#his hands plague me daily

[stargirlfics]

Is "fingerwarming" a thing? Like cockwarming only with fingers instead? Just imagine doing that with Alfred... and every so often he wiggles them against your g-spot to make you squirm... especially if you're in a semi-public place/somewhere you could get caught?

If it’s not, we’re certainly making it a thing with Alfred 🥵

That sounds so hot to just be in his arms, stuffed full of his fingers or sitting on them trying to control yourself! The way he would warm you up too, slip his fingers inside one by one, till you’re full and aching and he’s hushing your whines with sweet and encouraging kisses that would seem innocent otherwise

He would love seeing you trying to wiggle or squirm every now and then, knows you can’t resist the way he moves his fingers so expertly, you’d be begging him for more already if you weren’t trying to be good and hold out and behave yourself

Ooh and if you’re somewhere where you have to be discreet and keep it down, the added thrill of potentially being caught if you can’t…oh my god!!!

Salivating over this bestie and all the while, Alfred is enjoying how you’re starting to make such a slick mess on his fingers, the way you clench around him, how warm and soft and fucking drenched you are, it drives him crazy and the intensity of the moment between you guys just makes it all even hotter

Need this so bad!

[talentforlying]

standing before you today to say that the jld writers' choice to assign constantine the house of mystery, aka the one that belonged to cain, was a WILD move and SHOCKINGLY emblematic of a lot of who he is as an archetype, particularly in relation to his family: as betrayer son and brother, defiler of his father's house, favorer of bloodless sacrifice yet steeped in the opposite, the first killer (or so he believes), cardinal sins of pride and envy, murderer of those he claims to love, liar to the face of god. cursed forever to walk alone, city-coded, shielded from vengeance but unable to shield those around him, slaking the earth in blood where he only ever wanted to sow, an eternity of regret is not enough to repair the damage he has done.

[bilal-salah0]

While children around the world enjoy the summer holidays within the safety and comfort of their homes and plan fun beach trips with their families, our kids' childhood has been reduced to securing the bare minimum of food and water, fending off swarms of disease-carrying insects, and enduring the stifling heat inside the hellish tent. Seeing them fill water containers and struggle to carry them with their tiny hands breaks my heart into a million pieces. Our babies fall asleep drenched in sweat and keep waking up crying and gasping for breath. What makes it even more unbearable are the plagues of flies and mosquitoes that keep torturing their little fragile, malnourished bodies, increasing the risk of contracting infectious diseases, with no medical care available. They also face a very real and imminent threat of dehydration due to water and formula scarcity.Their older siblings are encumbered by burdens way beyond their years. They think it is their responsibility to fill heavy water containers and protect the newborns, but the truth is they are as vulnerable to the same threats that keep growing every day. No child should live in such a hostile environment. Rubble, garbage, and the smell of death are all around.

Our kids used to have a beautiful spacious home built after years of toil and sacrifice, just to be turned into ruins in the blink of an eye. Now, they are given no other choice but to be confined to the tight airless space of a makeshift tent swarming with all sorts of insects. Even if they go outside the only things that await them are the scorching sun, the hot summer air, and foul smells all day long. The summer nights are often equally suffocating depriving them of desperately needed sleep.

Using a wood-fired self-made stove to cook is beyond torture in such heat. It is also very dangerous to the children who keep going close to it. My heart sinks each time I see pictures of them next to the fire. Even preparing a baby bottle,if ever available, is an ordeal in such conditions but my family have no other options. They have been enduring unfathomable, relentless suffering for nine months straight, and they have been more than resilient but they are now way beyond exhausted. They have been daily fighting for their very survival but there's no guarantee of safety anywhere in Gaza as not only what is left of the buildings but also the tents are being indiscriminately bombed every single day. Even going to the beach to escape the sweltering heat has become a perilous journey for my family, and countless others, since civilians keep being targeted with airstrikes there too.

My family were not allowed to have even the slightest respite since the beginning of this waking nightmare. They have been striving to survive bombing, malnutrition, disease, the cold winter, and now the deadly heatwaves.

When I left Gaza shortly before the war, my dream was to build a brighter future for my loved ones. I have never imagined, once in my life, that I would be raising funds to literally save their lives. Now, my only wish is to keep them alive and as safe as possible, given the circumstances.

Your support is their only hope and solace amidst all the pain and loss. Please do whatever you can to help me save them from this brutal literal decimation of our people. Every contribution counts! Keep our babies in your thoughts and prayers 🙏 And Please donate any amount you can spare and reblog as often as you can. It is beyond words to say how grateful I am to everyone standing with us 🙏

[aakeysmash]

Tell me you love me

Pairing: f!reader x Sukuna Ryomen.

Word count: 2512.

Warnings: ANGSTTTTTT. An attempt at it at least lmao, let me know if I did a good job with it. A bit suggestive in the middle. Cursing. Mentions of cheating (mentions!!! No cheating in this house).

People often say that Sukuna would be obsessed with the reader/oc, but I think a relationship with him would be the hardest thing ever.

He doesn’t get the concept of being in love: at the start of your relationship he found out you were more tolerable than anyone else, he assumed that meant he liked being around you and went along with it. Of course he fell in love in the long run, but for him it’s embarrassing to admit it. He barely even said it when you asked him why he wanted you to move in with him.

It’s not like he isn’t obsessed with you: he’s obsessed with the way you just seem to get him, with the way you smile when he comes home from a long day at work, with the utmost kindness you treat people around you with and that he lacks completely. He’s mesmerised by you, by the curve of your hips, the brightness of your eyes, the softness of your hands on his body.

He doesn’t show it, though.

He’s used to being rough and redeems emotions as futile. Like he already said to you in a couple of your arguments, if you get him you get him, if not, he’s not explaining himself. Everything he does is thought of and automatically right, so why would he give you explanations?

But sometimes in relationships you need communication. He doesn’t see how intense it is to be next to someone who acts like he doesn’t care about what you want to share in your daily life. And again, he does care: if he could, he’d make a copy of you yapping and just listen to it on repeat while working. He loves how passionate you sound while talking about your hobbies, he finds the little tilt to your voice when you search for his approval adorable. He doesn’t see how difficult it is to be with him because he’s only been with you, and you’re so good at communicating and making him feel heard he doesn’t notice he’s not reciprocating your efforts.

And that means that he’s never the one who wants to resolve misunderstandings, because he thinks they don’t really exist. You were upset about your dish not coming out the way it was supposed to and instead of reassuring you it was still edible he straight up said it looked horrible and walked away? He’s not sorry. He spoke his mind, did he not? And why would you be sad about the truth?

You’re not weak, and you’re not shy either. Kind people are not necessarily stupid, and you’re living proof of that. He’d never be in a relationship with a weakling who doesn’t know how to raise her voice and stand her ground. You’re fierce in your own way, and you know how to manage his stubbornness 90% of the time. You don’t like being disrespected or ignored, and you made sure to talk his ear off whenever he did it. Not like he purposefully did it, anyway.

But as a person who understands emotions and feels emotions, sometimes being with him frustrates you. And it comes to a point where you debate on keeping being next to him or leaving him for good.

He’s not the only one who has hard days, but when both of you have one, the silence inside your house is deafening. You’re the one who usually starts up conversations, but your mind is occupied with other things. You’ve barely touched your food.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” He scoffs at dinner. He doesn’t like you frowning, it wrecks his heart. It makes him want to destroy the face of whoever took the smile he lives for off your face.

You sigh. “You know how my parents said they were coming to visit us next month? Well-”

He’s silent. Fuck, when did she say this? He thinks. Probably one of those days where the thought of your thighs suffocating him all night plagued his mind last week. Fuck, he’d take a bite of them right now if you let him. Maybe he could suggest it. It could take his mind off of his own shitty day.

“Are you even listening to me?” You say sternly. He notices you kept on talking while his mind wandered, but he disregards it.

“Wanna fuck?” He asks instead.

You’re baffled. “Sukuna, what the fuck?”

“Damn, you could’ve just said no, brat,” he says rolling his eyes.

You get offended. “Don’t fucking ask me what’s wrong if you’re not going to listen to me.”

“Yeah yeah, you were probably going to talk about how worried you are and shit. I don’t care about that. If you don’t want to get my dick wet I’m going to rub one out,” he says waving his hand in front of your face and standing up from his chair.

You huff out a sarcastic laugh. “Are you serious?”

“Would you prefer me to find someone else to do it for me?” He bites, snapping his head toward you.

He sees you widening your eyes. If there’s a thing you don’t tolerate is cheating, or jokes about it. He knows it. He knows it, dammit. You’re fuming.

“You’re an asshole. Fuck you. I’m sleeping at Nobara’s,” you spit at him, grabbing the purse you left on the side of the table and rushing out the door, slamming it.

When he’s left alone in your shared living room, he keeps on looking at your front door. The silence is making his head hurt, the only thing he’s hearing is the sound of the door slamming. Did he overstep? Nah, you were probably overreacting. He shrugs and finally moves from his spot, going to put his dish in the sink. He leaves yours on the table, because maybe you’ll be hungry when you come home. You usually are after an argument. You’ll come back after a couple of hours saying you didn’t want to worry him too much, you’ll sigh saying this can’t keep on happening and that you’re tired of arguing, then he’ll hug you and everything will be alright. Just like it always is. You’ve never left like this, though.

He ruffles his hair; he’s angry at everything and everyone. You should’ve got that he’s the one overreacting, why didn’t you get him like usual? Why aren’t you still back after 3 hours? He hates feeling angry. He hates feeling tired. He hates feeling in general. Most importantly, he hates that the hands in his hair are his and not yours. He hates the way right now he’s craving your soft voice reassuring him in his ear, your sweet words covering him like a blanket; his head on your chest listening to your heartbeat while lying on your couch, reminding you that you’re there. You’ve always been there. There’s no one else for him, there’s never going to be one. He’d never cheat, you’re so stupid for getting angry about it. Why did you get so mad about it? Suddenly, he’s thinking about random stuff you said that he ingrained in his head.

I love you too, Sukuna. I’ll wait for you to tell me that without me forcing it out, mh? I’ll move in with you, sure, if you ask me so that nicely.

You picked this book because it reminded you of me? Thank you, baby. I love it. Both the book and the fact you thought of me.

Can you stop messing up my sock drawer? No, I did not hide your cigarettes there. But please stop smoking, I love when you taste like my lip gloss and not that disgusting shit you inhale. Give me a kiss so I can prove it to you. I’ll take your breath away way better than tobacco.

He smirks while on the couch, alone. You’re so cute. He wants to bottle up your laugh. Why aren’t you back still? His mind doesn’t stop, though.

You hurt me, Sukuna. Why can’t you notice?

I feel like you don’t care about me.

If I hadn't come to you, would you have come to me? Or would you just have ignored this whole argument and acted like nothing happened?

Am I just filling up a random space you leave open for a significant other or am I the significant other that’s capable of filling that void?

That night he dreams of you. The way you glared at him asking him if he was serious, almost like a warning before you lashed out. He dreams of the hurt that flashed in your eyes when he spewed nonsense. And when he wakes up, you’re still not back. Your unfinished plate is still on the kitchen table.

But he’s prideful, that’s why you’re the one that’s always trying to resolve arguments. Yes, you’ll come back. He’s sure of it. You always came back during the 3 years you've been together.

A week passes by and he's going crazy. You haven't contacted him at all, and he didn't text first. He lies to himself saying it's because he's leaving you some space, but the truth is that he's scared. What is he even supposed to say? Hey, I'm sorry, I miss you, please come home? That's pathetic. He's taking a shower when suddenly his phone rings. His heart skips a beat and he rushes out to check if it's you. Please, let it be you.

Instead it's Yuji, his brother.

Yuji: Hey, what happened with y/n? She asked me to come get some of her things for her. Is she sick?

Sukuna frowns. Then he realizes that- you're going to move out. You're going to break up with him.

He goes into panic mode. He never thought about the possibility of you leaving him. He thought you would come back, like you always do. Why would you leave him? Is it because you finally realized that you're better off with someone who knows how to express their feelings for you? Did you get tired of him? Have you already found someone else?

He finds himself knocking on Nobara's door in the next ten minutes. He ran, he's sweating and it's starting to rain. He's out of breath, and he gets his hands on his knees while he waits for you to open the door. He's not ready to let you go. He can't even fathom a life where he doesn't wake up to you trying to get warm between his arms, without you nagging him while watching a film together, without helping you bake cookies while laughing with each other. Without not being able to talk from how in love he is while looking into your eyes. And he knows that if you leave him he's never going to be able to live in his own house ever again, or walk down the street you always do together, or go grocery shopping and not thinking about you while looking at vegetables. You always said you liked vegetables and he always lied about liking them just to see you excited about cooking them together.

"Yuji, I didn't think you'd be this fas- oh," you open the door and your face falls when you see it's Sukuna. He snaps his gaze toward your face when he hears your voice. He missed it so much. You're so beautiful. He missed all of you. So much.

Neither of you move, you just keep staring at each other. This time, he knows he's going to have to talk first. For the first time, he realizes how hard it actually is to confront someone first. Do you feel like this every time?

"Come home," he says. "Please," he adds.

You look sad. "I don't think I'm going to, Sukuna. It's been more than a week and you didn't even reach out to say... I don't even know what. I know you don't say sorry. You never do."

Your words feel like knives. From where you're standing you're taller than him, and he has to look up to look at you. It's like he's in front of the pearly gates of heaven and an angel is making him confess all the wrong things he did, except in this scenario you're the angel and the things he did are just what he thinks about all of this. About you in general.

And you're right, he doesn't usually say sorry. The words get stuck in his throat and he just gapes up at you, still catching his breath. Pathetic.

You sigh, then go to close the door. You don't look at him anymore and he feels like he can't breathe, and not because of the run.

"I'll come get my things next week. Go home, you'll get wet," you say. And your voice is clear, you're not mumbling, you must have thought about this. He sees how hard you're clenching your jaw to appear resolute, your nails hurting your palms from how hard you're closing your hands. But you still manage to worry about him, worry about him possibly catching a cold from the rain. And he loves you. Fuck, he loves you so much.

"Wait," he manages to say. You look at him with longing. With sorrow.

And he feels like he's crying to the angel in his afterlife when he opens his mouth again, thorns in his throat getting tighter, suffocating him. But he doesn't cry here, in front of you, even if maybe you'd like it. You'd probably say that you appreciate him showing emotions, maybe tease him for it, but you'd like it. He'd kiss you while you're still laughing, saying you're stupid, and you'd continue laughing.

"I love you," he rasps out. The words feel so unfamiliar to his tongue, but so familiar to his ears. You always tell him you love him. "I'm sorry for being a shithead. Please don't leave me. I promise you I'll get better at this communication shit," he begs.

You still don't move, but he sees you getting softer.

"Go home, Sukuna. We'll talk about it when it's not raining," you utter.

"No, I don't fucking want to," he snaps. You're startled, and he cringes. He's really not used to all of this. He doesn't like scaring you.

"Fuck, I meant to say I want to get over it right now. I didn't want to scare you. I want you back, Y/N. Please, have me back. I'll get better for real," he says while getting progressively closer to you.

"You promise?" You ask, now shorter than him. You're a step of distance from each other.

"I promise, baby. I'll make you the happiest girl to ever exist," he tells you, looking at you intensely.

"Start by saying you love me again," you mumble, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head on his chest. He engulfs you in his own arms, inhaling the smell of your shampoo, then snorts.

"Sure. I'm in love with you, brat."

Being in a relationship with Sukuna is hard, but he loves you easily.

[scudslut]

Sins and Honey Flavored Sweetness

daryl x fem!reader

wordcount: 4.7k

warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut under the cut, perv!daryl (not really, he just has a lil crush), male masturbation, unprotected p-in-v, oral f!receiving, mutual pining

a/n: i have never written something so descriptive ohmygod. do be warned lol, hugs and kisses byeee <33

Daryl knew there were unspoken boundaries when it came to you.

A thin line of loose salt, that whispered to him. Beckoned him huskily to dust his fingers through and have a taste, but daunting enough for him to keep his soles rooted in the dirt, salivating from a distance.

