorious friction over his cock. But it turns out that you’ve only moved so that you have access to his loincloth, which you promptly begin to pull at.

“Mawey, yawntutsyìp.” He croaks out, though he’s already flexing his hips to help you pull his tewng off.

“Been wanting this for ages, you have no idea—”

Tsu’tey swears his head is spinning at the sheer irony of that, because he could have been experiencing this for ages?

His cock is freed from his tewng, slapping against his stomach with an embarrassingly loud smack. When you see how big he is, your eyes widen, and Tsu’tey has a horrible moment of panic where he worries that you’re going to change your mind. He would only be able to accept that choice, but he already knows that it will leave him with the worst case of blue balls he’d ever experienced.

But you don’t let his no doubt intimidating size stop you from reaching out with your small hands to stroke him. A guttural growl is pulled from him, and he tilts his head back against your soft bedding and bites hard at his lip in an effort to control himself as you stroke at him.

“Oh, fuck yes.” You breathe, your expression nothing short of delighted as you stare down at him. He feels vulnerable under your gaze, naked in a way that has nothing to do with the fact that you’ve pulled his tewng off him.

He reaches out, tugs at your top. “I wish to see you, again.”

That makes you smile. The little fabric top you’re wearing is so thin that he can see the outline of your breasts and little nipples already, and as you lean forward to tug at his cock it gapes open at the chest to give him a tantalising glimpse of your bare flesh, but it’s not enough. He wants to see you bare and wanting beneath him. Or on top of him. He’s not fussy.

When you pull your flimsy little fabric covering off, Tsu’tey feels as though he goes momentarily light-headed as his blood rushes south. He’s seen you like this before, that day at the river, but this is different. This time, he’s allowed to touch.

You’re as soft as he’d imagined – softer, even. Tsu’tey’s hands are eager, reaching up to grope and feel, and you tilt your head back and moan softly as he kneads at your delightfully squishy breasts. He just can’t get over how perfect and pliable you are, your supple skin moulding and giving around his hands. He’s never experienced anyone as soft as you; the Na’vi are bigger than the Sky People, and stronger too. His people do not have the same shape, are not soft in the same places as humans. And he’s never thought too much about it, but now he feels like he’s losing himself in your supple flesh.

And then there’s the delicate little barbells in your nipples. Tsu’tey stares, wanting so badly to touch but nervous about going too hard or fast and accidentally hurting you.

“Remember I said they were just to look good?” You breathe, pressing forward a little to encourage his hands to roam over your tits.

“Mm.” Tsu’tey grunts mindlessly. He does recall something of the sort, but he doesn’t think it is fair that you expect him to think when he has your tits in his hands like this, one hand almost spanning your entire chest.

“I lied,” You whisper, your lips curving up in a smile so cheeky that it makes Tsu’tey’s toes curl. “They feel good, too.”

Tsu’tey groans, running his fingers slowly across your skin before finally touching the piercings, his touch smooth and warm.

A low moan of contentment escapes him. "Soft skin. Pretty piercings."

His hands cup your breasts as his thumbs brush over your nipples. You were telling the truth about them; the piercings make you sensitive, and when you shiver under his hands, his gaze darkens.

"I want them in my mouth." He says suddenly, his voice rough and gravelly. His thumbs swipe over them yet again, and he looks up eagerly to you to wait for your permission as you sigh.

You laugh, though it's a breathless and weak sort of a thing. You’re trying to play it cool and casual, but Tsu’tey is holding your soft little breasts in his hands – he can feel your rapid heartbeat against his palm. "Go on, then."

He doesn't waste any time before he's bending his head and pressing harsh, biting kisses all along your chest. Then, getting sick of bending his neck down, he grabs at the flesh of your ass and hauls you up into his arms so that he can mouth at your nipples in earnest.

He licks over your left breast, feeling the little metal barbell against his tongue. It must feel good because you whine, arching your back and pushing your tits into his face even more. Your skin is so soft and sensitive, and it makes his rough tongue and big hands feel clumsy and coarse.

He wraps his lips around your nipple and suckles at it, his tongue playing with the strange little balls at the end of the bars. The metal is cool against his tongue, offering a pleasant contrast to your heated flesh.

“Ungh, shit,” You gasp, your little hands winding into his braids and gripping him there. “Tsu’tey… I wanna suck your cock.”

Tsu’tey freezes, his eyes going wide. Those words rock through him like a physical punch, and he groans as his cock visibly twitches against his stomach. He knows you can feel it, considering you’re still straddling him, and you begin to wiggle your way back as you try to get your face down to his crotch.

But as soon as you get your little hand on his cock, panic shoots through him. It feels good, so good, but he’s sure if you actually put it in your mouth he’ll die. He already knows that if you get your mouth on him everything will be over far too quickly, and he’s not ready to tap out just yet.

He grabs you and rolls, until you’re on your back staring up at him with a surprised little pout.

“I want that, tawtute,” He admits, his voice coming out in a gravelly rumble as he presses a careful kiss to your pouting lips. “But later.”

“But—”

He doesn’t let you finish. He’s too busy kissing your strange, alien little face, then down over your throat. You’re so addictive already. He wants to fuck you and have the whole clan listen, he wants to suck on your tits and have you crying, he wants to play with your clit until it’s puffy and swollen, he wants to play with your cute little hole, he wants to see you bouncing on his cock, on your hands and knees… He feels like he’s been set alight with desire, like the blood in his veins has turned molten.

His fingers hook into your little shorts and pull at them, and you lift your hips to help him tug them off. To his delight, you’re not wearing your tiny little fabric covering under them, and his tail whips in excitement at the sight of you bare beneath him.

“Oh,” He breathes, shuffling himself down your bed. It’s a narrow fit, and cramped, but Tsu’tey doesn’t care; his attention is fixed on you and the way your legs are spreading to accommodate the bulk of his body.

He takes in the sight of you eagerly, bare and glistening wet, and grinding against nothing, and he realises in that moment that his imagination could never have lived up to reality.

“I’m going to take care of you,” He mumbles mindlessly, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your lovely plush inner thigh. “Going to make you feel so good, syulang.”

“Okay.” You sigh, the word coming out a little wobbly.

Tsu’tey’s tail whips from side-to-side as he gazes at your bare cunt, still hardly able to believe that you’re giving him access to you like this, that you like him too. It feels too good to be true, but Tsu’tey is not about to let this opportunity to pass him by.

“So pretty, yawntutsyìp.” He kisses his words flatly against your puffy lips before coaxing them open with his flat nose. His face is covered in you already, glistening across his lips and chin. But it’s not enough, it won’t be enough until he’s drowning in you.

You taste tangy and sweet, a heady mix of sweat and pheromones that pulls him in ever closer, desperate to drink his fill of you.

But even better than how you taste, is how you react.

You’re up on him so fast he barely has time to blink – no sooner has he laid his lips on your pussy, his mouth so big that it almost swallows you whole, than your hips are bucking up into his face. All he can smell and taste is you, and you’re so fucking wet and suddenly you’re rutting up against his face, not even caring if Tsu’tey’s mouth is open or not, as though you’re so desperate for him that all you can do is use him.

It’s the best day of Tsu’tey’s life. He’s going to mark this day and religiously celebrate it every year.

“Tsu’tey –!” You gasp, rutting your hips into his face. A wild, somewhat unhinged part of him hopes you break his nose. He uses his tongue against your clit and lets you rub yourself all over him, making his brain feel so blissfully empty.

He just moans into you, his hands wrapping around your plush hips and gripping at your squishy little bottom for leverage as he pulls you back against his face. He suckles at you so eagerly, tongue laving over your hole, over and over and over, delighting in the way you gasp and moan and grind into his mouth.

His tail coils as his arousal pulses, forgetting himself as his fingers clench into your soft skin. You sigh, and drop your head back against the pillows as you move your hips to push your pussy back against his tongue. When he spears his tongue into you, you whine, but the sound is muffled somehow—

You’ve bitten your pillow, Tsu’tey realises, and groans. He wants so badly to get his hands on himself, to stroke and tug at his cock as he devours you, but he can’t bring himself to let go of you. He feels as though he’ll die if he lets go of your squishy ass, and his fingers knead insistently at it as he dines on your cunt.

He fucks his tongue into you harder, mouth open and jaw aching in the most satisfying way. It’s all worth it when Tsu’tey realises that you’re crying, just softly, your moans and whines wet, your breaths choked.

Tsu’tey’s fingers find their way to rest against your pussy, pushing in gently when he’s satisfied with how well his tongue worked you open. Once the digits are wet, he pushes two in to the first knuckle. He groans at the feeling of how welcoming your pussy is, how responsive you are to his touch. You cry out, your thighs twitching as he stretches you out.

Your whimpering makes him feel bold, his cock weeping against his thigh. He’s harder than he’s ever been in his life, the frustrating ache in his balls is poured right into the quickening pace of his fingers. He wants you to break— to crumble into pieces just so he can put you back together.

“Tsu’tey,” You slur out, your fingers gripping at his braids as you writhe under his attention. “Need to slow down, or I’m gonna—I’m gonna come—”

Your words fall on deaf ears; Tsu’tey is practically hypnotised by your little whimpers and cries as he sucks and licks eagerly at your squishy wet pussy, his fingers twisting and rubbing all along your hot, clutching insides. He feels desperate to experience you come against his tongue, and his movements take on an edge of fervor as he opens his mouth wide to suck your whole cunt into his mouth.

You squeal, hips bucking, and your feet kick out until they’ve landed on his shoulders. Tsu’tey moans, pleased by your reaction, and his mouth seals firmly around you as his tongue laps at your clit.

Your thighs suddenly clench around his head, keeping it in place, and he increases his pace, keeping it rhythmic for you. He buries his nose into your little swollen clit, letting out a hungry little noise as he sucks at you.

And then you’re gasping, the line of your body going taut and stiff as your orgasm rolls through you. Tsu’tey doesn’t relent, sucking and licking at you as you tremble and shake apart. Your release tastes so sweet, like hot syrup on his tongue, and he can’t get enough of you. Your thighs grip his head so hard that the muscles tremble, and he relishes the pressure of your legs squeezing around his skull.

It doesn’t take long before your legs are kicking again, wheezing as you grow oversensitive and push at his head. With great reluctance, Tsu’tey pulls his mouth away with a wet ‘pop’, licking his lips before leaning in to suckle a series of biting kisses around your inner thighs.

He feels a little light-headed, still so hungry. He knows his eyes are heavy-lidded with his own arousal, his whole body throbbing with the need to take you, but he’s trying so damn hard to control himself.

“Oh god… fuck.” You breathe, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling.

That certainly strokes Tsu’tey’s male pride, and he looks up at you with a pleased, if slightly dazed, smile. He’s breathing heavily still from having devoted his entire attention to pleasing you and forgetting to breathe, and it takes a moment for him to realise he needs to sip from the stupid mask. He fumbles for a moment, grabbing at it and taking several deep breaths before dropping it again and leaning up to kiss at your cute little lower belly.

“It was good?” He asks. Judging by the look on your face he knows the answer, but he can’t help but want to hear it straight from your mouth.

You laugh, a little disbelievingly, then place a hand onto his chest and push lightly at him until he’s rolling over onto his back. You follow, swinging your leg over his hips and settling down so that your spit-slick pussy is nestled right up against his hard cock.

“So good,” You whisper, and it practically comes out like a purr. “So fucking good.”

Tsu’tey’s tail curls and his ears fold back, his stomach swooping in anticipation at the coy tone of your voice. His cock twitches too, very interested in the way you’re sitting on it. When you rock your hips lightly, allowing your slick pussy to glide along his length, he groans breathily before reaching to grab at your waist, trying to hold you still.

