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d1stalker · 1 month

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The Feeling's Mutual | Part One

[Logan Howlett x Mutant!Reader]

Summary: If somebody told you a week ago that you were a mutant, being stalked, and would be teaming up with an annoying, grumbly bastard, you probably would have laughed in their face. Too bad that was last week, because here you are, in that very situation, wondering how in the world things escalated so quickly.

PART TWO PART THREE FINAL PART

Warnings: fem!reader, canon-level violence, reluctant alliance, bickering, not exactly enemies-to-lovers but they don't rly get along, it's gonna be a slow burn y'all WC: 5.7k - MASTERLIST - A/N: If you saw me post this earlier, no you didn't 🤫 i added more hehe

You’ve never been so confused in your entire life.

It all started last week—when you were walking to the grocery store. Just an ordinary day, nothing special about it. You had a list in your hand, some cash in your pocket, and thoughts of what to cook for dinner running through your mind. The route you took had you winding down the usual streets of your neighbourhood, and that’s when you noticed him.

Something about him was different, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on what it was that made you think that. Perhaps it was the way his eyes followed you, stalking you, like a predator its prey.

At first, you thought it might be a coincidence. Maybe he was just another person going about his day, heading in the same direction as you. People share paths all the time; there was no reason to suspect anything sinister, right? But as you continued walking, a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach told you something was off. You decided to test it, making a sudden turn down a side street, one you usually never take.

The street was quieter, less foot traffic, and the late afternoon shadows were starting to stretch across the pavement. You glanced over your shoulder, and there he was, still a few steps behind, his gaze remaining locked onto you with a focus that sent a shiver down your spine. Quickening your pace, you felt an almost paralyzing fear.

This wasn’t just a shared route.

The more you turned, the more you weaved through unfamiliar streets, the more persistent he became. He never faltered, never hesitated, always keeping just close enough to let you know he was there.

Finally, you reached the store, breathing in short, panicked gasps, your eyes flitting around. You ducked inside, hiding the fluorescent lights and bustling aisles. You tried to calm yourself, telling yourself it was nothing, that you were being paranoid. After all, what were the odds? Maybe he’d walk past, maybe he wasn’t even following you. You spent longer than usual picking up items you didn’t need, giving him time to disappear.

But when you walked back outside, bags in hand, you saw him again. He wasn’t right at the door, but still, close enough—across the street, half-hidden in the shadow of another building, watching. His eyes locked with yours once more, and you froze, the plastic handles of the grocery bags digging into your palms as your grip tightened in fear. He didn’t move, didn’t smile or sneer, just stood there, silent.

You rushed home, not even bothering to see if he was tracking you down, too scared to find out the answer. Your mind was racing with a million thoughts. Who was he? What did he want? You didn’t sleep much that night, jumping at every creak and groan the apartment made, the image of that man’s cold stare burned into your mind.

The next day, you told yourself it was nothing, a one-time thing, just some creep who had too much time on his hands. A pervert, possibly.

But happened again. A different man this time, but with the same unnerving intensity. He followed you the same way, mute and relentless, through the streets, to the store, and back home.

Then the day after that, and that, and that. They didn’t approach you directly, just followed, watched, waited. It was like a game, one that you didn’t know the rules to, and the stakes felt like they were getting higher and higher and more time passed. Whenever you stepped outside, you felt their eyes on you, felt their presence lurking just out of sight. It was terrifying.

The fear gnawed at you, growing with each passing day, until it became impossible to ignore. You started taking different routes, avoiding your usual stores, changing your routine as much as you could. Still, no matter what you did, they always found you.

Soon it changed—no longer just silent stalking. One night, as you were walking home, one of the men stepped out from the shadows and blocked your path. His presence was oppressive, the way he stood there, so still, so certain of his power over you. You had no idea what he wanted, but you knew it whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

“Why are you following me?” you demanded, trying to muster up all the courage you could, voice shaking slightly despite your attempt to sound strong.

“Because we were told to,” the man said, his voice cold and emotionless. There was no malice, no pleasure in his words, just a chilling matter-of-factness. “You’re coming with us.”

Panic surged through you, a primal instinct to run, to fight, to do anything but comply. You refused to show it, refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing your fear.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you spat back, hoping your defiance would be enough to make him reconsider.

His eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flashing in them, and before you could react, he lunged at you, his fist swinging with brutal intent. Time seemed to slow as you saw the blow coming, your mind racing, but your body moving almost on instinct. You raised your arms to defend yourself, bracing for the crushing impact that would follow.

You couldn’t explain what happened next. When his fist connected with your arm, the force that should have sent you to the ground, left you unscathed. Instead, it was the man who staggered back, a look of shock and pain twisting his features. He clutched his hand, wincing as if he had struck something far harder than just flesh and bone.

You stared at him, bewildered, before glancing down at your own arm in disbelief. There was no pain, no bruise, nothing to indicate that you’d just been hit. It was as if his attack had bounced off of you, like you were made of steel.

Had you really just blocked that hit? And why did it feel like… nothing?

Before you could process what had happened, before the realization could fully take root, another man appeared out of nowhere, moving with a speed that blurred the edges of his form. Mutant. He was faster than the first, more determined, and this time, you felt your heart stop as he came at you from behind, his hands outstretched to grab you.

But something in you reacted faster than your fear. You twisted out of his grip with lightning speed, with movements so fluid and precise, it was as if your body knew exactly what to do, even if your brain was struggling to keep up. You sidestepped his attack, narrowly avoiding his grasp, and found yourself behind him, safe for the moment.

“What the hell?” you muttered under your breath, your heart pounding in your chest. How did you move like that? How had you known where to go, how to dodge?

There was no time to dwell on it. The fight intensified in an instant, the two men coming at you one after another, relentless in their assault. They weren’t holding back, and suddenly neither were you. You moved like a force of nature, dodging their attacks, striking back when you could. Each punch you threw landed with a power that surprised even you. You watched in stunned disbelief as one of the men crumpled to the ground after a single blow, his eyes rolling back as if he’d been hit by a truck.

You are not a gym regular. In fact, you hadn’t worked out in weeks. You weren’t strong, not like this. So how was it possible that your punches were so devastating, that each one seemed to carry a weight far beyond what you’d ever imagined?

Then, with a flick of his wrist, the first mutant, conjured a ball of fire in his hand, the flames crackling and roaring, craving something to burn. He hurled it at you, the fireball spinning through the air with only one target in mind.

You barely had time to scream as the flames engulfed your arm, the searing heat burning through your skin. The pain was unbearable, a white-hot agony that made you gasp and stumble back. You expected to see your skin blackened, blistered, ruined.

And it was.

For a minute.

To your shock—or horror—you looked down, breath catching in your throat as you watched the burn heal right before your eyes. The charred skin knitted back together in seconds, smooth and unblemished, as if nothing had happened at all.

What the fuck?

It was in that moment that the truth hit you, like a thunderclap in your mind. You weren’t just an ordinary person caught in a nightmare. You were a mutant, with powers that had only now revealed themselves, right when you needed them most.

The men kept coming, but now you fought with a new understanding. Each punch, each dodge, each rapid movement felt more controlled, more intentional, your gym class self-defence courses coming in clutch. You were strong, faster than you’d ever been, and you could heal—regenerate from injuries that would have left others incapacitated.

Finally, the two men laid groaning on the ground, defeated. You stood there, panting, your mind spinning as you tried to make sense of it all. Super strength, super speed, regeneration… these powers, they were yours. And they had just saved your life.

But as the adrenaline began to fade, confusion set in. What did these men want with you? Why had they gone to such lengths to provoke you? To make you discover what you were capable of?

All you knew was that one thing was clear: this was far from over. Whoever had sent these men wouldn’t stop here. They knew what you were now, and that meant they’d come after you again. You weren’t just an ordinary person anymore. You were something else, something powerful. And that put a target on your back.

Whatever was coming next, you needed to be ready.

----

That’s how you found yourself here, one week later, crouched on the apartment rooftop, the cold wind nipping at your exposed skin. The dark streets below are eerily silent, save for the distant hum of traffic. You sense them before you see them—another group of male mutants, closing in on your position. You grip the hilt of your knife tighter, feeling the now-familiar twinge of anger and frustration settle in your chest. This is the fifth group tonight. They’ve been hunting you in groups for days now, their numbers increasing as each one goes by, and you’re tired of it.

You’ve started to get used to your new powers—testing your limits, pushing yourself harder with each confrontation. What started as simple self-defence, a punch here, a dodge there, has escalated into something far more lethal.

You didn’t want to kill, didn’t want to by use your sharpest kitchen knife (your only kitchen knife) as a weapon, but as the attacks became more violent, you found yourself with little to no choice.

These mutants weren’t holding back, and neither could you.

Within a week, you went from the most average person in the world to what some people might call a vigilante—except you're really only trying to save your own skin.

Leaping off the roof, you land silently behind them. The speed at which you move is almost dizzying, your body a blur as you close the distance in the blink of an eye.

“Looking for someone?” you call out sarcastically.

They turn, eyes widening in surprise, but you’re already moving. Your blade sings through the air, striking true, as you move like a shadow, taking them down one by one. It’s not easy—these guys are tough—but you’ve become tougher. With each strike, you can feel your strength surging, far beyond what should be possible. One of the mutants tries to block you, creating a forcefield, but you grab the edges before it can fully form, and break through it, the temporary pain vanishing as quick as it came. A solid kick to his face, and he crumples to the ground, unconscious before he even realizes it.

“Is this what you wanted?!” you shout, your voice echoing through the empty street as the last attacker falls to the ground, groaning in pain. “Is this what you came for?!”

The answer doesn’t come from them. Rather, it comes from a low growl behind you.

You whirl around, heart racing, and there he is—Logan Howlett—the Wolverine himself. The man you’ve read about in every article, every piece of mutant-related news you could get your hands on since discovering your own abilities. He’s infamous, pretty much a legend, and the stories about him are as terrifying as they are fascinating.

Standing there with that scowl on his face, he looks every bit the dangerous figure you’ve imagined. His eyes are blank, calculating, and you can feel the weight of his gaze as it sizes you up. There’s a tension in the air, thick and suffocating, as he takes a step closer.

“So, you’re the one causing all this trouble,” Logan states gruffly, irritation coating his tongue. He unsheathes his claws, the adamantium glimmering under the streetlights. The sound is unmistakable, and it sends shivers down your spine. “Heard you’ve been killin’ off mutants left and right.”

You narrow your eyes, instinctively stepping back into a defensive stance. Your heart is pounding, but you can't show any weakness.

“Funny, I thought the same about you, Wolverine. What’s the matter? Run out of bad guys to play hero with?”

Without warning, he charges at you, claws outstretched, but you’re ready. You dart to the side, your speed giving you an edge as his claws slice through the air where you’d been standing, making a woosh sound. You counter with a swift kick to his ribs, putting your enhanced strength into the blow. He grunts, stumbling slightly, but quickly regains his balance. The momentary advantage you gained is gone as he storms toward you once more.

You meet his attacks head-on, your blade clashing with his claws in a shower of sparks. The force of each impact reverberates through your arms, but you hold your ground, refusing to back down. His attacks are ferocious, a whirlwind of claws and fury. He's fast, but you’re faster, dodging and weaving with a precision that keeps you just out of reach.

“Look, sweetheart,” he growls between strikes, his frustration evident. “You can make this easy or hard. I don’t care which, but I’m not lettin’ you hurt anyone else.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you deflect another swipe of his claws. “Oh, please. You think I’m the bad guy here? These jerks have been coming after me for days. I’m just defending myself.”

Logan doesn’t look convinced, and that pisses you off more than anything. “Right. And I’m supposed to believe you, why? You’re leavin’ a trail of bodies behind you.”

You narrow your eyes, feeling the anger boil over. “Because I’m not the one who started this! They did! But of course, you wouldn’t know that, would you? You just show up, swinging your claws around like you’re the big savior.”

“You got a mouth on you, don’t ya?” He retorts, snarling as he charges at you again, faster this time. You barely have time to block his attack, the force of his blow sending you skidding back several feet. But you dig your heels in, refusing to give an inch as he continues plows forward. Your speed kicks in, allowing you to duck under his next swing and land a punch to his jaw.

He staggers, but quickly recovers, swiping at you with renewed fury. You're a bit sloppy compared to him, not as much of a seasoned fighter. His claws swipe at your arm, cutting deep and drawing blood, but the wound heals almost instantly, the skin closing up as if it had never been cut. You see the flicker of surprise in his eyes, but it doesn’t slow him down. He lunges again, becoming a blur of motion as he ups the ante.

You parry with your knife, but this time, you’re on the offensive. You launch a rapid series of attacks, your speed and strength managing to drive him back. In the rush of movement, you're able to see an opening, grasping his shoulder and shoving him hard, sending him crashing into a nearby wall. The impact is enough to crack the brick, but Logan just shakes it off, pushing himself back to his feet.

“Gotta say,” you huff, panting slightly from the exertion, “I’m a little disappointed. I expected more from the you, after all I’ve heard.”

Logan grunts, clearly fed up with the banter. “I'm done talking.”

He lunges at you again, and this time, it’s a battle of wills as much as it is of skill. You don't back down, your knife clashing with his claws in a series of rapid, brutal strikes. The alleyway becomes a blur of movement, metal against metal, strength against strength. Each time his claws find their mark, your regenerative abilities kick in, healing the wounds almost as quickly as they’re made.

And for a moment, you wonder if you’ll have to kill him too, just to survive. But then something shifts. Maybe it’s the way your attacks grow weaker, less lethal. Or maybe it’s the way Logan’s eyes narrow in realization when he notices your hesitance.

“Wait a damn minute,” Logan says, stepping back just out of your reach, wiping his mouth, then spitting on the ground. He’s breathing hard, just like you. “You’re holdin’ back.”

He pauses, his eyes narrowing as they flick down to the knife you’ve been holding, and then back up to you. His expression shifts, a mix of disbelief and exasperation crossing his face. “And is that a kitchen knife?”

You glance down at the knife in your hand, realizing how absurd it must look in the middle of this intense fight. It’s not exactly standard combat gear, but it’s all you had when this started. You can’t help the smirk that pulls at your lips as you meet his gaze again.

“It gets the job done,” you quip, shrugging slightly.

He shakes his head, clearly not impressed. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I'm choosing to take that as a compliment,” The sarcasm is practically oozing off of you.

He eyes you warily, his posture still tense. “You’re not makin’ this easy, you know. You got me here thinkin’ you’re some crazed mutant killer, but you’re just a girl wavin’ around a kitchen knife like you’re in a bad horror movie.”

You cross your arms. “Well, I didn’t exactly have time to hit up a weapons store. Besides, I didn’t ask for any of this. These guys came after me first.”

Logan studies you. “So you say. But you’re killing dozens of mutants. Doesn’t exactly scream ‘innocent.’”

“Trust me, if I had a choice, I wouldn’t be doing this–fighting… killing–at all. Hell, I didn’t even know I was a mutant until some guy swung his fist at me a week ago.” You meet his gaze, challenging him. “And what about you? You’re not exactly known for playing nice.”

He snorts. “Yeah, well, most of my casualties are from the missions I go on, so I'd say it's justified.”

Your eyes narrow, catching the implication in his words. “Oh, am I your mission now? How long have you been tracking me?”

Logan’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a slight shift in his posture, a subtle acknowledgment that you’ve hit on something. “Long enough to know you’re not just some innocent bystander caught up in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“So, what? You’ve been watching me, waiting for me to screw up so you could take me down?” you demand, the frustration clear in your voice.

“Something like that,” he replies gruffly, “But from what I’ve seen, you’re more reactive than proactive," he looks you up and down. "I can’t seem figure out if you’re the real threat here, or just someone caught in the middle of a bigger mess.”

You let out a slow breath, trying to calm the fiery anger rising within you. “I told you, I didn’t start this. They did. I’m just trying to survive.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, teeth grinding as he considers your words. You can see the gears turning in his head, trying to piece together whether you’re telling the truth or just playing him. He takes a step closer, his claws still out but not as threatening as before.

Finally, he asks, “You got a name?”

You roll your eyes, exasperated. “No shit I have a name.”

Logan huffs, unimpressed by your attitude. “Well, if you’re not gonna tell me, I’m just gonna have to call you somethin’… How 'bout Knifey?”

You stare at him, half-expecting him to crack a smile, but he’s dead serious. “Knifey? Really?”

Logan shrugs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he eyes your weapon of choice again. “Fits, don’t you think?”

“Fine. I’ll tell you my name, alright? Anything but Knifey.” You say, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“... Gotta say, Knifey sounds a little better”

“Shut the fuck up, Wolverine”

“It’s Logan, actually.”

You release a deep sigh. “I know, and I don’t care. I’m telling you I am not the one you need to be going after.”

Logan scoffs, crossing his arms. “I’ve been around a long time. Seen my fair share of people who think they’re doin’ the right thing and end up doin’ a hell of a lot of damage. So, forgive me if I’m a little skeptical.”

“You would know a lot about that, wouldn’t you?” The words come out of your mouth before you had time to think about them, and you regret it immediately. You can see the mutant in front of you’s face darken to a degree bordering murderous, and you think you’ve crossed a line you can’t come back from. Whatever playful banter existed before this is gone.

“Careful,” He growls menacingly, “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

You swallow hard. The Wolverine is infamous for a reason, and you just poked at the beast beneath the surface. You briefly consider backing down, but your pride refuses to let you.

“Maybe I don’t,” you admit, “But I do know what it’s like to be hunted, to have no choice but to fight back. So yeah, maybe we’re more alike than you think.”

Logan’s glare softens just a fraction, and he lets out a long, frustrated breath. “You really don’t know when to shut up, do ya?”

“Not when I’m trying to make a point,” you retort.

He doesn’t respond immediately, just stares at you, as if he’s trying to decide whether to continue this conversation or end it with his claws. Ultimately, he shakes his head, the anger in his eyes dimming, replaced by something more akin to weary resignation.

“Fine,” he mutters. “Maybe you’re not the one I should be takin’ down. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna start trustin’ you.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” you reply, feeling a bit of relief that the situation isn’t about to escalate into another fight. “But I swear, there’s someone else out there pulling the strings. And I’m not sticking around to be their puppet.”

He nods slowly, crossing his arms again. “We’ll find out who’s behind this, but I’m callin’ the shots. You step outta line, and we’re gonna have a problem.”

You smirk, a little of your bravado returning. “I’ll try not to disappoint you, Logan.”

You can tell he doesn't appreciate your attitude, but he lets it slide. “Let’s get one thing straight. This ain’t a partnership. I’m doin’ this to figure out what the hell’s goin’ on, not because I like you.”

“Trust me, the feeling’s mutual,” you shoot back, though there’s no real heat behind your words.

Logan turns abruptly, not even bothering to beckon you with him.