It wasn’t because you were already spoken for in any way; if anything, you kept your romantic interests simmering farther on the back burner than he did, which spoke volumes in itself. Or because you were younger than him, a couple of years wasn’t anything to turn a nose up over, especially nowadays.

It was, however, the place you held amongst your people. You were like bright, shiny gold within the group, dared not to be corrupted or led astray. The heart that kept everyone’s beating, even in the darkest of times, soothing hope into the atmosphere with your infectious smile.

Oh, and you were Rick's younger sister... which he hated to admit, only tempted him more. And he wasn’t quite sure as to why.

He’d mulled it over too many times to count, noting everything about you that allured him so intensely.

He liked the contrast between you two; like sun rays peeking through the clouds after a mid-summer storm. You were soft, fresh as clean linen and he was dark, brooding. He often fantasized about taking that sweet innocent nature of yours and painting it with his essence. He knew it was wrong and constantly shamed himself for having such perverted thoughts about his best friend's sister. But, god, how could he not?

Not when you pranced around him daily, teasing him with your velvety, feminine voice and kind touches. Touches that sent brisk shivers down his spine, sure to leave him breathless and bothered — another thing he secretly liked. You were addictive in that sense, he’d distance himself the minute he felt the familiar rush coursing through his veins and then crave it immediately once it was gone. A drug he couldn’t help but relapse from.

And it didn’t help that you were always so keen to assist him, doting on his every injury or problem with such gentle attentiveness and sincerity. That might be what he liked the most. It was fascinating how pure you remained in a world so plagued, always ready to nurture. It soothed a deep, restless, and scarred part of him, finding solace in it.

He'd come to learn you were like that with everyone though. So, he found himself grappling with things to deter your attention his way, playing dumb and clumsy just to have your sweet scent fill the nearby air. He felt like a horny teenager with a hopeless crush. It was absolutely ridiculous and yet, here he was once again, feet dangling off your kitchen counter as you searched the cabinets for some aspirin to aid in his 'headache'. 

It wasn't a complete lie per se - his sensitivity to light gave him troubles quite often but, whether it was enough to complain about or not, could be debated.

Nonetheless, he sat for you patiently, listening to your quiet humming as you searched about. He loved when you did that, singing your soft melodies under your breath mindlessly. It was such a girly thing to do, but it was comforting in a way, an airy blanket warming the silence.

"Ah, here it is!" drew him out of his thoughts, and he cast a glance at your bright smile of accomplishment. You popped the cap open swiftly, shaking out 2 little white pills, and handed them over with a glass of water.

“Let me know if you need any more. They should kick in soon, but I know how tough migraines can be,” you soothed, your sympathy never faltering. He bowed his head quickly, not wanting you to see the flash of guilt that surely crossed it. "Thanks," he mumbled as he tossed his head back, swallowing them both with a shivered grimace.

Wiping the water droplets from his chapped lips, his eyes found yours again and noticed a small smirk hidden in your features. “What?”  

You let out a chuckle, reaching for the glass he held to wash, “Oh nothin’... just don’t think I’ve seen you cringe like that before, is all.” 

His brows furrowed at your statement, “So?” he questioned further.

“Walkers, blood, rotting flesh… never. But an itty bitty pill?” Your laugh grew louder, finding the situation even more amusing as you explained it to him. “Whatever,” he scoffed, hopping off the counter with a smirk. He knew you would be expecting him to leave after that, you had helped him with his ‘issue of the day’ and there was no reason to linger any further. But he did.

Daryl scanned your frame as you washed the few dishes that were in the sink, chewing on his thumb habitually. You wore a white, long-sleeve shirt with a faded band logo printed on the front and some beaten-up blue jeans that seemed to cup your ass perfectly.

His mind wandered before he could stop it, imagining how soft and warm your skin must be underneath all those clothes. How soft and warm your hands would be wrapped around him, or better yet, your pretty lips taking him deep with a moan. He felt his own jeans tighten slightly and quickly diverted his gaze to the floor, clearing his throat as if it would erase those thoughts from his brain.

“Something else you need, Daryl?” You glanced over your shoulder, wrists deep in soapy water. 

“Nah, uh, thanks. I’ll see ya later,” he said and beelined for the door praying to god you didn’t see his flushed face and half-hard cock poking through his pants. He was so fucked. Couldn’t even look at you anymore without sprouting boners and picturing you on them, milking him greedily. 

He rushed down the porch and across the lawn, bursting into his shared house with Carol just next door. He didn’t even glance toward the kitchen to see if his friend was home, desperate for a cold shower to level him out. The house was dead quiet anyway, leading him to assume Carol was out for the day.

"Such a fuckin idiot," he cursed himself under his breath as he made his way down the stairs to his room. You probably knew honestly. Could tell how pathetically bothered you got him, and just put on a friendly face to keep from embarrassing him.

He left the bathroom door open in his distress and hastily shed his clothing, stepping into the tepid water. Immediate relief flooded his senses, feeling the cool stream wash away the sweat and grime the day had caked on. Pouring some homemade soap he was given into his hand, he scrubbed at his skin, determined to rid himself of your previous interaction along with the dirty thoughts that plagued his mind. He shouldn’t be thinking about you that way, it just wasn’t in the cards.

For starters, you would have to want him too, (which he knew would never happen), and even if you did, how the ever living fuck would he explain that to Rick?

‘Oh hey Rick, I have a massive hard-on for yer sister, you okay with that?’ Fuck no. Just thinking about that conversation had him cringing in awkwardness and he shut the idea down instantly. 

But there you were still, invading his thoughts with your dreamy laugh and perky attitude. Why did you have to be such a goddamn tease?

He leaned forward, resting his hands on the wall trying to regain some composure. He gulped down deep breaths of moist air, willing his body to calm itself down, but it was fruitless. The image of your body, pushed up against the wall under his hands, wet and flushed, bubbled to the surface. He groaned. Daryl knew what he had to do. It wasn’t the first time he had gotten off thinking about you, and he damn well knew it wasn’t gonna be the last, but it still felt wrong each time, pumping his cock when you were just next door. His body craved the relief though, relief only indulgence could satisfy. 

He hissed as he dragged his fingers along his shaft, gripping at the base and beginning to pump slowly. He was painfully hard at this point, each squeeze raking shivers over his damp skin while he choked out quiet moans. With his opposite hand, he flicked the water to a warmer setting, pitifully hoping the heat and steam would resemble something close to your body against his. God, if only you were here.

He sped up, swiping his thumb over his sensitive tip with each pass, sending jolts throughout his body. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned deep and husky, not a care for the noise filling the empty house.

You were there, clear as day in his mind, moaning along with him as he pounded into you, cunt gripping him like a vice. Your breath was hot and pitchy against his ear as you begged him to fuck you harder, to go faster, to cum deep inside you. His cock twitched at that, he was already so close.

“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he whined, humping erratically into his long-forgotten hand. The muscles in his stomach quivered in bliss as he stroked himself, lost in his detailed imagination. You were cumming, trembling around him in languid spasms with his seed spilling out of you, and Daryl was over the edge, tossing his head back moaning your name as he unloaded, letting the steamy water wash it away. 

It took him a few minutes to recover, catching his breath slowly and trying to avoid the guilt that would soon be settling in. What would you think of him if you knew what he did behind muffled walls? How he thought of you in such dirty ways, when you’d only ever see him as a dear friend. He wondered what you might be doing now. Traipsing around your cozy home, oblivious to his rapid, lustful heart meters away.

The water was beginning to run frigid and he let out a defeated sigh. Absentmindedly, he reached past the curtain for a towel and stepped out, drying his hair off roughly and then wrapping the towel around his waist, turning to the bedroom for fresh clothes and much-needed sleep. His mind ached to be thoughtless, consumed by the abyss of unconsciousness.

He should have known the world stopped playing fair long ago.

In a single moment, his heart stopped and his stomach dropped to the fucking depths of hell.

There you stood, feet frozen to the floor with his crossbow in hand, like he willed you into existence. He stuttered, his mouth opening and closing like a blubbering fish. He was sure his eyes were the size of saucers, he could feel them ready to pop out of his skull and run away. There was no fucking way this was happening.

Several beats passed. The silence deafening between you both and for a moment, he honestly debated stepping back into the shower. Pretend you were a figment of his tortured imagination and just hope you’d go away. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen ghosts.

“You uh- you forgot your crossbow when you rushed out today,” you finally broke the silence, solidifying your genuine presence. He glanced down to the bow and then back at you, lost for words. Did you hear him? He moaned your goddamn name, quite a few minutes ago though… had you been standing there long? Were you angry?

His racing thoughts were interrupted when you stepped towards him, leaning the bow against the doorframe and moving closer. Instinctively, he took a step back, “Thanks,” he replied shakily, but you kept moving closer. He noticed your gaze then. It wasn’t on his face, but on his abdomen, at the hem of the damp towel hanging off of him. Your eyes had a gleam to them. Something dark and lustful.

No. Surely, he was reading you wrong. 

“Daryl,” you spoke, and he audibly gulped, nervousness and absolute embarrassment flooding his system, “is there something you need to tell me?” 

He didn’t answer you, instead deciding to burn a hole into the floor with his shame. He couldn’t look at you. You knew. You had heard him and were teasing him about it and here he was, a coward who couldn’t even admit to it. And you had every single right. He crossed that salty line years ago, with his first sinful thought about you. Feasted on it, deluding himself into thinking all was okay as long as his actions didn’t physically involve you.

He barely registered your advances when he finally raised his head. You were so close he could feel the heat of your breath against his burning skin, the luscious scent of vanilla and pine filling the air.

“Can I see?” you asked quietly.

He nearly choked on his own spit. Your hand was skimming along his stomach lightly, suggestively toying with the towel that covered him up. “Huh?” His mind was blank. 

“Can I see you?” you repeated, and all he could do was give you a curt little nod, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to just yet, but rendered acquiesced. Your hand pulled at the fabric softly, letting it drop to the floor revealing his manhood to your hungry eyes. Nothing was making any sense. Surely, you did not feel this way too. Surely.

There were those whispers again. He shouldn't have let you do that. He should be recoiling, shielding himself from your gaze but he was statuesque, like you had drank the life out of him with one simple look.

"Were you thinking about me touching you?" Like you had to even ask. The answer was written in plain sight, right there on his forehead and in his bashful eyes.

"M'sorry, I-" he had no clue how to even begin this kind of apology, remorse coursing through his veins rapidly. The dots weren’t connecting, not yet. "I know it's wrong, I shouldn't have-,”

And then he felt you, pressing your lips against his softly — timidly as gentle hands feathered across his waist, coaxing him into you. Your kiss was buttery, lips so smooth and sweet he wanted to drown in them. You tasted like fresh honey and vanilla ice cream, hints of minty toothpaste caught on your tongue. It was intoxicating to say the least, swarming his brain with a muted buzz and he whimpered, much to his surprise, melting into your touch quicker than he would like to admit.

“Y/n, y/n, nah we can’t,” he heard himself say as he came to his senses slowly, but he wasn’t pushing you away. Why wasn’t he pushing you away? You couldn’t, right?

“Please,” you whispered against him, low and sultry. Who was he to deny you? God Daryl, get a grip.

“Y/n, no,” he repeated, allowing his tone to take some authority even if that was the last thing he truly wanted. You stepped back from him then, a hurt expression painting your features and he felt his heart squeeze. “Why?”

His brain was scattered. This felt like a nightmare; another cruel joke sent his way to haunt him for the rest of his life. There just always had to be a price, didn't there?

"He doesn't mind, you know?" you whispered and his eyes were on yours instantly. You traced soft shapes across his stomach, sending those shivers down his spine and effectively turning him into putty.

"What’re ya talkin' about?" He needed to regain his composure, he could barely breathe with you this close, eyes raking his naked frame with desire.

"Rick... you and me. He doesn't care," you stated, "thinks it's cute actually... my crush on you."

Your crush on him?

"He trusts you, Daryl, with everything. You're pretty much the only person he would want me to be with." He hadn't thought of it that way, only ever assumed voicing his attraction to you would result in his head on a platter, or his dick… or both.

You began peppering his neck with small kisses, trailing them down his chest and over his puffy nipples. He hissed when you nipped at one, licking over it after, soothing the burn. "Ya sure?"

You nodded.

"Ya sure ya want me?" he asked dubiously. His question was answered when you grabbed his hand gently, guiding it inside your cotton underwear, letting his calloused fingers trace your soaked folds. He could have cum then and there, spreading your slick up and down between his fingers like it was liquid gold. Fuck me.

"This all fer me?" he panted, succumbed to a state of disbelief at your evident arousal. You were so wet around his fingers, pulsing and bucking slightly with each feathered stroke. "Were ya listenin' ta me?"

Hair fell over your face as you nodded sheepishly, gazing down to watch his fingers massaging you. You bit your swollen, cherry-red lip, “Couldn’t help it, you sounded so- so good.”

Now that... that got him going. Imagining your pretty cunt dripping in your panties, listening to his gasps while he fucked himself to the thought of you. Who knew the golden girl would be so naughty?

Daryl felt his confidence build, watching you fall apart for him from such simple touches. The last wire holding him back snapped and he needed more. He had waited for this moment for so fucking long.

You whine as he retracts his hand, only to be completely shut up when he places the thick digit on his tongue, sucking greedily and sloppily. It was better than he ever could have imagined, similar to the honey of your lips but so much more sweet. He went back for seconds. And thirds. Until he was dropping to his knees, deciding to lick the goddamn plate clean.

You enveloped him in the best way possible, lifting one of your thighs over his shoulder as he tugged on your tight jeans, pulling them down enough to fit his head. His tongue pressed flat against your clothed pussy, and he sucked, tasting a mixture of your sweetness and residual laundry detergent on his tongue. His moans burned the back of his throat, desperately trying to hide them but you weren’t having it, tugging on his chocolate locks for more. “Don’t do that. I wanna hear you, honey.” Good lord. He silently thanked each lucky star of his that the house was empty before emitting a guttural groan between your thighs. If this was all he got from you, a little taste of the sugar you were made of, he would die a very happy man.

He took your clit between his lips, rolling it with his tongue. Your underwear was so wet with your arousal and his spit that it was practically see-through, just calling for him to pull aside. “Please,” you gasped.

“Hm? Wha’s that?”

He’d heard you just fine. He wanted to hear you again, and again. He was greedy and you were so damn sinful, “Please, need them off, need you.”

So, he complied, as any sane man would, shimmying them down your hips as he sucked and nibbled each inch of newly exposed skin. You watched him intently with half-lidded eyes, rocking slowly to let plush skin engulf his senses like a cloud. He felt you playing with his messy hair, taking small strands between your fingertips and moving them behind his ears to see him better. The gesture struck something deep within him. You were so kind, so focused on this moment and him, he’d be damned if he let it continue on the hard damp floor of his bathroom. No fucking way.

He stood abruptly, catching you off guard. “Bed,” he muttered, capturing your lips again in a haste. He couldn’t get enough. He didn’t want a minute to pass where he wasn’t tasting some part of you. Any part of you. Sweet, sweet honey.

You led your bodies backward till your knees hit the mattress, wasting no time as you crawled up to his pillows, taking him with you.

This moment right here, this feeling… he wanted to bottle it up. Freeze time and just stare, immerse himself into every tiny detail. It felt almost criminal to continue. You were a vision, panting and squirming beneath him; so much electricity and anticipation bouncing between your yearning bodies. Could you really want this just as much as he did? Was he truly that oblivious, all these years? Whatever that answer may be, he wasn’t gonna fuck this up. Not with you.

Your hands on his face coaxed him back to reality, molding into your touch like clay. Eager lips chased his as he pulled your shirt off and as much as he wanted to freeze time and memorize each freckle of you, the more skin each other touched the more obscene the kiss became. An unartistic jumble of spit and hands and moans and thrusts.

In all the time spent pining silently for the other, you both could care less about grace.