“Wait, syulang.” He says, his voice coming out embarrassingly hoarse. “You are so small, I don’t want to hurt you.”

He’s not expecting you to laugh at that, as though he’s said something that you find adorable. You lean in and kiss him, your lips soft against his hot, swollen ones.

“You’re not the first Na’vi I’ve had,” You whisper against his mouth, giving him yet another sweet kiss. “I know what I’m doing.”

He bristles at the thought of another Na’vi hunching over your little body, rutting into your hot wet softness. His hands tighten around your waist as a bolt of possessive jealousy flashes through him.

“Who?” He demands, his face scrunching up in a scowl.

You just giggle, leaning down to kiss the wide bridge of his nose. Tsu’tey’s ears fold down, a little mollified by how cute you are, though his scowl doesn’t lessen much. Your hand runs over his chest, your fingers stroking over his heated skin.

“Oh, shush.” You say with a fond smile, as though you think he’s joking. “What, did you expect me live like a nun while you were ignoring me all that time? I didn’t even think you liked me.”

Tsu’tey doesn’t know what a nun is, but he’s distracted before he can ask. You lean down slowly, running the tip of your tongue along his throat. You pause to bite him gently right where his vein pulses, and the rush of sensations from your touch nearly sends him spiraling.

“Besides,” You whisper, “I feel like you just sucked my soul out through my pussy, so I really don’t think anyone else is ever going to compare.”

The purr that your words pull out of him at that is embarrassing, but his body reacts before his brain does. Yes, he thinks smugly, I am better. It feels incredibly important to him that you know he is the best option, the man that can please you best.

Tsu’tey feels like he’s melting under you. The heat of your bare slick cunt against the length of his cock is fanning a fire in his blood. He bites at his lip as he feels your lips on his pulse, harder now, kissing softly, tongue flicking against the skin.

Your hand slides lower, and then finally your hand wraps around the base of his cock. He groans, bucks up, but didn’t mean to. Thankfully you just laugh, obviously amused as you’re lifted up by the momentum of his hips.

“Tsu’tey, baby,” You whisper, and oh, your voice is going to drive him insane. “Does it hurt, being this hard?”

Tsu’tey openly chokes, and you give him one slow stroke. The feeling of your small soft hand against him has his mind blanking entirely for a second. You pause to rub your thumb under his cockhead, against the bundle of nerves there, and Tsu’tey moans as his eyes flutter shut.

“Pretty boy,” You whisper, and Tsu’tey gasps, feeling his lip quiver. He cracks his eyes open, just to see you smiling down at him. “Do you like when I call you pretty?”

Tsu’tey looks away and says nothing – but you just giggle.

“You’re pouting, Tsu’tey.”

“I am not.” He grumbles, though his cheeks are uncomfortably warm.

Your hands move, one stroking around his cock, the other cradling his balls. Tsu’tey arches, pushes into your hand as you twist your fist around his glans. His mouth falls open, a breathy moan escaping, and you visibly shiver. He tries to push himself up on his elbows so that he can watch as you shift atop him, hips rocking forward gently as you stroke at him.

“Syulang,” He manages, licking at his lips as his voice comes out all breathy and desperate. “Please.”

You grin at him, your eyes soft and affectionate as you watch him disintegrate beneath your touch. Then you’re lifting up onto your knees, using his chest as leverage, and Tsu’tey holds his breath as you position yourself over his cock.

“Breathe, baby.” You laugh, taking his mask and holding it up to his face.

He takes several deep breaths, feels the blurred edges of his mind sharpen, and reaches down to grab his cock. He helps you to position it, his cockhead gliding along your slick folds.

He has to pause for a moment, closing his eyes as his ears flatten back against his head. You’re so damn soft, your cunt is so hot and sticky wet, and he already knows that the moment his cock pushes inside of you he’ll be fighting for his life not to come instantly. He just wants to last long enough to please you, to make you feel good.

You let out a soft noise, your hips twitching as you try to hump your pussy back onto his cock. He has to grab your hips to keep you still, grunting.

“You’re teasing.” You whine, clutching at his arms as you try to wiggle your way back onto him.

“Mph.” Tsu’tey grunts, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to contain himself. “Mawey, syulang. Patience.”

But patience doesn’t seem to be your strong suit. Your bright eyes have gone dark, pupils blown, forehead glimmering with sweat – you look beautiful, and Tsu’tey feels like he’s dying.

You lean forward and crash your mouth into his, kissing him hard and messy as you wriggle in his lap, trying to coax his cock inside you. Tsu’tey moans into your mouth, but then you’re pulling back, and your lips press against his nose, his cheeks, his forehead.

Still breathing deeply, Tsu’tey aligns his cock against your pussy, and at the same time as his sweet girl peppers his face with kisses, he begins to push inside. You whine at the pressure of the stretch, your forehead pressed against his as he presses his cock into you slowly, as slowly as he can manage.

“Come on,” You groan, leaning forward and letting your blunt little teeth scrape over the sensitive tip of his ear. “Put it in, put it in, put it in—”

“Calm,” Tsu’tey gasps, clutching at your plush little hips in an effort to keep you from slamming yourself down on him all at once. “Calm, yawntutsyìp, I do not wish to hurt you—”

But his words are lost when you shift over him right as he begins to press into you again, and from one second to the next he slides half-way inside, past the small ring of resistance and into the velvety hot inside of your cunt.

It’s like a gut punch.

He moans like a dying man and holds you as tight as he can in an attempt to ground himself enough not to start thrusting. You gasp, your features scrunching into a pained wince as you’re split wide around the thickness of his cock. He doesn’t need you to vocalise your discomfort, so he rubs your puffy clit to try and make it better for you. His calloused thumb rubs slow circles on it at the same time as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, panting and whimpering.

Fuck, he needs to move.

Just a bit –

Just to take the edge off –

His hips pull back and then quickly snap forward again. “Fuck.”

It’s so easy it’s sinful. He pushes through the tightest cunt he has ever been in and it feels like home. He groans roughly, his arms wrapping around your waist as he tries to catch his breath. He can’t help but look down, and he almost whimpers at the sight of your cunt stretched wide around his thick length, at the aborted little twitching of your hips as you try admirably hard to take him in deeper. You’re so much tighter than he expected, and it takes everything in him to pull back again.

When he withdraws, your pussy grips him all the way to the tip, making him feel so insane he had to immediately dive back in, gasping. He’s too big to fit inside of you completely, but that’s okay; your tiny pussy grips hard enough at the length that you can take that Tsu’tey feels like he’s about to black out.

“Yes!” You cry out, arching your chest against his so that he can feel the cool sensation of your piercings against his skin, your fingers knotting into his braids as you lift yourself up then down on his cock, meeting his sloppy thrusts.

Tsu’tey feels as though the world is fracturing around him as he pushes himself into your tiny little cunt, feeling your pussy clench around his cock like a fist. It's so tight and sweet, his dick feels as though it's being pulled into paradise.

Being inside you is heavenly; it’s like your sweet little pussy is made for him, molding to him and stretching where it needs to, squeezing him tight to the point of pain. He pistons in and out of you from below, finding his own pace as the bed shakes from the force of his thrusts. You make soft, wet little sounds, a wanton creature in response in response as you undulate atop of him.

Your tits bounce every time he thrusts up into you, and he finds his eyes glued to sight before his self-control cracks and he’s leaning forward to take one of your breasts into his mouth. It takes a bit of contortion, his spine curving as his mouth locks around your tit, his tongue rolling against your little pierced nipple, his ears wiggling eagerly as they pick up your little mewls.

Oh, he’s not going to last long; he already feels like he’s losing his mind.

Soft, desperate little noises are babbling out of your mouth as you fuck yourself down on his cock, clutching at his shoulders for balance. Your jaw is slack and your mouth is open, and Tsu’tey can see flashes of your little pink tongue as you gasp and whimper everytime he rolls his hips up into you. Your movements have taken on an edge of desperation as you ride him, your pussy squeezing him so tight his vision is going blurry.

Then your little body is seizing, weak gasping moans spilling from your lips as your spine goes stiff. Your cunt clenches in sporadic little pulses, and Tsu’tey nearly roars at the intensity of it – your pussy sucks so tight that it almost hurts. It’s a weaker orgasm than your first one, but you still sob your way through it as you clutch at him.

“Oh, syulang, fuck.” Tsu’tey grits out, the human curse word sounding coarse and foreign on his tongue.

He wants to do this forever, to stay buried in you all night, but you’re sucking him in and clinging to him in a vice grip as you push back against him, and he’s about to explode. He’s overwrought, grunting against your sweat-damp skin as he clutches your soft little body close to him, the motion of his hips turning jerky and sloppy as he feels that tingly pressure grow in his stomach.

He lifts you off his cock with a cut-off snarl, grabbing at his cock with a clumsy hand as that pressure bubbles over. He comes with more force than he had been expecting, his come spurting out onto your belly and over your tits, dripping steadily over your smooth skin.

Part of him is a little embarrassed about how quickly he had come, but the larger part of him feels it was impressive that he didn’t spill the instant he got his cock inside of you. But you’re pouting up at him, clutching at his chest as you push back against him.

“No,” You whine, your voice quiet and tired as you try to grind your messy pussy back onto him. “Wanted you to come inside.”

Tsu’tey is already breathless, but the sweet little whimper in your voice nearly knocks him flat yet again. His cock is still throbbing, the last few drops of his release spurting out and glowing lightly against your skin. He takes in the sight of his seed spattered across your pretty little body greedily, committing it to memory. Nothing in his raunchiest wet dreams could have compared to the reality of this moment.

“We will have time for that, yawntutsyìp,” He whispers, his stomach clenching in excitement at the thought. “You will not need another man again.”

You grumble lightly, but he can see the satisfied little smile on your face as you go limp in his arms, burrowing closer to his chest as you collapse down next to him. Having you in his arms feels perfect; his tail curls in satisfaction when he realises how perfectly you fit against his chest, and he purrs smugly as he nudges his nose against your temple.

He rolls, scooping you up and arranging you so that you’re laying sprawled at his side, before curving his body around yours and wrapping an arm around your little body. Your body is still glistening with sweat and the dimly bioluminescent streaks of come that Tsu’tey has left on you – he’s torn between the urge to care for you, to clean you up and make sure that you’re sated and pleased, and to leave you marked and carrying his scent.

He’ll clean you up in a few minutes, he decides, allowing himself to enjoy the sight of you after being thoroughly claimed for a little while longer.

“If you ever say we’re just friends again I’ll kick your ass.” You mumble, pressing your face into his pectoral muscles.

You’re acting as though your bones have been dissolved into jelly, laying all limp and pliable against him even as you squirm closer. Tsu’tey allows himself to just stare at you, admiring all the subtle little bite-marks and bruising that he can’t remember leaving behind, admiring your puffy nipples and your still gooey cunt.

“Mm.” Tsu’tey hums, dipping his head down and laying it carefully on your chest. He’s a little nervous that he’ll be too heavy, but your small hands come up to tangle in his braids and scratch soothingly at his scalp. He allows his eyes to flutter shut, enjoying the plush softness of your breasts under his face.

“I like you very much, syulang.” He says, enjoying the pulse of your heartbeat beneath his head. “I am sorry that I have been slow to understand your interest.”

You laugh a little sleepily, craning your neck so that you can kiss his forehead before laying back again. “You certainly did a good job showing me your interest just now.”

“I will do more,” Tsu’tey promises, hardly even aware of what he’s saying. “I will collect kllpxiwll berries for you everyday, and go swimming as often as you like, and make you pretty jewelry, and keep you satisfied—”

You start to laugh before he even finishes.

“Who would’ve known a big grumpy asshole like you is capable of being so romantic.” You snicker as he nuzzles into your tits.