It makes you roll your eyes but you fall in step beside him anyway, knowing that despite the rocky start, this uneasy alliance might be the only thing keeping you alive.

“…So… where exactly are we going?”

He sends you a sidelong glance. "Who said I’m takin’ you anywhere?"

You throw your hands up, exasperated. "Well, if you don’t, these mutants are going to keep hunting me, and I’m going to keep killing them…” you shoot him a look, batting your eyelashes innocently. “You wouldn't want that, would you?"

“Fuck off”

"Well, too late for that now."

He grumbles something under his breath that you don’t quite catch, but it sounds a lot like cursing his bad luck.

"We’re headin’ to my place. It’s the safest spot right now."

----

Turn’s out, it’s not really his place. Or at least, it’s what you’d thought it’d be. It’s more of an abandoned warehouse that he just decided to seek refuge in one day, doing the bare minimum to make it feel at the very least, home-y. The heavy metal doors creak open, revealing a chaotic interior cluttered with garbage, old newspapers, and a few scattered items. In the corner, a single bed and a sagging couch that look like they’ve definitely seen better days.

Your nose wrinkles in disgust as you take in the mess. "Seriously?" you mutter, your voice tinged with disbelief. "This is where you've been hiding out? It looks like a tornado hit a thrift store."

Logan, who had been trailing behind you, lets out a low grunt as he shuffles past, not bothering to respond to your jab. His heavy footsteps echo in the otherwise silent space, the sound bouncing off the bare, cold walls. He heads straight for a small, battered table that looks like it's one sharp nudge away from collapsing. On it lies a worn notebook, its pages yellowed and curling at the edges, evidence of extensive use. Without a word, he picks it up and starts flipping through the pages, his expression unreadable.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you step closer, peering over his shoulder. "What's this?" you ask, reaching out to take the notebook from him. He hesitates for a brief moment before relinquishing it into your hands. As you flip through the pages, your eyes widen in shock. The notes are detailed, almost obsessively so, listing the names of various mutants, their abilities, and the exact locations where their bodies were found.

"Oh, great," you say with a sarcastic, half-hearted laugh. "You've been keeping tabs on me. What kind of creepy stalker are you?”

He rolls his eyes and snatches the notebook back, his voice dripping with irritation. "I wasn’t exactly tracking you. I was trying to track whoever’s been killing all those damn mutants."

Logan’s jaw tightens as you just continue to stare, and he lets out an exasperated sigh. "And don’t act all innocent. I needed to know who was causing all the chaos."

Scoffing, you continue to look through the notebook, stopping when you come across a particularly detailed entry. "Wow... 26 kills? Not too shabby for an amateur mutant, huh?"

“Is your mouth unable to stay shut?” he questions, though you know better than to answer that.

The notebook flops back onto the table with a casual flick of your wrist. "Hey, don’t be mad just because I’m doing a better job than you expected."

He crosses his arms over his chest, his muscles straining against the fabric of his shirt. "I’m not mad," he snaps. "I’m annoyed that you’re making light of this. It’s not exactly a high score to brag about."

"Oh, come on. You’re the one who turned this place into a shrine to my success” you smirk.

"It’s not a shrine," Logan growls, his patience wearing thin. "It’s a record. If you’d been paying more attention to what’s going on, you’d know that."

The playfulness fades from your face as his words hit home. He’s right, but you’re not about to admit it. Instead, you deflect. "Yeah, and if you’d bothered to talk to me instead of playing detective, maybe we’d have figured this out sooner."

"You think you’re the only one who’s had a rough time? This whole situation is a mess, and we’re both caught in it." His eyes narrow.

You cross your arms, mirroring his defensive posture. "You didn’t have to get involved, you know. Unless...what if you’re the bad guy here?" you challenge, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. "Using all these mutants to lure me into your dungeon under the pretense of trying to ‘stop’ me?"

His response is immediate. "I’m way too lazy to think of doing all that."

You can’t help but believe him, especially given the state of the warehouse. He clearly lacks the energy—or the interest—to tidy up his living space, let alone mastermind a complex plot. You let out a sigh and walk over to the sagging couch in the corner. The fabric is threadbare, and the springs groan in protest as you flop down onto it.

"Fine, fine... I trust you," you concede, though your tone is far from serious. "Did you notice anything specific amongst these mutants?"

"Yeah, I’ve noticed somethin’,” Logan says, dragging a hand down his face, now looking more tired than ever. “They’re all pretty low-key. Not exactly top-tier in the mutant rankings. Never caused any trouble before, yadda yadda. If anything, they’re usually on the weaker side."

You furrow your brows, intrigued. "So they’re not a serious threat."

"Exactly," Logan confirms with a nod. "It’s weird. These mutants aren’t the type to just go around being fuckin’ annoying like they have been. Someone—or something—must be pushing them into this."

"You think they’re all being controlled somehow?" you muse, the pieces slowly falling into place. "And that’s why they’re suddenly acting out of character?"

"Seems like it," He replies, rubbing his temples. "Must be powerful if they’re all falling in line like this. We’re going to have to dig deeper to find the source of it.

He moves to sit next to you on the couch, the worn fabric sinking even further under his weight. "Tell me everything you know," Logan says quietly, his voice a tinge softer now, almost coaxing. "Everything that’s happened to you."

You sigh and lean back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling as you start to recount your experience. "It all began about a week ago. Just a normal day, I was walking to the grocery store, then I noticed this guy following me. At first, I thought it was a coincidence. But no matter where I went, he was always a few steps behind."

His attention sharpens, his gaze locking onto yours. "And?"

"It started as just stalking," you continue, your voice growing quieter as the memories flood back. "Nothing violent. But then, it started happening with different people. Each time, they were more persistent, more intimidating. It became clear that something was off."

You can feel Logan’s gaze burning into you, his concern evident in the way he leans closer, listening intently. "Eventually, they started getting aggressive," you say. "One night, one of them blocked my path and tried to grab me. I managed to fight him off, but when he hit me, it didn’t hurt. I mean, it should have, he looked pretty strong, but my arm felt fine. That’s when I realized I had powers—some form of super strength, super speed, and healing abilities."

"And you figured that out just from fighting them off?" he questions, somewhat impressed.

You nod, rubbing your arms as if to ward off a lingering chill. "Yeah. I didn’t really have a choice. They kept coming, and I had to use whatever I had to protect myself—including my damn kitchen knife. The more I fought, the more I understood what I could do.”

Logan pauses, his expression unreadable as he processes everything you’ve said. The dim light from the single bulb casts long shadows across the room, emphasizing the lines of fatigue etched into his face. Finally, he stands up, his movements slow and deliberate. "So, here’s the plan," he starts, his voice rough and tired. "We need to figure out exactly where these mutants are coming from. There’s gotta be a main location where they’re getting their orders or some central hub for this control."

You hum in agreement, though a part of you is reluctant to jump back into action so soon. "Alright, so how do we start tracking that down?"

His lips press into a thin line as he thinks it over. "We’ll stake out the rooftops. From up there, we can get a clear view of their movements and see if they’re converging somewhere specific. Maybe spot a pattern."

You stretch, stifling a yawn as you glance around the shabby room. "Okay, but are we doing that tonight? I’m pretty beat."

“Seriously? You want to put this off?" he accuses, face twisting in irritation.

"I’m up for it, but I’d be more effective if I’m not running on fumes. Plus, you look pretty tired yourself," you shrug.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. We’ll do it tomorrow."

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you sense his reluctance to agree. "So you agree with me," you state, not really feeling any real pride, but just wanting to push his buttons.

Logan grumbles under his breath as he starts to clear a space on the threadbare couch, which creaks loudly under even the slightest pressure. "Do you ever shut up? I’m letting you crash in my bed, aren’t I?"

You chuckle softly, watching him arrange a tattered blanket on the couch with exaggerated care. "Yeah, yeah, okay. Goodnight, old man."

"Watch it, Knifey," he mutters, settling onto the couch with a groan as the springs protest under his weight.

You roll your eyes at his choice of nickname, and with a sigh, you make your way over to the bed, which is small and far from luxurious, but it’s better than nothing. The mattress dips slightly as you climb in, and the covers are thin, barely providing any warmth. Still, exhaustion pulls at you, and you barely have time to think about what the covers smell like before sleep overtakes you.

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arachine · 2 years

Text

— ❝on this fateful night...two hearts danced.❞ ˚₊✩‧₊

ᥫ᭡ pairing :: neteyam sully x human! reader

ᥫ᭡ synopsis :: in omaticayan culture, a young na’vi male does not yet become a full fledged adult until he passes one of two rites of passage: 1) choosing an ikran, and 2) carving a bow from the wood of Hometree (and/or choosing a woman). reader is now 20, and the only man she’s ever loved is expected to choose a wife soon. one day when she overhears a rumor concerning neteyam and the first woman in line to betroth him, reader is struck with grief, ultimately venturing off deep into the forest where she knows nobody will follow her—somewhere forbidden. however, unbeknownst to her, a certain someone follows her trail…

ᥫ᭡ genre :: mature

ᥫ᭡ general tags :: 18+ (explicit sexual content, explicit language), angst, fluff

ᥫ᭡ content warnings :: characters aged up to 20, use of alcohol, inebriation, size kink (kinda), vaginal fingering, oral sex (f receiving), male masturbation, overstimulation, riding (no penetration), m/f ejaculation, squirting…i took some things out but i think that’s it?

ᥫ᭡ notes :: what a long week this has been…but we made it! i cannot believe the first thing i post after being on hiatus for months is blue alien sex. anyway, i hope you all enjoy. also, be mindful that the dialogue switches between formal and casual. it’s something that i noticed neteyam and kiri do a lot in the movie. for what reason? idk…but the big font after the read more is intentional bc ik some ppl complain that the small font hurts their eyes :3

ᥫ᭡ word count :: 7.2k

— playlist :: spotify link

“You have been wandering off by yourself a lot lately…”

There goes that attentiveness, you could never put anything past her—Kiri, that is. She was just too good (to a fault), and though her keen eye and emotional intelligence were extremely useful, they were also the most aggravating traits about her.

Now, you could just tell her the truth about the place you’re always wandering off to, and you also could confide in her about the thing that’s been plaguing your mind recently—but you don’t, because you know better.

For a split second, though, you hesitate telling her. The lean girl tilts her head, eyes flitting between your face and the satchel in your hands. Smoothly, you pull the satchel across your body and shift it to rest behind you—out of sight.

Kiri seems to notice your apprehension, and so, she peels her eyes from the bag, offering you her full attention by resuming eye contact once again. If she has even the slightest hunch that you’re hiding something, she doesn’t voice her suspicions.

“Well, I won’t pry, sister. You know that I am always here to listen,” she reassured, reaching out a gentle hand towards your face. You let the tips of her fingers graze your cheek, the warmth of her hand providing transitory comfort.

The two of you exchange sweet smiles before you pull away. It was getting dark, and the longer you stayed here, the harder it’d be to avoid the very thing you were trying to get away from—the very person you were trying to get away from.

“I know, Kiri,” you grabbed her hand, encasing it between your own, “I know…but—I have to go. I promise I’m alright. I’ve just…been doing some thinking, and I think I gotta sort some things out with myself before I can be around the rest of you, you know?”

There’s a silence between the two of you, and you’re not exactly sure if she’s taken offense to what you’ve just said, or if she’s carefully choosing her words. You decide on the latter though, because the last thing you want to do is make her feel as if she’s done something wrong, or if anyone has done something wrong. This was entirely on you; you and your stupid, selfish human heart.

“Yes, I know what you mean,” she replies, squinting her eyes. Again, there’s a silence, but you can tell she still has something to say, like she’s mulling it over. “Will you at least be here tonight? You know, for the big feast? Everyone will be here, even Neteyam,” the girl tsks playfully, shaking her head as she walks circles around you.

Immediately your body stiffens, and she responds to this by teasing you, “Or, I could just save you something…or maybe i’ll ask Neteyam to save you something since he’ll be the most important man tonight.”

“And why would you do that?” the words leave your tongue before you have the chance to process them. It reads rather defensively, but you ignore it. “I mean, why—why ask Neteyam?”

“Because he’s your friend…” kiri pokes you, “because you love him,” she whispers, only this time her voice is a lot more serious, a lot quieter—a whisper. This is when you get that feeling again.

That weird, achy feeling that leaves your stomach in knots and your throat all puffy. The sensation is debilitating—suffocating, and the only way you know how to ease it is by doing what you had set out to do in the first place (though, you were swiftly interrupted).

“Don’t be silly, Kiri,” your smile drops solemnly, “we’re…friends, just friends. Besides, he’s going to be spoken for soon. There are a lot of Na’vi women who would make fine mates…” Your voice decrescendos into the forest night air, the conversation lasting a lot longer than you’d anticipated. To stop your solemn mood from being expressed outwardly, you quickly turn around, looking back once to speak.

“Anyway, I have to go now. I’ll see you later.” Kiri nods and waves bye, her eyes watching as your small frame disappears out of her family’s tent.

A cacophony of voices and music fall on deaf ears as you make your way through the village. The preparation is beginning, but all you can think about is him. Him, him, him.

And ever since you overheard a rumor that Neytiri and Mo’at had chosen the next in line to become tsahik after Neytiri, your heart stopped beating…because you knew. You knew exactly what this meant—the end.

Neteyam was to be a future olo’eyktan, after all. And in Na’vi culture, the future head of the clan and the future spiritual representative were to be betrothed. You knew that, and yet, you couldn’t fathom it. Because then it’d be the end.

The end of your late night rendezvous, the end of your special talks, the end of your banter, and your clandestine glances—your whispers. The ones that were quiet, and innocent…the ones that tingled the shell of your ears. Meant for him and you only.

It was selfish, really. Stupid. You knew the day would come when he’d have to grow up and fulfill his duties as a Na’vi male. Just not this soon though, you wanted to hold onto him a little longer. And if drinking your pain away to preserve those precious memories could do that, then you’d do it.

Lost in your train of thought, you don’t register that you’ve walked yourself right into the heart of a crowd until you bump into a young na’vi child. Apologizing, you then attempt to squeeze through the sea of bodies, tapping lightly on people’s legs until you reach the front. The people were cheering, celebrating the hunters’ return and the game that the Great Mother had graciously given them.

Slowly, hunters had begun pooling in from the forest on direhorseback. Then, they started coming in clusters, all ululating, and pumping their fists in the air while holding their dead game in the other. Your head turned in awe as each hunter rode past you, the energy of the people so contagious that your sour mood was starting to dissipate, even if just a little.

Thinking that was the last of the riders, you begin walking again, but the sound of heavy hooves striking the ground halt your movements. Turning your head back to the trees, you see something moving behind the shrubbery, and then enters none other than the man of the hour: Neteyam. If the people weren’t cheering before, they were definitely cheering now—especially since he’d managed to catch an adult sturmbeest (which was a difficult feat).

The direhorse strides slowly through the crowd, and stops in the centre on Neteyam’s command. Nobody can take their eyes off of him, and neither can you. He just looks so strong, and masculine—like his father, even though he’s the spitting image of his mother. Neteyam puts his hand into the air before he dismounts his horse and ushers the people to settle down, and eventually, they do.

He points to the sturmbeest that his direhorse is carrying back to be prepared. “Tonight, my brothers and sisters…” a pause, “we dance! we sing! we feast!” His words excite the villagers again, uluations so loud that your ears begin to ring. Just as you’re about to turn away, his eyes meet yours—he smiles. And there it is. That achy feeling in your chest.

He wants to say something, reaches his arm out to you as if he were silently telling you to wait up, but then a girl strikes up a conversation with him. At first, you’re not entirely sure who it is—and you shouldn’t even care—but then you do a double take and your heart sinks a little more. It was Tsimandi, the girl rumored to be his betrothed.

From this distance, you can’t hear what they’re talking about, so you watch intently. He’s got his head thrown back in hearty laughter, and she’s touching him—actually touching him, her hands wrapped around his forearm in an attempt to pull him further away.

You think if you stay a second longer you’ll actually become a pile of liquid where you stand, so you take this opportunity to slip away while he’s preoccupied.

When Neteyam looks back, he notices your absence. Squinting, he looks around in search of you, and then he sees what looks like a person disappearing into the thick of the forest. Just what is she doing?

“I apologize, Tsimandi, but I must do something,” he begins backing away, a genuine expression etched onto his face, “I will see you tonight, at the feast!”

“Oh, o-okay,” she mutters but he’s already run off. Neteyam calls for his direhorse and waits at the edge of the forest until it comes running towards him. Before he can mount it and follow you, someone calls out to him.

“And where are you going?” the voice queries, tone laced with suspicion. He recognizes who it belongs to and sighs.

“Nowhere, sir,” he dismounts, meeting his father’s eyes, his mother also accompanying him.

“Yeah, I’d hope so. The people are throwing this feast for you, or have you forgotten?” Jake gives him a once over, eyes still boring into his son.

“No, sir. I have not forgotten,” the boy lowers his gaze in embarrassment.

“Good. Go get ready, knucklehead.”

With each trudge through the forest, you were losing more and more sunlight. You’d walked about halfway to your destination when you remembered the bottle sloshing around in your satchel.

Usually, you waited to drink the liquid there, but you decided given today’s strenuous events, you’d have some now. A reward, you tell yourself. Taking the bottle out of the bag, you lift your mask from your face briefly, twisting open the top and taking a big swig.

No matter how many times you did it, the taste always made you gag. Bourbon—is what they called it. It was equal parts bitter and pungent but it did the trick. Helped you to relax, to forget. The first time you came across it, it was by pure accident.

You’d been somewhere you shouldn’t have been, doing things you shouldn’t have been doing. But one thing led to another, and soon enough, you were inebriated for the first time.

By the time you drink half of your weight in liquor, you reach your destination. The old shack. After what happened with the Sky People, Jake’s first rule as olo’eyktan was to prohibit anyone from entering.

Even being somewhere remotely around the area was forbidden. But you were no stranger to disobedience, you’d come here once with Lo’ak (which was your first time actually).

Though, you didn’t get to explore much because Tuk had spoiled your fun by telling Jake. That day was one of your favorite memories, you think. Jake couldn’t stop yelling at the two of you, but all you could do was laugh. Nothing was really even funny, but you couldn’t help it. Seeing Jake’s eye twitch at your outburst only exacerbated it.

Lo’ak was getting the worst of it, and Neteyam fell victim to Jake’s nagging too for not ‘being there’. After a while, he’d dismissed the bunch of you from his tent and as soon as you were out of earshot, the three of you went into a frenzy of laughter. You think back fondly on those memories, all the ones that include Neteyam, that is.

“God, there isn’t a second when I’m not thinking of you…” you sigh in exhaustion, extending an arm out to open the shack’s door. Reaching in your satchel, you pull out two jars full of glow worms (you’ve found that two jars are enough to light up the shack). Ambling over to your favorite spot, you open a cabinet and reach for another bottle of that bitter liquid you willingly put into your body.