No, he needed to hear you. Listen to every octave of moan you had in you, all at once. He needed to know each and every spot that had you whimpering and begging, this second. If time did decide to stop at any given moment he needed to have you, be you, feel everything you had to offer, and soak in it till his skin pruned.

His lips sucked and bruised their way down to your navel, and then past, kissing up your folds with lustful intent. The sounds you made above him had him seeing stars and he wanted more. His tongue slipped past your lips, finally diving into the hive of your sweetness, rolling his tongue languidly over your clit. Your hands were everywhere around him, fisting at the sheets, the pillows, and then his hair as you desperately tried to push him closer. He didn’t mind. He’d gladly suffocate between your thighs, a death he’d welcome compared to the ones he fought from outside every day.

He dove lower, smoothing his tongue over your entrance but not delving past quite yet.

“Daryl,” you gasped above him.

Looking up between your legs, he caught a glimpse of your face tossed back in pleasure and he groaned, having to ground his hips into the mattress below to relieve some pressure. “What d’ya need, sweetheart?”

He’d give you anything. The moon if you asked for it — anything to keep those pretty sounds coming from your lips. “You, you, please you.”

“How so?”

He knew he was teasing you. He’d drawn back from your glistening slit, pressing little pecks everywhere that he could reach. Your hips, your pelvis, the little crease between your thighs and your cunt. That spot drew a deep moan from you, so he focused on it, sucking and licking till it was bright red and your hips were rolling so violently he wasn’t sure how he kept his lips on you.

“In, please,” you choked out, tugging him by his shoulders to move back up. He wasn’t done yet.

“What? Ma fingers?” he toyed further, continuing his kisses everywhere but where you wanted him. “Hm?”

He brought his thumb up to your clit, pressing lightly at first, rubbing lazy, torturous circles. His lips were on the inside of your thigh, so close to your entrance but seemingly so far. He knew you wouldn’t take much more of this, you were practically sobbing above him blubbering nonsensical curses about how much you ached.

“This pretty cunt wanna be filled, that it?”

His thumb pressed firmer.

“Uh huh,” you nodded, begging him. Oh, that sound would surely be the death of him.

He finally brought his lips to your supposedly aching entrance, delving deep with his tongue. The noises he made as he lapped on your honey were flat-out pornographic, and you writhed below him, drinking everything he was giving to you. Honestly, he didn’t know how much more he could take. He wanted to draw this out for hours, make up for every bit of lost time but seeing you like this, so needy for him had his resolve shattering by the second.

With a final peck to your weeping folds, he crawled his way up back to your face. You latched on to him instantly, sensing his give and taking absolute advantage of your moment. His hips rolled into yours slowly as your tongues danced and he hardly had to guide himself with how wet you were, his tip finding your entrance easily and slipping past. You moaned rolling your hips again and he nearly bottomed out, a long deep groan ripping out of him. If he thought your lips were buttery, lord save him.

Perching himself on his forearms, he held still, watching for any signs of discomfort. He assumed you hadn’t been with anyone in a while and he certainly knew he wasn’t small, if he’d grace himself with any sort of compliment.

Sensing nothing but pleasure as your walls pulsed around him, sucking him in further, he gave, snapping his hips harshly into you. Your moans were lewd on his lips, traveling down his throat and feeding the fire that burned in the pit of his stomach.

“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he groaned again, spiraling from the fact he was actually inside you this time. Not in his hand, pretending you were fucking shower water.

No, you were beneath him, latching onto his muscles like your life depended on it. He drove deeper, hitting a spot that had you gasping for air. He hit it again, and again, needing to feel you explode around him. He watched as your face contorted in pleasure as he pounded into you. God, you looked so pretty like this. All cock-drunk and needy.

He brought his thumb back to that spot on your clit. He needed you to cum soon, he wasn’t gonna last much longer seeing you like this and there was no way in hell he was going to finish before you. Your hips stuttered beneath him, walls squeezing around him and he knew you were close.

“Come on, pretty girl, you got it,” he whispered in your ear, sucking the lobe gently between his teeth. That must’ve broken you, because then you were cursing, spasming for him which triggered his own orgasm. Your cunt milked him, his seed spilling down your thighs exactly how he had pictured earlier and it was a fucking sight. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he had imagined this whole thing.

He fucked out both through the waves of release, and a bit past, dropping his head into your neck to muffle the obscene groans coming from his lips. He didn’t want it to stop, but your overstimulated senses ached for reprieve.

“Dar?” you whispered once you'd both caught your breath, guiding his stubbled cheek from its hiding spot. When his eyes met yours, they were filled with so much adoration and happiness he had to hold himself back from whimpering. Never in a million years would he thought he’d get you, and here you were, looking at him like the sun shone out of his ass. The same way he looked at you for years, it was jarring to see it reciprocated. How had he missed it?

You leaned forward, tenderly capturing his lips with your own, soothing him as you always did. He knew there was so much you wanted to say, that he wanted to say, but you didn’t need to talk about it tonight. Tonight you would simply soak in each other, a gift you both thought you’d never get and one you would never let go.

He felt you giggle against his lips, and he pulled back with a lazy, fucked-out smile, "What?" he mumbled curiously.

"How's the headache now, big guy?" you teased playfully and he realized then, you'd known he was fibbing today. Saw right through his measly excuse to spend time with you.

He blushed to the tips of his ears, bowing his head to hide it, "Oh, shuddup," he mumbled, attacking your neck in kisses and nips.

Your cheeky ass was gonna pay for that tonight.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[12:41 pm]

(cw: f!reader, a child, pregnancy complications, "Mommy" and "daddy")

"Mommy is tired?" dad!Jaehyun heard his little girl ask.

"A little bit, princess. The baby is getting bigger so Mommy just needs to lay down more, but she's not sleeping," Jaehyun explains in a sweet voice, pushing her unruly hair away from her face.

This was tough to explain to a 4 year old. Your first pregnancy had been a breeze compared to this one. Your first pregnancy almost five years ago came with some nausea that plagued you for the first few months, labor was long and arduous, but there was nothing that really hindered you from going about life as normal as possible. This pregnancy wasn't the same.

This time around you came down with gestational high blood pressure, which at your last appointment didn't look to be getting much better, so your doctor had put you on bed rest. You were doing your part by taking your medication daily and staying off your feet, but man was this a pain. You hated laying around and doing nothing, especially when your need to nest was nagging at you. You hated it, but you also knew that you wanted to avoid the induction being too early.

Jaehyun grabbed some food from the fridge and played it for you, lunch time. A healthy meal that he himself knew didn't sound super delicious, but he was being just as cautious as you were, if not more. "Let's take Mommy her lunch, princess," Jaehyun told his daughter.

She squealed excitedly, running to the bedroom with her Belle costume swishing around her legs. She pushed the door open and ran to the bed, climbing up onto the foot of the bed before settling beside you. Jaehyun smiled at the sight of his two girls. You were sat up against the headboard, folding laundry- which you had insisted on doing, Jaehyun didn't want you lifting a single finger, but you were stubborn.

"Lunch time, my love," Jaehyun smiled, walking over to you and handing you the plate. He tried not to laugh as your face scrunched up into a look of disappointment and smidge of disgust.

You stabbed the fork into the food and sighed before bringing the food to your mouth. If the bed rest worked, you'd be back on your feet in a week. Your doctor wanted to see if the bed rest would prove useful paired with the medication she'd put you on. You couldn't speak without the medical knowledge she'd possessed, but your blood pressure was going down and staying consistent. Your legs weren't as swollen and when Jaehyun took your blood pressure each morning it wasn't as high and remained consistent.

"I gave you your medication this morning right?" Jaehyun asked while holding up the pill bottle.

You hummed in agreement, swallowing your food, "as if you'd let me forget. I took it with a whole glass of water and ate it with my avocado toast. Hey, have you not been doing her hair? She looks like the brush hasn't touched her hair since I brushed it after her bath last night."

Jaehyun looked away, avoiding your gaze. Doing his daughter's hair wasn't a skill he had perfected yet. So yes, you were right, a brush hadn't touched her hair since last night. On the other hand, everything else had been taken care of. Your daughter didn't spend the whole day in her pajamas, she was dressed in real clothes, even if her Belle costume covered it up, she had brushed her teeth this morning, already eaten two meals today, and Jaehyun had her practice writing her name. On all levels, besides hair, he was killing it.

"Bring me the brush and some rubber bands please," you asked him sweetly, using your hand to tame the hair on the little girl's head.

He raised a brow, "finish your lunch and then I'll get you what you asked for."

You rolled your eyes, stabbing the fork into the food more harshly with a look that asked 'happy?' Your daughter turned her eyes away from the show on the TV and rubbed your belly, placing a small kiss on the apex. "Sister is making you tired, Mommy?" she asked, laying her head on your stomach.

You sighed tiredly, "yeah, princess. We don't want sister to get here too early so the doctor says I have to rest."

"But I want sister here already," she tells you with a pout.

Jaehyun takes the now empty plate from you while you brush your fingers gently brush through some of the tangles in her hair. "If the baby comes early, she won't be healthy, princess. We want her to be healthy right?"

"Yes," she sighs out, "Mommy, can you do my hair? Daddy doesn't know how."

Jaehyun rolls his eyes as he hands you the things you asked for, watches as his daughter willingly lets you comb the tangles from her hair gently, and watches as your fingers work deftly to braid it away from her face. He loves it.

He presses a kiss to your stomach, not trying very hard to keep the words that slip from his lips low and quiet, "if you want to give us a surprise and come out as a boy, that's fine. I'll still love you. Save me."

When two similar slaps to his arm come at the same time he can't help but laugh, if he's surrounded by girls that act like you and are the perfect mix of your genetics, he'd die a happy man.

[rynwritesreid]

MunchSpencer, stressed bau reader 😉 do ur thing

A/N: I will absolutely do my thing for you iluvreid. Did I base this of that video of MGG eating that pie? Yes. Do I think about that video daily? Yes. Also to answer somebody else’s questions, I am planning on writing Luke fics in the future, and I do take Rossi requests (I take all requests that are to do with CM). I am also working through everyone’s else’s request, I’m waiting for some inspiration on the song ones :) As always jag älskar dig 🫶🏼

Content: Smut and Fluff. Fem! Reader. Overstimulation. Oral (F! receiving). Vaginal fingering. Slight dom/sub undertones. Mentions of doing this at work in the future. Munch! Spencer. Pet names (princess). A little argument to start of with, but it’s resolved quickly.

Masterlist| requests are open| Navigation.

 

Spencer had noticed how you were acting at work; he knew all the signs of you being stressed out. He tried his hardest to de-stress you at work, he had brought you all of your favourite snacks, he made sure you had plenty of water and coffee, but none of this seemed to be working.

 

Once you were both at home, he tried to ask you what was wrong, but you just shrugged him off, asking him to just leave you alone for a minute. “I’m not going to leave you alone; I know something is wrong. Just tell me.” His voice was strained, he was becoming frustrated, not with you, but because he didn’t know what to do.

 

“Spencer, back off. Nothing is wrong, I’ve told you. I’m just tired.” You bite back at him. You knew he was trying to be helpful, but you just wanted some piece of quiet.

 

“Something is wrong, why aren’t you telling me? Let me help you out here.” Spencer's voice softened as he watched the frustration etched on your face. He understood that his insistence might have been adding to your stress, but he couldn't bear to see you in pain. With a sigh, he took a step closer and gently wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm embrace.

 

"I'm sorry if I'm coming across as pushy. I just hate seeing you like this, and I want to be there for you," he whispered against your hair, his fingers slowly rubbing soothing circles on your back. Spencer knew what would help him out if he was stressed, and he knew it would also work on you.

 

See, Spencer’s favourite place was to be in-between your legs. If he could, he would spend every hour, of every day there, exploring every inch of your body, losing himself in the pleasure he found there. He cherished the way you moaned his name, the way your legs would tremble as he brought you to the edge of ecstasy.

 

His hands continued their caress, moving lower down your back until they reached the curve of your hips. He could feel the tension in your body slowly melting away as his touch seeped into your pores, bringing warmth and comfort. The rhythm of his movements matched the beating of your heart, steady and reassuring.

 

"I know you're tired, but maybe... just maybe, I can help you relax," Spencer murmured, his voice laced with a mixture of gentleness and desire. He guided you towards the bedroom, with every intention of not letting you leave until you were totally relaxed.

 

As he undressed you with utmost care, his fingertips brushed against your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Spencer's touch was like a delicate dance. His lips followed suit, pressing soft kisses along the path his hands had taken.

 

You found yourself surrendering to his ministrations, allowing the weight of the world to be lifted from your shoulders as pleasure consumed you. The stress that had plagued you all day melted away under the skilled touch of your lover.

 

The bed welcomed you both, its soft sheets cradling your bodies as Spencer continued his exploration. He knew every inch of you, every secret spot that drove you wild with desire. His mouth found its way to your neck, peppering it with butterfly kisses before trailing down to your collarbone.

 

A sigh escaped your lips, mingling with a gasp of pleasure as Spencer's tongue danced across your skin. The knots in your muscles unravelled as his hands glided over your body, burning away any remnants of stress. Your breath hitched as his lips descended further, leaving a trail of wet kisses along your chest, pausing to pay special attention to your sensitive breasts.

 

Spencer's touch was both tender and insistent, his fingers tracing patterns of desire across your skin. He knew exactly how to coax pleasure from your body, each stroke and caress tailored to elicit the most exquisite sensations. With every passing moment, the weight on your shoulders lifted, replaced by a growing sense of bliss that radiated from deep within.

 

Lust and love intertwined as Spencer's mouth found its way to the apex of your thighs. His tongue teased and taunted, sending electric currents of pleasure through your veins. Waves of heat cascaded through you, building with each flicker and swirl until they crashed over you in a tidal wave of ecstasy.

 

Your moans filled the room, mingling with Spencer's own growls of desire as he revelled pleasure. His movements became more urgent, his tongue delving deeper, coaxing louder cries of satisfaction from your lips. You clutched onto his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands as you rode the waves of pleasure that consumed you.

 

Spencer’s hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he devoured you with an intensity that left you gasping for breath. Your hips were instinctively rocking against his skilled mouth, grinding against his face in search of more.

 

Spencer's touch was relentless, his tongue and lips working tirelessly to ensure your pleasure knew no bounds. The sensation of his mouth on you, the wet heat, and the flicks of his tongue, sent sparks of electricity coursing through your veins. Your walls clenched around nothing as your body convulsed in bliss.

 

But Spencer didn’t plan on stopping now, he was never satisfied if he only made you cum once. And now, more than ever, he was going to continue, he knew you needed it, and he knew he wanted it.

 

Soon enough, his fingers joined his mouth slipping inside you with a precision that left you trembling. You hadn’t been able to come down from your first orgasm, and now you were soaring even higher. The dual sensation of his mouth and fingers brought you to the brink of another climax within moments. Every stroke, every flick, and every curl of his fingers sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

You lost all sense of time and space, consumed by the pleasure that coursed through every fibber of your being. Your mind became a haze of pure desire as Spencer continued to bring you to new heights with every stroke, every flick of his tongue.

 

Spencer's movements became more insistent, his fingers moving with an urgency that matched the burning need in your core. Each stroke sent shockwaves through you, intensifying the pleasure that consumed you. Your breath came in ragged gasps as you teetered on the edge of yet another mind-shattering orgasm.

 

He paused, giving you a slight break. “Are you feeling better now, princess?”

 

You lay there, panting heavily, your body still trembling from the intense pleasure that Spencer had just bestowed upon you. Your mind was hazy, your senses heightened, and a sense of tranquillity washed over you. The stress that had weighed you down seemed to have dissipated, replaced by a deep sense of satisfaction.

 

You turned to look at Spencer, his face glowing with adoration as he admired the aftermath of his ministrations. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you nodded, the words caught momentarily in your throat.

 

"Yes," you finally managed to rasp out, your voice laced with awe and gratitude. "I feel... incredible."

 

Spencer's eyes sparkled with delight as he took in your response. He gently caressed your cheek, his touch feather-light against your flushed skin.

 

"Good," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness. "That's all I wanted."