Your lack of a tail and blunt ears make it hard for him to read you, but he can tell by your tone of voice that you’re teasing him. He just curls around you, not minding at all. He enjoys the thought of proving to you exactly how romantic he can be – he has much to prove, and much to make up for.

“I am not grumpy now.” He mutters, turning his face so that it’s buried neatly in between your tits. He licks lazily over your left breast, savouring the feeling of the little silver barbell nestled in your nipple against his tongue.

You shiver, a soft little overwhelmed gasp escaping your lips as he kisses leisurely at your puffy and oversensitive nipples.

“No,” You murmur, and he can hear the fondness in your voice. “You’re not.”

Tsu’tey purrs, his whole body curving around you as he kisses absent-mindedly at your tits, his thoughts pleasantly hazy and somewhat nebulous.

“Breathe.” You remind him tiredly, your voice a little slurred around the edges with sleep.

Upon your urging, he lifts the stupid mask back up to his face and fits it clumsily over his mouth and nose. He wraps his arm around your waist, holds you tight, and just breathes as the two of you lay together, sated and satisfied.

#tsu'tey #tsu'tey x human reader #tsu'tey x reader #avatar wotw #avatar x reader #avatar 2009 #na'vi x reader #na'vi x human reader #terato #alien x reader #fics

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satoruhour · 1 year ago

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a/n: something possessed me and i just started writing ... / 1.2k

warnings: age gap (reader in 20s and in uni, nanami in his late 30s), oral / cunnilingus, doggy, daddy kink, implied overstim, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, like brief fingering?, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

thinking about dad’s best friend!nanami who helps you to move into your university dormitory, arms flexing against his tight dark blue shirt as you try not to stare. it’s unbecoming, eyes trailing over the sweat dripping down his forehead, the sharp lines of his jawline and furrowed brows, espeically since he met your dad long ago when he first joined the company, seeing you from time to time in your father’s office in high school. but nanami never thought he’d see you to grow up to be the woman you are today, moving into your very own room with a bright smile — ready to take on your major and the world.

“everything in?” your dad asks with tears in his eyes and you simply push his shoulder, telling him how i’ll be fine, dad! before hugging him in between boxes and plastic bags. just behind him, nanami shoots you a gentle smile too, recalling on the times when he’s seen you help out at the office in your gap year, where you slip in little sandwiches on your lunch breaks. he thinks it’s you wanting to revisit old times where your father would buy danish pastry just for you to give it to the blonde man, but you’re hoping to melt his stoicism even further to the point of wanting things to happen — things you didn’t even want to admit out loud — with how fine nanami has aged over the years.

but one visit turned into two. the second one with your dad where rather, they talked while you worked on an assignment, but you enjoyed both of their presence. two turned into three — the third where nanami has already memorised how many steps it would take to reach your room. three turned into five, and five turned into nine where his hand would wander past your bedsheets and onto your figure, where casual talk about his work turned into conversations about you and what you liked. but nanami was always afraid of crossing over.

it was the tenth visit where dad’s best friend!nanami shows up sweaty and panting like he needs to tell you something, but when your eyes drift down to the hand he tries to hide the gears click in your head. it was only fifteen minutes ago that nanami has himself cooped up in the admin toilet downstairs, fist pumping his cock impatiently while he imagines your tits in front of his face, bouncing. where your hips do the same, whining out into his neck as your pussy clenches and gushes around him. it’s because he was interrupted by a knock that the first thing he did was to come here, but he wasn’t thinking straight. that all fades away when your hand cups his bulge, squeezing slightly that nanami wants to unbuckle his pants, but you drag him into your room before he can do it.

dad’s best friend!nanami who has your panties stuffed into your mouth as he eats you out on the dormitory bed, slurping every last bit of your juices up while his mouth works wonders on your dripping cunt. “nanami-san! p-please—” it’s a struggle to talk through fabric but you manage to get the words out, hips starting to hump into his mouth, feeling nothing like this before in your life as he nibs and sucks on your clit. nanami hums into your pussy and his arms tighten around your thighs, “please what? words, baby, use your words.” you shiver at the timbre of his voice, alongside the smoothness in which he removes your underwear. “but not too loud, or else everyone in school will know what a dirty slut you are for your father’s best friend.”

dad’s best friend!nanami who has your face shoved into your my melody bedsheets as he pounds into you from behind, shirt held up by his teeth so he can the way you take just all of his fat cock. by now, he’s drawn out multiple orgasms after holding back on you for so long — it was a sight, a babbling, pathetic mess on the bed while your cum drips from your core right down to the sheets. it’s beyond easy to slip into your hole, and nanami has to squeeze your waist so hard to try not to cum that you’re telling him to loosen his grip and he apologises with kisses down your back. he’s only kissed you once so far so you moan into the second kiss that night, hips moving back onto his pelvis before he slams his length right into you.

dad’s best friend!nanami’s demeanour changes altogether after that sweet, sensual kiss, pushing down on your arch before setting a pace, dick twitching from how tight and warm you felt around him. “can’t believe you kept this pussy from me for s’long…” nanami is entranced by his best friend’s daughter’s cunt, sucking him in so well he starts to realise that maybe buying sandwiches everyday wasn’t simply for reminsincing. you fight against his strong grip, smiling up at him, deliriously. “yeah? it’s all for you, daddy.” and nanami forgets his own rule, groaning out loud at the drop of the name as he continues to slam into you. it’s so wet and sticky, pre-cum mixed with your cum together with the slap of his balls on your ass, it was so fucking disgusting in that room and you loved it.

whines of “daddy’s” were all that was coherent from your mouth, headboard of the bed rocking with naanmi’s rough thrusts as you become more and more intoxicated on his cock. nanami easily removes his shirt, then, reaching an arm around and starts to rub your clit, feeling your pussy flutter around him before you’re jolting in surprise at the sudden orgasm, mouth going slack and your eyes seeing white from its intensity. nanami slows down just a little for you to adjust, but soon he rails into you again, low grunts leaving his lips before he’s asking where you want him to cum and he wants to burn your fucked out expression into his brain and seal your whimpers from ever escaping his thoughts.

“wan’ your cum in me, daddy— p-please!” you moan out, spreading your cheeks and pussy lips to tell him you were serious. “b-but—” nanami was getting lightheaded, your walls feel too good around him and he just wants to cum. “wonder what my dad would think having his best friend fill me with so much cum that he knocks me up? that would be exciting, right?” and nanami scoffs at what a filthy girl you are. sure, if you wanted his cum dripping out of your cunt while you attended lectures, while your joked with your dad, he’ll give it to you. he’ll give anything to you. there’s a choked moan that leaves nanami as he stills, pumping you full of his semen while your fingers close around the sheets and your pleas are muffled by them. you can fill each spurt of cum from his tip, flowing into you so well that it dribbles out from your pussy, pushing it out before there’s a swipe of nanami’s finger plunging into you.

“if my sweet girl wants my cum, she’s going to keep it in. well — after i give her a few more loads, of course.”

so many dorm escapades.. maybe im projecting a little cause is this so difficult to ask for???

#LIKE WOWWW this came out of nowhere?????#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento smut #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x you #jjk x reader #nanami x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk thirsts #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami kento jjk #kento nanami smut #kento nanami #jjk nanami smut

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lizzyiii · 1 month ago

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hi!! i have a request! what about a one shot for aemond x reader who is betrothed to him. she’s a baratheon girl or something but she gifts him the sapphire for his eye as a wedding gift or something along the lines of that?

ask and you shall receive...

The Sapphire Gift

pairing | aemond targaryen x baratheon!reader

word count | 5.1k words

summary | Of all his five daughters, Borros Baratheon has chosen you to be betrothed to Aemond Targaryen, much to your dismay. Seeking to forge a deeper connection with your betrothed, you decide to create the perfect wedding gift for him.

tags | fluff, fluff, toothrotting fluff, friends to lovers, aemond literally does not know how to communicate or court a lady, sarcastic!reader, awkward!reader, simp!Aemond, reader is just a typical seventeen-year-old girl, lowkey got second hand embarrassment writing this.

a/n | ooooh, this was so cutesy to write, I love writing awkward/sassy reader and simp/awkward aemond. Finished this in a solid 2 days💪. ALSOO I need moots, so anyway wanna volunteer as tribute????

likes, comments, reblogs are always appreciated ✨

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Why must it be me?”

Your voice echoed through the grand hall of Storm’s End, the walls adorned with the sigil of the mighty Baratheons. You stood before your father, Borros Baratheon, Lord of Storm’s End, arms crossed defiantly, your brows knit in frustration.

“Because I have chosen you,” he replied, a casual shrug dismissing your protests, as he lounged upon the imposing ironwood throne that commanded the room. The flickering torches cast shadows across his weathered face, but his resolve remained steadfast.

Your heart sank further as you protested, “You have four other daughters to choose from!”

Borros began to tally your sisters on his fingers, his expression serious yet unconcerned. “Cassandra is already pledged to House Brownhill, Maris is too old to be of interest, and Floris is still but a child. Ellyn might have been a contender, but she reminded me that you are more closely aligned in age to the prince, which I daresay makes you more appealing to his eye.”

You bit back a curse aimed at Ellyn, whose selfishness felt like a betrayal in this moment, and muttered, “Emphasis on the word ‘eye’.”

“Fawn!” your father snapped, the nickname a remnant of your childhood, now wielded like a blade.

With a huff, you cast your gaze towards your mother, Lady Elenda, seated on a modestly adorned stool that contrasted starkly with your father’s opulence. Her fingers deftly worked at her embroidery, her belly round and pregnant with another child. “Mother, do you have naught to say about this?”

Elenda blinked slowly, her expression momentarily vacant before she smiled dreamily, “I have heard the prince is kind and benevolent,” she replied, her tone light and airy as your father nodded approvingly at her words.

You gasped, a hand flying to your chest in disbelief. “That is a complete and utter falsehood! Tales of his cruelty and wickedness abound, even in these halls. How could you deceive me so?”

Borros waved a dismissive hand, the irritation brewing like a storm within him. “So what if he has but one eye? He commands Vhagar, the largest dragon in the realm, and wields a sword as if it were an extension of his very arm. You shall ascend to the rank of princess, lacking for nothing.”

“But Father—”

“Enough!” His voice boomed, reverberating off the stone walls and silencing the murmurs of guards and servants alike. You could feel the weight of his anger pressing down upon you. Sighing heavily, you rolled your eyes, the gesture laden with pettiness. “This matter is settled. Prepare yourself; tonight we shall feast in honor of your betrothal. Do not sulk—it is unbecoming of a future princess.”

With a final glare that could wither a flower, you turned on your heel, storming away from the throne room, your heart heavy with the weight of your new fate.

King’s Landing was an entirely different realm compared to the windswept fortress of Storm’s End. Here, the sun cast a golden glow over the Red Keep, its warmth caressing the bustling streets of Flea Bottom, while in your home, rain seemed a constant companion, drenching the rugged cliffs and soaking through the halls of your ancestral seat.

The city thrummed with life—vibrant and teeming—overwhelming in its sheer size and noise. In contrast, Storm’s End felt desolate, where the only sounds were the howling gales and crashing waves that eternally assaulted its walls.

Settling into the royal court at the Red Keep was no easy feat, for you were keenly aware of the eyes that followed your every move. You quickly learned that here, every smile concealed secrets, and every word was a weapon to be wielded.

Queen Alicent Hightower, the Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, carried herself with grace befitting her station. Her demeanor was gentle, yet there was a steeliness in her eyes that hinted at the strength behind her polished exterior. On your very first day in court, she welcomed you with a kind smile, her piety clear as she extended an invitation to join her at the Great Sept for prayer.

Her tone was soft, but her words carried the weight of duty. You accepted her offer, though the idea of spending time in such hallowed halls made you uneasy. Alicent's warmth masked the political currents swirling beneath the surface, and you were acutely aware that every gesture here had meaning beyond what was said.