It’s still a wonder to you how well preserved these bottles remained over the years, and you’re pretty sure you’ve heard Norm or someone mention that the older the liquor, the better it tastes (which was a lie, but alas, you down another shot).

“Wooo,” a cough erupts from your throat, “yep, still nasty.”

At this point, the liquor is starting to take effect. Warmth radiates throughout your entire body, and you can feel your limbs gradually getting heavier. Being drunk had to be one of your top three favorite feelings.

It either made you: sad, tired, or giggly (maybe even all at once). But now? Now you were feeling sleepy, so you groggily trudge over to one of the beds in the shack.

As soon as your body hits the plush, a cloud of dust filters through the air. It was incredibly disgusting, but you’d slept in worse places. For now, you would lay here…succumbing to a sweet slumber.

Neteyam had gone home without fuss as promised. Go and get ready. Well, he was doing exactly that now, exchanging his previous attire for that of something more formal. He rolled his eyes and huffed. Sometimes his father could just be a…

“Son of a bitch,” the boy snapped, his frustration reaching its peak. He’d been standing in the tent for about 10 minutes trying to figure out this headpiece his mother had laid out for him, but could not for the life of him figure it out.

Giving up, he throws it to the ground and takes a seat with his head in his hands. Kiri slips in shortly after his outburst, bending to the ground to retrieve the item. Hesitantly, she walks over to her brother.

“If you needed some help, you could have called, brother.” Neteyam lifts his head up from his hands to see Kiri towering over him, his eyes breaking contact with hers as she sits down next to him. There’s a pregnant pause, but it doesn’t last for long because Kiri is already opening her mouth to speak.

“What is troubling you?” She asks, forcing Neteyam to turn his back to her so that she can place the headpiece onto him properly. He inhales deeply, then exhales.

“I do not know…I saw (your name) earlier and…” Kiri hums, encouraging him to continue, “and—she had this strange look on her face.”

“Look? What do you mean? Was she angry? Sad?”

“I have never seen it before, sister. She usually looks happy when she sees me…but this look was different,” his voice is almost inaudible when he finishes. Kiri ponders for a bit, tilting her head as if she were mentally putting the puzzle pieces together.

“How come you did not speak to her?” Kiri makes her final adjustments to the headpiece, ushering Neteyam to meet her eyes.

“I was going to…I tried to, but Tsimandi found me before I could,” he fiddles with his fingers. Kiri takes note of his disposition, and she frowns empathetically. Clearly, whatever was going on with you two was something you had to work out together. This wasn’t like either of you!

“But it was not just today either,” he continues, “she has been distancing herself for awhile, have you noticed?” She laughs at this, nodding her head.

“Yes, she has been acting a little strange lately. I think I might know what is troubling her, brother,” the girl takes his hand into her own. “But I cannot tell you. This is something that concerns only she and you…”

Neteyam squints his eyes in confusion, muttering a ‘what’. His mouth opens to speak but he is swiftly interrupted upon Jake and Neytiri’s arrival. He looks to Kiri for some clarification but all she says is: ‘go, go, you have a feast to attend’, followed with a, ‘find her later’.

“Well? Come on, the people won’t wait for your blue ass all day will they?” Jake teases. Neytiri slaps his arm, scolding him playfully.

“Ah, my son, my beautiful son,” she pads to where he stands, taking his face into her hands. “It is time to go, we must celebrate you.”

Jake nods, flashing a quick wink of approval. Together, they all walk out of the tent and through the village where they’re instantly greeted with colorful luminescence, loud music, and food. All things that have been so generously prepared for him. By the time they make it down to the Tree of Souls, everyone halts their cheering to hear what Jake has to say.

“Tonight we eat,” a pause, “in honor of Neteyam’s mighty victory!” Jake grabs his eldest son’s hand, raising it in the air. “He led his first attack against the Sky People and made it back without any casualties!” A sudden roar of praise erupts from the crowd.

Everyone is chanting his name, and clapping, but even amidst all this praise, he can’t help but to think about you. What does all of this matter if you’re not here to celebrate with him?

You’ve been by his side since the two of you could walk, so where are you now? The thought saddens him, but he can’t wear his heart on his sleeve tonight. Not when there’s so many people here just for him.

“For the past 20 years, my son has always been just a boy to me. But now I realize…he is a man—and he has proven himself in front of the eyes of Eywa,” The former marine glances down at his son, eyeing him in admiration. “Enough talking, let us feast!”

Laughter and songs fill the warm, breezy nighttime air. It’s been about two hours since the celebration commenced, and Neteyam has just about made his rounds to every important family.

He smiles warmly as he looks at the scene in front of him: children playing and dancing by the fireside, putting on elaborate performances for the adults still filling their bellies full of food. Everyone is lively—happy, a testament to tonight’s success.

Mo’at is pleased by this especially, she tells him that ‘this is what the people needed’—you know, to boost morale. At some point, when nobody is watching, he slips away from the party to walk around. Unbeknownst to him, someone has seen him.

“Getting tired?” a voice questions from the shadows. Out comes Kiri, revealing herself from behind a leaf.

“Yes, exhausted actually,” he jokes, disconnecting his braid from his direhorse. “No, but I need to find (your name). She has not come back and it is dark.”

“I figured you would leave early, that’s why I covered your ass and told Dad you were not feeling well,” the feline-like girl smirks.

“Do you have an idea where she might be?”

Kiri takes a moment before answering, “I’m not sure…but for some reason, I have a hunch that she’s at the old shack,” Neteyam furrows his brows in confusion.

“Why do you think she’s there?” he queries, “I mean, it is forbidden.” Kiri offers him a shrug.

“I don’t know but if you’re going to find her, do it now while dad still thinks you’re not feeling well.”

With that, he thanks her for the intel and mounts his horse, disappearing into the thick of the forest. On the way there, his mind conjures up just about every possible scenario that might explain your absence.

Were you upset with him? Did he do something or say something that you didn’t like? He wishes he could just read your thoughts because right now, his heart is pounding so rapidly within the confines of his chest, that he thinks it’ll explode.

This wasn’t like you two, everything was always so easygoing. Being with you was easy, like breathing. But this? His heart couldn’t handle this. Yeah, there’s been some distance between the two of you recently but not due to his own volition—it was duty. If he could spend every second of his life by your side, just being kids, laughing with you, playing with you, he would.

He’s trying to recount these last few days, weeks—months. Trying to pinpoint when exactly things got like this between you…pinpoint when you stopped smiling at him with that smile that made his head all fuzzy, and his heart race like a kid running for the first time.

“Ah, everything’s going to shit, buddy,” he sighs, rubbing the side of his horse, “I don’t know what is wrong.” His mammalian companion grunts empathetically, stopping in its tracks at the edge of the forest when it sees the abandoned link shack. Neteyam doesn’t bother scolding her, because even the animals know that this place is forbidden.

“Alright, I will see you later, okay? Stay here,” he pats her, disconnecting the bond. From this distance, he can see that there seems to be some sort of light illuminating from inside the shack.

That alone already confirms Kiri’s hunch. The closer he gets, the more his stomach feels uneasy. He doesn’t even know why he’s nervous, but he attempts to ease his mind (and body) by telling himself that it’s only you. He’s talked to you one on one hundreds of times, so what’s the difference now?

Noises in the distance rouse you from your ephemeral repose. When you stand up, your head spins with the room, causing you to instinctively reach out for the nearest surface available. Whatever was outside had better be non-threatening, because you were not in the condition to be fighting—let alone standing. When you were drunk like this, you couldn’t even hurt a fly.

“Fuck, I’m gonna have the worst headache soon,” you huff quietly, still aware that there might be someone or something outside. The noise is getting closer, and you’re running out of time to find a hiding spot.

Quickly, you grab the closest thing you can to defend yourself (which is literally a jar of glow worms), and crouch down below the window. When you lift your head just enough to see outside, the makings of a silhouette cloud your vision.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you whisper-yell, tightening your hold on the jar. Lifting your head up again, you notice that the figure is not in the spot it was previously. Then, the knob to the shack twists, and now it’s opening, and—

“(Your name)?”

You pause your attack, slowly dropping your hand (that’s holding the jar) to your side. A flood of relief washes over you once you register who the voice belongs to. Rising from the ground, you open the door fully to see Neteyam standing in the doorway.

“I almost killed you, you know!” you raise the jar, pulling him inside of the shack.

“I think it would take more than a jar of worms to kill me,” he teases. Rolling your eyes, you continue ushering him further inside, leading him to an area where you can sit and talk.

“What…what are you doing here?” you finally ask, folding your arms across your chest. Neteyam towers over you from this height, so he accommodates you by dropping to his haunches.

“I was worried about you,” the boy confesses, “what are you doing here? Why were you not at the feast?” Suddenly, you don’t really feel like talking anymore. Even though the adrenaline from before was still pumping through your veins, so was the alcohol in your system. You’re not so sure you’d be able to keep your composure long enough to answer without exposing your truest feelings. So, you decide on deflecting.

“Aren’t you the man of the hour? I think you should go back to the party before daddy throws a fit. We both know how he gets when his perfect little son isn’t at his every beck and call…” As soon as the words spill from your tongue, you wince. It came out meaner than you meant, and the last thing you wanted was to give him shit for being a caring friend.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—I didn’t mean that,” you apologize, sitting down on the bed. All he does is sigh, but he takes this opportunity to enter your space, gets all close until his body is nestled between your legs.

“I know…I know, but I want you to tell me what’s wrong, hm?” his fingers lift your chin, “so I can fix it.”

“Can’t fix this, ‘Teyam,” a saltine droplet ribbons down your face. Your head is tilted up with his fingers, but you can’t even force yourself to meet his gaze. God, how pathetic did you look right now?

Here you were, inside an abandoned shack, drinking your body weight in liquor…all while a celebration was being thrown in your best friend’s honor. And for what? Because you were jealous? Because you liked him—loved him?

You knew that eventually your relationship would shift. That he’d take on his duties as the future olo’eyktan, and you’d just be his human friend he hangs with from time to time. How stupid could you be to think things would stay like this forever?

“Hey, hey, hey,” he soothes, both hands now cupping your cheeks, “don’t do that. Do not shut me out. We’re not like this, (your name), you used to always talk to me about things.”

Things. You’d talk about things. But those things were not like these things. And if he knew what things you were thinking about, the things that involved him…then you two would never talk about things again.

You’re curious, though. What if you just told him? Just told him about all the days you’ve loved him, all the nights you’ve stayed up thinking of him—all the stars you counted wishing for him? At least then, the burden of keeping such a secret would stop weighing so heavy on your heart.

“I..” a breath, “I heard a rumor.” The boy hums, encouraging you to continue. “I heard your mother has chosen her successor.”

“Is that what this is about? Why does this bother you?”

“Because you know what this means! We both know what this means, don’t be dense, ’Teyam,” you droop your head in sorrow, coaxing him to just lift it back up. Only this time, his hold on your face is a lot firmer. His eyes are fiercer.

“No. I don’t, so just tell me.”

“You’re gonna be the future olo’eyktan, and we both know that the future clan leader and the chosen tsahik are to be betrothed,” you start, “there will be no time for me! No more late night talks, no more exploring, no more secret whispers…I mean, I get it, you have duties to fulfill but…I wanna be selfish a little longer. Can’t I be selfish a little longer?”

You say the last line while meeting his gaze. You’re teary eyed and shaking, but you try your best to keep any semblance of composure you have left intact (though, it’s failing). His expression is indiscernible.

It makes you nervous. Sick. And now you’re forcing yourself not to throw up because…the realization that you just told someone your deepest, truest, most vulnerable feelings makes you physically ill.

“Oh, god, I’m sorry. Forget what I jus—“

“Are you serious? You don’t get it do you?” Neteyam’s head falls forward, a little chuckle slipping past his lips. His hands leave your head and slither down to your hands. He takes them into his own, eyeing you while kissing the knuckles of each.

The act is incredibly intimate, sends white-hot electricity down the column of your spine. Renders you speechless. All you can do is sit there, too scared that if you move or speak, you’ll shatter into a million little pieces.

“I have duties, yes…but my heart is already spoken for. Always has been.”

“What are you saying, ’Teyam,” your head snuggles into the warmth of his hand. You know exactly what he’s saying, but you want to hear him say—

“I see you,” he whispers in your ear, “you are my most beloved.” The warmth of his breath tingles the shell of your ear, it takes the strength of a thousand men to not scream.

But in this moment? In this moment you want to kiss him. You want to kiss him silly, actually, but you quickly remember the thing on your face preventing your lips from connecting with his. There are truly evil forces conspiring against you.

“I want to kiss you,” you admit solemnly.

“Oh, you don’t know how many nights I’ve spent dreaming about kissing you. Too many,” he jokes, “but I’m afraid if we remove this, you’ll die.”

“Then you don’t have to kiss my lips,” a silence, “you can kiss me anywhere you’d like. Anywhere.”

His green eyes flitter between your face and your body, and then his hands are on you, forcing you to lay back against the bed. You lift your head up and lean back onto your elbows, watching through lust-filled eyes as he begins his ministrations.

He starts from the bottom, works his way up real slowly—too slowly. He’s showing restraint, and while you appreciate the fact that he’s worshiping your body like a devoted follower worships their deity, you want him to ravage you. To eat you up until there’s nothing left but bones.

“’Teyam, please…” you breathe out impatiently. Like the cocky-brat he is, he ignores your pleas, only laughing into your skin.

“Shh, be calm.” The plush of his lips trail up the plains and pastures of your body, up your calves, your thighs (he spends the most time there), and then comes to a stop at the crest of your breasts. His fingers fiddle with the cloth covering your chest, lightly tracing the edges that rest just beneath your mounds.

A tease is what he is. And you didn’t have the time for a tease, so you figured you’d help speed up the process by removing it. Sitting up, you untie the makeshift top and let it fall to your lap, smirking deviously as if you’ve done something so naughty.

“Thought I’d help you,” you grin, wrapping your hands around his neck, “Please, no more going slow…I think we’ve been going slow for twenty years, don’t you think?”

And he gets the hint, once again resuming his assault on your body, but this time with more fervor. More urgency. He’s kissing you everywhere, licking wet stripes over your chest, and leaving love bites in the places where he’s kissed you. Right now he’s acting on his most basic, primal instincts—he’s claiming you as his mate—in the only way he knows how to.

The feeling of his hands on your neck, back, thighs and waist send you into oblivion. But then his hands are creeping up to your tits, deft fingers twisting and kneading, and oh god, you’re seeing stars. The addition of his mouth doesn’t help either.

“You’re so,” a kiss, “beautiful,” a suck, “perfect.” Neteyam kneads one breast while his mouth works on another. He plops down onto a pert nipple, using his tongue to draw circles around the area, his saliva acting as a salve.

A moan (that comes out more like a disgruntled sigh) vacates your throat, and his eyes widen in excitement. The sight of his tail swaying in the background makes you giggle. Cute, you think.

Even though what the two of you were doing wasn’t innocent, you couldn’t help but to feel all giddy. Reaching a hand out, you place a gentle palm on the side of his face.

You trace the contours of his nose, his cheekbones, smooth over his jaw, and then stop at his lips. Your thumb grazes them, first the top, then the bottom—learning. Committing them to memory, how they look, feel, and move under your thumb.

Neteyam is unmoving while you continue to run your finger across his lips—save for his hand, which slowly begins traveling south to your thighs. Experimentally, you push your thumb inside of his mouth, pressing the digit down on his tongue before tracing his cat-like canines. This moment is particularly special, because now it’s you who’s doing the admiring.

The free hand that’s not inching towards your core, skillfully removes the loin cloth around your hips. Immediately, he’s met with your bare sex. It’s smooth—wet, so incredibly wet that it has his cock twitching, and his hands eager to touch you. He wants to taste you. Feel you, all of you.

“I—,” a slender finger rubs your slit, “mmf, see you,” you mewl, cupping his cheek. Neteyam’s eyes widen, he wants to hear you make that sound again…and again, and again, and—

The boy repeats the action. Watches your abs flex and tremble from the touch, and your thighs close in on his arm. Using the other hand, he gently pulls them apart and leaves three open-mouthed kisses: one on your inner thigh, one on another, and then a final one at the top of your mound. The heat from his nostrils make you full body shiver; suddenly, being the only one completely bare is slightly bothering you.

“Do not cover yourself. I want to see you,” his hand finds your cunt again, a long finger pushing into you ever so slowly, “…want to hear those sweet sounds again.”

A soft sigh leaves your lips as you watch his digit push further into you, the drag of a knuckle against your slick walls aiding in the pleasure. You can’t help but to wince at the intrusion, because shit, this was a lot more than what you were used to—using your fingers, that is.

You also suppose penetration would be off the table considering humans and Na’vi were never meant to mate, but it doesn’t prevent you from fantasizing about it anyway. How big was it? Did he touch himself? Use his hands and picture yours?

The thought of him hunching over, rubbing one out, all slick with sweat and pre has your head all dizzy. Your mouth is practically salivating at the mental image you’ve conjured up in your head of him fucking your face, but you know it would never fit. There really are evil forces conspiring against you…

Neteyam’s finger reaching the hilt brings you back down to reality. A forceful thrust that coaxes you to gasp sharply and grab his forearm. After patiently waiting for you to adjust to his size, he begins to move. He sets a steady rhythm, pulling out slowly, then pushing back into you with the same velocity.

Eventually, his movements become less hesitated, and more calculated. Instead of steady and slow, he begins increasing the pace of his thrusts, then graduates from speed to incorporating force.

Every delve of his finger, every deliberate drag and prod has fire pooling in the depths of your belly. Squelches and whimpers ricochet off of the metal walls, and fuck, his dick won’t stop twitching.

It’s grown considerably harder in these past few minutes, and all from just hearing you vocalize your pleasure. When the stretch stops feeling like a stretch, and starts feeling like a ‘give me more’, that’s when you encourage him to add another. And of course, he indulges you.

The same time he pushes another finger in, is the same time he starts rubbing himself. He’s not even really aware of it at first, it’s mindless. He’s just so entranced by you, and the sounds you’re making, the things you’re saying, the way your cunt’s sucking in his fingers—

Fuck. He just finished all over himself. He doesn’t let that deter him though, keeps fingering you through his post-orgasm, taking care of you until you come undone on his fingers.

And the sight is amazing, he can’t stop gawking at the way your hole flutters around him, and the nectar-like liquid that drips down the length of his fingers and onto the bed. He wants to taste it.

“Can I taste you?” he asks. You’re in such a daze that the question doesn’t even register, suddenly too preoccupied with breathing like you’ve forgotten how to.

“Huh? Wha—ohhhh.” His tongue licks a long stripe up your slit. He concentrates the tip at the bottom, lapping at the essence that leaks from there, and then circles back to your puffy bud. Experimentally, he prods it with his fingers, rubbing it in tantalizingly slow circles.