 

“I think I should get stressed more often.”

 

Spencer chuckled softly, his fingers trailing lazily along your side. "If getting stressed means, I get to relieve your tension like this, then I might have to start causing trouble on purpose."

 

You playfully swatted his chest, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Oh, so you're admitting that you enjoy being the cause of my stress?"

 

His lips curled into a smirk as he leaned down to capture yours in a lingering kiss.

 

“No, I’m admitting that I love hearing your moans, and it took all my might not to do this at work, but I can’t let the rest of the team hear how you moan for me. Those noises are for my ears only.”

 

Your heart raced at his words, a delicious mixture of desire and anticipation coursing through your veins. You had always known that Spencer had a playful side, but this level of raw intimacy was something new and exhilarating.

 

With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you leaned in closer, your lips mere inches from his as you whispered, "Well then, Agent Reid, I guess we'll have to find somewhere at work no one would be able to hear us”.

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[cvnt4him]

hurt/comfort with vigilante! izuku where he reunites with his s/o has been plaguing my thoughts 😭

Let me relieve you my darling<33

You were in your room staring up at the ceiling, something you found yourself doing time and time again these past months. Insomnia was a bitch and it seemed to have taken over you as a whole, engulfing you in its dreadful misery, making you stay up despite feeling tired. You were stuck, all because of him.

Thinking about how your oh so selfless and caring boyfriend left you... and your friends of course. He held you close, incredibly close the night before he departed. He spoke such sas words with such huge meanings, yet you were so tired and in such peace in his arms, you hadn't even noticed he was saying goodbye. He knew what he was going to do and told you goodbye. It made you feel so guilty waking up the next morning to see everyone standing in the middle of the lounge with saddened expressions slathered across their faces.

They held pieces of paper that you didn't have. They explained to you what it said in a long story short and it broke your heart. Then was when you finally pieces together what he was saying to you the night before. it broke you terribly so.

Thinking about that horrible day made you turn over in your bed and cry. You cried and cried and cried into your pillow silently. Sniffling and hiccuping as far tears rolled down your cheeks, your eyes reddening from how hard you were crying. You were crying so much it hurt, your throat was aching and your head was pounding. You had cried for the rest of the night.

The day completely flew by in a blur, you didn't take down any notes during class, hardly interacted with anyone at all, didn't eat during lunch. You were completely heartbroken for so long and it's affected your daily necessities. Once you'd read online how a broken heart can kill, sometimes during the night when you're crying you think about that and it leads to a panic attack. Your nights are restless and cruel. How you hated them, but you didn't hate them more than you did the day. They were long and tiring and so so so draining.

You found yourself once again, lying restless in your bed. Thinking about your oh so cruel and selfless boyfriend once again. One thing that kept crossing your mind was if he still thinks about you. Or at all in that fact, you wondered if he still considered you his girlfriend despite the two of you not being near each other for about 2 months.

You sigh at the thought, feeling the annoying and painful tinge of tears filling at your waterline. Just before you could turn over and do your routine all over again you hear a knock at your window. You jumped, startled at the sound that erupted from the balcony.

You gulped and wiped what little tears you needed to and got up, legs wobbly and you stumbled your way to your balcony opening it and walking outside and looking out in the distance. You seen a night sky and a crescent moon, no stars but some clouds present. The trees leafs billowing in the wind, you take a deep breath in and let the crisp night breeze fan your face. Closing your eyes you exhale and suddenly feel extremely relaxed. Like this is what you needed.

You hum, a small smile trickling to your face, tugging at the corners of your lips. Basking in this moment you're suddenly taken by surprise, whole body being grasped and flown into the air, you nearly scream but couldn't get a sound out as something, a hand wrapped around your mouth. You continued to try and scream through the hand covering your mouth before you hear a shushing sound. The person behind you shushing you as they held you close to their chest.

"shh.., it's okay. calm down. It's alright, I've got you.."

The voice, despite being muffled and somewhat deepened and groggy, sounded vaguely familiar. Scratch that, completely familiar, a voice you prayed you hear again. Every single night you prayed and prayed and prayed silently that he would come back to you, that he would come and get you. At least let you know he was okay.

Tears spilled from your eyes uncontrollably, you hiccupped and tried to catch your breath before you were swiftly turned around and your face was buried into his filthy chest. He reeked, he smelled so bad yet you couldn't begin to care. This proved it, he had thought about you. He cared about you. He..

" I love you..."

You couldn't muster words, choking on air as he rubbed circles into your back. You sniffed and wailed into his chest loudly. He brought you to the roof and sat you both down, holding you tightly.

"izu.. izuku.. how could- could you leave like that?! It- you—"

When you finally looked up to him you seen his dingy and dirty mask, it was ripped and kind of overed in muck and debris. Your wailing stopped as you looked at him, his face turning away. You pulled him back by his mask before trying to lift it slightly before he pulled it back down.

"izuku..."

You tried again, a lot slower and gentler this time in hopes he'd let you see his face, it had been 2 months after all. To your surprise, he let you. You took his mask off lifting it over his head, once it was finally off his eyes were slightly squinted, it'd been a while since he took off that mask. Seeing through a dark mask all the time might have a bad effect on your eyes.

You sighed at his face, all sad and tired the bags under his eyes were worse than yours. He looked dead, pale, completely ghost like. It was startling. Your rat of sunshine who brightened everyone's day was dimmer, he was completely burned out. It hurt you to see him this way.

"y/n... I can't comeback.. not yet."

"wait what?! no no no no you- you have too! you-"

Izuku bit his lip trying to hold back his tears before he kissed you, his soft yet dried lips capturing yours and holding them there. He breathed in through his nose and held his breath trying to stay in this moment with you for as long as possible before it broke.

He placed his forehead to yours and his breath was wavery, shaking. He sniffed having a hard time holding back his tears. He wrapped his arms around you in a sweet embrace and snuggled his face in your neck.

"I'm sorry."

AN: ah, a shitty ending to a shitty story. As much as I enjoyed creating this I feel like it's lacking a huge hint of flavour, alas I am too lazy to change it around. So enjoy!

[mikichko]

you’ve relied on yourself for so long that it’s a little jarring when gaz or soap (or both tbh) are there to help you out.

it starts off small, seeing you wobble around the grocery store with your left foot encased in a walking boot. its infuriating to watch as other customers weave carefully around you, as if you’re plagued instead of helping you out. so he takes matters into his own hands and helps you out. afterall, what would his mother say if he hadnt helped a pretty thing like you out?

“need a hand?” he asks but doesn’t wait for a response. instead, he pries the basket out of your hands, ignoring any attempt to take it back. your cheeks feel hot and you stutter through a rebuttal, trying to tell him that you’re okay but he doesn’t pay it any mind.

you spend the next half hour adding items to the basket while he tries to chat you up. by the time you’re done checking out he’s holding your bags and asking where your car is.

the tips of your ears burn when you tell him that you don’t own a car, you actually live close by. he gives you a sly grin and asks you where to, no intention of letting you walk home without help in your current condition. he memorizes your address and makes a note to alter his daily walk route to pass by.

and suddenly this one time thing starts to become the new normal. oh you’re bringing in some new things into your apartment? let him help you! doctor’s told you you’re not supposed to be lifting anything too heavy.

walking out of you apartment on an errand? oh what a coincidence! he’s got an errand to run in that part of town too! why don’t you hold on to him and use his arm as support as you’re hobbling over?

oh no! did the delivery drivers refuse to bring up your package to your apartment! there’s no need to worry love, he’ll help you out. he hoists the package over his shoulder, barely winded asking, “right then, where’d you want this?”

absolutely does not miss the way you gawk at him as you usher him to the elevator. feigning ignorance as he watches you try and fail to not eye him up.

and of course he’s so gracious and helps ease up the tension and stress that comes with being injured, has you on your back, legs over his shoulder, pressing a kiss to the bruised ankle as he rolls his hips into you.

“that’s it. pretty thing like you doesn’t need to worry about anything else but cumming on this cock. let me handle it all for you.”

[sweetmilkespresso]

Treat You Better | CS55-> ? Fic & SMAU

order: Ex!Carlos x ChronicIll!Fem!Reader x Mystery Driver

flavor: angst

ingredients: angst, chronic illness, gaslighting, hurt/comfort, and fluff

You can't help but look at your past relationship and compare it to the one you have now.

bariata's note: Hi, this is my first real fic in the f1 fandom. It's more of test to see if people would be interested in more like this. I hope you enjoy what I've brewed up for you.

Sometimes you can't help but think about what you used to have.

Back when you and Carlos first got together you felt ontop of the world. You were in love and it felt like nothing could stop the rush you felt everytime you touched. You knew in your heart you loved him. You knew in your heart that he loved you too. Well, until you got sick.

It had started with the migraines.

They happened every few weeks coming and going like a tidal wave.

Eventually the migraines got closer and closer together until you got them daily.

They made you nauseous and every light became a potential trigger for a flare up.

You went from following Carlos from race to race to laying alone in the dark of your Monnaco apartment, in far too much pain to do anything.

That's when your relationship began to crumble.

It started with little things.

Carlos would complain about your constant rainchecks and I-Owe-Yous.

Next was the eyeroles and frowns whenever you mentioned your pain.

Overtime your body started to decline. Fatigue and exhaustion plagued your every waking moment. The aches and pains more pronounced as each day passed.

It was hard to stand and walk on your own.

As your body started to deteriorate so did your relationship.

What was originally little quips and snide remarks turned into white hot arguments.

Soon he was referring to you as:

"Too much" and "Exhausting"

You shot back that he was acting childish.

Not everything revolved around him and his needs. Things like this don't suddenly disappear because others find it tiring.

Until one day he'd had enough.

He'd locked you out of the apartment and threw out your things.

The two of you were done.

----

Looking back at that time you had felt so alone.

After you had broken up you moved into a little studio apartment that barely seemed fit for a person let alone a person with needs like yours.

Everything was too cramped and there was little you could do accessibility wise. You were renting the place after all.

----

But then he walked into your life.

It had been gradual at first.

He'd message or call you asking for an update since you'd went quiet on all your socials.

Soon enough he was inviting you over or coming to your place to visit.

It was incredibly cramped with the two of you in your little studio but you made it work.

He was so considerate of what you were feeling.

Whenever you cancelled he would just smile and say "Okay, there's always next time."

He was brazen and open about what he felt.

How he sat you down and point-blank made his intentions of "courting" you very clear.

You remember your first kiss.

You remembered how he cupped your cheek and asked permission before gently pressing your lips together in a chaste kiss.

He'd asked you to move in with him only a few months into your new relationship.

You agreed wholeheartedly. Your lease on your old studio apartment had been coming up anyways.

He happily helped you move in.

He didn't let you lift a single finger. Every little thing was taken care of. He hired a crew to move your stuff from your old studio to his place.

He was certainly full of surprises.

----

"Hey, y/n. Can you come over here and tell me if this is sturdy enough?" He asked you from the tile floor of the bathroom as he screwed a hand rail into the walls.

"What do you think about this one?" He asked as he passed you an ipad with plans for renovating the place.

"We can get the counters lowered and widen the space here so you can wheel your chair through and reach."

He installed ramps for all the doors.

He attached a wheel chair rack to every car he owned.

Since the house was two stories he even hired a guy to build a chair lift so you could reach the second floor.

Once your hands started shaking he would kneel down and tie your shoes for you.

Every little action was full of adoration.

He made it so easy to love him.

----

You're brought back to the present by a loud snore from right next to you.

Looking to your left you are met with the sleeping face of the love of your life.

You thumb over the pictures in your phone.

Smiling at the pictures you press post.

y/ninstagram

y/ninstagram In a world of boys, he's a gentleman.

[yandere-3-sagau]

Yandere!Wanderer x Secret Creator Reader Pt 2

warnings(s): slight angst, kinda? humanish wanderer (he can bleed, throw-up and cry), its unedited cause i’m spam posting my drafts <3

word count: nunya

First Part: Here

Wanderer never realized how much you affected his daily life until your absence began to sink in. He never noticed how much your smile and kind greetings made his heart flutter until his heart ached from the emptiness.

At first, he didn’t really think your absence was such a big deal til he’d wake up with tears in his eyes and the faint whisper of the name you had given him ringing in his ears. It was like you were haunting him. How could you name him with such care but disappear and not even think to visit? Did you really abandon him? Were you lying when you told him the meaning of his name?

Wanderer began traveling the world, following any reported sightings of the creator. Each time he’s left with a dead end, he feels his sanity wear thinner and thinner, a gentle touch away from snapping.

It isn’t until he hears of a parade being held to welcome and thank the creator for restoring the kingdom of Khaenri’ah. He drops everything he’s doing, and heads straight to your supposed location.

When he gets there, the streets were crowded with people watching as you give a speech high up on a balcony.

He ignores everything else, his focus entirely on you. It’s as everything melts into the background and his actions are on autopilot.

He flies over your position, not hearing any of the gasps erupt from the crowd nor noticing the guards that seem alert at his presence.

His are wide and blown out as he grips your wrists tightly.

“Wanderer…”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT…” he says, tears lining his eyes. Your eyes furrow in confusion. He seems unstable, face full of desperation.

“What do you mean…”

“… my name,” he says quietly. “Say my name!” You pause for a bit, not understanding what he wants. Finally, you speak.

“__”

The voice he has been longing to hear… the name he dreamt of you saying reaches his ears.

He lets out a choked sob, all the emotions he held in finally spilling out as he grips your clothing. It’s like nothing else in the world matters but the two of you.

Even as there are whispers all around speaking of blasphemy.

Amidst his sobs, he asks you all the questions that had been plaguing his mind.

“Do you really see me as a gift… a blessing? Am I really that important to you…”

You’re silent, unsure what to say as all eyes watch you. He feels his heart break at your silence.

“I’m sorry!” he shouts, hands trembling. “I’m sorry I haven’t been using it. I love it! I love what you named me, I really do!”

“I’m your blessing, right? Why aren’t you saying anything.” His movements grow desperate as he shakes you. “… you said so yourself, you can’t take it back. Why aren’t you speaking?!”

You notice the judging eyes staring at the man on the floor. You try to push him off of you but he lets out another heavy, choked out sob, his tears flowing harder. Your attempts to get him off you is seen as a form of rejection. “You-“ he suddenly doubles over, throwing up on the ground. ”…you can’t abandon me!” He screams.

The guards grow closer and he finally notices them. “Please…” he crumples to the floor, trembling hands clutching his chest. He gasps as he finds it hard to breathe. He feels a pressure in his head, and suddenly blood flows from his nose.

You begin to panic, seeing him cry so hard his nose begins to bleed. You bend over and bring him into your arms. Rubbing his back, you call out the name you’ve given him. “I’m not abandoning you. You’re a gift.”

He shakes his head, pushing himself further into your arms. “I’m yours! I’m your gift…” He needs to hear you say it. He needs you clear all the insecurities and doubts in his heart. He truly looks pitiful, his face covered in snot and tears.

The guards are unable to pull him away from you no matter how hard they try. His grip on you is like iron. The guards have no choice but to disperse the crowd. With a nod of your head, the guards allow the two of you some privacy.

Almost an hour passes of him crying into your arms, begging you not to abandon him and demanding you say his name over and over again.

Finally, his tears run out and he’s left sniffling with his eyes swollen shut from the salty tears.

“You love me, right?” he whispers, staring up at you from his position in your arms. You sigh and press a kiss to his forehead.

“Yes, I love you ___.”

He smiles with his red puffy eyes and tear stained face.

“I love you, too…” he whispers before he passes out, the exhaustion finally taking over. You try to move but even unconscious, his grip is tight and unrelenting.

You sigh and let him cling to you. You’re glad that he likes the name you’ve given him but you’re a bit concerned on how much importance he’s placed on it. As you relax in his hold, you fail to realize that simply typing in a cluster of letters into a game has set your fate in stone and that no matter how hard you try to deviate from it’s tracks, you’ll never be free from it’s grasp.