Then there was her eldest son, Prince Aegon. The first time you laid eyes on him, he reeked of wine, his eyes glazed and unfocused. Despite his title, he carried none of the nobility one would expect from a dragon’s heir. His indulgences were well-known, and his lack of decorum often left the court murmuring in hushed tones.

Aegon's gaze lingered on you far too long for comfort, the weight of it unsettling, as if he sought something that wasn’t his to take. His lecherous nature made you feel for his sister-wife, Princess Helaena, who appeared as trapped by her marriage as she was by the walls of the Red Keep. It was said that Aegon had grown old before his time, his twenty-one years bearing the burden of his vices.

Princess Helaena was a stark contrast to her husband. There was an otherworldly grace to her, a softness that seemed untouched by the cruelties of life. She spoke in riddles, her voice often drifting into ethereal musings that left you both puzzled and intrigued. Her words, though strange, reminded you of the whispers of the gods in dreams, distant yet profound.

Her presence was soothing, and you found solace in her company, even if her mind wandered to places you could not follow. Her children, Jaehaera and Jaehaerys, were a light amidst the shadows of the court, their laughter pure and untainted by the scheming that surrounded them. It was hard to reconcile that they were the offspring of Aegon.

But your thoughts always returned to one person—your betrothed, Prince Aemond Targaryen. From the moment you arrived in King’s Landing, you had been told stories of his fearsome prowess in battle, his unmatched skill with the sword, and the fearsome dragon, Vhagar, that answered his call.

Yet when your eyes met his for the first time, what struck you most was not his strength but the scar that marred his face—a reminder of the price he had paid for his ambition. It only added to his allure, a mark of his relentless determination. When he took your hand and pressed a kiss to it, a slow heat rose in your cheeks. His grip was firm but not unkind, and in that moment, you felt yourself swoon. After all, you were just a girl.

However, Aemond was not a man easily won. A moon had passed since your arrival, and with your wedding fast approaching, you had hoped to spend time in his company, to know the man behind the dragonprince’s mask. Yet, he seemed to slip away from you at every opportunity, his presence a fleeting shadow that vanished the moment you tried to reach for him. His evasions frustrated you, each refusal to join you in the gardens or to share a quiet moment only deepened the chasm between you.

It was said that dragons could not be tamed, only respected. But you longed for more than respect from your future husband. How could you hope to win Aemond's heart if he remained as distant as the stars that twinkled in the night sky?

Determined to change your fate, you devised a plan—a gift to offer Aemond before the wedding, something personal and meaningful that might draw him closer to you. From your balcony, you had often watched him train, his sword catching the sunlight as he moved with lethal grace. You had also stalked observed him in quieter moments, lost in the pages of ancient tomes in the Red Keep’s vast library. But no matter the scene, your gaze always drifted to the black leather patch over his left eye, a constant reminder of his loss.

Through whispered conversations among the ladies of the court, you had pieced together the story of that eye, taken from him when he was but twelve, during a violent skirmish with his own nephew. The knife had found its mark, leaving him disfigured and scarred in more ways than one. You could hardly imagine the pain he endured, the maester's delicate, grim task of removing what remained. The very thought sent a chill through you—what it must have felt like to be forever changed, to carry such a wound into manhood.

Jewelry had always enchanted you, especially the way it could transform even the simplest of gowns into something regal. And it was through that love of adornment that inspiration struck. Aemond needed something beautiful, something that would not only adorn him but perhaps bring a glimmer of warmth to that hardened exterior.

After much thought, you settled on a sapphire, deep and blue like the narrow seas, cut and shaped like an eye—a symbol of his lost strength and newfound resilience. It was a bold choice, one that you hoped would capture his attention, something that might resonate with the prince who had suffered so much.

With the sapphire crafted into an exquisite piece of jewelry, you wrapped it carefully, your heart filled with anticipation. The wedding drew closer with each passing day, and the idea of giving Aemond this token before the vows were exchanged consumed your thoughts. Would such a gift be enough to draw him out of the shadows, to make him see you as more than just his betrothed but as someone who truly wished to know him?

Desperation fueled your resolve. You decided to visit his chambers, scandalous though it might be, under the cover of night. It was unheard of for a lady to seek out a man in such a manner, but propriety seemed insignificant in the face of your growing desire to understand him.

Wrapped in a dark cloak to hide your identity from prying eyes, the gift cradled carefully in your hand, you navigated the winding, dimly lit corridors of the Red Keep. The moon hung high above the castle, casting eerie shadows along the stone walls as you walked with purpose toward his door.

Apprehension seized you as you approached, a wave of doubt crashing over you. What if he rejected your offering? What if he saw it as nothing more than a futile attempt to win his affection, which it kind of was. Yet before those thoughts could take root, you steeled yourself and knocked firmly on the heavy oak door, your heart pounding in your chest.

Moments passed in silence, each one stretching endlessly until, at last, you heard the soft thud of boots approaching from within. The door creaked open, and there he stood—Prince Aemond Targaryen. His long, silver hair cascaded freely over his shoulders, almost camouflaged against the loose white shirt he wore, which clung to the contours of his lean, muscular frame.

His single violet eye regarded you with a mixture of surprise and caution, the flickering light of the torches casting shadows across his sharp features. You found yourself momentarily breathless, caught off guard by the quiet intensity of his presence.

His gaze flicked to the dark cloak you wore, then back to your face, a question lingering unspoken between you. “My lady,” he began, his voice slow and deliberate, “it is late.”

You nodded quickly, casting a nervous glance down the dimly lit corridor. “Yes, I realize. May I come in?”

His lips tightened as though he was about to refuse, but before the words could escape him, you slipped past the threshold into the warmth of his chambers, your heart racing with a mix of adrenaline and nervous energy.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your gaze darting around the room, absorbing the details: the few books strewn across the table, the rich, intricate tapestries that adorned the stone walls, and the soft glow of firelight dancing in the hearth.

Aemond's voice was closer than expected when he spoke again. “My lady,” he repeated, causing you to jump slightly at his nearness.

You turned abruptly, releasing a nervous laugh. In the next moment, you remembered the purpose of your visit and hastily thrust the small, wrapped parcel into his hands. “I—I’ve brought you a gift.”

His brow furrowed in surprise as he looked down at the object now resting in his palm. “A gift?”

You offered a tight, awkward smile, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. “A wedding gift, of sorts.”

You watched intently as he carefully opened the small package, revealing the deep blue sapphire you had commissioned. His expression remained guarded, though curiosity danced in his gaze. “What is this for?” he asked, his voice even.

Swallowing hard, you wrung your hands together and took a deep breath. “I thought… perhaps you might wear it in place of your eye patch.”

Aemond's eyebrow arched, his lone eye narrowing in sharp scrutiny. “A decoration for my injury?” There was no malice in his tone, but the words still cut deep.

Your heart sank, panic rising in your chest as you hurried to explain. “No, no! Not like that. I only thought…” Your voice faltered as the words tumbled out, your face flushing with embarrassment. “I thought the eye patch might be… suffocating at times. The sapphire—it’s strong and regal, like you. I thought it might be more—well, appealing. Not that your injury is unappealing, of course!”

You cringed inwardly, realizing how foolish you must sound. Eyes cast downward, you continued, “Sapphires are a symbol of wisdom, strength, and royalty. It felt fitting for you. But if I’ve overstepped, I’ll take it back.” You bit your lip, the weight of your own awkwardness pressing down on you. “Truly, it’s alright.”

Reaching out to reclaim the stone, you found your hand halted by his. His touch was firm, yet not unkind. “No,” Aemond said, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative. “I accept your gift, my lady.”

Relief flooded through you, though you could hardly bear to meet his gaze under the weight of your own mortification. Without thinking, you blurted out the first excuse that came to mind. “Oh! I just remembered—I’m to have tea with your mother.”

Aemond's gaze drifted to the window where the full moon hung high in the night sky. He raised an eyebrow, a subtle amusement curling at the edge of his lips. “At this hour?”

You nodded hastily, your laugh high-pitched with nerves. “Yes, well, a late tea, you see.”

Before he could respond further, you turned toward the door, only to misjudge the frame and bump into it with an audible thud. The embarrassment was almost too much to bear. “I wish you a good night, my prince,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper as you hurried out.

As you fled down the darkened corridor, you missed the rare sight behind you—the amused smirk that tugged at Aemond's lips and the way his expression softened as he gazed down at the sapphire, the light of the fire casting its blue hue across his hand. Intrigue flickered in his eye, a hint of something deeper, as he tucked the gem into his palm, the gift having made a more lasting impression than you could ever have imagined.

And now it was you doing everything in your power to avoid your betrothed. After that utterly humiliating encounter, where you had gifted Prince Aemond the sapphire for his eye, you had nearly thrown yourself from the balcony in shame. Every misstep, every nervous word, echoed relentlessly in your mind. The way he had looked at you, as though you were nothing more than a foolish girl… you could hardly bear it.

That night, you had made peace with a simple truth: it was perfectly acceptable if Aemond did not like you. You would fulfill your duty as his wife, give him heirs, and that would be the extent of your relationship. Yet, even as you tried to harden your heart, you couldn’t deny the yearning deep within you for something more—a connection, affection, or at the very least, understanding. But you’d sooner face a dragon than approach him again after such mortification.

Now, you found refuge in the company of Princess Helaena, sharing tea in her sunlit solar, where tapestries of butterflies and flowers adorned the walls. Helaena sat in her usual reverie, speaking in disjointed whispers about dreams and prophecies. You had grown fond of her strange, otherworldly nature, even if much of what she said left you puzzled.

Today, however, your tea was constantly interrupted by the young Princess Jaehaera, who was determined to climb into your lap as you attempted to drink. “You have such pretty hair,” she said, her small hands reaching to touch the loose strands that framed your face, her voice filled with innocent awe.

You smiled warmly, gently lifting a strand of her silver-gold hair to place beside your own. “Not as pretty as yours, my sweet princess,” you said softly. The Targaryen blood ran strong in the little girl, her pale locks shimmering like spun moonlight under the midday sun.

As Jaehaera continued to braid a piece of your hair, her twin brother, Prince Jaehaerys, was nestled in your lap, completely absorbed in a heavy tome recounting Aegon the Conqueror’s rise to power. You marveled at the child’s focus, noting how his somber demeanor contrasted starkly with his sister’s. It was strange, you thought, for a boy of only five summers to be so intent on reading a history so grim. His brow furrowed in concentration, a seriousness far beyond his years.

"You’ll grow to be as wise as your grandsire with all this reading, my prince," you commented with a chuckle, though you could not help but feel a touch of unease at how much the young boy seemed to carry the weight of his family’s legacy on his small shoulders.

Jaehaera giggled, abandoning your hair to cling to your arm. “I want to ride a dragon, like Vhagar!”

The mention of Vhagar brought an involuntary shiver down your spine, the thought of that ancient, fearsome beast ever-present in your mind. The mighty she-dragon’s rider, your betrothed, had taken to avoiding you as much as you had him, and though part of you was relieved, another part, buried deeper, ached at the distance.

As you entertained the children, Princess Helaena’s lilting voice broke the calm. "He dreams of fire and blood, my son," she said, her gaze unfocused as she stared at the window, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her cup. "As do we all."

You offered a polite smile, uncertain whether to respond or remain silent..

Your gaze shifted, drawn by the soft, deliberate sound of footsteps echoing through the confines of Helaena's solar. As you looked up, you immediately lowered your eyes, your heart racing, warmth flooding your cheeks as fluttering butterflies stirred restlessly in your stomach. Aemond strode through the door, his very presence commanding the room without a single word.