The combination of his tongue and his fingers almost feel overwhelming, you feel like a puppet on a marionette with the way he’s maneuvering your legs around for better access. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was a starved man.

His mouth is slick with drool, and his hands are pressing down so firmly onto your thighs, that you’re sure a handprint will be there for you to discover in the morning. His tongue feels so good on you, so nasty.

The picture is obscene, unlike anything you’ve ever witnessed before. But the thing that’s really getting to you are the sounds he’s making. Grunts and groans, expletives and mumbles. ‘So good’, ‘perfect’, ‘beautiful’…it has your head spinning and your fists gripping for the sheets beneath you.

There’s a knot in your abdomen pulled taut like a string of twine. You can feel it twisting and pulling, ready to come undone at the drop of a pin. The more he works on your slit, the more the temperature rises in the shack.

Was the room always spinning? Did your body always run this hot? It feels like you’ve been thrown into a furnace, and the only source of coolness is the wetness that his tongue provides.

“‘M gonna, mmf, ’s too much!” you jab at his hand in an attempt to push him away. He’s relentless though, still sucking harshly, and teasing, ramming his thick fingers up against your gummy walls.

It feels different than when you touch yourself, more intense. Like something’s sitting heavy on your bladder. Then, snap. The string in your abdomen unravels, bringing forth a flood of ecstasy.

“’Teyam!” you sob, back arching to the ceiling. When he pulls his fingers out, a stream of clear liquid seeps from your cunt. He’s awestruck, staring in admiration as your sweat kissed chest rises and falls rhythmically.

“Look, your legs are shaking,” he points, biting down a laugh, “why are they shaking?”

“Oh my god, shut up!” you feign offense, pushing him backwards with a chuckle. He pretends to be wounded, rubbing his back dramatically, ‘oohing’ and ‘owing’ as he does so. When you finally sit up, your eyes naturally fall to his loincloth, a wet ringlet contrasting starkly against the beige textile.

“Hey…” your voice is hesitant, but teetering on the edge of curiosity, “Can I try something?”

The boy silently nods his approval, shifting his position on the ground when you amble over to him. A look of confusion molds onto his face following the events that involve you plopping down onto his lap and laying him down. He goes to speak but you interrupt him.

“Your turn, right? Can’t put it in, but…I can still make you feel good,” you say, tugging on the piece of fabric that separates your sex from his. Eagerly, he removes it for you and lets the item fall haphazardly to the ground.

It’s big, so big—and pretty too. A beautiful blue hue that matches the rest of his body, paired along with a blushing teal tip that’s oozing pre. You want to know what he tastes like on your tongue…

“So pretty.”

Heat rises to his cheeks, and his tail takes an aquiline form, quivering in rapid movements. His usual, over-confident disposition was slowly dissipating under your intense gaze, and you reveled in it by mocking his bashfulness.

“Awe, the little kitty’s shy,” you mock, tickling his side.

“Stop it, I don’t look like those Earth things,” he laughs, pushing your hand away, but to no avail. You continue to dodge his attempts to stop you, tickling him here and there until he accidentally bucks and pulls you down against him. Embarrassingly, you let a whine fall from your lips…still too sensitive down there, you guess.

There’s a shit-eating grin plastered on his face now, you hate it. “Who’s making noises like a kitty now, huh?” With this, he takes the liberty to do it again, pressing you down hard against his length.

The feeling of your bare cunt against him is electrifying, probably (definitely) not better than him being inside you, but the next best thing. This was supposed to be your thanks to him. But now he’s taken full charge—maneuvering you back and forth, gripping and kneading—it’s cruel.

For someone who’s never mated with anyone in his life, he’s sure moving you around like he has. His hands are all over you—thighs, hips, waist, breasts, it’s almost overwhelming. Every touch, addled with the buck of hips, brings forth a new sensation that is better than the last. You think this would be a good way to go out, right on his cock. One last hurrah before the morbid inevitable.

“You f-feel so good, (your name),” his voice is breathy, “r-really good.” Neteyam’s grip on your arms is vice, partly because he can feel his climax approaching, but mostly because he can tell you’re growing tired.

Swiftly, he changes your positions to where you’re laying on your back and he’s crouching over you. The tip of his head smoothes over your folds when he pushes up, and before he draws back, you can see just about where his dick would rest if he were inside of you.

“I’d be all the way up here,” he presses down just beneath your breastbone, “you’re so tiny.” It sounds so dirty, but you know ultimately he’s just making an observation—regardless, the comment has your stomach churning in excitement.

The both of you watch in fascination as he sheathes himself up and over your cunt, moaning in unison when the tip of his mushroomy head catches against your bud. Euphoric, he thinks. He never imagined that something could feel this good, let alone without connecting bonds.

Still sensitive from earlier, it doesn’t take too long for you to reach your peak. Neteyam knows that your arrhythmic breathing is a tell-tale sign, and he helps you get there by cooing words of encouragement.

He goes back and forth between ’I got you’s and ‘it’s okay’s, leaving trails of kisses down your body in his wake. The second you finish, you’re pulling him down onto you tight. Moaning and whining into his ear, whispering those same words of encouragement that he whispered to you prior.

“So good, ‘Teyam,” you claw at his back, “keep going, want you to feel good too.” And he does. Unrelenting in his attack against your sex, he comes with a few more pistons.

You eagerly welcome him into your arms when he drops from exhaustion, and hold him there until your erratic breaths synchronize. The both of you are disgustingly sweaty and sticky, but even so, you feel at peace.

You bask in the tranquil quietness of the night, just staring at each other. Soft caresses and soothing hums. Then, Neteyam speaks.

“On this fateful night, two hearts danced…” he whispers, grabbing your hand to hold it over his heart.

“What does this mean?” you smile at him. He ponders over it and then explains.

“My songcord…I want to tell this story,” he starts, “the night when two hearts became one.”

A crystal droplet cascades down your face, “that sounds beautiful.”

#neteyam x reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam sully x reader smut #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak x reader smut #avatar x reader #avatar x reader smut #neteyam smut #avatar the way of water #atwow #awow #avatar smut #avatar the way of water smut

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anim-ttrpgs · 2 months

Text

Re-Introducing the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club & FAQ

Alright, so, we have this discord server called the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club, and it’s exactly what it sounds like. A discord server, run by the A.N.I.M. Team, for reading, analyzing, and playing TTRPGs. It’s free to join, and at the time of writing this it has a community of nearly 200 members.

Also at the time of writing this, for a limited time, you can get a FREE PDF of the July 11th update of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy just by joining the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club! This is a huge upgrade over the free May 10th version!

Here’s how the book club operates:

Nominations. Members nominate RPGs they wanna play.

Voting. After we finish the current RPG, we vote on what the next one will be. You can vote for as many nominations as you want, and nominations with the most votes wins.

Reading. We encourage you to buy the winning game to support the developers, but if you can’t for any reason, we will find a way to get you a PDF. A rough deadline is set that will allow everyone to read the rulebook at a rate of about 10 pages a day, though reading faster or slower is okay.

Playing. We assign GMs on a volunteer basis, and players are assigned to groups with GMs based on schedule compatibility. Each group plays the same adventure module, so each group will have commonalities in their adventure that they can talk about and compare their experiences with, even with different GMs, players, and characters.

Repeat. Voting begins anew with the nominations that we have accumulated in the mean time.

A.N.I.M.’s current Patreon goal is also tied to the Book Club. If y’all can raise our Patreon income to $310/month, that will allow us to set aside manpower to carve out and organize a small additional space within the ANIM TTRPG Book Club server for other games which do not fit the nomination criteria for the main book club! At the time of writing this, it sits at $259/$310. Signing up to the patreon grants you access to monthly rulebook updates as we continue to finish the game, adventure modules, short fiction, and our patreon discord server.

Below is a bit of an FAQ as an attempt to quell any concerns or hesitations

“The Book Club games probably don’t fit with my schedule.”

They might! Because we assign multiple different groups based on schedule compatibility, the book club games are actually very very schedule-flexible! You might be surprised!

And if they still don’t, even just reading the rulebook and joining in on discussions is a valuable form of participation!

“I’m afraid to play with strangers.”

They won’t exactly be strangers if you hang out around them in the book club long enough! Yes we do get what you mean, but there’s nothing to worry about. The A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club is a safe community, and we have rules and, more importantly, procedures designed to make playing with relative strangers as smooth an experience as it can be!

“What if I don’t like the RPG that wins the vote?”

While we encourage you to step a little out of your comfort zone, participation in any given round of the book club is not mandatory, there’s no punishment for sitting out! It’s cool to just hang around in the discord server and discuss virtually anything if you want to.

Elegantly designed and thoroughly playtested, Eureka represents the culmination of three years of near-daily work from our team, as well as a lot of our own money. If you’re just now reading this and learning about Eureka for the first time, you missed the crowdfunding window unfortunately, but our Kickstarter page is still the best place to learn more about what Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy actually is, as that is where we have all the fancy art assets, the animated trailer, links to video reviews by podcasts and youtubers, and where we post regular updates on the status of our progress finishing the game and getting it ready for final release.

Beta Copies through the Patreon

If you want more than just status updates, going forward you can download regularly updated playable beta versions of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy and it’s adventure modules by subscribing to our Patreon at the $5 tier or higher. Subscribing to our patreon also grants you access to our patreon discord server where you can talk to us directly and offer valuable feedback on our progress and projects.

The A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club

If you would like to meet the A.N.I.M. team and even have a chance to play Eureka with us, you can join the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club discord server. It’s also just a great place to talk and discuss TTRPGs, so there is no schedule obligation, but the main purpose of it is to nominate, vote on, then read, discuss, and play different indie TTRPGs. We put playgroups together based on scheduling compatibility, so it’s all extremely flexible. This is a free discord server, separate from our patreon exclusive one. https://discord.gg/7jdP8FBPes

Other Stuff

We also have a ko-fi and merchandise if you just wanna give us more money for any reason.

We hope to see you there, and that you will help our dreams come true and launch our careers as indie TTRPG developers with a bang by getting us to our base goal and blowing those stretch goals out of the water, and fight back against WotC's monopoly on the entire hobby. Wish us luck.

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year

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☀️ with evan buckley "I would choose you over anyone." { keeping the relationship a secretl and catching eyes in a crowded room} pleaseeee

Fire Hazard.

l. Catching eyes in a crowded room + m. Keeping the relationship a secret + 17. "I would choose you over anyone."

Author's Note - this is a drabble written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here if you're interested. my first buck fic!! love him so much, he's an angel :((

Pairing - Evan Buckley x Female Reader

Age Rating - 16+

Warnings - none!! just tooth rotting fluff x

Word Count - 710

Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.

It's absolutely against the rules.

There's a strict no fraternisation policy in place in every firehouse. It's there for a reason, after all. The city can't have all of its firefighters totally distracted because they're in love with each other.

Buck has never been one to follow the rules.

The minute he saw you, he knew he was in trouble. You cruised into the 118 with your sun kissed skin and gentle eyes and he knew there was no turning back. You flashed that million dollar smile in his direction and he could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. Yeah, he was screwed.

Little did he know, the feelings were very mutual. The first time he laughed at one of your jokes, your knees almost gave way. He looks at you like you're the only girl in the world. You feel like it, when you're with him.

At the 118, they call you Hazard. No one knows the meaning of the nickname besides Buck. Your little secret.

It came about one Friday morning shift. You weren't supposed to be working that day, but Hen called in sick, so Bobby asked you to cover. You were actually planning on going to the farmer's market, but you diverted your journey and made your way to the firehouse.

You weren't exactly dressed for work. You were wearing a pale yellow floral sundress that fell mid thigh, paired with sneakers and sunglasses. Buck took one look at you and almost passed out.

"Thank you so much for coming at such short notice. You're the best," Bobby says as you walk across the floor.

"It's no problem," you smile, making your way upstairs to grab some water.

Everyone goes back to their tasks, but Buck's eyes are glued to you. You look at him through your lashes, and he abandons cleaning the truck to run after you.

"Hey, you," he grins.

"Hey! You're in a good mood today," you wink.

"Well a pretty girl just walked into the room, so."

"Really? Where?"

You look around while laughing, and he shoves you playfully.

"You're an idiot," he chuckles.

You look at each other for a moment, before you realise what you're wearing.

"Well, I guess I better change," you tell him, turning to leave.

"Wait!"

Buck grabs your wrist and spins you back around, pulling you into him.

"Can you just give me one more minute to admire you in this dress?"

You look down at your feet, slightly taken aback by his boldness. Buck is not one to ever hold back, but he seems to with you. If only you knew it's because he's worried he'll accidentally tell you how he feels - or worse.

He uses his thumb to tilt your chin up so you're looking at him.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, aware of the other people on the level below. "Most beautiful girl in the world."

"In the entire world?" you tease.

"Are you kidding?" he asks sincerely. "I would choose you over anyone."

He leans in without hesitation and presses a kiss to your lips. It's sweet and chaste and a promise of so much more. When he pulls away, you're both grinning like idiots.

"I've been waiting to do that since the first day I met you," he confesses.

"Well I've been waiting for you to do that since the first day you met me," you giggle.

He kisses you again quickly, before grabbing a hold of your hand.

"Wear this dress again tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night?"

"When I take you out on a real date."

You aim a beaming smile at him, and his heart skips a beat.

"Fine, since you asked so nicely," you wink. "I can't wait."

You lean up to kiss him softly. You both can't get enough.

"If I knew that this dress is all it would take for you to ask me out, I would have worn it months ago," you laugh.

"You walked in and I thought I was gonna burst into flames. You're a fire hazard, woman."

You shove at his arm jokingly, smiling as you do it.

"Well it's a good job I'm a firefighter, huh?" you tease.

No one needs to know how you got your nickname. It's your little secret.

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kikixreverie · 2 years

Text

Need to know

Best friend!Bucky x Fem!reader

Summary - When your best friend starts acting strange and you're left confused about his feelings, Natasha manages to convince you to try to make him jealous, what could go wrong?

Word count - 5k

Warnings - kind of smut, Dry-humping, slight dirty talk, a lot of kissing, fluff, jealousy

A/n - This was a request from an anon but Tumblr ate the ask... and I don't have it written down, but it was something along the lines of 'Best friend!bucky x reader where she asks him advice about a guy to make him jealous'. I wrote this months ago and it definitely wasn't supposed to be this long but here we are. I have edited it about 50 times now and still feel kinda anxious about it since I haven't posted in a while so I really hope you enjoy!

-------------------------------------

You had always been close with Bucky. Always. Having met in your teenage years and grown up together, you were thick as thieves, he'd been your best friend for now the majority of your life. Someone you'd always go to over anyone else when problems would arise at home or school, and he did the same with you.

He had found you hiding out in the library on your second day at your new school, picking at your food with distaste as you sat alone. You were surprised at the fact that the boy had even talked to you in the first place, offering a small wave of his hand and a kind smile when you first saw him, but when he asked politely if he could sit with you and didn't hesitate to pull his lunch from his backpack and complain as dramatically as possible that there was just 'far too much food in his bag and no way he could eat it all', you remember smiling the most you had in weeks, rolling your eyes as you took the fruit he had offered you wordlessly.

You'd been best friends ever since, and there was always this unspoken understanding between you, one that you never had with Steve, as much as you loved him, or Natasha, as close as you are. It was always different with Bucky, always a different atmosphere between the two of you.

That was also unspoken. You'd mentioned it once to Natasha, explained to her that somehow, just being in the same room as him managed to calm that ever-looming anxiety you tended to feel, and when you'd meet his eyes across the distance, you always knew exactly what he was trying to tell you without any words needing to be spoken, that for weeks after your childhood pet passed away when you were 15, Bucky held your hand every single day because your anxiety had spiked and he had noticed the constant shake to them. That became a hard habit to lose.

Her response was 'the look', almost deadpan, wordlessly saying to you 'I know you're not a fucking idiot, c'mon now'.

You had blushed and changed the subject.

Of course there were times you might've looked at him a bit differently, you met at a fairly young age, and it was after meeting him that your interest in boys grew.

Watching the scrawny boy you'd known since you were 13 get his braces off and grow a sudden foot taller was a lot for your growing heart to handle, and then that Brooklyn-boy charm came in and girls were falling at his feet, not one of them knowing or caring about who he was, just hypnotised by those light blue eyes. You always hoped he was too distracted by those girls to notice how desperately hard you tried not to fall under his spell too.

So yeah sure, there may have been a time during your mid-to-late teens and possibly your early twenties that you might have liked him in a' more than a friend' way.

But that didn't mean anything had to come of it.

However, there's a certain red-headed Russian woman in your life that, for some reason, refuses to let you hide in your dark pit of misery and denial.

You shouldn't have even mentioned it. the one time you willingly brought up the topic of James Barnes with the all-knowing Natasha and she had immediately fed your delusions.

"I'm not saying he was jealous at all, Nat, I'm just saying... he looked kind of upset."

"What kind of upset? Did he look sad? Angry? Were his eyebrows all furrowed? ooh, did his fists clench? I bet his fists clenched. The jaw definitely clenched. He's a jaw clencher for sure-"

"Nat, Stop! He just..." You groaned, throwing your head back dramatically as you leaned against her kitchen counter, "He just seemed off."

"Okay, but did his jaw-"

"Yes! Now can we stop talking about it."

She stopped what she was doing to stare at you, her eyebrows raised, "You do realise you're the one that brought it up right?"

You sighed and pressed your palm to your forehead, before dragging it down your face, and Natasha tutted, wrapping her arms around you in a tight squeeze.

"You're stressing yourself out too much about all this, babe. Why don't you just ask him how he feels."

You pulled back from the comforting embrace quickly, but still stayed in her arms, "Fuck that. No. No way. Then he'd know, he'd know why I asked, or he'd at least ask me why I asked and then I'd either have to run away or lie to him and I've never been able to-"

"Okay, breathe angel. Stop this, you can't do this forever, honey. I know you're scared of losing him but this is what could break your friendship if you let it, half the time you're avoiding him because you are so scared of him knowing how you feel." Said Natasha, before she pulled away to continue with her cooking.

"What do you mean how I feel?" You asked, feeling your cheeks grow hot when she sighed and shook her head, not even looking your way.

"Nope, no, not even gonna get started on that one. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

You opened your mouth to argue but she only gave you another look, and your mouth snapped closed.

It was silent for a moment and you leant your elbows on the counter, holding your face in your hands as you watched her expertly sprinkle different spices into her food, but you knew not to get too comfortable in her silence, Natasha was scheming, and that was definitely something to be frightened of.

You practically jumped out of your skin when she finally broke the silence, "I have an idea, but I need you to have an open mind and actually listen for once, okay?"

You hesitated, struggling to hold the intense eye-contact she was currently giving you. A part of you was ready to say no, tell her to leave it be and let you wither in a pit of sadness, but the rest of you leaned in to her words, wanting, no, needing something to happen, anything after years of this constant stalemate, this strange game of cat and mouse between yourself and your best friend. You were constantly holding your breath around Bucky, waiting for something inevitable to happen. What that would be? You had no idea, but you couldn't do it anymore.