[theblueflower05]

First Love/ Late Spring

A/N: I had no right to listen to Mitski and write for Neteyam but here I am. I’ve been working on this on and off since December but finally decided to get serious and post it. Hope you guys like it!

Word Count: 5k+

Warnings: Masturbation(F receiving). Breeding Kink if ya really dig. Angst. Talks of self doubt and insecurity. All Characters are aged up 18+.

You are responsible for cultivating your own online experience, please do not interact if any of these tags are triggering to you. Minors DNI.

Summary: Neteyam has passed his Metkayinan Iknimaya, and is now free to choose a woman. Why did you ever think he would choose you? Neteyam X Na'vi Reader.

Series Masterlist(All parts can be found here)

Next> Crawling Back to You(Part Two)

One word from you and I would jump off of this ledge I’m on, baby.

Tell me don’t so I can crawl back in- Mitski, First Love/Late Spring

As the beloved niece of the reigning Olo’eyktan, in your life you had wanted for nothing.

Had spent the last nineteen years in isolated bliss. The island of Awa’atlu and your tribes familiar inhabitants were all you knew. Your life moved to a steady beat, as sure as the morning eclipse. As rhythmic as the tides.

And you had been content, really you had. Too busy to be bored. Too beloved to truly dwell on the gap. On the absence of a mate no matter how much your Uncle; Tonowari urged you to accept one of the many offerings of courtship. Lonely maybe, but happy.

Useful. Focused.

Ever since the Sully’s arrival, you have felt anything but.

Descending from the skies on ikran back, they left plumes of sand in their wake. Shook up everything you had ever known as they stood there on the beach, adrift. Out of place, different then anything you had ever seen with their dark skin and thin tales. That morning had been a whirlwind of harsh words and brief but tense negotiations.

So much change had happened in such a small amount of time that it was hard to wrap your head around-

The leader of the Sully Tribe, Jake, had begged Uturu for his family. And ever benevolent, your Uncle Tonowari had granted it to them.

Overwhelmed by crowds, you don't recall much more of that day except for the desire to run away. To escape the strained aura’s of the hesitant clans people and the exhausted newcomers. You’d gone to away, eager to get back to your herbs and tinctures. To the safety of familiarity to digest the entire situation.

You’d been stopped in your tracks, rooted in place, by a pair of striking golden orbs.

A stare like none you’d ever known. His eyes resonated with you. Plucking a cord n your chest that echoed throughout the rest of your body. You’d never felt anything like it. Never been so affected by a stranger.

Never been so affected by anyone.

Even now, months later, thinking of Neteyam that look he’d given you on his first day here makes you hot. You dream about it, about him often. He plagues you, has taken up permanent space in your subconscious.

You wake most mornings to phantom touches. To his voice ringing in your ears and an empty bed mat that feels too cold.

This morning is no different. Your eyes flutter open with a gasp and your heart is beating madly in your chest.

It's early. You have only moments before you will be expected to wake and start your daily routine. Really, you should’ve been up by now-

Instead you lie in your corner of the family mauri, the privacy curtains pulled around your bed as you shoulder into the woven blankets. Your hands slip down- lower on your belly and into the dip of your tweng.

Between your legs you’re hot, soaked and pulsing as you always seem to be these days. Your clit swollen almost painfully as you press your fingers to it, rubbing firm little circles as you search for some kind of relief. Humping harshly into your small hand, cupping your sex desperately as you recall Dream Neteyam.

He’d pinned you to a tall palm, your belly pressing against the rough bark as buried his nose in your hair. All panting breaths and wandering hands.

“You’re so beautiful”

“I’m right here”

“Let me have you, I have to have you”

Dream Neteyam says all the things you want to hear as he ravages you. He’s sure footed, cocky in that way that you knew he could be. He’s pushy and needy and you’d give him anything if he asked for it, Eywa all he had to do is hint that he wanted it-

“Spread your legs for me, sevin ”

You bite your lips bloody, your fangs digging into them as your thick thighs clamp shut around your hands and your pussy spasms. You want to cry out as you come. Fight the urge to whine because it’s not enough, you’re still so empty.

Neteyam’s name is always on your tongue as you come down from your self induced high.

“Y/N? My Child, are you awake?”

There’s no time to bask in the afterglow, you wrench your hands away. Wiping the mess on your blankets as you shoot up straight-

“Yes? Yes. I’m coming, i’ll be out a minute” You try to keep your voice from breaking and just barley succeed.

Ronal who had peeked a head into the empty mauri isn't convinced, but accepts it anyway “Hurry now, we have to get going. The tide pools will be filling and we need to restock the sea-tsam(kelp like herbs), you haven't even eaten breakfast yet. Up!”

You only release the breath stuck in your chest when she’s scurrying back out of the home- one of these days you’re going to get caught.

Your people are free with their sexuality, there’s no shame in pleasure whether it be self inflicted or given by another. But it would make those pesky questions arise- if you’re so needy, Y/N- why do you refuse every eligible bachelor that comes your way?

You huff, thinking about that very thing as you get ready for the day. Bruising through your long hair almost violently as you chew it over.

If you need to be fucked so badly, why are you three years into adulthood without a mate? You don’t even have a possible suitor- your friends are having babies, building lives, and you’re still living with your family.

It used to be that you we’re hyper focused on your role in the clan. On your training as part of the Tsakarem. On preparing Tsireya for the day she reaches adulthood and takes over her mother’s title.

You had always been family oriented, and the clan had accepted it-

But now there were whispers. Inquiries, never spoken to you but always about you. It’s an oddity that such a pretty young woman with such high standing is choosing to be alone.

Is there something wrong with you?

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The only thing that’s wrong with you is your inability to focus on the most mundane of tasks as of late.

After a quick breakfast, you’d taken off. Determined to knock the long list of chores down.

You’d collected herbs until your fingers hurt and the satchel slung across your chest was full to the brim. You’d tended to the Elders, and checked in on the mother with newborns, still so fresh to the world that they’re connected to their Sa’nok kuru, constant Tsaheylu necessary at such a young age.

Healing isn't always glamorous, and while you’d much rather be mixing potions and sketching in your journals- you check fevers. Change chamber pots. Kiss the scraped knee’s of young ones.

You’re supposed to be heading back to the Healer’s Mauri, the large hut where Ronal waits for you-

But instead you get sidetracked.

It’s all you seem to do these days.

Lounging in the soft warm sand is so much easier then running around the village.

You’d come across your cousins who were circled by Roxto and the elder Sully’s, and it hadn't taken much convincing for you to tag along on whatever little adventure they had planned for the afternoon. It had led you to one of the smaller isles, a tiny thing that was mostly white sand beaches and deep rocky cove tunnels.

Lo’ak and Ao’nung practicing their breath holds, taking turns weaving through the underwater caves. The two had went from going for each others throat’s to thick as thieves, and your glad. Lo’ak’s troubled, but he’s not trouble. Not the way that your cousin's other asshole friends are.

Roxto and Neteyam wade through the crystal clear shallows, hunting for clams that are abundant at this time of year.

You’re sat with Kiri and Tsireya, the three of you staying in the beach and giggling about current clan gossip. Chattering endlessly.

Neteyam’s shoulders are broad and glisten in the bright afternoon sun. You can barely tear your gaze away from him. Hungrily, needing to glance back every few seconds-

“The celebration is in less then a month's time” Tsireya states, a small grin playing on her lips as she takes in the scene.

She knows about your feelings for the eldest Sully son, you’d confessed them to her in a fit one night. Unable to keep them caged in your chest anymore. She can understand the appeal- her own eyes had been glued to the family since the arrival.

What she can't understand is why you wont tell him- or at the very least why you’re being so damn shy about it. You had never been this demure before.

“I know, the preparations have been a real pain in my ass” You reply, turning on your side to face her. Arm bent at the elbow, chin propped in your hand. “Tonowari has me assisting with getting the ceremonial mats woven. It’s not fair”

“I think he just wants you to be…a more active participant this year” Tsireya chooses her words wisely, ignoring your side eye “It’s sweet”

“It’s annoying” you hiss, eyes rolling harshly. Your tail swishes behind you, a firm pat on the sand.

“This is the celebration that’s held for the hunters. The ones that pass their Iknimaya’s?” Kiri asks, intrigued. She’s inquisitive and you’d assured her early on that she could ask you anything, that you’d help her understand the customs of your people.

“Yes and it’s so much fun. You’ll see, the Hunters come back from Motnaui(ritualistic hunt) and we spend the day roasting their catch, thanking Eywa for her abundance. There’s dancing and singing- “ Tsireya’s eyes sparkle as she talks about it, glazed with nostalgia.

You let her rant a bit more before cutting her off, “And mating. Most of the hunters will stake their claim on any courtships that have been started”

Because yes, it is a celebration for the newly joined adults of the clan, but goes hand in hand with the fact that it is their first chance to choose a mate.

“We have something like this back in the forest, it's the start of Fertility Season right?” Kiri verifies and you nod. “Does it coincide with the rains here, too?”

“Mhmm, most newly mated pairs will spend the week or so tucked away…-” Tsireya’s cheeks get red and you roll your eyes.

“Coupling” You interject and she shoots you a look that has you tittering. Awe, your sweet young cousin, still a year away from her own Iknimaya. Innocent and shy when it comes to such topics.

Kiri doesn't look scandalized- she’d come to adulthood back in the forest. Though she hasn't chosen a mate she had partaken in many of the festivities.

“Yes, coupling” Tsireya continues. “Its all beautiful really, its my favorite time of year. Right after the return of the Tulkun of course”

Its nice listening to your cousin's version of the celebration. You think that yeah, your own view of it all used to be mostly the same. That was until you’d reached adulthood, and had spent the last cycles without a mate of your own. This week that Tsireya found so beautiful had just been wet for you. Yourself and other unmated , able bodied Na’vi took on the duties of the disposed clan members.

It was an honor to take care of your people while they were vulnerable.

It was embarrassing to have not found a mate of your own yet.

You wonder if this year you’d spend the week in the rain again.

“You don't seem excited” Kiri whispers and you force a smile onto your face almost instantly, not wanting to come off so extremely transparent.

“It’s not that I’m not-”

“Y/N hasn't mated yet”

“Obviously Tsireya, thank you for pointing that out” you deadpan at the girl but she continues on, not phased in the least by your attitude-

“But I do think that will change this year”

Kiri perks up, big eyes interested, a brow arched “Really? Has someone caught your eye? Every time any one even tries to start courting you, you give them the cold shoulder”

“That’s not true, I’m nice about it” you defend your actions “I just haven't been interested in any of their offers”

“‘Their’ being half of the unmated men in this clan” Kiri’s sarcasm rivals your own, you flick a small shell at her forehead.

“It hasn't felt right and Eywa wouldn't want me to settle. '' The words taste condescending as they roll off your tongue, you don't blame them for scoffing at you but it's true.

If you had accepted an offer in the past, you wouldn't be free to follow your hearts desire now…your eyes flick back to the shore. Back to the broad shoulders.

“I’m sure whoever you choose will be honored,” Kiri chuckles. “Surprised though, probably. I overheard a couple of Elder’s making bets that you’d make another suitor cry this year”

The peel of laughter that Tsireya lets out is shrill and loud,

Roxto and Neteyam’s heads turn, far out enough now that the surely cant hear the conversation but can hear the shrieks of joy. Roxto grins and signs something that you can't quite make out and Neteyam gives a small wave.

You can feel the big stupid smile on your face, it’s no surprise that Kiri acknowledges it.

“You didn't answer my question. Is there anyone in particular that you have your eye on?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip. You’d been wanting to run it past her for weeks. Desperate for her insight but too embarrassed to muster up the courage and ask for it.

“Tell her, tsmuk’tu” Tsireya urges gently.

“I have been hoping that…Neteyam might choose to court me. After his Iknimaya” You admit it, carefully watching her for her reaction. Your own ears are pressed to your head, your fingers winding around each other nervously.

“I was wondering why that idiot was going through his rites again” Kiri nods, like she’d found the missing piece of a puzzle.

One that she wasn't willing to share with the group.

“What’do you mean? If he wants to be a hunter, he has to” You point out the facts, the law of the village.

“Well yeah, but I mean look at how our dad did it. He didn't jump through all of the hoops, he just tamed his Skimwing on his own time. My brother has been adamant about wanting to be apart of ceremony”

You ingest Kiri’s words greedily, letting them expand in your chest. It’s hope, the fragile kind, the scariest kind.

“Maybe he just wants to prove himself as a hunter. We’ve heard his skill is legendary to the Omiticaya” you suggest and Tsireya pushes at your shoulder, shaking her head.

“Maybe” Kiri shrugs her shoulders “But mating is important to Neteyam. He’s always wanted a big family, I think he really idolized our parents' marriage. Mom said he must’ve taken an interest in a mate if he’s making such a big deal out of being a recognized adult here”

A big family. Neteyam wants to be a father.

The thought is heady. The seed has been planted in your head and you know there is no way that you will ever be able to dig it out.

“Do you think that-”

You're cut off by booming laughter, by clatter and chaos. Who else could it be but Ao’nung and Lo’ak coming back from the caves, they had the worst possible timing. You shoot daggers at your cousins fat head.

“What are you girls whispering about over here?” 'Nung teases as he drops next to you in the sand,

“That would be none of your business” You snipe, “Skxawng ass”

“Why so hostile, cuz?” Ao’nung starts “I was the one who invited you out here? You don't want to spend time with little ol’ me?”

“I spend too much time with you as is. I was hoping you had drowned down in those caves so I could get a break- NUNG!” you squeal as your cousin shakes his head, wringing out his wet hair all over you. The water is shockingly cold against your sun soaked skin.

Soon enough, Neteyam and Roxto come in from the waves, baskets full of multicolored shells. More than happy to share as they join the small circle.

“You had such a bountiful catch!” Tsireya applauds, happily accepting the oysters that Roxto offers.

You’re awkward around Neteyam on a good day- there's something so intimidating about his beauty. So tall and angular. But today? After the admittance you’d made to his sister? You can barely look at him.

You feel heavy and clunky and ugh, why does he make you so nervous? You’re playing with your hair, twisting the thick tendrils around your fingers idly when Neteyam turns to you.

“Do you want some?” He asks, already prying the tough shell open with his knife.

“Oh, yes please. They’re actually my favorite” You grin, and at least your voice doesn't project all the nerves you feel.

“I know” He hands you the oyster once he opens it and you try not to pay too much mind to how his fingers brush yours.

“How would you know that?” you slurp at the rich juice, grateful.

“Roxto was telling me about it” He says simply, already working open another shell to hand out.

“Oh yeah! Y/N remember when you ate so many of these that you got sick at dinner! I’ve never seen someone puke that much, it was never ending” Roxto chuckles, igniting laughter from the group.

You wince, the memory is not a particularly good one and you don't enjoy reliving it. Especially not in current company. You can feel your cheeks heat intensely.

“It was so bad! You got it all over dad’s lap and he didn't know what to do” Ao’nung adds hysterically “He just started panicking- picked you up by your tail and tossed your ass outside”

Tsireya breaks, giggling behind her hand and Kiri all but chokes. Lo’aks shaking his head good naturedly as Ao’nung and Roxto are in stitches- the only one who doesn't laugh is Neteyam. No, instead he gives you a gentle kind of smile, before going back to his task of shucking.

You’re only the butt of the joke for moments more before it ping-pongs to Lo’ak, who has almost cut one of his odd five fingers off in the process of prying open an ornery shell.

“Oh! Look brother, how pretty” Kiri points out the large blush colored pearl that Neteyam had almost swallowed.

“That’s good luck!” You grin “They don't usually get that big”

Huh. Good luck you say?” Neteyam picks it out of the shell, holding it between his thumb and pointer as he examines how it shines in the sun. Beautiful…

You’re frozen when he reaches out, the pearl in the palm of his hand.

“Here” he offers it to you.

The purple flush that completely takes over your face crawls down your neck too. You're completely flustered by the simple gesture of good will.

You should tell him that you can’t take it- that he should give it to Tuk, his little sister that loves making jewelry. Instead you’re hungry for anything, will accept any scraps of himself that Neteyam will give to you.