You felt his gaze upon you, sharp and intense. Jaehaera squealed with delight beside you, calling out, “Kepūs!” Her excitement was palpable as she clambered off your lap, rushing to his side. Even Jaehaerys, who had been so engrossed in his book, set it aside to greet his uncle.

You dared a glance up to find something unexpected—a soft, almost tender smile tugging at Aemond’s lips as he looked down at the children. The rare sight caught you off guard, but before you could process it, his expression shifted, and he cleared his throat, turning his attention to Helaena.

“Sister,” he began, his voice steady, respectful yet commanding. “Might I steal a moment of Lady Baratheon’s time?”

Helaena, oblivious to the way your pulse quickened, nodded lightly, her gentle smile untouched by the tension you now felt. “Of course, brother,” she replied, her tone light and dreamlike, as though she sensed nothing of the undercurrent between you and Aemond.

You felt the weight of their eyes upon you—Helaena’s distant curiosity, Jaehaera’s wide-eyed innocence, and Aemond’s watchful, unreadable gaze. You rose slowly from your seat, smoothing the folds of your gown as you murmured a soft farewell to the princess and her children, acutely aware of how unsteady your voice sounded.

Aemond stood patiently, waiting as you gathered yourself. His tall figure loomed over you, but there was no sense of impatience in his posture. When you stepped out of the solar, he turned and led the way into the dimly lit corridor, his footsteps echoing against the stone walls in perfect rhythm with yours.

The silence between you grew heavier with each step, and the farther you ventured down the shadowed halls of the Red Keep, the more you became aware of where he was leading you—back toward his chambers.

Your palms began to sweat, and your heart pounded with a growing unease. Why had he sought you out? Why now, after so many days of avoidance?

The corridor felt impossibly long, each step building the tension. Aemond’s back remained straight, his silver hair brushing the fabric of his black tunic, his long strides forcing you to quicken your own pace just to keep up.

When you finally reached the familiar door to his chambers, he paused, turning to face you, his one violet eye locking onto yours with an intensity that left you breathless. The silence stretched, thick and charged, as though the air between you crackled with words unspoken.

"You’ve been avoiding me, my lady," Aemond murmured, his piercing gaze sweeping over you as you walked into his chambers.

Your eyes widened just a fraction, masking your surprise with a nervous laugh. “Why on earth would you insinuate something like that?”

His voice, soft but steady, echoed from behind you as you stepped further into the dim warmth of his room. "Perhaps because every time I enter a room, you are always the first to leave."

Fidgeting with your fingers, you murmured, "I suspect you are just seeing things, my prince."

A slight smirk tugged at his lips as he replied, “Mayhaps it’s just my one eye.”

Your head snapped up in shock at his words, but before you could respond, you noticed the faint curve of amusement in his lips. For the first time since your engagement, you let out a genuine laugh, tilting your head. “Oh, so you can jest,” you teased, though you couldn’t help but wrinkle your nose in playful disapproval. “Though your delivery needs some work.”

Aemond’s smirk deepened, a flicker of something warmer in his gaze. “I shall endeavor to improve,” he replied with dry humor, his voice low.

For a moment, your eyes locked, the silence between you charged with a tension that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. But then he cleared his throat, breaking the moment. “I called you here for a reason,” he said, his tone shifting as he turned away, walking toward his desk.

Your curiosity piqued as you watched him retrieve something—a finely crafted box, larger than you expected. He carried it with the same ease as he handled his sword, and yet there was a certain weight to his movements. He approached you, his expression unreadable, and extended the box in an indifferent manner. "A wedding gift," he said simply.

Your heart fluttered as you took the box, your fingers trembling slightly. As you lifted the lid, your breath caught in your throat. Inside lay a necklace—silver, adorned with diamonds that glimmered like starlight, white pearls cascading from its base, and at the center, a magnificent sapphire, almost mirroring the sapphire you had gifted him. It was stunning, more than anything you had ever imagined.

“Wow,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, as if the beauty of the necklace had stolen the air from your lungs.

Aemond’s voice softened, a note of vulnerability threading through his usual composure. “Do you like it?”

You met his gaze, your eyes bright with genuine surprise and gratitude. “Yes, yes, of course,” you breathed, a shy smile tugging at your lips as your heart raced with something more than just relief.

You looked at him, pure joy lighting up your face, entirely unaware of the soft, almost tender look in Aemond's eye as he observed you. Nodding eagerly, you gestured to the necklace. "Will you put it on me?"

Aemond inclined his head in silence, taking the necklace from its box as he motioned for you to turn around. You did so, gathering your hair and lifting it to reveal your neck. The warmth of his presence grew closer, and when his fingers brushed against your skin to secure the clasp, you couldn’t help but wonder if the caress was deliberate or merely your imagination.

When his hands finally withdrew, you released the breath you had been holding. Turning to face him, you tilted your chin up slightly. "How does it look?"

For a moment, Aemond’s gaze lingered on you, his eye fixed on your face with an unreadable intensity before it drifted down to your neck. "Your neck looks... long."

Your brow furrowed, confusion knitting your features. "My neck looks long?"

Aemond coughed, a rare sign of discomfort, and you could swear you caught the faintest hint of pink on his pale cheeks. He quickly amended his words, mumbling, "I mean, it looks nice. The necklace brings out your eyes."

A sheepish smile tugged at your lips as you nodded, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. "Thank you, my prince."

For a brief moment, your eyes flickered to the eye patch that hid his injury, wondering if the sapphire you had gifted him lay beneath. The thought of it being there, close to him, filled you with an unspoken sense of connection. You felt content to simply stand there, the moment shared between you without the need for words. But Aemond, shifting slightly under your gaze, seemed less at ease.

“I am late for training,” he said, his tone distant as though eager to escape.

You narrowed your eyes playfully, tilting your head in mock suspicion. “I thought you only trained in the mornings?”

His posture straightened, fists clenching at his sides as he looked away, clearly caught in his lie. The silence that followed made him glance toward the window. “It’s... a beautiful day.”

You hummed softly in agreement, not pressing him any further. “Yes, it is.”

Aemond hesitated for a moment before his eye met yours again, the faintest trace of vulnerability in his voice. “Mayhaps you would be interested in a walk in the castle gardens?”

Your heart skipped, and it took everything within you to suppress the wide grin threatening to break free. You feigned contemplation for a moment before nodding with as much grace as you could muster. “I would love to, my prince.”

And though Aemond kept his face composed, you couldn’t help but notice the slight softening of his expression at your acceptance.

In Aemond's eyes, despite your apparent obliviousness to his growing feelings, it was not hard to fall in love with you. There was a quiet strength in the way you carried yourself, a delicate blend of grace and fire that intrigued him.

He had always been reserved, more comfortable in the company of books and the sound of steel clashing in the training yard than in the presence of others. But with you, there was something different, something that drew him in against his better judgment.

Your laugh, though soft, echoed in his mind long after you left the room. The way your eyes sparkled with genuine warmth when you spoke to him—even when you were nervous—was a stark contrast to the calculated interactions he was used to at court.

You were not scheming, not vying for his favor or power. You were simply... you. And perhaps that was what made it so easy for his walls to crumble, little by little, without even realizing it.

When you smiled up at him, asking him to place the necklace around your neck, his heart had skipped a beat. It was such a simple request, yet the intimacy of it made him feel more vulnerable than any duel or battle could. In those moments, he found himself wondering what it would be like to let his guard down, to let you see the man behind the stoic façade.

Even now, as he led you through the corridors of the Red Keep, heading toward the gardens, Aemond couldn’t help but steal glances at you. Your presence beside him felt... right. The idea of loving you was no longer something he fought against; instead, it was a slow, inevitable truth that settled in his chest.

In time, he hoped you would see it too.

Headcannon: reader only sees the sapphire in his eye on their wedding night

Headcannon: this is before the dance of dragons and viserys is still alive

Headcannon: aemond is 18 and reader is 17

Ages of the Baratheon daughters:

Cassandra - 25

Maris - 22

Ellyn - 19

Reader (fawn) - 17

Floris - 13

ALSO you cannot change my mind - after having four daughters (canon) Borros Baratheon is def a girl dad!

Hope you enjoyed 💜

#aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #aemond x you #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader

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theoldsports · 1 year ago

Text

Mistake.

Coriolanus Snow x Reader | 3.2k words

SMUT 18+ ONLY | murder, manipulation, dubcon, mutually assured destruction, some bondage, gun violence. everything, really. danger!

The floor of Coriolanus and [Y/N]’s bedroom used to be hardwood. She would hear him on his way in when he worked late at the Citadel. The creaking floorboards typically snapped her out of sleep. Recently, Coriolanus decided on carpeting the room, full well knowing that he often woke up [Y/N] with his returns. If she stayed asleep, she asked less questions. The carpet was rich and purple. Tastefully purple, like a mauve. Coriolanus did not tolerate tacky like most ‘Capitol Phonies’ as [Y/N] called them when he would get agitated with couture, fashion and consumer trends.

When Coriolanus entered the room tonight, he was not concerned with waking his lover like usual. He was furious and he wanted attention. Coriolanus threw the door open with a bang. He came in like a shot. [Y/N] sat bolt up right in bed at the unexpected noise so late at night. She went from asleep to over alert. With practiced ease, she yanked open the bedside table’s white drawer and reached for the handgun Coriolanus had gotten her as an anniversary present. The wife of a young Senator couldn’t afford to take risks.

[Y/N] extended her arm, pointing the gun where her tired eyes spotted movement and undid the safety. She blinked once. Then twice. It was clear that it was Coriolanus, not a murderer. Not a murderer that would do her harm, anyway.

“Fuck!” Coriolanus said, raising his hands in surprise. “Darling, it’s me. Drop it!”

She would have known his footsteps if he hadn’t put in carpet.

“Coryo, good god. Don’t do that!” [Y/N] screamed. Instantly, she snapped the safety back on and dropped the gun back in the drawer. “I could have shot you! What time is it?”

“I—I don’t know! Late!” Coriolanus shouted and shrugged his jacket off. “Fuck!” [Y/N] watched his burgundy coat smack into the wall as he tossed it in frustration. Coriolanus didn’t usually get visibly angry. Instead, he got cold. There was door slamming sometimes to end an argument, maybe dirty possessive sex, but normally, he became calculating vile to be around instead of petulantly rage-filled.

Today must have been a bad day.

He almost got shot to top it off.

“I’m sorry,” [Y/N] said like she was attempting to defuse a bomb. She had only had to speak to him like that once or twice in her years of knowing him. Normally, Coriolanus found that tone condescending. “Coryo, come here.”

Coriolanus made no mind of her words. He continued to pull off his clothes a layer at a time clumsily. He pulled at his hair, he groaned sounds of anguish barely below a holler, he even threw one of his beautifully polished shoes across the room. Real, adult male rage. The kind you stayed away from.

“Coriolanus Snow, you’re going to hurt yourself!” [Y/N] shouted. “You’re gonna… hurt me, or break something. What’s wrong with you?” [Y/N] said cautiously while she climbed out of bed in her nearly transparent red nightie.

Coriolanus breathed heavily. He was trying to sooth his anger. He knew this behavior, this blackout rage, was unbecoming. His eyes focused on [Y/N]’s, and then [Y/N]’s throat, then [Y/N]’s dress, and what was visible under [Y/N]’s dress. His breathing slowed a bit and he pushed his loose curls out of his eyes with the back of his hand.

“You still with me?” [Y/N] asked, stepping into where he stood. “Coryo, look at me,” [Y/N] commanded. She reached out with a hand as if Coriolanus was a wild animal that might bite her and slowly placed it on the side of his cheek. Gently, she guided him to look down at her. He stared down at her almost expressionlessly. [Y/N] reached up with her free hand to tucked Coriolanus’s long hair out of his face. “What happened? The truth, preferably.”