"...go on." You finally said, having made up your mind without realising. Natasha almost seemed surprised, but you weren't sure that was even possible. She nodded and gave you a smile.

"You wanna know if he was jealous? Give him a reason to be and then figure out if he is, that way, you'll have more of an idea of how he's feeling, and when it comes to talking to him about your feelings, you might actually do it this time. Plus, you might get some info on how to get him even more interested."

You thought over her words, still confused as to what her grand plan was, "And how might I do that exactly?"

"Say you've got a date, ask him for advice, play with him a little bit. Works every time, trust me."

She said it like it was no big deal, and you were stuck on the way her smirk widened when she said 'play with him a little bit'.

"I just told you I can't lie to him." You replied.

Natasha simply raised her eyebrow at you, "As if you haven't been lying to him since you were 15."

"Hey, that's not lying, it's just... concealing certain parts of the truth."

She tilted her head in your direction but you ignored her, turning away completely and crossing your arms over your chest with a huff.

"Don't lie then, tell him that your interested in some guy and play it off like your asking for advice. He doesn't have to know that he is said guy and its all a secret ploy to make his jaw clench again."

"Nat." You groaned.

"What?"

"Why would I ask him for advice though? He knows I'd go to you."

Nat sighed this time, frustrated with your excuses, "Tell him you wanted advice from a guy."

"But Steve-"

"Just do it! If he's actually jealous he'll be more focused on the fact that your trying to get into pants that aren't his." She raised her voice, dropping her wooden spoon into the simmering pot to turn to you, that Russian accent peaking through her words.

"Nat, I'm telling you now, he isn't jealous."

She almost started to argue, but then she spotted that dejected look in your eye and stopped herself, taking a deep breath to calm her frustrations and think of a good response, "Are you saying that because you believe it? Or because you want him to be jealous so bad you wish he wasn't, because you're terrified of losing him."

You went silent, staring down at the floor when you realised you had no response for her.

"Thought so." She said before shuffling closer, pulling you in for a hug, "Look babe, you need to stop worrying about what could happen, and just focus on what is happening right now. If you're not ready to tell him how you feel, you don't have to. Trying this won't hurt, and it won't hurt your friendship, okay? Go one step at a time, you're getting too ahead of yourself."

You thought about it for a while as you enjoyed the hug, before you pulled back and nodded, thanking her for the advice and apologising for being difficult, she only chuckled and began to dish up the food.

"No worries honey, I'm used to it."

It's not like you had ever said you'd actually do it, and you never exactly planned to. But Natasha's plan had started to loom over every interaction you had with Bucky, so much so that without realising you had started to avoid him, and that only made you feel worse.

It took a sleepless night of tossing and turning and missing your best friend like crazy when you finally made the decision. You can't do this forever, why not just say fuck it for once.

It started when Bucky had invited you to his place for a movie night, like he did every weekend, like he had the past two weekends where you had declined, but this time you said yes, and decided that this would be the night you tried to make him jealous.

You weren't proud of it, and a part of you felt incredibly guilty as you stood at his door and knocked. No matter how many times Natasha told you this was harmless, you still couldn't believe her.

"Are we knocking now? What happened to 'your place is my place'?" Bucky asked as he opened the front door to let you in, barely moving aside so your arm brushed against his when you walked past him.

"Ha ha. Just didn't know if it was locked or not." You punched his shoulder and he scrunched up his face in mock offense.

"Sure. Go sit down and pick a movie, I'm just getting some snacks ready." Bucky said, nodding to the couch before he turned and walked into the kitchen, black sweatpants so low on his hips you could just about see the waistband of his boxers, wearing a black t-shirt with his hair pulled back into the low bun you'd helped him learn how to do.

You nodded slowly, watching him walk away for a few seconds before rolling your eyes at your own idiotic behaviour and slumping down across Bucky's couch, the remote in your hand as you lazily flicked through Netflix.

"Any particular genre?" You shouted out to Bucky, who came out from the other room to shrug his shoulders at you.

"Like I said, doll, whatever you'd like. Only fair after I made you come with me to see that god-awful movie Pheobe forced me to watch."

You snorted a laugh, frowning when he walked away again, your mind wandering to the last time you went to the movies with Bucky, over a month ago now, when he had forced you to third-wheel his second date with 'Pheobe' for no apparent reason.

It was almost humiliating the way she had pulled you aside in the bathroom.

"I seriously don't mean to be rude but... why are you here?" Pheobe whispered, despite the fact that every stall was empty and Bucky was stood outside the building, but your face grew heated as the woman across from you voiced the exact question you'd been asking yourself all night, "Like, at first I thought you were a lesbian, but after that story you told earlier I'm assuming you're not, which is fine, but why are you here? I told Bucky this was a date. Does he really not like me at all?"

You were stumped, opening and closing your mouth like a blank-minded fish, searching for the answer that you didn't have, only coming up empty, "Honestly Phoebe, I have no idea. I'm sure he does like you, maybe he just wanted me to come to..."

"Maybe he just wanted to go on a date with you."

"What?!"

"You heard me. I think I'm the third-wheel here." Her voice went quiet, and you instantly felt bad.

"No, Pheobe. That's absurd, he's my best friend."

"You might want to re-think that."

"What did you pick?" Bucky asked, placing the bowl of popcorn in-between you as he sat down and you smiled at him, pushing away the memory.

"Twilight." You replied, sinking back into your seat as you grabbed and handful of popcorn and shovelled it into your mouth.

Bucky nodded as his eyes focused on the screen, his jawline prominent as he chewed, licking his lips of the salty flavouring, a light stubble on his jaw from not shaving in a few days-

"You good?"

You gulped loudly, taking a breath as you met his eyes, embarrassed that you'd been caught staring, "Yup." You said, nodding as you turned to look at the screen again, ignoring his amused chuckle.

Your mind wandered to the conversation you'd had with Natasha only hours ago.

'Don't overthink it, just bring it up when you get the chance, be casual about it'

No overthinking, casual. Easy. Maybe now would be a good time to bring it up, casually, without overthinking anything.

"Actually-" You started, clearing your throat when it immediately closed up and your fight or flight was begging to kick in, your mind instantly wondering to all of the negative repercussions this could-

You were definitely overthinking right now.

"Yes?" Bucky asked, still half watching the movie before he fully turned to face you, sensing that this sounded fairly serious.

Definitely not casual either.

"I wanted to uh, talk to you about something." The temptation to smack yourself on the forehead was growing unbearably stronger by the second, but you imagined that would probably raise some concern. Your hands twitched by your sides instead.

"What is it?"

"Well, it's kind of- I basically, well." You tried to awkwardly laugh it off, but sighed instead, just fucking say it, fucking lie to your best friend to find out if he's jealous, "There's this guy."

His eyebrows raised, lips parting, before he quickly snapped his mouth shut and furrowed his eyebrows, taking on a sort of clinical expression as he nodded, motioning for you to continue.

"He's uh... I really- like... him, and... he's..." You took a breath, too many pauses, "different, you know?"

He scrunched his face up, "Different? What does that even mean."

"I don't know I just-" You covered your face with your hands, regretting every decision that had led you to this point. "I really want him to like me."

It was quiet for a moment, and you wanted to peak at him, but couldn't.

Bucky sighed, hands gently taking hold of your wrists to pull your hands away from your face, "Look sweetheart, if he's really a smart guy, he'll already like you. Any person would be lucky to have you, you don't need to change for anyone."

You rolled your eyes at him but smiled nonetheless, "I know Buck, thank you. I just..."

Don't overthink it.

"I was wondering if maybe, you might give me some advice? I'm seeing him on Monday and I guess I just want to make him want me, you know?"

He paused, still holding onto your wrists, "Want you?"

"Yeah, you know like- I wanna know what guys really like. I want to make sure he'll never forget me. That sort of thing."

"Sweets, I don't know if you should be asking me that. Why don't you just talk to Natasha if it's that important." He said, letting go of your wrists and pulling away.

"Because I want to hear it from a guy, and Steve's far too awkward for this conversation. C'mon Buck, please. I want you to teach me."

"You want me to teach you?" He asked, more than slightly breathless, and you quickly realised that this sounded much less like getting advice for a guy you like and more trying to get info on what Bucky liked sex-wise.

You did not plan for it to go down that route, and you wondered if you should pull it back, change the subject and try this again another time, without getting too explicit, but the way Bucky had almost whispered those words, was driving you insane. You wanted this to go further. "Yeah, I want to give this guy the night of his life."

He clenched his jaw, and tried not to laugh at the situation, almost tempted to text Natasha at that very moment and break the news. 'Jaw has clenched, I repeat, the jaw has clenched'. You managed to keep that temptation under control, still finding the situation slightly humorous before you actually realised what this meant.

Holy fuck, he's jealous.

You knew now was as good a time as any to push further, and with your new-found realisation, came a new-found confidence, the nerves pushed to the back of your mind, the only thing left of them being the fluttering in your chest.

"What do you think I should wear?" You held back a smirk when he leaned forward in his seat, elbows rested on his knees as he dropped his face into his hands. You kept pushing, "Remember that green dress I wore to your birthday last year? Do you think I should wear that one? You'd think he'd like that? Would you like it if it were you?"

"What do you mean if it were me?"

You froze, your cheeks heating up, that heat spreading to your neck as you quickly tried to save yourself whilst keeping this strange relaxed smoothness to your voice. "If you went on a date with Pheobe, and she wore that dress, would you like it?" You asked, before deciding to push it even further. Natasha's voice echoed in your mind 'play with him a little', "Would you think about taking it off her?"

He didn't even hesitate to reply, turning his head to look at you as he continued to sit forward, an almost angered air to his words, "It wouldn't suit her."

"You don't like it? But I thought-"

"Yes, I liked the dress, you looked fucking gorgeous in it. It just would suit her." He urged, the words coming out in one breath, his voice straining over the final word as if it was physically uncomfortable to say, like he held a certain distaste for the word. Her.

You could sense the atmosphere in the room changing, warping with the darker, heavy feeling that radiated off the man you were teasing without him even realising it, and although you knew you should probably stop, that you were getting on his nerves and for some reason this seemed to be a touchy subject, that nagging, red-headed voice was seeping into your thoughts again, telling you to go further, so you continued to push.

"Would he like it do you think?" You asked, tilting your head, keeping that sickly sweet innocent look on your face, he sighed and closed his eyes, his tongue wetting his lips again, teeth biting at the soft skin.

"If he had half a brain he'd fucking love it." He breathed, eyebrows furrowing along the words 'fucking love it' and you knew exactly what he was thinking of, the picture he had in his head.

Your smile faded, watching the way he opened his eyes but kept them trained to his feet. That heat grew in your chest, that weight, that feeling, weaving its way around your heart and seeping into your bloodstream, it carried through your veins, and suddenly you had never felt closer to your teenage self than you did now, like she had pushed the older you aside and taken her place, because she knew this feeling, she was the only version of you to ever fully accept and admit it for what it was, that the reason she blushed so much when her best friend asked her to prom because he'd rather go with you than some random girl he didn't care about, was because you loved him, and of course you still do now, of course you do.

You thought of what Pheobe said that night, you thought of what Natasha was constantly telling you, or that time Steve accidentally slipped that Bucky had a crush on you when you were younger, and you looked at him now, quickly realising that it was never them who warped your idea of Bucky's feelings, it was you.

The feeling had encapsulated your entire being now, the realisation of yours and his feelings and you decided that you had both waited far too long if this is what you wanted.

And you wanted him.

So you continued to play, speaking with a much more serious air this time, you didn't smirk, you just watched him as you spoke.

"I guess that's settled then, I just need to know what to wear under it." You practically whispered it, the warm apartment feeling sweltering now.

"Fuck." He whispered to himself, dropping his head in his hands again, "What are you doing?"

He looked at you from his bent position, almost looking desperate. No, he did look desperate, and you hated and loved it at the same time, for two very different reasons, you understood exactly what he was feeling, having been a victim to his teasing one too many times.

You parted your lips to talk, thinking for a second that you might actually be upsetting him, but then his eyes dropped to watch the movement, staring at your lips as he released a breath.

"I'm asking you for advice, Buck." You said quietly, eyes darkening as you leaned closer, your nose almost touching his and his eyes dropped again, entranced by your lips, "What about kissing?"

His lips parted, eyes darting up to meet yours, but he made no move to go back, in fact, you realised with a feather-light touch of his nose to yours, that he had inched closer to you, "What?"

His eyes were soft as he waited for you to speak, no apprehension to be seen.

"I need to know how to kiss him, how guys like it, you know?" He moved back an inch, that not so subtle disappointment in his eyes, "How do you like to be kissed, Buck?"

He shook his head in a barely there movement, eyes still not leaving yours, swallowing roughly when he caught you looking at his lips.

You moved closer to him, filling that inch that he had put between you, your heart thumping faster in your chest when he did the same, like he was magnetised, he looked at your lips again and you decided to take the chance.

"Like this?" You asked, before filling the gap completely and your pressed your lips to his, kissing him soft and slow, your stomach fluttering when he didn't hesitate to reciprocate, kissing you back the exact way you were guiding him to, but you pulled back before letting it continue for long, his breath fanning out across your lips, you gaze fluttered to his eyes for a moment, "Or like this?"

You kissed him again, this time harder, more urgency in it, your right hand lifting to his shoulder before you slid it to the nape of his neck, a sudden desperate need for his lips on every inch of your skin overcoming your thoughts when his arms wrapped around your waist.

You pulled away again and he tried desperately hard to follow you, eyes opening to voice his frustration when you wouldn't let him.

But you brushed your thumb across his bottom lip, silencing him, "Or maybe like this."

This, this was definitely the one.

You kissed him soft and slow, but this time parted your lips to brush your tongue across his, relishing in the noise that escaped him when you did so, and the way he then did the same to you, parting his lips in a way that breathed hot air into the kiss.

You were so enraptured with the taste of him that you barely even noticed when he pulled you onto his lap, your knees digging into the couch on either side of him. You only realised when his thighs between yours had suddenly stopped your ability to squeeze your thighs together in hopes of relieving that throbbing ache that had formed between them.

This kiss continued much longer than you had planned it to, forgetting what you were going to do next, but you didn't mind much, too caught up in the way his lips were so stupidly soft and his tongue was hot and wet, and his hands were huge and grasping at your clothes with a desperation so similar to the way you pulled his hair.

You pulled away again, much to his dismay as he practically growled and rolled his eyes in frustration. He rested his head back against the couch and licked his kiss swollen lips.

You needed more, barely letting yourself think about the fact that you had just kissed Bucky, The Bucky, Your Bucky.

"What about this, Buck? You like it when a girl does this?" You asked and he frowned, looking up at you in almost annoyed confusion, opening his mouth to speak but then you moved forward on his lap, sitting in a way that your core was pressed against his, his cock twitching in his sweatpants when you rolled those hips of yours, the annoyance and confusion faded and he reached for your hips, eyes fluttering shut when you made the movement again, biting your lip when it stimulated your clit, "Do you think you could come from this, Bucky? Or would you need more? Would you want my hand, or my mouth? Or would you just be begging to fuck me at this point."

He groaned at practically every question, his hands holding your hips as you grinded yourself on him, his cock now achingly hard as his hips started to lift slightly.

"Fuck, sweetheart, what is this? Why are you doing this?" He asked, his voice urgent and needy as he forced himself to stay still under you, gripping your hips tighter to signal for you to stop your movements, much to either of your dismay, "Please tell me this isn't all for some fuckin' guy."

You froze, confused for a second, before realising he still had no idea, and that guilt you had shoved away creeped back in.

Your heart was in your throat as you finally told him the truth, "It is, but he's you Buck. It was always you, it's always been you."

His lips parted, eyes widening slightly at what you had just confessed to him, "I'm the guy you were asking me advice about?"

"Well yeah, who else am I gonna get better advice about what you like from? Better to hear it from the horses mouth, eh?" You smiled sheepishly, shrugging your shoulders as you watched him huff a laugh with a shake of his head.

"Natasha, right?" He asked, raising an eyebrow but you didn't respond, probably looking very guilty of his accusation, "Well, I guess I should tell you that we may have been two-timed by her. She actually gave me the very same advice a few months ago, I just never had the guts to take it as far as you did."

"You talk to Nat about me?" You teased, but he only smiled gently, soft eyes watching you.

"Of course I do, how could I not tell her all about the girl I've been in love with since I was 15." He confessed quietly, blush reddening his cheeks, "God, she must be sick of me talking about you."

You laughed quietly, trying not to settle into the disbelief of it all and instead focus on your excitement, that teenage girl inside of you was screaming with glee and kicking her feet. You didn't let realisation that James Barnes just confessed he'd loved you the whole time you'd loved him be tainted with regret about wasted time.

"She must be sick of us both, I've been doing the same thing ever since I met her."

He smiled at you and you smiled back, pressed your forehead against his.

"What do we do now?" You asked, still very much feeling the physical after-effects of your intense make-out session.

Bucky huffed a laugh, "I'd love to say go to the bedroom, but not yet, I think we should work up to that."

You nodded and smiled, understanding what he meant and feeling thankful he was able to voice it for you, "Agreed."

"We could do this for a while longer though, still got four and a half twilight movies left to go." Bucky joked, his fingers finding their way under your shirt to brush against soft skin.

"Hm, sounds like an excuse to make out with your best friend all night."

"Maybe it is." He whispered back before he kissed you again, using his hand on your back to press you against him.

It felt so natural to the both of you, your bodies fitting together perfectly, no awkwardness or anxiety. You knew you'd both need to talk properly soon, but that could wait a few movies more, for now you could settle with kissing him until you ran out of air.

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folder-stuff · 1 year

Text

I steamed with these drawings for a long time, but it was worth it.

When I drew the designs of the guardians, all sorts of ideas came to mind about what happened while Cornelia lived in Meridian. I really like what I came up with, and I'll try to explain why I drew it all at all.

In general, as you know, in this alternative, Cornelia went with Caleb to Meridian, leaving her family and friends, as well as the post of a guardian. This event has greatly shaken Will's confidence in herself as a leader who is obliged to unite girls. Especially after the arch with Nerissa, where she almost lost the Heart of Kandrakar. And don't forget about Taranee's doubts, because of which she even left the team in the canon. In general, Will had reasons to give the leader's place to a new member of the team - Orube. "Maybe someone else can handle it better?" she thought.

At first, it seemed to be a good idea to run away from responsibility. However, girls didn't think so. No one recognized Orube as a leader for many reasons, one of which was Will's authority as the previous head. And when the girls were looking for support in her, she couldn't provide it, because she's not as solid as Orube or Cornelia. Will is a sensitive nature, the heart of the team, not its foundation, and she isn't able to return everyone from heaven to earth because of her character.