“Irayo” you beam as you accept the pear, tucking it away in your satchel for safe keeping. “I love it!”

He just gives you another one of those ever soft boyish grins, his eyes pools of liquid amber.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

As the weeks go by, there’s a certain light to you. A bounce in your step,

“Your aura has changed” Ronal informs you of the fact as the two of you sit in the Healers Mauri, plumes of heavy incense filling the space with fragrant smoke.

She’s far into her pregnancy now, but that has never stopped her from completing her duties. The salves she mixes with an expertise that comes from years of trial and error are potent and coveted.

Your lips quirk into a private smile as your fingers continue their threading. Working on a personal project in between your chores. “Has it really?”

She assesses you, her turquoise eyes all knowing as she takes you in. You’re a woman grown now far from the small child she had taken in with her husband all those years ago. In theses last few months you have blossomed, like a flower unfurling. She had an inkling of why-

“You are thinking of accepting courtship this cycle, yes?” It’s not a question, but a statement. One she already knows the answer to.

“I am” you whisper. “If he decides to pursue me, that is”

The comfortable quiet is back, both of you focusing on your respective tasks. You’d always been content just to bask in your Aunt’s presence.

“The Sully boy would be a fool not to court you” Ronal breaks the silence bluntly and you really should've had expected that she already knew.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Where dread usually lives in your heart at this time of year, lies only excitement. Joy, that fragile hope as you prepare for the festival. Anyone who knows you can see the change, you throw yourself head first into ceremony prep. Spend hours sitting with Tsireya eagerly sowing together new pieces of clothing for the festivities.

You sing as you tend to your house work, sweet little tunes that your family is surprised to hear.

Tonowari is beaming, endlessly happy that you are going to give a member of the clan a chance. He’d been questioning your self induced isolation for years, and was eager to see which of his warriors had stolen your heart. Ronal refuses to tell him even though he knows she knows,

“It is not mine to share” his wife rebuff’s every time he questions.

As the day of the Iknimaya draws closer you try to make sure that Neteyam knows that you are open to courtship. You spend a decent amount of time with his family anyway, Tsireya and Lo’ak always connected at the hip and Kiri growing into a close friend.

You ask him about his training, tend to any wounds he may aquire diligently. Laugh at his bad jokes, and listen to his stories of home. He misses the forest, you can tell. You selfishly hope that there isn't a pretty Omaticayan girl waiting for him.

At dinner, in the largest communal mauri, filled to the brim with clans members who are all but vibrating with excitement for the close looming festivities, you navigate the people.

In your hands, a large plate made from a recycled shell piled is high. Fish roasted over the fire, steamed rice and root vegetables that you had harvested yourself.

You’d watched Neteyam along with a handful of other training warriors limp into dinner late. They look tired and worn down.

He’d plopped down next to his family without getting himself food, and that just wouldn't do.

“Jake, Neytiri- I see you” You greet his parents as you approach. The sit close together, always intertwined in one way or another.

‘He idolizes our parents marriage’

You understand Kiri’s words as you watch Toruk Makto and his mate, as you appraise their close bond.

Jake grins, Tuk in his lap. Greeting you right back, easy to conversate with. Neytiri is quieter, hard to read. Intimidating, just like Neteyam who favors her so much in looks. Still the older woman signs the greeting back to you.

“You look really rough” is not what you meant to say to their son. Neteyams brow bones rise and you could kick yourself. Definitely would later.

“Thanks, I feel it” Neteyam responds with a tired chuckle.

Instead you laugh too, albeit awkwardly, trying to remedy the situation “What I mean is, you didn't get yourself food- and I know how exhausting training can be. Here, please eat. I’d hate for you to lose strength this close to your rite”

He accepts the plate of food graciously and you try to ignore the heavy feeling of eyes on you. His families, the clans. People have noticed you, have noticed this act of service. There’s only one thing it can mean.

“Irayo Y/N, I appreciate you” he thanks, making room for you on the log that he’s sat atop “Would you like to sit with us?”

“Very much so- but I promised Elder Raou’wal that I would help him back to his mauri. His legs don't work like they used to, and I don't want him to fall again-” you curse your nature, the fact that you offer your help so freely.

All you want to do is take that seat, so close to Neteyam that your thighs would press against one and others.

“That is very kind” Neteyam soothes “It’s okay, another time”

“Yes, another time” You know you sound like an idiot. You feel like an idiot. Standing before him and his family uninvited.

You need to make a quick escape, overwhelmed by all of the attention. “Please, get some rest before tomorrow. I’ve had to tend to over worked warriors all week”

Neteyam’s grin…is something else. Something not so sweet. Something that makes you flustered, that he’s looking at you like that in front of his parents, in front of the tribe. “Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Will you be there, tomorrow?”

“Of course I will” your response is quick, eager and it just makes that look on his face more intense.

“Good. Then I know everything will go well” his words make your heart beat so loudly your ears ring.

You don’t even know what to say, can barley keep your cool as you utter goodbye to his family, all of them quite obviously amused as you begin to scurry away.

You know the blush is burning up your whole face, that everyone can see your feelings as clear as day.

But-

You can’t leave him like that. Not with him facing is Iknimaya in the morning, with all of its promises of danger.

“May Eywa be with you, tomorrow and always” you give him the quiet blessing, truly hoping that the great mother looks over him.

He softens, physically. All of him slumping, as though you had put a balm on a jagged cut.

You don't wait for a reply.

Tonowari watches the exchange from his place at the head of the room,

Oh.

That is who had caught your eye, the warrior that had broken your resolve.

He shares a look with Ronal, his eyes comically wide and she laughs lowly at him.

“Ah my love, you have always been so slow”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The Iknimaya rituals go as they always go, a long day full of young, strong hearted Na’vi eager to prove themselves. Most of them don’t succeed, at least half of them will need to wait until the next cycle to attempt it again.

Your family is at the center, you stand proudly behind Olo’eyktan Tonowari and Tsahik Ronal as they guide the young clan members through the rite of passage. Tsireya beside you, knowing that next cycle it will be her and Lo’ak attempting their own rites. Ao’nung cheering on young hunters that he had trained himself.

You love all of your people, the Metkayina one beating heart under Eywa’s watchful eye- yet you can't tear your focus away from Neteyam.

Your eyes are glued to him, and him only. The entire time. You watch, anxious and in awe. He’s so strong, all lean muscle and sharp mind. He mounts his Skimwing on the first try, much to the surprise of his peers. The people cheer him on, whopping loudly.

He’s beautiful, capable and skilled. He’s…stolen something from you. Abducted your soul, enthralled your thoughts in a way that almost felt intrusive.

You watch as the son of the first becomes a son of the sea, a man in both the Metkayina and Omiticaya tribes. A feat that almost none have accomplished.

The Motnaui is tradition, the freshly rited hunters will join the seasoned on a days long hunt. The time in the open ocean solidifies their bond to the tribe, their place that they have earned. Their chief will join them. Tonowari is eager, ecstatic for the time he gets to spend with his new hunters. With his ever growing tribe.

Everyone gathers to see the hunters off, so much love filling the crowded beach. Your people a buzz, tearful. Joyous.

You trail your fingers over the colorful Lei that lies around your neck. It matches the floral wreath nestled atop your head; the orchids are vibrant shades of fuchsia pinks and sunset yellows to represent your family.

They come in all shades, neon greens and baby blues, lilac purples and vibrant reds.

They are traded between your people at this time of year. Elders give them to children, sisters to their brothers. Tonowari wears many around his neck, the visual representation of how beloved he is to his clan.

To give a Lei can be friendly and platonic, sure. Especially if it is one of the dozens that are made just to be handed out- if a person wears multiple for clear decoration and celebration purposes only.

It can also be a very clear invitation for courtship- or at the very least consensual coupling. If a woman takes her lei off her own neck and presents it to a man, it is a sign of ownership. Marking that the specific male is taken for the duration of the fertility season.

You need to give Neteyam yours before he leaves, you want him to know that he has you. That you are his- and that you want him to be yours. That you will wait for him as he hunts and when he returns, he can have all of you.

You’re trying to find him in the crowd, your eyes scanning for the familiar dark blue skin that stands out so shockingly amongst your people-

Neteyam is with his family, all of them exuding proud energy. His mother cups his face in her lithe hands, his sisters hold onto his arms. His father pats his shoulder and his brother stares at him like he’s hung the stars.

You don't want to intrude on the moment, but you have to catch him before he leaves-

It’s like watching a horrible accident, like being witness to carnage that you just can't stop.

Seychelle, a clans member two years your junior, is beautiful. She’s a skilled singer and the daughter of a high ranking fisherman. She’s tall and shapely with pretty eyes, and its her first cycle as an eligible adult. As a woman grown who is available to mate.

She walks right up to Neteyam and his family boldly. Unafraid or ridden by anxiety like you always seem to be. All flirty smiles and fluttering lashes.

You’re too far away, can't hear what she says but you wouldn't want to anyway. Your chest is caving in and you feel like you can't breathe, your ears ring with the lack of oxygen.

You could challenge her. You have a high standing in the clan. You have first choice when it comes to mates,

But instead you just stand there. Bare witness to her taking off her bright orange Lei and slip it around Neteyams neck. He accepts it without a fuss, grinning and you can see his mouth form the words “thank you”.

Your nose burns and tears prick threateningly at your eyes but you know you can not let them fall. Not here.

You do what you do best;

You run away.

Not bothering to explain your exit to anyone, you probably couldn't form words around the lump in your throat anyway, you run as fast as you can. The world feels very far away, like it exists without you in it.

Your family mauri is empty, everyone's still at the beach and you don't even bother making it to your bed. You collapse right inside the entrance as the tears finally over take you and your eyes flood over.

What were you thinking?

How had you read this whole thing so wrong?

Your mind is dangerous, cruel in its confused, hurt state. It assaults you and you sob into your hands. You feel stupid now, in the special clothes you'd donned. Your hair twisted meticulously-

He had never been interested in you, you’d taken his innate kindness and skewed it. Neteyam had just been nice to you and you being the simple minded girl you were- had tried to force it into something more.

You curse yourself, curse your heart. Curse that fragile hope that you had clung to so desperately.

You cry until you feel sick, your eyes swollen and back tight from sobbing. You’re dizzy and tired by the time you crawl over to your bed. You don't even get under the covers, just stare blankly at the wall of the mauri as tears roll down your cheeks.

Who knew one person could produce so many tears? You wonder when your body will run out. You don't know how much time passes, only aware that darkness starts to fill the space as the evening eclipse arises.

“Oh, YN” the silence is broken by your cousin's soft voice.

Tsireya had wondered where you had gone, had been confused about your departure until she clocked Neteyam with a Lei around his neck that was quite obviously not yours.

“I’m sorry” Is all she whispers as she slips into the bed next to you, her arm winding around your middle.

It starts a whole nother round of tears. Of crying, mourning what you thought you could have.

“I-I-I’m so s-stupid” you stutter, snotty and muffled. She shakes her head, tears of her own starting to form as she holds you tighter.

“No, don't say that cousin. You’re not stupid” Tsireya soothes as she pets your hair. It hurts to see you in such a state. This had to be a mistake, she had been so sure of Neteyams feelings for you. Everyone had.

You shake your head, because you know you are. You knew you had little chance and still you’d paraded yourself in front of him like an idiot.

Never again, you vow to yourself.

To your shattered heart.

Wow, okay I didnt expect this to be so big, but I got so caught up in Metkayina Lore building that I kind of got sidetracked. Safe to say 90% of this story is going to be canon divergent. All of this Lore is my own creation and not Mr. Cameron's.

I have to give a shout out to two authors in the Avatar fandom that have inspired me the most as I write this.

@tiredmamaissy has really carved out a niche when it comes to the sexual nature of Pandora. I love the way she portrays Na'vi relationships and if this story leans a bit A/B/O its because I cant see the Na've not going to Heat's/Ruts now. She's just so good.

@loaksky when I tell you that reading her work makes me want to hone my craft, I mean that shit. She is a wordsmith in a way that you don't see much anymore. I am obsessed with how she long hand story tells and I def feel inspired everytime I read one of her fics. Queen of will they wont they/ slow burn.

[yuitoru]

๑ ⋆˙⟡ ⠀ 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 ⠀ ๑ ⋆˙⟡

๑ feat : lucifer morningstar , alastor

๑ cw : angst , happy ending for reader , swearing

๑ part one

today marked the one year anniversary of your separation from the king of hell, and you were happier than the previous annum. after having left the manor with nothing but the few bags of luggage to your name, you stumbled upon an establishment that had been uttered by the demons around you. the 'hazbin hotel' - whilst the name was mostly unfamiliar, you were desperate for the free accommodation, so you used whatever of the funds lucifer had left you with to make your way across the pentagram towards the hotel.

your arrival to the establishment was well-welcomed by the owner of the hotel, and the daughter of your former lover, charlie. her bubbly and warm persona was a stark contrast to the treatment you received from her father - you experienced more care and affection from the girl than you ever had from lucifer himself. the rest of the staff and guests welcomed you with warm arms, quickly making you the newest member of their supposed chosen family.

now, a year into your stay at the hazbin hotel, and you could honestly say that this was the happiest you had been in your entire life - alive, and dead. you had friends that cared about you, a fun and entertaining daily life, and your heart had begun to beat for another. despite the way he had treated you in the past, you couldnt help but feel guilty for falling for someone new. it was apparent that, no matter how hard you tried to fight it, you could never completely forget about the first man you truly fell in love with.

you had confided to charlie late one night during the first few months of your stay, when insecurity and anxiety had been plaguing your mind for days on end. you ended up sobbing to her as you spilled the details of your 'relationship' with lucifer, and the horrified expression on charlie's face only made you cry more. she held you in her arms for the remainder of your tears, until you eventually fell asleep from exhaustion. upon waking tucked into your bed the following morning, a neatly folded note laid on your bedside table, reading in neat, loopy handwriting,

'i hope youre feeling after last night. im glad that you felt comfortable enough to talk to me about that :) we saved you breakfast!' - charlie ♡

a warm smile lit up your face as you read the note, placing it back down on the bedside table before sliding out of bed and beginning your morning routine. twenty minutes later, you headed downstairs and were met with the warming scent of breakfast. in the kitchen, alastor stood by the counter, two cups of steaming hot coffee in his hands. after having noticed you, his ears shot up slightly and his smile widened almost unnoticeably. he placed a mug of coffee down by a plate of warm food, before speaking up to you.

"good morning, my dear! hope you slept well - sleep is extremely important, you know! the others are out right now, but i thought that you would appreciate some company this morning..."

you could only let out an airy laugh as you sat down, taking the neatly placed utensils into your hands and beginning your meal. the whole time, alastor ensured to keep a lively conversation running, cracking an occasional joke every so often - just so he could witness your gorgeous smile. he would never admit to it, but alastor would do anything to keep that lovely look on your face. after finishing with your breakfast, you helped alastor with the dishes before heading over to the parlour and sprawling your body over a sofa. alastor sat himself down on a nearby armchair and turned on the radio on the coffee table, and the two of you enjoyed the other's company whilst listening to soft jazz in the background.

during your stay at the hazbin hotel, your initial civil friendship with alastor began to slowly develop into something more - you two spent more and more time together, to the point where the others would get concerned if one of you was without the other. there was no suitable label to what the two of you were, but one night changed it all, redefining your entire relationship.

you were sat by the bar, maintaining a conversation with husk as you sipped on your drink. it had been a peaceful day, and the clocks were edging towards eight in the evening - the radio was on again, and everyone else was sat talking in the parlour. as you stretched your back out, you could practically sense eyes lingering on your figure, and as you turned around to see who it was, your eyes locked onto alastor's, who just sent you a grin. standing up from his chair, he made his way towards you and sat in the vacant bar stool next to you. husk just glanced at him before beginning to make his drink that he knew by heart from being around the radio demon for far too long, in husk's opinion. you sent alastor a small smile, mumbling out softly,

"hi, al, everything okay?," you asked him, swirling your drink around, watching the liquid slide down the side of the glass. alastor chuckled quietly - that being his response to your question. you could tell he was thinking about something, and when husk handed him his drink, he took a deep sip of the strong whiskey before sighing.