“Where… Where’d you get that nightgown?” Coriolanus deflected.

“Bought it last week.”

“It’s very striking on you. You aren’t cold in that thing?”

[Y/N] shook her head and dropped her hand from Coriolanus’ face. She thought her window for some sort of talk about why he had behaved like that had latched closed. “No.” She sighed. [Y/N] spent another moment examining Coriolanus with her eyes to make sure that he wasn’t hurt or completely falling to pieces standing before her in merely his crisp black pinstriped trousers and belt. Once she felt her once over was sufficient, she turned to walk back to the bed to lay down.

“I… I lied to someone when I should have told them the truth,” Coriolanus started as [Y/N] climbed back under the pristine white covers on their bed. “It was a miscalculation and I suspect it’s going to take… work to… eradicate the rest of problem entirely.”

He was incapable of saying ‘I made a mistake and my actions have consequences’ like a normal person. All the same, relinquishing that information cost him a lot emotionally. He didn’t share burdens. Coriolanus didn’t share anything.

“This was another Senator?”

“It involves another Senator, yes,” he said. “It’s inconvenient.”

“Fix it,” she said. There was no more advice to be offered on the subject without argument and she knew that Coriolanus would fix it, by whatever means necessary. [Y/N] patted the bed beside her again. “Come to bed.”

Coriolanus climbed into bed stiffly and laid beside [Y/N]. He settled for laying in an uncomfortable, temporary position because he did not expect to fall asleep in his pressed slacks. She wrapped an arm around him and yanked him on top of her, forcing his head to rest on her chest. Coriolanus liked it when [Y/N] let him use her like a pillow. [Y/N]’s heart went so fast when he was near like that. Coriolanus wondered if it was because she was afraid of him. He smiled.

“Did you get this nightgown for me?” Coriolanus asked. He traced the sheer fabric around one of [Y/N] nipples and watched the bud become stiffer with every rotation. He did that to her, not some no-talent, inexperienced Senator who probably couldn’t keep his own dick hard.

[Y/N] scoffed with her bottom lip captured between her straight teeth. “Who else?” She said plainly.

“You got all dressed up in this and I didn’t even get home on time, huh?” He said, sounding almost disappointed. Coriolanus’ finger slid under the strap of the dress and snapped it against her skin.

“There’s always tomorrow. It’s not like I don’t live with you,” [Y/N] chanced sliding her fingers into his hair. Coriolanus often hated when she touched his overly manicured hair, but [Y/N] knew he found it soothing in a moment of private vulnerability. She knew he liked the attention. [Y/N] tangled her fingers in his white blonde hair, combing out the product he had put in it that morning to hold it in place. Coriolanus let her. “You’re so tense. Relax.” [Y/N] said.

“Can’t. Go back to sleep, Darling. I might go for a run, think.”

“…You could discuss your miscalculation.”

Coriolanus was silent. That was a no without saying no. [Y/N] tugged his hair carefully in frustration. “Please stay here with me. If you go out, I’ll be all nerves til you’re properly back with me,” She said. “Stay. I’m awake now… Blow off some steam. The adrenaline of pointing a gun at my husband’s going to keep me awake for a while too.”

“I never should have bought you that,” Coriolanus said firmly, but maintained a smirk. “If I stayed with you all day, you would have no reason for needing the gun. You wouldn’t ever have to wear clothes either. Well, what you’re wearing now is hardly clothes to begin with.”

“I’m sorry. About the gun, not the nightgown,” [Y/N] said. Coriolanus stole kisses across parts of her exposed and covered chest. Eventually his mouth came to rest over her clothed left nipple, with his teeth giving it a gentle tug. ��Coryo…” [Y/N] whimpered.

“You want me to relax, here’s me,” Coriolanus leaned up and kissed [Y/N]’s lips. “Relaxing.” He smirked.

[Y/N] genuinely never did know if Coriolanus was out-of-his-mind obsessed with her, or if he told her what she wanted to hear because that kind of talk made Coriolanus feel better about himself in a roundabout way. Either way, she got something out of it, so complaining at this stage felt unimportant.

Sustaining two deluded minds in a relationship meant both parties had to consistently 1) lie, 2) obsess over minutia, 3) fuck.

See, it wasn’t love, but it wasn’t just fucking either. The pair could not love. Something had happened to each of them that made real romantic or intimate compatibility impossible. Their intentions for the other weren’t selfless, but they mutually let other believe they were.

They were perfect together.

They had unified strength, a need for control and that beloved little thing that made them work: obsession; fundamentally. To hear one of them talk manically about the other, was to see the face of God. To each of them, the other was the only person who had ever kept them from getting bored, so they made it work. It was the endless chase that kept them going. That, and a constant need to outdo the other. Daily, they engaged in a delicate pantomime of intimacy and all their world was the stage.

“Did you hurt someone, honey?” [Y/N] moaned as Coriolanus kissed her, bucking her hips up. “You only act like this when you’ve hurt someone. Y-you, oh fuck, you know I don’t care.” She said.

“Cut it out.” He snapped.

“Who.”

“How many times before have I told you not to ask?” Coriolanus said, pulling his lips away from her chest and instead leaned back to bury two fingers inside her wetness to affirm his point. He had already noticed she hadn’t been wearing panties under the translucent nightie, so it was easy.

[Y/N] inhaled sharply at the abrupt stretching sensation and shut her eyes. “I wasn’t asking, Coriolanus.”

Coriolanus stretched her further, eliciting an explicit moan from [Y/N]. She clawed at the fabric of the only stitches he had left: his trousers.

Through gritted teeth, Coriolanus choked out “Festus Creed.”

“Festus?” [Y/N] said as she sat up on her elbows. They had known him since they were children. Coriolanus didn’t stop fucking her brutally with his hand. “Coryo… You didn’t.”

“He said something he shouldn’t have and he took his coffee too sweet to notice before it was too late. The only worry is if someone saw. Eyes everywhere. It was too public.” Coriolanus grunted. He felt himself getting hard from watching his wife fuck herself on his long fingers whilst he confessed to killing a childhood companion.

[Y/N] knew it was in poor taste to feel so good from hearing something so awful. She did not care because who was going to judge her in the privacy of her own home? She let out her most wanton moan yet when Coriolanus pressed in a third finger. He knew had an advantage in the conversation considering their current position. Coriolanus knew exactly what she wanted and that he was not going to get her to cum just from the penetration of his fingers. Effortlessly, he slid his thumb over her clit and rubbed it quickly. “W-why…” [Y/N] tried her best to sound coherent.

“He wanted something that wasn’t his.” Coriolanus muttered, leaning his mouth into [Y/N]’s bare neck.

This could have meant Festus had coveted her, or that he had coveted the presidency. Whatever it was, Coriolanus didn’t like his foods to touch and took care of the problem. [Y/N] let herself believe that out of the possible options, it was her that had gotten in the way of the two men’s relationship. It made her grin an unfortunate grin.

“Coriolanus, you sh-shouldn’t have d-done that,” [Y/N] said. Her thighs were practically shaking. “That was a mistake.” She tried. It was a mistake. Logically, she knew that. [Y/N]’s quivering hands unbuckled his belt. Carefully, she slid the fine black leather through the metal fixings and soft fabric loops. It stayed clutched in her hand.

“What was a mistake?” Coriolanus asked coyly. “This?” His hand slid out of her, making [Y/N] yelp at its absence.

At least [Y/N] was able to think clearer without his hand in her folds. [Y/N] clutched the belt in her hands tighter. “Fuck you.” [Y/N] said. She sat up further causing Coriolanus to lean back further. Her temper flared. She hated how much Coriolanus liked it when she got angry. Of course none of her feelings were really her own with out Coriolanus’ desire and interests. Her temper escalated until she could feel a full throbbing in her left armpit and side. [Y/N] also hated how aroused she still felt. Her friend was dead, after all. She sent a silent prayer to Festus, wherever he ended up.

[Y/N] knew this desire she had was going to be a challenge, but she wanted to punish Coriolanus carnally. Everything was too easy for him as it was.

When Coriolanus sat up against the fluffy pillows and the metal headboard, [Y/N] wasted no time climbing into his lap. She stared seriously into his blue eyes for a moment and leaned into his ear. “I’m extremely disappointed in you.” She said.

Nervousness coursed through her veins. Coriolanus was going to be very upset with her. She grasped Coriolanus’ left wrist in the same hand that held his belt. In one fluid motion, [Y/N] grabbed Coriolanus’ other wrist and clutched them over his head. She pressed his wrists together and linked them with the belt. Before she locked the belt on itself, she pushed his beautiful pale hands against the metallic headboard she was so familiar with chained to herself and cinched the belt closed fast enough to rash up Coriolanus’ delicate wrists.

Coriolanus looked at her in stunned shock. He tried to pull against the belt once.

Twice.

Three times.

It jerked the metal bedframe with a crack.

“What the fuck is this?” Coriolanus said through gritted teeth.

“Punishment. You… I… I said I was extremely disappointed in you. You created a significant amount of unnecessary stress because… Because what? A man I’ve known since I was twelve wanted to share your toys? Is that it?”

The crease between Coriolanus’ eyebrows deepened and his eyes. [Y/N] popped the button on Coriolanus’ pants.

“Now, I’m gonna get some pleasure out of you if it kills me. For my sake, not yours.” [Y/N] said. She shimmied Coriolanus’ pants and boxers down to his knees. Coriolanus wasn’t making this movement easy for her with his wriggling.

“[Y/N], get me out of this. Now!” Coriolanus commanded. At the noise, she grabbed his cock and circled her thumb around its head a few times. He was a leaking mess; he liked this more than he implied. Coriolanus let out a whimper, whether from pleasure or being emasculated. Either would do.

“No.” [Y/N] said softly. She released his cock and climbed properly back onto his lap and slowly sank all the way down on his painfully hard cock. Coriolanus was tall and broad so it was never a surprise to [Y/N] that he was so big. She herself moaned at the familiar stretch of taking him in all the way. [Y/N] rolled her hips to compensate as she settled. [Y/N] chose not think about the consequences for what she was doing. She thought about Coriolanus instead. She glanced down at Coriolanus. Of course he looked frustratingly gorgeous. He always did. His hair looked extremely tousled and his eyes were truculent. His jaw clenched in a grimace of some passionate emotion.

[Y/N] had never seen Coriolanus below her like this. She liked it.

Coriolanus thrusted his hips up, but [Y/N] sat still, not dignifying his need with a response. “No, this is an apology. This is for me now, not you.”

“[Y/N], please—“

Begging so soon?

[Y/N] fucked herself on his cock sharply. Repeatedly, she lifted herself high and slammed herself back down his length. She had no idea sex felt so good in this position.

“Coryo, I want an apology for whatever this is. You should be ashamed of what you’ve done. Are you?”

Silence. He looked away from her.

“I asked you a question.” [Y/N] whispered when she leaned in to bite Coriolanus’ earlobe.

“No.” He said. [Y/N] leaned back and struck him with her open palm. She smiled to herself as she did so, thinking of the night of their engagement party. How striking his pale face always looked with the contrast of a stiff red mark on it.

“[Y/N]!” Coriolanus shouted at the stinging sensation, pulling at his restraints. Coriolanus hated not feeling in control. He wanted to hold [Y/N], to squeeze her, to devour her alive.

[Y/N] leaned to clutch his bound forearms, bouncing up and down sickeningly fast. “You’re not ashamed? Guilty? You think this is deserved, this cruelty?” He didn’t have to answer for [Y/N] to know he didn’t feel ashamed. Coriolanus couldn’t feel shame quite like that, only self pity. He let out another moan at her words. [Y/N] clawed her nails down his biceps on a journey to his abdomen. “Coryo, apologize to me.” She purred.