Hence the main conflict was born: Will couldn't cope with the role of the guardian of the earth, since she wasn't able to take the position of Cornelia in the team. She felt out of place and understood that she used to be more effective. Against the background of the defeat that has already happened after Cornelia's departure and Taranee's doubts, this aggravated the feeling of failure, inferiority complex and hesitation. Confidence is the main quality of the guardian of the earth, and she lost it without even starting to develop in herself.

This is where the main dilemma began: she wanted the leader's place back. But not only because she realized her incompetence as a guardian of the earth. It's also about the Heart of Kandrakar. From the very moment of Orube's appearance and the transfer of the Heart, Will heard its call, at first barely perceptible, but growing stronger every day. With the understanding of where she really belonged, Will missed the feeling of unity with the Heart of Kandrakar, with its warmth and power. And it scared her. Because she began to see Nerissa in herself, to hear her phrases in her head and to dream that she's turning into a recently defeated enemy...

This is exactly what I wanted to convey in my first work: the binding vines that strangle Will and don't allow her to move; the imitation of the Heart of Kandrakar, which no longer belongs to her; fear from the desire to possess what she can no longer possess.

I hope I have enough strength to make a post about Orube, because I did the drawing for a long time and was a little tired =_=

In the second picture, I wanted to show Will's routine and her new powers. She conjures only plants, often flowers, as it's more difficult for her to cope with heavy stones and hard earth. This is due to fading self-confidence and lack of firmness in actions and decisions. She's effective in combat, but things don't always work out the way she intended, which makes her angry at the plants, as if they're a computer hanging at the wrong moment. She had to learn to cope with vines and flowers so that they were useful.

Also, these plants often get in the way and grow when and where it isn't necessary. For example, they can cling to the legs and grow while Will sleeps.

#w.i.t.c.h.#w.i.t.c.h. fanart #w.i.t.c.h comics #w.i.t.c.h. will #will vandom

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eternal-evergreens · 2 months

Note

may I request a yandere hajime kashimo x fem reader or yandere gato x fem reader if you haven't read the manga yet

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧ "Arc Flash" ｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

Post format: drabble

Paring: Yandere! Hajime Kashimo x Fem! Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: major injury, slight gore, period-typical misogyny (nothing from Hajime), cross-dressing, forced marriage

You were once one of the strongest sorcerers of your time, though your days of glory have long since passed you by.

You were twenty-five when you fought what you thought to be your last battle. Twenty-five when you sustained a life-altering injury. Twenty-five when you lost it all.

Hajime Kashimo. Your childhood friend turned sour. Endearing when you were children, his fixation on you began to verge on unnerving as you entered adolescence. By the time you had entered adulthood, it had bloomed into an obsession from which you could not escape.

“Let’s get married,” he told you on your eighteenth birthday. He wasn’t asking for your opinion. If you wanted to get out of this, you’d need a better excuse than ‘I don’t want to’.

“I can’t,” you said flatly, luggage in hand. You needed to get going before noon, and he was blocking your only exit. “It’s a tradition in my family for sorcerers to go on a pilgrimage of strength once they enter adulthood. You know this.”

“I’m not like them,” you say. “I need to get stronger.”

“The girls usually choose to get married instead, though.”

“You don't even have a technique!” You pause.

That's not quite true, though he has no way to know it. You never told him about it, after all.

“...Even more reason to get stronger.”

You do have a technique, but you've only just recently discovered it.

“You won’t need to get stronger once you’re under my protection.”

Most sorcerers become aware of their technique around five or six…

“And what if someone attacks me while you’re away? I’m going. End of story.”

…but it's a different story if their technique requires the use of a medium that is hard to come by.

“When you come back, then,” he says. You give a vague indication of agreement, and he lets you pass.

Corpses aren't exactly common playthings for a child, after all.

Most pilgrimages of this type end after a maximum of three years. However, returning was never something you planned on doing. Your family scorned you for not being a meek and obedient daughter, and Hajime had chased off the only friends you had. There was nothing left for you back in the village. The pilgrimage was largely nothing more than an excuse for your escape.

Of course, that doesn’t mean it was all for show. You were’nt lying when you said you wanted to get stronger, after all.

Within just a year of your departure, rumours of “The Masked Sorcerer” began to circulate around Japan. Despite the growing fame, you weren’t worried about being caught. After all, [First] [Last] was a female sorcerer of humble origins with no innate technique, completely different from the Masked Sorcerer, an anonymous male who possessed a mastery over corpse manipulation.

After seven years of independence, you thought you'd never see anyone from your past ever again. But perhaps the years of separation had worn on your memory; you seemed to have forgotten that Hajime was a junkie for battle.

It was a relatively simple attack from behind. So easy to dodge that you suspect it was meant more as a declaration than a genuine attempt on your life. You reach for your katana, prepared to take your assailant down in one blow, however, a familiar voice freezes you in place.

“You’re the masked sorcerer, right?” He asked. “I've been looking for you.” Hajime lunges for you, his cursed energy crackling around him. You jump to create distance, narrowly avoiding a collision. Snapping out of your momemtary stupor, this time you don’t hesitate to unsheathe your katana and swing it down in one fluid motion. At the same time, you summon a horde of skeletons to join you in battle. Skeletons don’t make for the strongest fighters, but bones are the most resistant to electric conduction. That makes them perfect for fighting against Hajime’s cursed energy.

“So this is corpse manipulation!” Hajime exclaims, leaping out of your sword’s path. “I’ve never seen anything like it!” Your skeletons swarm him, each armed with weapons made of bone. Hajime releases a surge of electricity, but the skeletons hardly react. “Not bad.” He grins. “You even accounted for the special property of my cursed energy. However,” Hajime drops his staff and raises his arms to his chest, making a hand sign you recognise instantly. How could you forget? You were the first person he showed it off to.

“Hey, look at this! I just learned how to make explosions!” Hajime, age twelve, told you, guiding you by the hand as he ran with you across an open field. “[First], [First], look!”

“I’m looking, I’m looking,” you say. Hajime smiles, letting go of your hand to free up his own, he places his left palm over the back of his right hand, making a sign that resembles a butterfly’s wings. “How does it work?”

“So you take a bunch of electricity like this to create a sort of field, yeah? Then you pulse more electricity through that field, and then…” In a second, the tree standing to your left explodes as if struck by lightning, its stump catches on fire, and its branches fly out in all directions, many of them also on fire.

“Woah! That’s amazing, Hajime!” Hajime puffs out his chest with pride.

“I’ve even thought of a name for it!” He tells you. “I’m calling it—”

“Arc flash.”

In no time at all, the force of the explosion rips your skeletons apart, leaving nothing left between you and him. You lunge forward, katana in hand. He readies his staff to block your attack, and the two of you exchange blows with lightning speed.

“What’s your name?” He asks. You don’t answer. Your voice would give you away. A current passes through your body, shocking the nerves. You lock up, and Hajime reaches to remove your mask. In a flash, you sever his arm. But the damage is done. In an effort to protect your identity, you gave it away instead.

It’s Hajime’s turn to be frozen now. He looks down at the stump of his arm as blood gushes from the cleany cut arteries, then he looks back to you. “That was…”

New Shadow Style: Simple Domain.

By creating a small domain around your body, you’re able to automate your movements, attacking and reacting to attacks faster than you ever could on your own.

It’s not something you came up with, but, having no innate technique to rely on, it was basically your signature back home.

Shit. You messed up.

“Let’s change the rules,” he says, healing his injured hand and picking his staff back up. “If I win, you’ll promise to marry me, just like you did back then.” No point in hiding it now, you figure. You rip off your mask and throw it to the ground.

“And if I win, you’ll die where you stand.”

“Deal.” The two of you launch towards each other in a blaze of fiery passion. You fight well, but it isn’t long before you burn through all of your skeleton reserves. Regular corpses, though stronger, are more suceptible to electric pulse, and don’t last much longer. With nothing but melee combat left at your disposal, it was only a matter of time before a well-placed electrical current sent you out of commission.

That bastard. He targeted your spinal cord on purpose, didn’t he?

“Partial paraplegia,” the doctor said. “It means that while you still retain some form of movement in your legs, it will be quite difficult for you to ever walk again. And even then, only for short distances.”

You wanted to kill him. That good-for-nothing husband of yours was just about as bad as it can get. But a sorcerer’s word is their pride. So you agreed to go back to his residence as his newly disabled wife, though the humiliation and shame just might send you into an early grave.

“Well,” he says, grinning as he wheels you out of the office. “Guess you can’t run away anymore, huh?”

#yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere x reader #yandere hajime kashimo #hajime kashimo #hajime kashimo x reader #yandere jjk x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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i-heart-hxh · 5 months

Note

During the shinju scene,meleoron mentions theres something killua cant tell him, what is it that killua couldnt tell him?

from what i seen,shinjuu isnt always romantic,was it he couldnt tell meleoron he was going to die w gon because of his romantic feelings

The line

meleoron:‘if you joking,whyd u have that incredibly sad look on ur face(talking about when he was observing killua with gon)’ ‘you cant tell me,so i wont ask’ or in different translations its ‘cant you tell me?’ But in the original japanese its about being unable to tell somebody something

Hello!

So, I decided to just post (most of) these two pages because I think seeing the art and layout of the actual pages helps with understanding exactly what's going on and also analyzing it. I also went and looked at the pages in Japanese just to see if anything stood out. Aside from the famous shinjuu line, the translation seems fine.

Just to summarize and be clear before I launch into further analysis: In this scene, Killua says (with a rather dark expression) that the worst case scenario is he and Gon die together in a lovers suicide. Killua sees that Meleoron is rather vexed/taken aback/discouraged by this response and doesn't know what to say, so then Killua immediately claims he's just kidding and that they'll be okay after all, and he knows how to snap Gon out of it.

Meleoron then internally doubts that Killua is kidding about this, because he was there when Gon said the "It has nothing to do with you," (essentially) line that pushed Killua away, and he saw how heartbroken Killua looked by that. He then decides it's not worth asking because Killua clearly doesn't want to be honest about his feelings, he can't or won't express what he's going through, so he backs off.

I'm glad you brought this up because it's a piece of the whole shinjuu scene that people don't talk about as much, but this whole exchange and Togashi bothering to show Meleoron's reaction to it in the first place says a lot about the importance of the scene. If Meleoron didn't pause and connect this to Killua's earlier heartbroken moment (and notice how it takes up literally half of the page--it's important!), it would be easy to read on past it without thinking about it more deeply.

In other words, this further exchange with Meleoron is emphasis. It's there so the readers don't simply gloss over what Killua said about the shinjuu, and so the readers understand that he means it, that no matter what he says to the contrary, Killua is in fact serious about this possibility. It's there to slow things down enough so the readers can reflect on and ask their own questions about the situation.

I'm sure this is why Togashi bothered to put Meleoron in the scene with Gon pushing Killua away in the first place--there was no other reason for him to be there, other than being an observer of this moment and standing in to ask these questions.

Meleoron--an outside observer without as much context for Gon and Killua's relationship as the rest of us--wonders what's going on here, why Killua looked utterly destroyed by a few simple words. But because he saw Killua's immediate urge to lie and say it's a joke when he hesitated, he knows Killua won't open up to him about exactly what's going on, why Killua was so devastated by what Gon said to him and why Killua intends to do a teen lovers suicide with his best friend if all goes badly. Meleoron is definitely pointing out (in his view, anyway) that there are feelings behind this that Killua is unable and unwilling to talk about. Is he implying they're romantic feelings? I mean...

This happens so much in Chimera Ant arc around Killua's feelings. Togashi leaves it open-ended, doesn't spell it out blatantly, but it seems like the question is being asked over and over again--what exactly are the nature of Killua's feelings for Gon, anyway? And there keep being these moments where the concept of romantic love is conjured in some form in connection with or around this unspoken question being asked, like multiple instances in the Palm subplot I've talked about a bunch of times now. (Linking to that post in particular because it links to a lot of other Palm subplot related posts.)

Even the way Killua asks if Gon considers him a friend or a comrade, asking What are we? basically is essentially a shoujo trope--and especially how it was presented, very dramatic with a lot of focus and emphasis on Killua's internal turmoil around asking the question.

There are just so many times in this arc where emphasis gets placed on a question of, What are your feelings for Gon anyway, Killua? in an indirect way, including this moment with Meleoron. It's repeated so many times and there are so many instances where there's some subtext around or even direct mention of romantic love hovering around these questions, it's basically daring the audience to answer.

It's true that shinjuu can be non-romantic in some cases, however the word choice is meaningful. Togashi knows what the implications of it are, especially in a literary sense. He could have chosen other ways to phrase this, he could have opted not to use this word in particular. If it was presented completely in isolation from any other romantic subtext, there would be more of an argument to be had for it just being included in a platonic sense, but with how much repeated romantic subtext there is with Gon and Killua's relationship to begin with...I think the word choice is very intentional.

I hope that answers your question!

#hunter x hunter #hxh #killugon #gonkillu #gon #killua #meleoron #meta #my posts #asks #anonymous #long post #chimera ant arc #lovers suicide meta

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mari-lair · 10 months

Text

I posted my overall view of what is going on, and how Teru's mistake was trusting him so much he practically ignored that Akane is part of the clock keepers: Here

But I want to drive home just how much trust Teru is showing Akane, cause it is exactly as you said Anon "It didn't cross Teru's mind that he should be wary of Akane"

Let's set the stage: Teru is a supernatural expert, but he doesn't know anything about the clock keepers boundary, he doesn't even know how to enter it, Akane is the one giving all the exposition in this arc.

So from the start, Teru is dependent on Akane, and he is okay with it. He doesn't act uptight and tense to be in an unknown boundary, owned by very powerful supernaturals.

He acts borderline careless, letting Hanako escape, and curious about what catches his eye, not hesitating to grab that strange owl wing: Must be harmless since Akane is holding it after all.

He follows Akane's lead: When Akane says "Follow the bird" Teru obeys, no questions asked.

He is fully focusing ahead, where there are no threats to be seen, so he is relaxed, because Akane has his back.

This belief does not die when Akane hits him, he mostly seem surprised, as if he didn't expect a supernatural to go unnoticed by Akane and hit his back.

Which is a slap in the face, cause Akane held his arm, he went straight for his weakness.

Teru has a hand on his sword at all time even when he isn't really in attack/danger mode, just in this chapter we can see it a few times.

And despite Akane holding his arm (so gently too) and him being a smart person, Teru does not immediately connect the dots, not realizing that the reason he didn't get any warning from Akane is because it was Akane himself attacking.

He only switched from "an attack?? I need to defend myself/attack back" and enters into a betrayed rage when he sees with his own eyes Akane is the culprit.

Teru trusts him a lot.

And Akane knows.

The idea of putting him on trial makes him distressed. Sad. Guilty.

He can't even face him.

He originally didn't restrain Teru. He was satisfied taking a step back after marking Teru and seemed like he was going to leave it at that, even apologizing for putting the mark in the first place.

He only restrained him because teru was trying to kill him.

And at no point does he fight Teru back he just defends and dodges. He will do his damn clock keeper duty, but he won't hurt Teru or betray him in any way he has any control over.

#tbhk #teru minamoto #aoi akane #akane aoi #jshk #jibaku shounen hanako kun #minamoto teru #tbhk spoilers #toilet bound hanako kun #terukane #tbhk 108 #romantic or platonic i do not care they are important to me

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otomes-world · 9 months

Text

Longing

Hello everyone! I had a strange urge to write something, so yes.. AU belongs to @shiny-jr I'm just interpreting. This is also my parody to the five stages of grief. Another sentient twst works are here. Enjoy 0/

Upd: I've finally got permission to post this thing! But.. I forgot about it.. and I'm no longer like it.. and it's so small.. but, yeah, let it exists.

Disbelief.

It was the first emotion that began to creep into consciousness with a light touch from just hearing about the “shutdown.” The player just took a break, was busy, preparing for exams, tests, work, whatever. Causing panic out of nowhere was stupid. This had already happened more than once, but..

The hours merged into days. Days became weeks. Only the most stubborn began to count beyond the month. The mistrust and fear began to be felt stronger than before. More and more often insidious “what ifs” were spinning in head.

You were only gone for a short moment. Maybe a little longer this time, but you would come back. You would, except… Yuu turned into the doll they always were. A puppet whose only value was in you, who controlled it. When there was no point in denying, a storm broke out.

Indignation.

Anticipation caused hearts to experience previously ignored emotions and heads to question. What could be the reason? Could something happen in that inaccessible world? Do you feel the same confusion, unable to connect?

Could you become bored with their existence?

Did you choose them, him, over someone else? What exactly made you hesitate? A beautiful singing voice? Looks that could challenge the Evil Queen? Fame? Wealth? What?

Was the effort really not enough to captivate you, to make you pay attention? Place in your heart the desire to stay. Is it really his fault or is it yours?

Grief.

Bitterness replaced frustration. The one that was ripping chest, made him want to cut his own throat open if it would give any peace of mind. If it would strengthen confidence of your return.

When it seem that the empty vessel was about to break, hope still glimmers at the bottom. When the ear listened to every rumor, rustle, speculation, even if it was false. When the one he least want to see looked at him from the mirror.

When he didn’t want to, and most importantly, couldn’t stop. Gave up. Let every attempt, broken hope plunge him into the abyss of despair much deeper than the last time. Getting back on feet became more and more difficult. Sometimes the thought of acceptance flashed but gaving up the most desired thing was hardly possible. Even if the chances that no one would understand and that everything would burn out were higher every moment.

Longing.

Yearning invariably replaces suffocating pain. Very reluctant, denied by all means.

When there was nothing left in tired beating heart - not a single drop - only memories of the time spent with you through Yuu. Then he still did not understand other people's adoration. He thought that this would bypass him. However, like everyone else, he couldn’t resist the eyes, your eyes and no one else’s, looking at him in a special way. As if in the world of colored pixels he was worth something.

A smile involuntarily plays on his face, although he barely had enough strength to maintain an imitation of life. In moments of overwhelming loss, pride insisted: you were not worth it. You were not worth all the torment, all the tears he shed. You were not worth.. but this was a blatant lie.

When everything around him would merge into one colorless heap, when he himself would cease to exist. The only thought at the last moment would be dedicated to you. Therefore, as soon as the news of the appearance of an impostor who dared to pretend to be you reached the exhausted mind, remained only... rage.

#tenshi talk #twisted wonderland #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #sentient au twst #sentient twst au #twst impostor au #i didn't ask to isekaied #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst oneshot #twst fanfic

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ever-eilish · 6 months

Note

hi! I'd love to see how you'd write chishiya. :)

If you don't have many ideas--maybe a simple scenario where the reader has night terrors and sleeps better with someone. So, she kinda just knocks on Chishiya's door, fully expecting him to dismiss her but he actually agrees.

If you want to turn it into smut, you do you!