"im fine, sweetheart. ive just been thinking a lot, thats all," that was the only explanation he gave, clearly not wanting to say more. his ears were slightly drooped, and his body language was much more slumped and relaxed than his usual rigid and uptight stance. it was obvious that something big was on his mind, something that he needed to talk about but was reluctant to do so. with a small sigh, you gently reach your hand out and hold his cheek, turning his head to face you. it was common knowledge that alastor mostly resented physical contact, but he didnt seem to mind it as much when it was done by you. his eyes slightly widened and his smile seemed a little uncertain, as his breath hitched.

it might have been the already building alcohol in his system, but in that moment, he swore you looked like an angel, by some cruel twisted fate. you looked heavenly in his eyes, something too pure for the depths of hell to corrupt. without even thinking straight, his lips were pressed against your cheek, before pulling away just as fast as it had happened. you could only stare at him in shock as your hand shot up to clutch the area alastor had kissed. by this point, husk had already moved over to the parlour, not wanting to witness the grossly romantic scene in front of him, and avoiding the possibility of alastor attempting to kill him for being too close to him and you.

"alastor.." was all you could say, your heart and brain alike going into overdrive. it had been way too long since you had been kissed so tenderly, or even kissed at all - lucifer never initiated a kiss during your relationship. you stared at the radio demon in shock, before an idea of your own crossed your mind. leaning your face closer to his, you whispered out, "kiss me properly," before pressing your lips against his. the kiss didnt last that long, but it was enough - enough for the two of you to accept all your suppressed feelings for the other, and for alastor to formerly ask you to be his lover.

now, you were walking down the stairs of the hotel, dressed in an oversized zip-up hoodie that covered up to your mid thigh, and warm baggy shorts. you had slept in after a tiring evening, and were making your way down to have coffee with everyone else, as everyone usually did in the mornings. what you werent expecting, however, was to see the whole hotel decorated with an assortment of decorations, but more surprisingly, your former lover standing in the entryway of the hotel. you froze from where you stood on the landing tread of the stairs, not wanting to believe what you were seeing. your heart began racing and your body started to tremble as you watched lucifer turn around and lock eyes with you - him sharing your shocked expression. you averted your gaze to charlie, who could only give you an apologetic look, before you quickly turned around and darted back up the stairs towards your room.

lucifer just watched you scramble away with a conflicted look in his eyes, his grip on his cane tightening significantly. he still remembered the look on your face when you left the manor a year ago, and the confusingly painful emptiness in his heart that followed after your absence. he turned to look at his daughter, a hint of betrayal lingering in his gaze.

"you never mentioned that she was here," he mumbled out, watching as charlie could only sigh and look down at her dad. before she even responded, alastor turned to walk towards the stairs, calling out in an obnoxious tone, "im going to go check on my lover, if thats alright. feel free to continue this social setting without me," was all he said, as he began climbing up the stairs. his usual grin only widened as he felt lucifer's stare on his back, knowing that he had successfully pissed off the king of hell.

you were curled up underneath your duvet, sobbing quietly. you had thought that you were completely over lucifer, but deep down, your heart would always unconsciously yearn for him. the soft knock on your door didnt even register in your mind, nor did the creaking of the door hinges. the dipping of the mattress was what finally snapped you out of your self-pitying trance. a gentle hand reached down to lift the duvet off of your body, and it traced the soft features of your face.

"dont cry over him, my dear. im here, am i not?" the sound of alastor's voice caused you to slowly sit up from your previously curled position on your bed. looking up at him with teary eyes, you couldnt help your sniffling as you tried to stop yourself from crying even more . alastor just silently opened his arms for you, which you gladly accepted and crawled into his comforting embrace.

meanwhile, lucifer was pacing the lobby downstairs, his grip on his cane so strong it threatened to break the metal staff. his mind was racing; his heart pounding rapidly in his chest. of course he knew that you would move on after the break up, but with the radio demon? moreover, he certainly wasnt expecting to see you again, especially at his daughter's hotel out of all places. hundreds of thoughts swarmed lucifer's head, buzzing all around like a beehive. he knew that this had all first started because of him - he was the one to selfishly lead you on and break your heart, and now he had to pay the price of his actions. despite his overwhelming and eternal love for his first wife, you had filled the void in his heart without him ever truly realising it. or maybe he did realise, and chose to run away instead of coming to terms with his feelings. but now, it was all too late. you had moved on, and were happier with someone else.

all he could do was watch silently as you were nuzzled up on alastor's lap later that evening, your face tucked into the radio demon's neck. he was forced to come to terms with how much he had messed up, and lost against love for the second time in his life.

© yuitoru™ — dont copy, plagiarise, repost, modify and/or translate my works

[aether-starlight]

Silence - Zayne

Pairing: Zayne x Reader

Warnings: Minor injury, grief, brief mention of addiction.

Summary: After avoiding Zayne for some time, a situation arises where you are left with no choice but to see him.

Word Count: 1.5K

Anyone who knew you for long enough was aware of how much you disliked uncomfortable silences.

You always felt the urge to ease tense atmospheres, to build a bridge between opposing sides.

When Caleb had gone through that rebellious stage most teenagers seemed to experience at some point, you had been the mediator between him and Grandma.

Piercings were allowed after hours of soothing and convincing. Hunter's training had been authorized despite the fear of losing someone precious, accepting their freedom to choose.

Now, as Zayne placed careful stitches on your right cheek, you came to realize that you couldn’t be a person and a bridge at the same time.

He was upset, it was clear in the tense set of his jaw, the closed-off gaze he regarded you with, strictly medical in his evaluation of your injuries.

You know I’ll wait for you, you said the last time you saw him.

And yet, you had rescheduled appointments for later dates and avoided places you knew he’d probably be in.

You had been off social media in case he uploaded one of his rare posts, probably a disappointed restaurant review, or a reminder to his patients.

You had waited for anything he had been willing to give. A text, a call. But none had come, and it made you both furious and heartbroken.

No, you couldn’t be a bridge with Zayne.

You couldn’t stand in the middle. To have his affection but not his trust, a door only opened by halfs.

You would have all of him or nothing at all.

Of course, life, being such a poor comedian, had soon decided otherwise.

That Wanderer had gotten you good.

You had lost focus, too worried about watching over the kid hiding under a desk at your back to dodge long, sharp limbs.

Now your face was colored in shades of purple and blue, with the gash running down your cheek taking the price.

The receptionist knew who your head doctor was, and had almost screamed Zayne’s name into the phone when you accidentally scattered drops of blood at the edge of her desk.

You had been mid-apology when he stormed out of his office, quieting you with a single look.

Now, the atmosphere was certainly uncomfortable as he barely uttered a word beyond instructions of turning your head or how to care for the wound for the following weeks.

Silence had been filled with words that in the end felt hollow.

But now he was done, and his hand was still gently cradling your unharmed cheek, tilting your injured side to the light.

The scent of blood and antiseptic dimmed beneath the freshly washed clothes and lavender, coming from the sleeve of his white coat.

He called your name. You winced lightly at the repetition of your earlier mistake.

Zoning out was a matter of life or death in your daily life, and lately, you had been at odds without it.

“When was the last time you slept through the night?”

“You know I haven’t for a while now,” you replied quietly, gaze downcast.

Nightmares plagued you still. It was hard to disconnect from a job that required you to be in a constant state of alert.

His grip slid to your upper arm, a gentle pressure over your half-singed sleeve. You were lucky. So incredibly lucky to be alive.

“Why didn’t you make an appointment? I could have prescribed you a sleep-inducer.”

Your gaze darted to your lap, hands trembling, with uneven nails and scratched knuckles.

What a mess.

“I have an appointment.”

“A month due,” he chastised. “Do not think I am unaware that you rescheduled it.”

Your hands closed into fists as you finally met his eyes.

“You know why I did that.”

This time he was the one to look away.

“Do you wish for me to refer you?” A muscle twitched in his jaw.

You gritted your teeth, something half grieving-half furious stinging behind your eyes.

“I don’t.”

His hand was still on your arm and you could not figure out for the life of you why that was.

He sighed, weaker the longer he stared into your eyes. He had been told more than once that his evol was perfect for him. Cold as ice.

If he was ice, then you were the sunlight that slowly thawed it, changed it into something warmer, more adaptable.

A light that had come so close to being snuffed out.

Before he knew it, his forehead was pressed to yours, eyes closed as he basked in the darkness your conjoined shapes cast, the scent of you beneath all the grime and blood, of jasmine and warmth.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out.

Your lips pressed together, and your face contracted in that unflattering way it does when one is holding back tears.

“Why would you suggest that?” Your voice was small, betrayed. His sudden closeness surprised you, mostly because of the way your body reacted, pliant as an addict at the hint of temptation.

Zayne leaned back, cupping the back of your neck, running his thumb down the line of your jaw.

The low temperature of his hand soothed your heated skin, carefully pressed to the swollen and bruised areas.

“Perhaps it is because I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

You smiled, but it was humorless, wincing when it pulled at your stitches.

“It’s in the job description, unfortunately.”

Contradicting emotions bloomed within his gaze.

Repentance, relief, open and closed. His heart was a room you liked to peer into before the door slammed shut.

Someone knocked, coming in only to halt at your presence. A male doctor stood by the door. He seemed to be around Zayne’s age.

Surprisingly enough, Zayne didn’t pull away, keeping his hand where it was, now pressing his thumb beneath your ear.

The young doctor—Greyson, guided by his name tag—, gaped at the sutures on your cheek. Or perhaps at the rainbow of bruises marring your face.

You winced, an uncomfortable feeling spreading at the pit of your stomach. It was strange to be seen in such a vulnerable state by a complete stranger.

Noticing your discomfort, Zayne shifted to partially hide you from view.

“Yes?” He asked frigidly.

You often forgot how cold he could be. It was a pleasing contrast to how soft he was only for you; and a painful reminder of everything he had been through.

Getting information about Zayne’s past from his own lips was a challenging task. The few times he shared his experience as a combat medic and missions at Mount Eternal had been in an attempt to comfort you.

Doctor Grayson relayed information concerning a patient’s health improvement, placing a file on Zayne’s desk.

“I’ll see to their discharge,” he said, not turning until Grayson had shut the door behind him.

You felt yourself sag in relief, leaning forward until your forehead was pressed to his shoulder, eyes closed.

Lavender and antiseptic surrounded you, held you in the present, and kept your feet rooted to the Earth.

It was only once you felt the growing dampness on his coat, that you realized you were crying, shoulders shaking beneath his touch.

Zayne let out a low sound from the back of his throat, something sorry and tender.

“Why the tears, sweetheart?”

Pulling back, you roughly ran the back of your hands to your cheeks.

“I don’t know,” you admitted in a croaky voice. “I guess I’m just tired.”

Zayne’s gaze was soft as he grabbed your wrists, pulling them down to wipe your tears himself, with slow swipes of his thumbs.

Unable to meet his eyes, your attention drifted to the movement of his fingers, lithe and steady.

One day you had arrived for a check-up and his hands were littered with scars, a shade lighter than his skin.

You had ran the tips of your fingers over them, traced their rise and fall, felt the echo of his evol against your own, something sorrowful and guarded.

He had let out a derisive comment, something about his hands being no longer useful for anything but surgery.

Now, as they cradled your face so carefully, you couldn’t help but strongly disagree.

“Zayne,” you murmured, finally meeting his gaze.

Beneath your damp lashes, your eyes were red. Your hair could have used a comb, and your clothes were half charred. Not to mention the sorry state of your face.

And yet, to Zayne you had never been so dignified. A hunter in your own right, you were the one he bowed to as you bled. The one he thought of when pondering salvation.

You took the pain meant for others and crafted it into something else, something pure and meaningful.

When he answered, he was half ashamed to admit that his voice came out pliant and quiet.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

Your features were open and docile, something he was still too afraid to inspect. It opened the scars of the past, yearned for you to see them, hold them closed between your fingers.

“Can I crash here?”

His eyes darted to the painfully white couch you were meant to lie on if you did, then studied the grime and blood in your hunter uniform.

Lastly, he thought of the pile of clinical notes that awaited him.

He was a weak, weak man.

“Of course. I’ll wake you when I finish.”

The smile you offered him was nothing short of dazzling, even when toned down by your injury.

“Then your place?”

He flicked your chin, oddly playful.

“My place,” he confirmed.

[catch1ngmoths]

BRO I LOVE YOUR WRITING OML ESPECIALLY WITH JOOST ?! MHSKYTJSSYJ

Anywho im allergic to happiness rn so could you write a joost x reader (gn if possible, if you don’t do gn do whatever your comfortable doing idm:3) with like reader admitting that they’ve been struggling (like with depression, suicidal thoughts etc etc)

If you’re uncomfortable with any of this feel free to ignore!! Have an amazing day/night AND GET SOME SLEEP(•̀ᴗ•́)و

࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ SOBER TO DEATH ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ “take your hands off your neck and hold onto the ghost of my body…” - car seat headrest 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋

Summary: you’ve been struggling with depression and suicidal thoughts. You’re struggling with a pretty bad mental episode just as your boyfriend Joost comes home…

Note: I love you all omfg, the support is insane! I absolutely love writing and reading angst so I get you annon 🙏🏻. PART TWO OF, “Only stay with you one more night” WILL BE OUT TOMORROW!!

Warnings: mentions of depression, suicidal thoughts, bad mental episode + comfort

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

You’ve been going through it, really going through it. You had no energy to do anything anymore. No energy to get outta bed, brush your teeth, or even eat. You felt utterly and completely worthless every single day of your life.

The thoughts of getting rid of all the pain and suffering your mind made you go through on a daily basis plagued your mind. The only reason you’d haven’t gone through with your plethora of ideas to end it all was your boyfriend, Joost.

He was the most important person in your life and the best guy you’d ever met. He always helped your mood; anytime he smiles, you smile. Anytime he laughs, you laugh. Anytime he’s happy, you’re happy. But he wasn’t around, not here to talk to you and hold you in his arms.

He was on tour and had been for the past few weeks, you’d realized how bad it’s been without the comfort and just presence of Joost. Don’t get me wrong, every day he was away from you he felt even more annoyed and irritated with everyone around him. Not his fans of course, while performing that was the little peace he got in the day. He just wanted to hold you, he craved it. Just the sight of you made his nerves calm immediately.

You both were like a cure to each others bad moods (THE CURE MENTIONED??!!), fixing each others problems by just being near each other. But your mental health has been the worst it’s ever been these few weeks. You don’t remember the last time you ate and especially drank water. You haven’t left your bed even, falling into deep thoughts of harming yourself that would worry anyone.

The good news is Joost was coming back today, he was practically rushing to get back home to you. FaceTime calls and texting just wasn’t doing it for him, he needed to hold and kiss you. You on the other hand totally forgot Joost was coming home, you’d lost track of time a while ago.

It was around 6pm when you heard the familiar sound of keys opening the front door of your apartment. Your eyes widen, is he home?? Is it really him..?! Before you can get outta your bed a figure comes running towards you with a wide smile, jumping on you and pulling you against them.

You feel yourself smile for the first time in weeks, breathing in the familiar smell of Joosts cologne. He grabs your cheeks and presses kisses all over your face, “missed you so so much baby” he says, his accent bringing the much needed comfort you craved.

He pulls away, looks at you and can immediately tell something’s wrong. He scans your face with narrowing eyes. You looked skinnier and had dark circles around your eyes, even still looking beautiful as ever but he knew you weren’t okay. He doesn’t need to elaborate or even explain, he just says, “what’s been going on in that pretty little head of yours hmm.?”

You sigh, he always knew when something was wrong. He would never let it go unanswered or ignored, “I’ve been getting worse without you here..” you say with a sad sigh, you could always be open and honest with him both of you knew that.