“I…” Coriolanus started to apologize, but [Y/N] began sucking brutal hickeys on his neck first, then collarbones. He could barely string a sentence together at the sensation. By the time he had four blossoming bruises on the marble column of his throat, he was writhing beneath [Y/N]. He was getting frustrated. Every time he tried to buck his hips naturally (or desperately) into hers, she refused to move or acknowledge until he stopped.

“Fine! I’m sorry!” He spat, barely conscious of his words.

“For what?”

“F-Festus.” He said quietly.

“What was that, honey?” She teased, twisting one of his nipples.

“Please don’t make me talk about another man when I’m fucking you…” Coriolanus whimpered. “Undo the belt, Darling, we can—“

“Too late. What are you sorry for?” She said, rolling her hips into his. “Tell me you’re sorry or there’s no chance I let you finish.”

“Festus!”

“Louder!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry about Festus. It was a mistake. PLEASE! Let me fucking cum!”

He wasn’t sorry at all. While he came into his wife, all Coriolanus could think about was how awfully good it felt to kill someone if it meant his wife would be on him like this.

—

TAGLIST:

@badwicht @stelleduarte @cinnamongirl127 @prettyppetty @soulessien @bejeweledreverie @jjstyles @arminsarlerts @chmpgneprblem @co1dmountains @miscellaneousmoonchild @lille999 @pumkinnxsmut @taykorsyogurt @ndycrls @watermelonharry @nananarwhal @ohantonia @catlover420sstuff @justaproudslytherpuff @notarabellasstuff @scarytiger111 @zucchinimalfoy @secretsicanthideanymore @h-l-vlovesvintage @dannydevsbbg @clintsupremacy @lookclosernow

sorry if tags didn’t work! i tried!

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow #hunger games #coriolanus snow imagine #coryo snow #coriolanus x reader #the hunger games #coriolanus snow smut

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merakiui · 2 months ago

Text

[0] 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔲𝔢.

yandere!twst x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, non-consensual touching, power imbalance, abuse of power, descriptions of religious imagery, attempted non-con, hypocrisy, solitary confinement, rollo is immensely creepy, archaic mindsets and logic masterlist // prologue (you are here) // one

Without a shred of sympathy, discarded like dross, you are thrown before Father Flamme’s feet.

You have enough grace and dignity to resist the urge to grasp at his robes and beg for forgiveness. Instead, you condemn yourself to silence, allowing his piercing stare to stab through you with a judgment so precise it might just slice the skin from your skeleton. Your tongue darts out to wet your dry lips, and you can almost taste his disapproval, much like a snake might parse chemical witchery in the air.

“Lift your head, if you would,” he commands gently, and you do as you’re told. He folds his arms over his chest and looks on, cold as winter’s frost. You watch his finger tap out a soundless rhythm. “I must ask of you, Sister, to provide reason to your recent absences. As a child of God, you have taken oath to follow His wise teachings and devote yourself to serving this church. Am I wrong?”

“You speak wise and true.” You rise to your feet and, ignoring the brutes who so rudely cast you forward in the first place, bow your head in apology. Father Flamme waves them out without sparing so much as a second glance. “You are right that it is my duty to serve the church. I ought to be doing just that and yet I have failed to do so. Undeserving I may be, I ask that you pardon my negligence.”

Father Flamme hums. Standing in front of the altar, backdropped by a stained glass depiction of the crucifixion, he is bathed in a colorful, angelic array. He strides towards you, covering the short distance in just a few clicks, and places his hand upon your shoulder. You’re led from the steps and down the aisle. It feels more like you’re being brought away for slaughter, a lamb primed for punishment.

“There is no doubt you are genuine in all that you do,” he notes, sliding his hand down your arm. Those slender, spidery digits curl into your woolen sleeve. “You are impartial and well-bred, a woman of impressive patience and virtue. Qualities of which arouse an admiration most potent.”

You know the rest of your convent is much the same, which is why it puzzles you that Father Flamme should praise your humble name in such a sickeningly fond manner.

“You are too kind, Father,” you acquiesce. “As a modest servant of God, it’s my pleasure to devote myself to Him, the church, my fellow sisters, and the community.”

“Hmm. A laudable outlook.” His lips quirk up in a smile. Strangely, it looks sharp and predatory. It does not reach his eyes.

Father Flamme steers you in the direction of another stained glass window. This scene is of The Resurrection of Christ. You gaze at His face and wonder if there truly is something up there, watching over the world’s sheep as they live out cyclical days in their pastures.

Immediately, you realize you should commit yourself to writing lines to chase that doubtful notion away.

Father Flamme rests his hand on your other arm to hold you in place. “A quote paraphrased from the Gospel of Matthew, chapter twenty-two, verses thirty-six through thirty-eight, if you’ll listen: ‘When asked which is the great commandment of all in the law, Jesus would reply, ‘You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the first and great commandment.’”

You nod mechanically, only half-listening. After observing you closely, he frowns.

“What troubles you, Sister?”

“It is hardly a burden worth shouldering. I assure you I’m of sound health. My recent habit of absence is most unbecoming of a sister. I should sooner confront the great shame of my actions than let it fester within.”

“There is still time to atone. You must seek counsel and, having taken it in your arms just as God embraces all, you will know forgiveness.”

You rest your hand upon Father Flamme’s, which has somehow found its home at your hip. “And how do you suppose I do that?”

He smiles that empty smile again. “If He is to provide for you, you must first lay yourself bare before him. I am no fool, Sister. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“I have been truthful, Father. I would never lie under this sacred roof, nor would I have the gall to do so in your presence. It would be an offense so beastly I could not bear to let it weigh heavy on my heart.”

“Yet, rather than scorch your tongue with a dissolution of the truth, you evade the simplest of queries.” His fingers toy with the knots of your cincture. “What manner of tale will you spin to mystify me next?”

Reacting on instinct, you rip yourself from his immoral grasp. The nave is as silent as the grave, so stuffy it’s suffocating. Father Flamme narrows his eyes at you. His gaze cuts through you like blood swirling through the cracks in ice—like a scalding brand pressed onto flesh.

A thick tension blankets the air. You merely stare at him, and he levels you with the same calculating intensity. Both of you are searching the other’s face, hoping to find an explanation for such polar opposite behavior.

You’re courageous enough to break the quiet first.

“If it would please you, Father, I will graciously offer myself up for confession. There is no reason or need to circumvent the Lord.”

“Sister (Name), if you may spare the time, I entreat you to take a short stroll with me.” Before you can object, he offers his arm. “All children are lost lambs who will soon find their way when following the path illuminated by God’s brilliant light. You are no different. It is my duty to see that you are no longer led astray by temptation and the litany of filth propagated by the fiend.”

Sensing no other option, you link arms with him and subject yourself to his whims. “I’ve a frightful feeling. Most frightful indeed.”

“By all means, confide in God and trust that He will provide shelter. Under His sacred roof, He will lend an ear just as I am doing now.”

You inhale a steadying breath. At this moment, Father Flamme is all you have. In the depths of your heart, you’re aware he’ll never understand. He will never know the morbid secrets that dwell in darkened corners, swept expertly away. And if he knew, you would never be welcome in the church again. Your fellow sisters would certainly turn their noses up at you, loathing the sin of your very existence.

Even as you walk alongside the righteous bishop, you feel an overwhelming itchiness.

“Recent events have led me to believe—though I pray it isn’t true—that my heart has been possessed with a ghastly malady. Umbras waltz in my peripheral—no trick of the light, I assure!”

“Perhaps it is merely a case of wicked dreams?” he posits, leading you through the aisle like a father might accompany a bride on her wedding day. You shake your head insistently, and so he holds his hand up to soothe your frazzled disposition. “Peace, Sister. The songs of night are naught but whimsical folly weaved from the silk of zealous minds. You would do well to shake yourself free of their deceitful shroud.”

“I shall do so most ardently.”

“To rectify this trouble, might you consider attending evening mass? It can only do you good.”

You step up towards the altar, keeping pace with Father Flamme’s casual gait. “Oh, I couldn’t. As of late, I’ve felt uneasy in my solitude. I fear my shadow is not my own…”

His verdant eyes are so stark against the pallor of his face that it reminds you of coins placed over those of the dead. His arm slips away from your waist and, gathering your hands in his, he assesses you more carefully. Under the watchful stare of both Father Flamme and a crucified deity, you feel as if someone has taken a spoon to your soul and scraped it out. And then, for extra, unnecessary measure, they’ve flattened it out on a table for dissection in hopes of picking apart each of your dirtiest secrets.

“Oh? Do elucidate.”

Hazarding a glance at the cross situated grandly in multicolored glass, you lower your voice so as to not be heard by any outside parties. Paranoia grips you in a clenched fist.

“Something—what it may be, I could not begin to form ample conjecture—is hunting me.”

He does not grace you with a reply, and this only incenses the unrest bubbling within you.

“How say you, Father? What is it that causes me such nocturnal torment?”

His features are set in perfect neutrality; it’s impossible to glean any sort of emotion from the way he acts. He coaxes you closer, pulling you along towards the altar.

“It is with great devastation that I must behold you as you are,” he says, breaking the suspense. “Tainted with the despicable sins of the world outside, young and promising as you are… I shall remedy that.”

You open your mouth to voice concern, but in one swift motion he shoves you against the altar. You land with a thud, your back colliding against sturdy mahogany. It happens in a flash, like the final expulsion of breath from your lungs in the wake of the end. He’s between your flailing legs, pushing you up and onto the cloth-covered surface. Brass candlesticks scatter in a haphazard clatter. Globs of wax bespatter stone floors.

In the quaint tranquility of the church, the struggle is louder than a newborn’s cry.

Your chest heaves in a panic.

Gracious God above, I implore you—save me from this wretched devil!

Your pupils flit wildly, assessing every area within your range. There must be a means to escape! Above the ornate display, his head hung, your god looks on silently. He does not offer a whit of protection.

“Father—”

Frigid fingers crawl upon your legs like a flurry of scurrying rats. You blink up at him, helplessly hopeful.

He inhales a long, steadying breath and shuts his eyes. “God, have mercy. Have pity on this wayward soul. May she be cleansed beneath my fingertips, pure as freshly fallen snow, and may you forgive her every transgression.”

You sputter an incoherent noise.

He opens his eyes and smiles serenely. “Amen.”

Squirming beneath him, you resist his touch like it’s flickering flame. “Father, I beg of you… Quell your frustrations and release me at once. I am innocent.”

He sighs, unconvinced. “You are exquisitely venust, Sister. As sweet as the first buds of spring. You must know it is impossible for beauty to exist freely when there are fiends who wish to tarnish it—who will trample upon the virtuous garden in which you bloom and pluck you by the root, rough as barbarians. Thus, it is my duty to see that you are scrubbed of their detestable influence. May God pardon my iniquity.”

His hands slide up your calves beneath your habit. You watch, prickled with horror, as he parts your legs.

“Belle chose, unfurl your petals so that we may make feet for children’s stockings.”

He leans over you, reaching to secure your wrists with one hand. The other climbs higher in its rapacious pursuit of a place most sacred. In the midst of your ferocious thrashing, you espy His divine eye once more.

I adjure you, Lord… Save me from this demon. You must. Please, Lord…

Silence. A haunting, engulfing silence.

There is no salvation to be found beneath the cross. None for you, as it appears so disturbingly clear.

“Unhand me! Unhand me at once!” you snap, tearing your arm free. “You would allow yourself to fall lower than the ground you trod upon—to so flagrantly commit sacrilege in His hallowed home?!”

“It is not I who is to be scorned so. I am guiltless,” he sneers. But then he smooths his scowl into that of pristine, practiced patience, and he speaks in a soft, pitying tone. “Oh, Sister, you have allowed them to tip poison into your precious ears… Your perception is clouded with the cobwebs of that uncouth crowd.”