Good night

chishiya x fem!reader

when sleepless nights are more common than usual, a very familiar face helps with the terror that comes when the sun goes down

author's notes: so, this is the very first imagine that l post on tumblr! I'm excited to know what you guys think about it :) thank you so much for requesting, I hope this is what you wanted!!! english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes, enjoy❤️‍🩹

warnings: none! just fluff ;)

Sweat dripped from my forehead and I could feel my heart pounding in my ribcage. Tears were forming in my eyes and my breathing was. heavy. The feeling of exhaustion gnawed at me more and more, but now it was impossible to close my eyes and rest again. Ever since I arrived in this place, I have had dreams - or rather, nightmares - every night. At first, I was able to go back to sleep; but the nightmares are getting worse. What was once just a distant image of all the horrors I've experienced here, are now people screaming and running after me.

"Murderer! Murderer!" They scream as they run towards me, with disfigured faces and bloody bodies.

I can't run, it's almost like my feet betray me and refuse to move. I get up from my bed and walk towards the door. I don't have time to think straight when I stand in front of Chishiya's bedroom door; again feeling betrayed by my own feet.

My relationship with Chishiya is complicated, we don't really like each other. It all started with a stupid game, in which only he and I made it out alive. However, what should be a reason for rapprochement, has become a reason for repulsion.

I don't know exactly why, maybe he just didn't really liked me, but I know that since then we've gone into a strange spiral of competition. In which every time I come back from a game he looks at me with that look of superiority that I hate so much, and acts as if the fact that I survived another game was a surprise; obviously, I do the same to him.

I can't quite figure it out, maybe for a subconscious reason, or maybe because he's the only familiar face on the beach, but now I'm knocking on his door.

I regret my decision the moment I put it into action, after all, it was obvious that he would not open the door.

Or maybe he'd even open the door and when he looked at my face, he'd give another one of his smirks and close the door. Or maybe he would even insult me for waking him up in the middle of the night just because I needed comfort. Maybe I should just go back to my room and spend another sleepless night trapped in my own thoughts. I was going back to my room when I hear the door open.

I turn around again and see the blond-haired man's face staring at me intensely, with a questioning look. An awkward silence ensues as I stare at him wide-eyed.

"I-I..." I can't finish my sentence.

Idiot, idiot, idiot! Why the fuck did I think it would be a good idea to show up at the door of the last person who would want to be woken up by me?

"You...?" he says, raising an eyebrow and looking in my direction. His eyes showed no judgment, but rather pure confusion.

"I had a nightmare, and..." onde again, I was not able to finish my sentence "I'll just go back to my room! Sorry if I bothered you!"

I and turn to go to my room again when I feel a warm hand touch my arm.

Something about that simple touch was different, it was almost as if with just one touch, he could soothe all my demons.

"Come in" he says in an indifferent tone, giving me room to enter his room. With a little hesitation I walk towards the room.

The place smelled of cinnamon, with a slight touch of sweetness. It was organized, and somehow I felt that Chishiya's room was a good representation of his personality; cold and not so cozy, but at that moment, that was all I needed.

"Are you going to stand there, or are you going to lie down?" he says, walking over to his king-size bed in the middle of the room. It was only at that moment that I noticed that he wasn't wearing his usual sweatshirt, but just a black t-shirt and sweatpants of the same a color.

I walk towards his bed and sit on the right side, suddenly feeling that my fingers were much more interesting than staring at the piercing brown eyes that were looking at me curiously.

"I don't bite" he says, again in an indifferent tone, and I look in his direction, noticing that he was now lying on his back "you can lie down, you look tired"

So I do as he says and lie on my back as well, staring at the dull white ceiling. The situation should be uncomfortable, and I should be wishing I could get out of here as soon as possible, but instead, I felt comforted by the warmth emanating from the body of the man lying just inches from me, and I wondered how long it had been since I felt such comfort.

"So, nightmares, right?" he asks and turns his head in my direction

"Yes, I guess"

"And may I know why you chose to come here?" he asks me.

His tone was not accusatory, but curious. What am I supposed to answer, anyway? I'm not even sure what I'm doing here.

"I have no idea" I answer honestly, and hear a faint laugh from my side, still refusing to look into his eyes. The room is silent again and I feel him moving on the bed to turn off a simple lamp with yellowish light arranged on the small table next to him, a lamp that I didn't even notice was on.

Now, with the total darkness, I can't help but feel more comfortable, my eyes heavy. It was suddenly, so suddenly that I almost couldn't believe it, that I felt Chisiya's arm go over my shoulders and pulling me slightly closer; Now, my head is millimeters away from his chest, and his arms are clinging to me, with his hand making small circular motions on my forearm. I don't dare say anything, I just let myself relax, snuggle into his embrace and focus on the circular drawings he made with his fingers on my skin, as I feel my eyes close and my body fall into a much-needed sleep.

Maybe it's the only time l've really been able to sleep well since I've been here.

Little did I know, that this was also the only time Chishiya had been able to sleep well since arriving in this hell.

#fanfic #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #chishiya x reader #write #aib chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya x you #chishiya x y/n #chishiya x fem!reader #chishiya fanfic #nijiro murakami #alice in borderland #alice in boderland x reader

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sundew199 · 2 months

Text

Breakfast Pt.2

a/n: continuation of breakfast, cross posted from AO3 really felt the need to post more nastiness. This is probably the horniest thing I’ve written so far and lowkey wrote this and part one drunk LMFAO enjoy!!

tags: f!reader x Reiner, smut, face sitting, riding, choking, hair pulling, rough sex, mild dacryphilia

minors dni :)

Keeping your legs locked around his midsection, you humorously kept yourself tethered to his stocky build when he tried to lay you down on the bed. In the end, Reiner fell with you, trapping you with his bare chest. His lips descended onto yours, slow and easy with no hurry to rush this along. Pleasant sighs and hums were lost in his mouth and yours, moving your lips with his in such an unrushed manner compared to how eager and needy you were for him.

His head dipped away from your mouth, gliding along your jawline with plush swollen lips. Letting your head fall back to give him the canvas he desired to explore, your hands wound their way around the nape of his neck and hair. Even coming straight from the kitchen to continue what you’d started, the lingering sleepiness made it all the more elevating. His hands, though rough and slightly calloused, felt like silk slipping past the fabric of the shirt you wore to trace the curves of your sides.

This man could bring you to your knees with the featherlight touch of his lips on your flesh, and so many times he had. Reiner gave and gave but was always so hesitant to receive, even at your insistence. Catching him off guard and proceeding without caution was how you returned the favors, exactly how you did a few short minutes ago. The man above you deserved to receive for once, not negotiate with you and try to get out of it. It was one of his good qualities, one of the many reasons you were in love with him but damn, he made it a challenge at times.

With his mouth occupied at your throat and his hands sliding down to the waistline of your panties, you gripped his wrist to stop him. Reiner looked up at you with a puzzled look, stopping for a moment to see what you were trying to do.

“Lay down for me.”

His face lifted entirely from your neck to hover over yours, eyebrow comically raised.

“But I thought?”

“Just lay down.” Running your hand over his jaw and pecking his lips.

Following the instructions with hesitancy, you climbed over his lap to straddle him, pressing your knees into his hips to lock him in place. Slowly, you moved his arms away from your sides and wordlessly instructed him to tuck them behind his head. Long open mouth kisses landed on his chest, moving up to run your lips over his collarbone. Reiner exhaled, relaxing to your touch and letting the plush mattress sink in around him. His skin tastes salty on your tongue, remnants of sweat from getting so worked up in the kitchen not too long ago. Nimble hands graced over his ribs, running up higher on his side and eventually landing between his neck and shoulders. Your mouth had moved to his jawline and chin, gently nipping and sucking and shuttering at the small gasps and whines leaving his lips.

“How can I make you feel good?”

Reiner scoffed, acting as if the answer were extremely obvious. “Anything you do makes me feel good.”

Groaning, you rolled your hips down harshly on his crotch, watching his eyes shoot open and his top teeth clamp down on his bottom lip. He was half hard, working himself up again and on such short notice too. Normally it’d be a treat to pull more than one orgasm out of him and it was thrilling to know you could possibly get more with how recent his first one was.

“Specifics.” Grazing your fingertips over the short prickly hairs on his chin, pulling his bottom lip down with your thumb.

“I really want to eat you out.”

“This is supposed to be about you, about returning a favor.”

“But you said you wouldn’t stop me if I wanted to return the favor. Please let me just-”

Your index finger came to press between his lips, silencing his protests. “I know what I said, but I want to take care of you, make you feel good.”

Reiner pouted childishly, adjusting beneath you purposely to try and get you to sway your decision. There was an opportunity to be selfish and let him bury his face between your legs, but how many times have you been selfish with him in the past? It never felt fair in your eyes and for once you just wanted him to go along with your plan.

“Take care of me by sitting on my face.”

Of course he’d pull that kind of reasoning on you, persuasion in the most devious form. But he has come untouched before and really that’s all you wanted him to do, so maybe he was onto something.

“Will that really make you feel food?” Dropping your tone to low and seductive, moving your hips off his lap and arching against him. Sneakily your hands worked on pulling the waistline of your panties down, kicking them off and returning to lavishing the skin of his neck. The moment your lips pressed down on the ridge lines of his neck, the beginnings of his response died on his tongue, shakily exhaling.

“Yes.”

He sounded so desperate and needy, like servicing you was actually servicing him. For now you’d let him have his way, but after it was all about him. Slotting your lips into his, you felt his hands move out from behind his head, placing a palm on his inner bicep to keep them in place. Reiner caught on and tucked his arms back, adjusting his hips again to rub along your bare cunt. A small moan slipped out feeling how stiff he was beneath the fabric, thoughts of abandoning his request and just riding him till he came were sounding so enticing.

Pulling away, you teased him by lifting the hem of the shirt you wore, which so happened to be his, giving him a glance at the smooth plane of your stomach. A breathy groan and a small twitch of his hips were all signs of how close he was about to take back the control he was giving up to you. Just as eager as him, you scooted further up his body, knees settled on each side of his head, and his honeyed eyes bored into yours.

Slowly, and quite literally as slow as possible, you lowered onto his face and felt his nose bump into your clit for a brief second, making you jolt. Reiner hummed into the glistening flesh of your cunt, moving his tongue along its entirety with practiced precision. His heavy lids flitted up to look at you and catch a reaction, moving from using his tongue and sucking on the flesh instead.

Your breathing was heavy when you met his eyes, holding the bunched up end of your shirt to your chest so you could watch. Obscene and lewd smacking from his mouth made you quiver, Reiner was drawing this out on purpose. There weren't many complaints for his desire to extend the service, but it was side-tracking you from the whole purpose of making it back to the bedroom. His head moved lower down, creating space between your sopping wet pussy and his mouth. An evil smirk formed on his glistening lips, darting his tongue out to trace along your folds and circle around your clit slowly.

A gasp came as a response, shuttering out a moan and keeping your eyes fixed on the sight. He played with you like you were a toy, chuckling and keeping the smirk on his lips with his tongue pushing your clit forward with heavy flicks. How he was doing this with no hands was a wonder, usually using his overly large hands to his advantage.

“Jesus fuck.” Saying on a quiet breath, unable to unlock your eyes from the almost pornographic sight down below.

Reiner chuckled louder, moved back up and latched onto your clit. Harsh sucks was what pulled a less that restrained cry from your throat, head thrown back and your free hands buried into the thick blonde locks. Teeth nipped at the bud, using the hundreds of nerves to his advantage to get you to break further. The movements were still unhurried, languidly giving your clit attention and occasionally (and somehow) prodding the tip of his tongue into your entrance. His face was smeared with slick, dancing in a shine when the sun would hit it just right.

Everything was foggy, your mind and vision struggling to process in real time how erotic the sensation was of his slow tracing tongue, mapping out the sensitive flesh between your legs. A deft kiss on your clit brought out the most physical reaction, nearly losing all balance above him from how light his lips felt. Seeing you unravel above him and struggle to maintain the cool and collected mask was annoying and yet arousing from how hard his cock was pulsing behind the fabric of his sweats. Reiner whined softly as the urge to palm and rub the throbbing muscle was thwarted with your silent instructions to keep his hands behind his head.

He was making it all the more obvious how close he was from just eating you out, moans turning pitchy as he buried his mouth back between your legs, working his jaw to mimic the motions of chewing. Short sporadic pants were getting shorter as his tongue flattened to separate your folds and get in between, not letting a drop go to waste of your addicting arousal.

“Fuck, oh fuck.” Words trembling as you spoke, using the grip you had on his hair to pull him closer, smash his mouth into your cunt harder. You weren’t supposed to be this close, not yet at least. But with the way Reiner used his entire mouth to devour you made it nearly impossible to stave off your orgasm.

A whimper was nearly lost in his ministrations, noticing the rutting of his hips and the air and the darkened spot on his sweats. From the looks of it he was closer to coming undone, all you needed to do was seal the deal.

“God you’re so good at this, fuck Reiner.”

Golden lust heavy eyes shot up to meet you, a momentary pause from him at the sound of praise leaving your lips. Teeth grasped onto your clit, then soothing the sting with a gentle swirl from the tip of his tongue, running the blood in your veins hot and molten. Sweat clung to the back of your neck, making the shorter strands of hair stick there like glue. If he kept this up you may be too hot to the touch when he is finished with you.

Carefully leaning back to not pull away from his mouth, you balanced by placing one hand on his thigh and using the other that held your shirt up to palm his erection. A full body jolt from him and a moan like whimper vibrated from between your legs, slowly down immensely and taking in the feel of your deft palm moving up and down.

“So hard, and all from eating me out?”

You could see his head bob in agreement, faintly glimpsing at his pinched brows creasing lines in his forehead. Only down there to tease him and not get him off all the way, you straightened back up almost completely sitting down on his face. Reiner hummed appreciatively and shoved his tongue all the way inside of you. Another shutter washed over you, rocking your hips down onto his face and riding slowly to match the movement of his tongue. Surprisingly he hadn’t moved his arms once, letting you use him however you wanted and as soon as you allowed yourself to come, Reiner would truly understand what it felt like to receive.

Gliding up and down created the perfect amount of friction, and even allowed you to indulge in your secret pleasure of nudging and bumping into the tip of his nose with your clit. It was a lot harder to feel the strong nose on your cunt when you sat on his face, best felt when he was holding your thighs apart and moving his head a bit more freely. Nonetheless, you were panting and moaning above him, watching how he drank you in like it was the cure to dehydration.

Reiner looked so relaxed and tense all at once, barely feeling your hand on his cock over his sweats and yet eating you out would be enough to sate him for the rest of the day. You were close, tightening your vice grip on his hair and riding his face like your life depended on it. When Reiner latched onto your clit with a purposeful hum, that’s when you came. Moaning and crying out his name and throwing your head back at the waves and waves of euphoria coursing throughout your body.

It took you a minute to regain your bearings, when you did that’s when Reiner caught the devious and promising look, still catching his own breath to say anything. And he wouldn’t be able to with how quickly your lips met once more, tasting your arousal on his tongue and using your own to gather the remnants. He craned his neck to meet you, arching his body to yours to feel the heated skin on his. Every part of you was addicting, Reiner couldn’t get enough even if he tried.

Slithering down his body until you were sitting on your knees between his legs, Reiner huffed knowing more teasing was to follow. He hoped secretly it wouldn’t last as long as it did in the kitchen, eager to feel your mouth once more or better sink himself deep inside you. Yeah that’s what he wanted, wanted to suffocate his cock in the tight plush walls of your cunt, struggle to hold back his orgasm so he would feel you around him longer.

Grasping the waistband of his sweats and yanking them off, his cock bounced back onto his toned abdomen, too heavy to stand upright. You’d worked him up to a near orgasm with the tease while seated on top of his face, and one little touch could set the fuse off to blow. Wrapping your hand around the base, Reiner broke from the touch and moved his hands out from behind his head to grip your wrist and palm your shoulder.

“Take this off.”

The calluses on his fingers and hands snagged the fabric of the shirt, nearly tearing the threads from how purposeful he moved his hand side to side on your shoulder. Doing as he pleased the shirt was tossed to the other side of the room, standing up on your knees and allowing him to see you bare. A sharp intake of breath from him was enough to know you’d better act fast, patience wearing extremely thin by this point.

Swinging your legs on either side of his hips, you bent down until you were pressed to his body. Sweat transferred onto your skin as you ran a hand through the side of his hair.

“You’re driving me crazy. How is this taking care of me if you’re just teasing me baby?”

The soft words into the air had heat creeping up into your cheeks, his lips brushing along yours in a gentle manner. You were teasing him, but there was so much more you could do that became more and more tempting as time ticked on.

“Well, doesn’t it always feel better when I tease you a bit?” Countering back sweetly, rotating your hips until the tip of his cock pressed against your entrance.

Reiner groaned, gripped your arm tight enough to leave indents but not enough to hurt. His legs shuffled behind you, an attempt to maybe move himself enough to push inside you. Though you were at the advantage, arching your back just enough to prevent the potential move.

“Yeah but, I need you so badly.”

Nodding slowly and moving back just enough to push the tiniest bit of his cock inside you, causing Reiner to audibly whimper from the feel.

“You do? What way do you need me?”

Reiner huffed, subtly moving his hand away from your arm to glide down your side and land on your hip, using the other to tangle in the back of your hair. His eyes said it all, conveying his need to bury himself deep inside you and fuck you till you couldn’t walk the next day. You’d let him do all of that, but you wanted to control for a bit longer, really make him appreciate the favor you were returning.

“Don’t do this, not now. Please angel.”

“I need clarification, Rei. Do you need me to suck your cock-”

“Fuck! Please just ride my cock, fuck yourself on it I don’t care, but I need you. I need to fucking feel you around me god dammit.”

The corners of your mouth lifted into a smug grin, exhaling and propping yourself up with a palm of his chest. He looked relieved, taking the hand out of your hair and placing it on the other hip, stroking the bone endearingly. Since he asked so nicely who were you to deny what the man below wanted.

With both hands planted firmly on his chest, you sink down slowly to memorize the thick member stretching you out and making its presence known. Reiner’s head was thrown back to the pillows, fingertips indenting into the skin on your hip promising to bruise with the amount of strength being used on his end. It took a moment for you to bottom out completely, adjusting till you were comfortable and not so out of breath for taking on such a monster. Reiner was above average, not enough to make it painful but enough for you to need a few seconds prior to moving.

Crawling back over his chest and grasping the side of his face, you locked him in a deep passionate kiss while languidly moving your hips up and down. His own hands held the sides of your face as well, mussing into the side of your hair with how sloppy he kept his hold. None of that mattered, not when it was nearly impossible to differentiate which sounds were coming from who. You knew for sure moans and gasps were getting lost behind his lips, and they seemed to carry over whatever delicious sounds were leaving Reiner. Quieting yourself, a small shiver ran up your spine at how hoarse and gruff his moans and whines were, conveying just how much he actually needed you.