“Talk to me mijn lieve schatje” he says, rubbing your back comfortingly. You pour you heart out, you tell him all about your suicidal thoughts. You tell him about how you haven’t eaten or drinking anything in god knows how long. Your body felt so weak, it took a lot out of you to even raise your arm. You explain how depressed you’ve been, feeling like the most miserable person ever.

He gives you his full and undivided attention, keeping eye contact even when you looked away he stares at you with the most intense eyes that were filled with love and nothing but utter care and worry for your wellbeing. Once you’re done he immediately begins, “well first of all, I’m gonna make you something to eat and drink.”

He says picking you up and carrying you to the kitchen, placing you on the countertop and making you food. Not before handing you a water bottle and making sure you drink all of it. Once your fead, he brings you to the bathroom. You both shower together, he washes your hair and body affectionately while he presses kisses wherever he could.

Once you were both back in bed and ready to sleep he speaks once more right before you were about to fall asleep. “You’re coming on tour with me for now on, I don’t think I can spend that long without you again.” Is the last thing you hear before long kisses are pressed to your eyelids before you’re consumed by darkness….

[ghoulsbounty]

Could I possibly ask for a second part to What Happens Tonight, where maybe he gets a little more vulnerable with the reader and we see some of those walls being broken down? (But not fully, I still LOVE the angst of him not wanting to give himself fully to someone and how the reader struggles with it)

What Happens Tonight pt 2

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Ex-Vaultie!Reader (fem)

Summary: After the events during the radstorm, you confront the Ghoul about his true feelings.

Warnings: smut (18+), riding, a lot of grinding, fingering, the gloves stay ON, feeding Rad-X, mutual pining, emotionally stunted Cooper, slight soft!dom Cooper, miscommunication, angst.

Word Count: 3.1K

A/N: Thank you for all the love received on WHT part one, and thank you anon for specifically requesting a part two. I had a lot of fun with this one and delved more into the smut but still tried to make sure Cooper kept his boundaries. I’d love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

👉 Read part one HERE 👈

It had been several weeks since you sought refuge in the vault, a period marked by the moment you surrendered yourself entirely to Cooper. The memory of that night left a persistent ache between your thighs, serving as a constant reminder of the intimacy you shared and the emptiness you now felt. Despite this, Cooper had not addressed the matter with you since then. Whenever you attempted to discuss what had come to be known as "the night of the radstorm," he would abruptly turn away, his body rigid and his gaze averted. The tension between you grew with each passing day, the unspoken words creating a chasm that seemed impossible to bridge.

By the time you both composed yourselves the next morning, the sinister weather had come and gone. While the storm had left a physical mess outside, the emotional turmoil between you had created an even greater one. An awkwardness had settled over your relationship, forming an invisible barrier that hadn't existed before. You longed for this tension to vanish as the storm had, but it persisted, clinging to your interactions like a second skin. This discomfort coloured every conversation, every glance, leaving you both trapped in a web of unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

You supposed this was the consequence of crossing that boundary, daring to entertain the notion that you and the Ghoul could be more than mere traveling companions. Your relationship had always been one of convenience, a mutual arrangement for survival. But that night had altered everything—at least for you.

Constantly, you replayed the moments in your mind: the intimacy you shared in that confined space, the way his hands moved over your body with a mix of urgency and reverence. You wondered if you had misread the signals, if the heat of the moment had clouded your judgment. The way he touched you, the way he held you—it all felt so real, so genuine. Yet now, it seemed like a fleeting dream, dissipating in the harsh light of reality. Each touch, each whisper of that night lingered in your thoughts, making you question the line between reality and illusion, and leaving you to ponder whether the connection you felt was ever truly mutual.

But weren't you the one who assured him it would mean nothing? And yet, here you were, longing for him every night as you lay on your bedroll, the void he left behind more palpable than his presence ever was. You couldn't help but feel the emptiness, the way his absence seemed to echo within you.

You found yourself watching him when he wasn't looking, searching for any sign that he felt the same way, that he missed you too. But he remained closed off, his walls higher than ever. Each glance in his direction was met with an unyielding façade, leaving you to wonder if he had already moved on or if he, too, was silently grappling with the same confusion and longing that plagued your thoughts.

You tried to focus on the tasks at hand, to distract yourself with the daily challenges of survival. Yet, every silence between you, every avoided glance, only deepened the chasm that had formed. The tension was a constant reminder of what had changed, making it difficult to concentrate on anything else.

You found yourself wishing for another storm, another night where you could both let down your guards and be vulnerable with each other again. But you knew better than to rely on such whims. Reality rarely afforded such convenient opportunities. You had to face the growing divide head-on, even if it meant confronting the possibility that the connection you craved might never be rekindled.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and cast long shadows across the wasteland, you found yourself alone with Cooper once more. The silence between you was heavy, almost suffocating, and you knew that you couldn't go on like this. You needed to address the elephant in the room, to find some way to mend the rift that had formed.

"Cooper," you began hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper. "We need to talk about what happened that night."

He stiffened at your words, his eyes flickering briefly to yours before he looked away. "There's nothing to talk about," he replied, his tone clipped and guarded.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. "You know that's not true," you countered, looking down at him from where you stood. The warm glow from the crackling fire highlighted his features as he leaned back against the wall from his position on his bedroll.

Cooper's eyes flickered with a mix of emotions, but he remained silent, staring into the flames as if searching for answers. You stepped closer, the soft crunch of your boots on the gritty floor the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.

"That night," you continued, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest, "I said whatever happened wouldn't matter but... I was wrong. It meant something, and I need to know what it meant to you."

He sighed deeply, running a hand over his bald head before meeting your gaze. "You talk too much," he said in a biting tone, eyes downcast as he kicked his boot out in frustration.

"And you don't talk enough," you said defiantly, lightly kicking at his boot when he still refused to meet your gaze despite the scoff that escaped his lips. "You can't just ignore me, or pretend it didn't happen. If you regret it... well, I can handle it. I'm a big girl, Cooper."

"We'd be stupid not to regret it," he admitted, his hands occupied with reloading bullets into the bandolier on his lap. "Doesn't mean I didn't like it," he added quietly, almost to himself.

His words left you feeling conflicted. On one hand, you were relieved to hear that he had found pleasure with you, perhaps as much as you did with him. But the admission of regret lingered, casting a shadow over the memory. He wanted you to feel the same remorse, but you couldn't bring yourself to do so.

"I don't regret it," you declared, your voice firm. "I wanted you then, and I still want you now. Whatever it is that's holding you back, that's between you and your own conscience. But here I am, with you, and I want you."

His eyes snapped to you then, dark and swirling with emotion as he glared up at you. "Have you been taking those pills?"

You looked at him, confused, searching your memory for what he meant until the Rad-X pills surfaced in your mind. You remembered taking one that night after he'd left them on the bed, then discarding them into the recesses of your bag and not thinking about them since.

"What do the pills have to do with anything?" you asked, still bewildered.

Cooper's jaw clenched, frustration etched across his features as he averted his gaze once more. "Supposed to take 'em before exposure," he muttered, "but you were going wild, locking those thighs 'round me so damn hard. I might not seem like it, sweetheart, but I'm just a man," he added, his voice carrying both irritation and a hint of amusement. 

Your cheeks flushed at his words, recalling the intensity of the moment when you ground down on his cock as he attempted to pry you off him, moments before he relented and filled you with his hot load.

"If you've been taking them regularly," he continued, meeting your eyes with a meaningful glance, "you'd likely have developed a fair resistance by now."

Accepting the Rad-X felt like a symbolic gesture, a token of protection offered in the aftermath of that intimate moment, meant to erase any lingering traces of radiation from him. You appreciated his small attempt at aftercare, yet couldn't shake the feeling that it was tinged with regret for his own actions. Now, as he sat before you, finally meeting your gaze after what felt like an eternity, a realization dawned upon you: his offering wasn't just a momentary solution, but a precaution for the future. It hinted at a desire for something more.

Your heart swelled with the realization, a mixture of relief and hope before reality dawned on you. "I haven't been taking them," you admitted, your voice soft but steady. "I didn't know that you wanted me to."

He rolled his eyes at the whine that cracked your voice, discarded his bandolier on the ground beside him before lifting his hand towards you with a curled finger in a beckoning gesture. Almost instinctively, you found yourself drawn towards him until you were standing above him, your legs positioned on either side of his as he gazed up at you. His gloved hands traced up the sides of your legs, pausing at your hips before firmly grasping them and tugging you down to your knees, so that you straddled him. A gasp escaped you, a blend of surprise and anticipation echoing in the air.

"Don't get it, do you?" he murmured, his voice a rough whisper against your ear as he pulled you closer. "I wanted to get you ready for me."

You shivered at his words, the intensity of his gaze boring into yours as you leant back to look at him. "Cooper, I—"

"Shh," he interrupted, his hands tightening on your hips, grounding you. "You're still talking too much."

His lips captured yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue pushing for dominance over yours as he held you tight against him. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders for balance, feeling the rough fabric of his coat beneath your fingertips as he dragged your clothed cunt against the growing erection straining his dirty pinstripe pants. The friction sent sparks of pleasure through your body, your hips moving instinctively to grind against him, seeking more.

Cooper's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he guided your movements, his kiss growing more demanding. You moaned into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his insistent lips. Every drag of your body against his made you wetter, your desire pooling between your thighs and soaking through the fabric of your underwear.

With a swift motion, he tugged your shirt over your head, tossing it aside before leaning in to capture one of your nipples between his teeth through the thin fabric of your bra. You gasped, your back arching as his hands worked to unclasp the garment and free your breasts. The cool air hit your skin briefly before his mouth was on you again, sucking and nipping at your sensitive flesh.

Your hands fumbled with the lapels of his coat, desperate to feel more of him, to erase the barriers between your bodies. He helped you, shrugging out of the heavy garment and discarding it with a careless flick of his wrist. You were pleasantly surprised when he let you undo the buttons of his waistcoat, shrugging it off before he stopped your fingers at their decent on his shirt.

"It stays on," he told you gruffly, a hint of vulnerability in his voice that urged you to accept his decision without a second thought. You nodded, your hands running over the fabric of his shirt and across his chest, down his abdomen, feeling the hard muscle beneath the material, the scars that told stories of his past. He groaned at your touch, his hips grinding up against you as his hands slid down to the waistband of your pants, deftly undoing the button and zipper.

"Lift up," he commanded, and you complied, rising just enough for him to peel the garment down your legs, your underwear following shortly after. You were completely exposed to him now, the cool air of the room making you shiver as he gazed at you with a hunger that made your pulse race.

"What a sight," he said, his voice rough with need as he pulled you back down onto his lap, your bare cunt pressing against his clothed erection

You whimpered, the heat of him so close yet so far driving you crazy. "Please, Cooper," you whispered, rocking your hips against him. "I need you."

"I know," he replied with a wicked grin, his hands gripping your ass and guiding your movements, the friction of his pants against your clit making you see stars. "Been needing you for a long time now. Long before that night."

You nibbled on your lip, the waves of pleasure cresting within you almost overwhelming as you surrendered to the sensation of him beneath you. "What kept you so long?" you gasped, your hand instinctively caressing the nape of his neck, your thumb tracing the contours of the thick muscles there.

He chuckled, leaning into your touch, his gaze lingering thoughtfully on your face. "Just honing my patience," he replied with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You huffed in exasperation at his calm demeanour, your hands moving to undo the buckle of his belt and the buttons of his pants. As you attempted to reach for him, your hand was swatted away, and you tried again, only to be met with the same resistance. "Hey, cut it out," you scolded him, a mix of frustration and desire evident in your tone.

"You'll get it, don't you doubt," he teased, his voice low and playful. With a swift movement, one gloved hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding their way into your wet heat. A gasp escaped your lips as he penetrated you, his touch igniting a fire within you. Another finger joined the first, and he expertly curled them upwards, hitting that sweet spot inside you that had you burying your face in the crook of his neck with a muffled cry. "Oh, there she is," he declared proudly, a smirk evident in his voice.

You mewled softly against his salty skin, your lips pressing eagerly against the muscle as he slid his leather-clad fingers in and out of you with a delicious rhythm. Each movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, and you couldn't help but rock your hips into his palm, seeking out the friction that made your nerves sing.

You trailed hot kisses along the skin of his neck, feeling his pulse quicken beneath your lips, and then, unable to resist, you bared your teeth and bit down gently. His response was immediate—a deep, guttural groan—as he grabbed at your ass with his free hand, urging you on, encouraging you to ride his fingers with abandon.

Your mind swirled with the sensations of being wrapped around him once more, your movements growing increasingly erratic as you chased the elusive peak of pleasure. He smiled against your bare shoulder, his hand releasing it's hold on your behind to fumble inside your bag that rested beside him as he anticipated your impending climax.

Seconds later, he pushed you back slightly, holding a small brown bottle in his hand. You whined in protest as his fingers slowed to a taunting pace inside you, desperate to regain the momentum you had lost. Your hips bucked instinctively, urging him to quicken the pace once more.

He tapped your cheek lightly with two fingers from the hand that held the bottle, meeting your gaze with a serious expression. "One more move like that, and I'll take them out," he warned, his tone firm but tinged with amusement.

You frowned at the threat but nodded in compliance. Your eyes followed his movements as he deftly unscrewed the cap of the bottle with his teeth, retrieving one of the red pills with his fingers before setting the bottle aside. He held the pill out to you, his gaze fixated on your mouth as he spoke. "Let me see it."

You hesitated for a moment, then complied, slowly opening your mouth and extending your tongue for him. He delicately placed the pill on your tongue, prompting you to close your mouth with another tap on your cheek. As you did, he captured your lips in another passionate kiss, his tongue dancing with yours as he gently manipulated the pill inside your mouth. Finally, he pulled away, leaving a trail of saliva between your lips as he watched you swallow the pill with a satisfied smile.

Your body vibrated at the intimacy, eyes blown as you felt his thick thumb begin to circle your clit, his earlier ministrations continuing as he fucked you hard with his fingers, bouncing you on the palm of his hand. His free hand slid back over the curve of your ass, squeezing firmly as he intensified his movements.

"C-Cooper, please," you began, your voice trembling with need as the heat between your legs intensified, the sound of your wetness filling the quiet room. You dug your nails into his shoulders, anchoring yourself in the overwhelming sensation as he pressed his thumb against your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Almost," he murmured, pushing against the spongy spot inside you that had you hurtling towards the edge. Your eyes rolled back as you gushed into his palm, hot liquid streaming down your thighs as you screamed his name. He smirked, his fingers never ceasing their relentless pace as he stroked you through your orgasm. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he rocked you against him, grounding you in the midst of your intense pleasure. His breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, "That's it, let it all out."

When the last surge of your climax had left your body, you slumped against his chest, head nestled in the crook of his neck as you caught your breath. You kissed his neck, running your lips up his strong jaw until you met his cracked lips. He hummed into you, grabbing your wrist tightly when you began to trail it down to the bulge in his pants.

"Easy there," he muttered, his breath hot against your ear. His grip on your wrist was firm, almost possessive, and he held you close. "What's the hurry, sweetheart?"

You regarded him with incredulity, your gaze searching his eyes for any sign of understanding as you boldly voiced your desire. "I took the pill," you stated firmly, your words weighted with intent. "I want you to fuck me."

He chuckled, his gaze briefly dropping before meeting yours once more. "Oh, I know you do," he said, withdrawing his fingers from your sopping core. A whimper escaped your lips as your walls clenched around nothing, longing for the sensation he had just provided. He brought his glistening gloved fingers to his lips, licking at them with a low groan of approval. Then, he pressed the tips of his digits against your parted lips, hooking them inside your lower teeth while holding his thumb beneath your chin.

"Let this be your lesson to take the fuckin' pills," he admonished, his voice carrying a mixture of gratification and warning.

His hands fell away, and you frowned at the sudden absence of his touch. He placed the previously discarded pill bottle in your palm, closing your fingers around it gently before guiding you off his lap and onto your bedroll beside him with a soft thud. Stretching his arms above him, he folded them behind his head, settling further back against the wall as he gazed out at the crackling fire.

"Until then," he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of resignation, "we'll both be practicing a little patience."