“To stand at his feet and reveal your malice in such a grotesque manner… You are no better than swine!”

“You shall see there is no better solace to be found than with me.” Tenderly, he fits his hand, cold and skeletal, in yours. “I shall shelter you from all that is cruel and unjust. You need only take my hand.” His fingers flicker at your inner thigh, waltzing in circles. His incessant petting sends a shudder wracking through your body. Paralyzed as you are, you recognize the monster lurking just beneath human flesh. A demented desire flashes in his eyes. You’ve never felt more lost. “And your sins shall be forgiven.”

Father Flamme leans down, chancing to catch the scent at your neck. You reach between your bodies, searching for the garter secured around your thigh, and unsheath the dagger from beneath your habit. It’s thrust at his throat, the sharpened edge pressed close enough to pierce through the collar of his alb and draw the slightest pinprick of blood. Clasping the ivory handle in a trembling fist, you face him with a fire burning in your fear-filled visage.

Perhaps it is his own disbelief that prompts the rattle in his chest—an ominous chuckle.

“You are a bride of Christ, yet you dare turn a blade on me?”

“You’re a man of God, yet you besmear His holy name with the sin of your incorrigible lust?”

“You are mistaken, Sister.” He grabs hold of your fist with both hands and folds his fingers over yours in mock prayer. As if intending to stoke your ire, he tilts his head in taunt. “Let my blood run red on this altar and you shall know of my humanity.”

“Defile the Lamb of God and you are no shepherd but, rather, the wolf who adorns himself in woolen mendacity.”

Before he can utter a response, the doors burst open. Father Flamme releases your hand and climbs off of you, brushing the wrinkles from his robes. An icy gale claws at the interior, and with it two men arrive in a whirlwind rush.

“Your Excellency, forgive our intrusion!”

Your arm falls to your side and, with a mounting sense of defeat, you gaze at the ceiling. You don’t feel soothed, but you must compose yourself. And so, shoving your frenzied emotions to the side, you sheath your blade and scramble to make yourself presentable once your feet are back on the floor. Brightening at the sight of the two villagers, you cradle your rosary and pray silently.

Dear God, may you smite he who spreads abhorrent rot with his fingertips and, in witnessing a most magnificent death flail, gralloch him without mercy.

“Ah, gentlemen, what fortuitous timing,” Father Flamme greets them, smiling. “Do come in. I’ve a task for you, if you would be so inclined.”

You linger behind, cautious like a gare-fowl often is when at the receiving end of a hunter’s rifle.

“Your Excellency, you need only ask and we are at your service.”

“Before that, you must accompany us to the hogs,” the other interjects. “Death has soiled these grounds, Your Excellency. A sight so barbarous it forebodes only the worst! You must come—come and behold the infernal darkness which has cursed this village!”

Father Flamme glances between the both of them, assessing the urgency of the situation that has been so cryptically illustrated.

“As you have described, the present circumstances appear dire. Oh, but I do require your assistance before that, gentlemen. It shan’t be too arduous a task.” He turns on his heel and indicates you with an outstretched hand. “Sister (Name) totters at the precipice with her fickle faith. As it is my duty to ensure all are well in the arms of God, I must take…caution—you might say—in sorting such a sensitive matter.”

The men exchange bewildered looks.

“You imply…punishment, sir?”

“Nay, I think not!” you interrupt, striding forwards. You’re stopped by Father Flamme’s arm, held just in front of your chest to keep you in place. “Father, I am steadfast in my faith. I have—”

“If such were the truth, you would not speak nullifidian filth.”

Pushing past him, you plead with the men: “Sirs, he knots his tongue and utters dishonesty! You know of my virtue—my loyalty to Him. And of my father, who has provided comfort and care, the means by which I was raised into the woman you see before you, I am justly proud. As the daughter of (Last Name), I sicken with the thought of bringing dishonor to my father, my faith—all of which I hold true in my heart. Sirs, you must believe in—”

Father Flamme lifts his hand to silence you, but you’re aware of his cunning machinations. “I ask of you this, good sirs. When sailors set out at sea, do they allow themselves to fall prey to the song of the siren? Just as those wretched sea-beasts sing, so, too, does honey pour spoiled from the mouth of a sinner. Her words serve to chart a course for ill-founded temptation.”

“Sister, your virtue I do not question.” The villager addresses Father Flamme next, disregarding your presence entirely, as if you are naught but a worthless speck. “What shall we do, Your Excellency?”

A smile curls on his lips. “Take her to the tower just beyond the village. She shall remain in solitude for seven days. That shall provide her with ample time for contemplation.”

The men approach you without a hint of remorse on their lips. Cornered, you look to Father Flamme for guidance.

“Father, I beg of you—you mustn’t send me away! I shall repent! I shall do so before you now.”

“It serves me no satisfaction to subject you to solitary confinement.” He folds his hands in front of him and observes the spectacle of your resistance. “You have proven to me your doubt in the capabilities of the Lord. It is my right to correct your contumacious thoughts. I’m certain your father would share this sentiment. No daughter should empty her mind of His valuable teachings.”

“Do not speak as if you have dined with my father,” you hiss, wriggling in the firm hold of both men.

Father Flamme steps closer and smiles. “Let us away.”

You are dragged, struggling all the while, out of the church and down the steps. There is a ferocious bite to this year’s autumnal weather. Father Flamme is gracious enough to drape his cloak over your shoulders just before you’re lifted onto a horse. He mounts his stallion and, with the crack of a whip, the four of you are off towards the decrepit tower at the rugged foothills of the mountains. No words are exchanged. You’ve said more than enough and you still remain the accused, guilty due to distorted logic.

The tower, which had once appeared so distantly out of your mind, gains striking clarity as you approach. You gaze helplessly at the man transporting you. He offers nothing of substance, his gaze focused squarely on the dirt footpath ahead.

When you were but a babe, the tower served as a warning for all children in the village: Those whose souls are stained with the sins of their atrocities shall wither away in silence.

There was once a raving madman who was imprisoned there in your youth. A heretic, he was called. Driven to his end, his sanity thin as a hair, he scraped at the walls and pulled loose bricks free until his fingernails cracked and blood trickled down his hands in rivers. When he had created a sizable opening for himself, at the peak of his derangement, he climbed out to meet the sun’s soft rays, a singular blessing owed for years of captivity. And then he threw himself from the tower, landing in a broken spattering at the very bottom.

In the years following, the tower housed numerous prisoners. It is a cold, unforgiving place, existing solely for the ugly and the crooked. And, now, the misunderstood. The wrongfully accused.

As you’re helped down from the horse, you ponder how many have been sent here to live out time for unfair accusations.

You’re joined by the second villager shortly, and they flank you like soldiers as they shove you along.

“Have you no sympathy, sirs!” you snap, shaking yourself from their grip. “To treat me so callously when my devotion is fervent and true! I am no fabulist.”

The men say nothing and amble onwards, pushing you closer to the tower. One of them attempts to seize your wrist; you evade him gracefully. Father Flamme observes your outright stubborn refusal and hums his disapproval.

“Unhand me! I’ll go of my own accord. I’ve feet for a reason, and thus they shall work as God intended. I need not the assistance of fools. My legs shall be the ones to carry me.” Punctuating that with an indignant huff, you stride ahead.

What brutish handling… These doltish fiends sit under the tree of knowledge and yet not a single fruit falls into their laps. To think this is how they would treat someone sworn to the church—and a lady, no less!

The latch is weather-worn, and it creaks a discordant note when lifted. You peek into the shadowed entrance and frown. Before you are subjected to the impatience of the men at your side, you step into the dimness. It is alight with the red-orange slivers of a setting sun.

“You shall wait here. I will accompany this misguided Sister to the very top. After which, we shall return to the village and I shall accompany you to the hogs.”

The men nod and stand at attention.

If you’re so dedicated to foolish play, you would be wise to salute, you think with a sardonic tut.

Father Flamme offers his arm. “Shall we?”

Ignoring his attempt at chivalry, you lift your habit so as to not trip on it and begin the lengthy ascent up the spiraling staircase. He chuckles and follows your lead. Every wooden step creaks under your weight. Something brushes your face—dust, perhaps. You swat at your face, grimacing. The scent of mold and rot clings to the bowels of this tower like maggots on a corpse, impossibly redolent in ways you shall avoid giving thought to.

I must not breathe so deeply, lest I wish to savor the taste of decay and bitter rage.

You carry on, ignoring the creeping revulsion and the stench of death as it clouds the air, accompanying you on your journey. A door waits for you at the top. You note it is without a lock.

“A bird will not fly in captivity,” Father Flamme advises, pushing it open to reveal a sparsely furnished room. It’s equipped with the essentials a common prisoner would need. You can’t help feeling less than human the moment you pass through the threshold.

It is enough of a sight to wear on my eyes and render them woefully sore.

He meets you at the door and offers an embroidered reticule. “I shall retrieve you in seven days’ time.”

You eye him dubiously and, upon sensing no additional malevolence, swipe the reticule from him. “May you rest guilty on your bed of lies.”

He leans in close, his voice as faint as a phantasm. “May you reflect on what it is you hold dear, for I assure you it is well within my reach.” He pivots and begins his descent, his footsteps tapping out a resounding rhythm. “You will learn a glorious lesson here. Treasure it as you would a child.”

Minutes later, the door below shuts and the latch is dropped into place. The noise races up the stone spiral in echo, filling your ears with its haunting reverberation.

Now you’re truly alone.

“How boorish he must be to condemn me to this prison!” You slam the door in your anger and drop the reticule onto the bed. In an effort of appraisal, you feel the lumpy mattress. It’s packed full of straw. “I am not nameless, nor am I a harlot. Yet I am gifted the opulence of peasants. I can scarcely accept such generosity.”

Alas, this is your new misfortune.

To busy your idle hands, you open the reticule and peer inside at its contents. A thumb Bible rests beside a bulk of misshapen cloth. Gingerly, you unwrap it to find bread, cheese, and salt pork. Somehow—and you have every right to be fastidious—you doubt this modest portion will be enough for seven days.

“And not a drop of water!” you announce to the empty room. “He has an astounding amount of faith in me if he thinks I will surrender so simply. One day he shall get his gruel. I’ll make sure of it.”

Until then you will never know peace.

Bundling the rations, you place them within the reticule alongside the Bible. Perhaps you should have requested writing implements or a book—anything to preclude the impending accidie.

Beyond the window, which is sized perfectly for the smallest bird, the sun disappears below the horizon. Ink spills across the sky, darkening the surroundings outside the tower and leaving room for stars to speckle the vastness. You sit at the edge of the bed and wrap your fingers around your rosary.

“Dear God, you know I am faultless and so I ask that you guide me in understanding your ways. Father Flamme speaks of protection in your home and yet when danger is knocking you are not there to answer.” You tug anxiously at the beads. “If you are there, show me… Show me that you hear my prayers. Show me that I am not alone. That even I, imperfect as I may be, am deserving of your sanctuary and forgiveness. Amen.”

Shrugging the cloak off, you fold it into a neat square and set it at the end of the bed. Your veil and coif are next to go, and you take immense care in handling both. You slide your dagger out of its sheath and set it on the bed. The night is cool and so you resolve to remain dressed as you are, in your robes and chemise.

“I will endure these seven days. Each one, night and day, I will be strong. My faith will never falter. I will never waver,” you whisper, repeating this oath like a mantra. You settle into bed, sparing a final glance at the square cut into the brickwork, where a starry sky wraps the world in a celestial counterpane. “Perhaps then you might acknowledge me.”

Clutching the rosary close to your chest, comforted with the weapon at your side, you drift into dreamless slumber.

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