Breaking the kiss, you sat upright with your hands over his on your hips. Instead of bouncing, you settled for rocking forward with his cock all the way inside of you, grazing along the plushy muscle deep inside your pussy that made you jolt and cry out.

Despite Reiner being so needy, he was focused on how each of your movements felt, opting for a harsh inhale of air or a throaty groan. His entire body flexed and tensed at each rock, the ridged and defined lines of his muscles looking practically edible. It was a wonder he hadn’t cum yet with how hard and pulsing he was when he ate you out, clearly enjoying the tight embrace of your walls to let this end too soon.

In a sudden move, you grasped both of his wrists and pinned them above his head. Reiner’s eyes were wide and curious, trying to decipher what you could possibly be pulling next. With his hands out of the way, you began to bounce on his cock, a steady rhythm of up and down motions. His breath was hot on your face, unable to keep up with the sudden change but soaking it in either way.

“Does it feel good?”

Such a simple and boring question to ask, knowing there were so many other things to say in a moment like this, except Reiner had a way with his words even when his mind was hazed over in lust.

“Yeah, feels really fucking good. Tight, wet, what more can a man ask for.” Breathing out hotly and flickering his eyes from yours down to the small area where your bodies didn’t meet to watch his cock disappear then reappear.

Your hands kept his arms pinned above his head, dipping your head down to let out a small breathless laugh at his response. Using your knees to press tightly to his hips, the pace increased enough to have him arching beneath you, putting up a fake struggle against your grasp on his wrists. He could’ve very easily broken free, but the ego boost and confidence it gave you while on top of him was worth it. When he’d let you take the lead like this your actions grew bolder and bolder and Reiner loved it.

“Best pussy I’ve fucked, made for me with how tight you are around me right now.”

Now he was getting cocky, a smoulder painted into his fucked out expression. There were a few ways to respond to such a compliment and you were going the route that would get the most out of him.

Slowing down and dragging your walls along his cock, Reiner let out a stifled groan while again trying to figure out what you were doing now. Admittedly you liked messing with him during sex, kept things alive and not as if the two of you were going through the motions, allowed the thrill to remain even after all this time together.

“Mhm I could’ve told you that.” speaking with a sultry lilt to your tone, touching the tip of your nose to his. Using your knees still firmly pressed to his hips, you continued to drag your soaked cunt up and down on his cock in a teasing manner, keeping him on his toes and not allowing him to think he would be close to coming.

“I know, no one compares to you. Love stuffing you full of my cum, watching and feeling it leak it out, it's like a drug.”

A tremor ran through you, imagining the feel of his warm release painting the inside of you and then smearing all along your inner thighs. It was a feel that was unmatched, even the look on his face and how possessive he got what something you oddly treasured. Reiner was yours and you were his, nothing would change that even if things took a sour turn in the blissful relationship the two of you shared.

Taking a bit of control back into his hands, Reiner thrusted his hips to slam his dick deep inside of you, further proving his point of how much he loved fucking you. Your hand around his wrists wavered, loosening as you took a moment to come back from the harsh thrust. He took advantage of this, freeing one hand and using it to slam you all the way back down on his hips. Crying out from the abrupt movement and keeping your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, Reiner groaned as he moved your hips up and down for you.

"I don’t give a fuck about my pleasure and I appreciate you wanting to give me that, but I just want you to cum around my cock while I fuck you stupid.”

Reiner didn’t even give you time to process his words before you were flipped over onto your stomach, rough hands hoisting your hips up into the air, creating a pretty arch. His hands palmed your ass cheeks, spreading them apart and giving each a firm squeeze and light slap. His cock hung between your legs while he kneaded the plump flesh of your ass, groaning pleasingly and sighing at the sight before him.

“Getting to fuck you is the best way to return a favor doll, best way to take care of me.”

Your head began to lift off of the bed just when he plunged inside of you in one swift thrust, holding you by the hips and keeping you flush to his own. Broken gasps and other incoherent noises mingled in with his heavy breathing, giving both you and him a moment to readjust.

Not even last a full minute he was already pulling back out and pushing back in at a rapid speed, skin slapping on skin with each piston of his hips. Reiner was knocking the air out of you with how hard he slammed into you each time, unable to properly moan or show just how much you were enjoying this, leaving your mouth hanging.

Propped up on your elbows to help counter the full force of his slams that all came to an end when a firm hand pressed down on the center of your back to form that arch he had you in before. He groaned at the sight, dug his fingers into your hips and pulled you back harder and harder. Soreness already was creeping into your body, specifically your legs, hips and pussy. God you would be so sore later and even tomorrow, but it was a small sacrifice to pay for such a good fucking you were receiving at the moment. His cock was doing more than just stretching you out, going even farther to make it impossible for any other man to satisfy you. Not that you ever thought you’d be with anyone else but Reiner, it was the thought that counts.

“So fuckin’ pretty angel, bendin’ over like this for me, fuck.” Reiner slurred, drunk on the tightening walls of your cunt around his cock and how long he’d been holding out on his orgasm. Though he couldn’t find it in him to complain with how painfully hard you’d gotten him leading up to this, hell this was feeling ten times better than it had before.

“Reiner- har-harder-”

Finding your words that still came out as a choked pleasure filled sob, clenching the sheets below you and pressing your forehead into the mattress. A hand tangled into the back of your hair, pulling you back until heavy breathing echoed in your ears.

“Harder? Is that what you asked for?”

“Yes. Please, please, please.”

Reiner cooed in your ear, kissed the outer shell and continued to pull you back a little further until it became a struggle to keep your hands on the bed. Blunt teeth sunk into the side of your neck bringing out a squeal that turned into chanting of his name when he began to thrust into you harder.

“You’re so perfect like this, all for me. You’re mine baby, all mine.” Practically snarling into your ear and wrapping the hand that was in your hair around your throat, pressing the opposite one down to your lower stomach, where his bulging dick could be felt inside of you.

“I’m s-so close,” Sobbing out with tears of overstimulation and pleasure running down your cheeks, leaving imprints on your skin as they stained.

You could feel Reiner nodding, taking in a deep breath, kissing your cheek and pushing you back down. The relentless pounding escalated to an ungodly speed, sending ripples all throughout your body and his. A tight grip was kept around your hip while the other hand repeatedly slapped your ass cheek, making it sting the longer he swiped his hand across. Sobs were lost into the sheets, clenching around him and coming with a muffled cry.

Reiner thrusted one, two, three more times and then his hips slowed immensely, breathing rapidly and labored behind you as he filled deep inside of you. For a moment neither of you moved, frozen in the positions on the bed until he slowly pulled out. That's when you fully collapsed onto the bed, face down and completely numb and weightless.

His weight dipped in the bed, signaling he was getting off, most likely to clean himself off. You rolled over after a minute and forced your legs to swing to the side so you could clean yourself up as well. Reiner reappeared and pushed you back down, running a warm cloth between your legs to clean up the mess that was made down there. Gently kissing your forehead, he grew blurry as he moved away.

Assuming you fell asleep from the lack of energy, it came to no surprise you were dressed in a fresh T-shirt (his t-shirt) and underwear. Reiner’s kept one arm wrapped around you to keep you close to his side as he read over emails and articles, sporting the dorky glasses that sat low on the bridge of his nose.

“Hey. You feeling alright?”

Asking sweetly when he noticed you were up from your brief nap. Giving him a nod, Reiner smiled and kissed the top of your head and pushed you to lay back down on his chest. Not quite laying down, given he was reclining against the headboard but still feeling the relaxation wash over you and the remainder of the quiet Saturday morning lull you into a gentle sleep.

#reiner braun #reiner x reader #reiner x you #reiner smut #attack on titan #snk #aot reiner #snk smut #smut #aot smut

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stuck1nthelimbo · 10 months

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im so normal about them — 📌 post | masterlist | ko-fi

4 》(Nipple play) - Gagging - Hickey/biting marks ― Breakup High [Getou Suguru x f!reader]

When Satoru breaks up with his gf, who's supposed to console her other than his best friend, Suguru? And consoling includes more than reassuring words...

TAGS!!! 2.1k, no beta reader, gojo's ex sleeps with his bestie, unprotected/no condom sex, hickeys/bite marks, teasing, licking cum, slight nipple/breast play, pussy drunk suguru lol

pookie, desperate suguru??? who wanted satoru's gf??? since the moment they met??? these two posts are giving me desperate vibes

It’s been a week since he broke up with me, and instead of feeling heartbroken, I can’t believe he had the guts to do so. This ego of mine couldn’t handle being humbled by the man, who asked me out first. After the breakup, to my surprise, the person who lent me a helping hand was none other than Gojo Satoru’s best friend, Suguru Geto. I woke up to a text the following day with consoling words and an offer to hang out with me to keep me company and my mind — occupied. I took midnight walks with Suguru, divulging my worries to him. After a meeting or two, he confessed to having a teeny tiny crush on me since meeting me through Gojo. I wondered how many times he had jerked off to the thought of me.

“Still can’t wrap my head around it,” I scoff, crossing arms over my chest, one leg over the other, and lean back in a chair while a raven-haired male brews coffee in the kitchen. He doesn’t turn around, merely throws a glance over the shoulder. Tied-up hair subtly bounces around, the bangs dangling about.

“Come on, don’t look into it too much,” he doesn’t sound reassuring, just annoyed with the repeating topic. I’m preoccupied studying his back, he hums some lullaby. The outline of his broad shoulders is visible through the plain white shirt; He has awful timing in choosing gray sweatpants. Or if we take into account that he was expecting me to show up at his flat, he is perfectly aware of how to create a ‘comforting environment’ for a person with a broken heart.

“He broke up with me and still cannot leave me alone. We hang out so much,” Geto thinks he can click his tongue without me noticing. As he turns around, I spot the paper-thin line his lips have formed.

“You guys still hang out?” he huffs.

“Remember when I was texting you the other night?” I refer to the event a few nights ago. He gently places the cups filled with piping hot coffee on the table and raises an eyebrow in anticipation of an answer. “I went to his place, we drank,” I hesitate to mention the affair that took place, “and then had sex. I texted you while he was asleep beside me,” the change in his facial expressions is apparent: the soft gaze turns into a mean glare in a split second. He clutches the cup handle between his thumb and index fingers.

“Don’t you have any self-respect?” He sneers before bringing the coffee cup to his lips.

“Why? Cuz I sleep with my ex?”

“Exactly,” he leans forward, hissing through his teeth as if we’re surrounded by people in his empty apartment. “You’re sleeping with a man who broke up with you, still clinging to him,” I have my reasons, “Any man would gladly sleep with you.” In response to his indignant comments, I also lean, keeping my face a centimetre from his.

“I’m not clinging to him, just looking for a replacement,” I sip my coffee, basking in its deliciousness until I notice the glassy stare Suguru’s giving me. Head hanging low, he observes me from under the furrowed brows. I think he’s mindlessly upset with me until the contrast between his large cold palm and my warm thigh snaps me out. Those long fingers bluntly dig into my supple flesh. He has never been this bold.

“And I said, any man would eagerly take Satoru’s place, ok?” alluding to the availability in the middle of the conversation, the sheer confidence in his moves prowls a shiver up my spine, “You don’t need to beg…”

“Who would take his place?” the tension in the room can be cut with a knife. His mouth noticeably agape, his eyes hungrily wander all over me, making my skin tingle with excitement. Their final stop is around my lips. Before he’s finished daydreaming, I grab his face, squeezing cheeks and leveling his eyes with mine, “who?”

“Oh, you know damn well,” he mutters through puckered lips; My heart drums in my chest when his eyes scurry across my face, his lips pouting stronger as I grasp his face. My unoccupied hand lingers around his stiffened shoulder, sensing the muscles gradually strain under the path of my fingertips.

His jet-black eyes stare unfocused, stunned, as both arms envelop my waist, open palms firmly press on the back, pushing me onto his lap. Geto’s hot breath spills all over my jaw, goosebumps prickle it, and his coffee-stained lips skim along the skin. The caution in his moves thins out my patience.

“I can fuck your brains out better than him,” he mumbles against my ear, securely holding me against his lap and shoving the pants-straining erection onto me. How long did he wait for this opportunity? A large hand swats my ass, I wince at the sensation and glance over the shoulder; His digits dig into the flesh, gliding under the fabric of my shorts, until the tip of his middle finger brushes against the underwear. I hold my breath, shifting attention to the hand that eagerly kneads my pliable ass cheeks.

“Geto,” I fake a protest, attempting to distance myself from him, but his arms bind tighter around me; He groans at the sound of his last name: I make it sound so formal, meanwhile my hips instinctively roll on his lap with legs spread apart.

“Don’t call me that,” he objects with a weak pout. I lean back as far as possible, hold his face between my hands, and goad him.

“Suguru,” I've never referred to him by his first name; His eyes luster, one hand sinks further into the supple flesh of my ass, the other sidles through my hair and forces me into a greedy kiss. His tongue slithers into my mouth, lapping against mine. Steamy fog clouds my judgment, dissipating the remaining scraps of thoughts as I cling to him, throwing arms over his shoulder and linking fingers behind Suguru’s head. He breaks the kiss, short-winded, lips glistening with thin threads of saliva.

“Say that again,” his eyes glued to my lips, he babbles. I repeat, enunciating each syllable of his name. He leaps to his feet and hurries to the bedroom, I lock my legs around his waist, preventing myself from slipping off of him. Blindly swinging open the bedroom door with an open hand, his mouth feasts on my neck with vehement hunger, scattering violet blotches across my shoulders and throat.

I ease the locked legs behind him, slump back onto the bed, and throw arms in the air, awaiting him.

He crawls on top, messily yanking clothes off of me, tossing them on the floor. Grabbing the neck of the white shirt, Geto pulls it over his head, before he closes the distance between us: planting light kisses around my lips, he decides to move down, softly tracing down the jawline, neck, and chest. His teeth tug on the perky nipple, drawing whimpers from me. Suguru’s breath on the damp skin electrifies my body.

“Fuck, I wanted to do this for a long time,” he speaks under his breath, in hopes that I won't hear it. His hands fumble with my shorts, jerking them off my knees. Suguru’s lips return to adorn my skin with pecks under the navel, while his fingers hesitate to remove the underwear. The digits circle the clit through the flimsy fabric, driving me mad. The pressure’s just right, but the rhythm’s off, making me arch my back.

“Suguru, please,” it doesn’t take me long to whine, I’m impatient, and he snickers against my stomach; His hand reaches for the condoms on the nightstand, and instantaneously I smack it away. He has an unopened box of condoms, so either he has been expecting me to give in or– “It’s fine, just do it,” I croak. My fingers slip between the waistband and his flushed skin, stretching the sweatpants down, followed by his erection springing out: for someone who seems timid and bashful, the girthy cock clashes with his rosy-cheeked face and eagerness.

“Are you sure?” Suguru’s voice wavers, his digits hooking on my underwear, until I slide it to the side without pulling them off, exposing my dripping slit. His ears redden, and the embarrassment seeps into my shoulders when he stares at my nude figure, savoring the sight. I gasp, hold my breath, as the head of his cock nudges against the entrance and feel my inner walls stretch to accommodate him. He’s painstakingly slow, relishing the sensation of a cunt fluttering around him. Suguru’s mouth agape, half-lidded eyes stare into mine, he repeatedly mutters the word ‘fuck’ and I feel some sort of accomplishment. The moment he bottoms out, his groin pressing against me, his head buries in the crook of my neck, “God, I've dreamt about this,” the words slip through his rugged breathing.

With lazy slams, Geto rolls hips, his fingering holding on my thighs for their dear life; My brain decides to shut down: I lay head back into the pillow, close my eyes and fully immerse myself in heavenly passion. Those strong hands hold my hips still, as he shoves his full length inside me, before entirely sliding out and repeating several times. My cunt spasms on Suguru’s cock, I feel the veins running along his manhood throb against my walls, scraping the remaining sanity out of me.

“Fuck, faster,” I beg; He’s here to torture me and atone for my mistakes; Peeking under the lashes, I witness his pathetic expression, furrowed brows, clenched jaw, air whistling through the teeth while his eyes affixed on the spot where we’re connected.

“You’re so fuckin’ good, baby,” the words spill out of him piece by piece, scattering as he rolls his hips vigorously, hands clasped to my sides tighten, gradually bruising the skin underneath the digits; Geto’s arms flex, burly muscles clearly protrude; He rams his cock in me, the sound of damp skins smacking against each other echoes in the room. He leans forward, latching his lips around the perky nipple, sucking it like his livelyhood depends on it. My cunt clings to his cock, and with each thrust, he loses the composure: front teeth gently tug on the nipple, afterwards, he feverishly nibbles on the flesh around it, creeping up til those canine teeth sink into my neck. His hips don’t let up, rutting into my without a trace of coherence.

The rougher he gets, the quicker the ecstatic pleasure builds in the pit of my stomach; Within a minute or two, my finger desperately circles my clit, and the coil of orgasm unravels under the navel, washes throughout every fiber of my being. I attempt to cover my mouth and stifle my moans, but he swats it off, instead his hand holds my jaw, and his lips lock with mine. I helplessly mewl against his tongue.

Geto’s legs jitter, he frenziedly pulls out, to my disappointment, and with a few eager pumps, his palm squeezes the base as the ropes of white creamy fluid shoot on my body. He hoarsely pants, low whimpers sneaking in between the deep wheezes. My legs still tremble from the aftershock.

Spent, Suguru slumps at my side, his arm rests over his forehead, nostrils flare as he regains steady breathing. I prop myself on elbows, line index finger on my stomach, scooping the milky substance on, and smearing it on my tongue.

“What a waste,” the eyes that have been glued to me, widen in shock; The laugh reverberates from his throat.

“Fuck, don’t do that, I’ll get hard again,” Suguru pulls himself up and off bed, tiptoeing to the nightstand on the other side. He hands me a couple of wet napkins, and with one in hand, glides it on my skin. As he’s eagerly cleaning up the hot mess he has created, my eyes burn holes on his face, delighted by the sight. Sculpted jawline, rose-tinted lips, silky black hair curtaining the pale face. Hand reaches under his chin, but the doorbell at the door snatches his beauty away from my fingers.

“You get the door, I’ll clean up,” I insist, crumpling the napkin.

A slim hand turns the doorknob, and to his surprise, the white-haired male grins from ear to ear. Without an invitation, the guest barges inside, leaving the host to hang open his mouth in silent response.

“Did I interrupt anything?” his long finger points at raven haired’s blotched neck with a vile grin. But before long, a smile fades from his face, he turns the head frantically and sniffs around, “the perfume,” his eyes bounce from the kitchen to the bedroom door.

“Satoru,” Geto’s voice breaks, lodges in his throat as Gojo swings the door wide open, only to be left with the sight of me, fully nude, prancing in front of the mirror, neck adorned with Suguru's desperation.

“Suguru…”

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