#journey river green | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ijustmissyouraccenths · 5 months

Text

I Want To Kill Her

Au where Y/N and Harry are neighbors who find out their spouses are cheating with each other.

Based off Fortnight by Taylor Swift

Part 2

CW: Smut, cursing, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink.

Word Count: 6,773

Growing up in America was a constant uphill battle for me. Every day, my family's lower middle class status weighed heavily on our shoulders, dragging us down and suffocating any sense of hope. Despite my parents' relentless efforts, we were always one step away from financial ruin. At school, I was painfully reminded of my economic disadvantage as I trudged through the halls in threadbare clothes and drove up in a battered car that served as a target for cruel jokes and vicious teasing from my more privileged peers. But amidst the constant struggle, I found refuge in my studies. The world of academia offered a fleeting escape from the harsh realities of my daily life, where I poured all my energy into excelling and proving my worth to a society that seemed determined to keep me down.

Life in our small town was like a broken record, repeating the same monotonous routine day after day. That is, until Teddy waltzed into our midst like a breath of fresh air. His tall frame stood out amongst the sea of ordinary faces, and his crisp British accent was music to our ears. The local coffee shop suddenly became a buzz of excitement as he charmed everyone with his wit and sophistication. And when he extended an invitation for me to join him in London, it was like a fairytale come to life. Leaving my predictable life behind and starting anew in the bustling city seemed intimidating, but I couldn't resist the allure of adventure and passion that awaited me with Teddy by my side.

My hand shook as I clutched the small, worn suitcase. Tears welled up in my eyes as I said goodbye to my family and familiar life. But deep down, a sense of determination propelled me forward. I took a deep breath and stepped onto the plane bound for London. As the engines roared and the wheels lifted off the ground, a knot formed in my stomach and my heart raced with a mix of emotions - fear of the unknown, excitement for new adventures, and anticipation for what lay ahead.

I pressed my forehead against the cool, double-paned window and watched as familiar buildings and streets grew smaller and smaller. A sense of relief washed over me, lifting the weight of my past struggles and hardships with every mile we flew away from them. Little did I know, the journey ahead would be filled with new challenges and lessons that would shape me into the person I was always meant to become.

As we soared higher into the sky, thick clouds began to spread like a blanket over the vast expanse of blue. The world below disappeared from view, hidden by layers of white. But as we descended towards London, small patches of land began to peek through - rolling hills covered in lush green fields and charming villages nestled along winding rivers. My heart fluttered with excitement and curiosity at this glimpse of a foreign land.

The wheels touched down on the runway, jolting me out of my daydreams. I took a deep breath as we taxied towards the terminal, ready to embark on this new chapter of my life in a place that felt both unfamiliar and full of endless possibilities.

The bright lights of London beckoned me, a stark contrast to the small town I left behind. Teddy, my generous host, had spared no expense to make me feel at home in his lavish house. Each morning, I woke up to stunning views of the city skyline through floor-to-ceiling windows. The enticing scent of freshly baked pastries and rich coffee filled my nostrils, reminding me that this was a life of luxury that I never could have imagined.

But what truly amazed me was the fact that I no longer had to work. Teddy's successful business ventures meant that money was no longer a worry for me. This newfound wealth allowed me to indulge in all the things I could only dream about before. My wardrobe was now filled with designer clothes, fancy dinners were a regular occurrence, and luxurious vacations were just a plane ride away.

However, amidst all this extravagance and joy, there was always a twinge of guilt in the back of my mind. Growing up, every penny counted and financial struggles were a constant source of stress for my family. Now, with my newfound wealth, I couldn't help but feel guilty for having so much while others back home still struggled to make ends

I fiercely pushed all doubts and apprehensions aside, determined to fully surrender myself to my newfound life. And by all appearances, I succeeded. Teddy whisked me away on dazzling tours of the city, revealing hidden gems and indulging in the finest cuisine known only to elites. He also opened the door to his elite circle of friends – powerful individuals who radiated confidence and wealth wherever they went.

At first, I felt like a mere observer among them. While they boasted about their latest investments and business ventures, I could only offer anecdotes about my humble beginnings in a small town. But as weeks turned into months, they welcomed me into their exclusive inner circle. They even included us on extravagant trips abroad where we mingled with A-list celebrities and attended VIP events.

I couldn't believe how rapidly my life had transformed since meeting Teddy. Where once I was ridiculed for not fitting in with the wealthy crowd, now I lived among them, basking in their luxurious lifestyle.

But amidst all the glitz and glamour, a persistent voice gnawed at the back of my mind. It started one afternoon while Teddy was tending to the front yard. On the surface, it seemed like an ordinary chore for a homeowner, but something about it felt insidious and unsettling.

Despite the hired help we had to maintain our lavish property, Teddy insisted on taking care of menial tasks himself. At first, I thought it was just his need to be hands-on, but as the days turned into weeks, I couldn't ignore the way his eyes lingered on the woman next door. Every time she stepped outside in her form-fitting gardening attire, he would drop whatever he was doing and watch her with an unbridled hunger. Her movements were like a sensual dance, each step oozing with an irresistible seduction that captivated him. She seemed to know exactly how to entice him, bending over suggestively in her garden while his eyes greedily took in every curve of her body. But when her husband's luxury car pulled into their driveway, she would become a picture of innocence once again. It was a tantalizing game of desire and secrecy, leaving me wondering what they truly did behind closed doors.

Rosie, the woman of the house, was a force to be reckoned with, her love and dedication to her garden rivaling that of a mother's fierce protection for her child. Harry, her husband and successful entrepreneur, exuded a confident aura as he walked through their flourishing gardens, the beauty brand he created known by all as Pleasing. Despite our similar ages, their maturity and put-together appearance made me feel inadequate in comparison. Our own home seemed dull and lifeless in comparison to theirs, always offering an unobstructed view of Rosie's constant tending to her bountiful gardens, a sight that also caught my husband's wandering eyes. But it was impossible to deny the allure of their well-manicured gardens, bursting with vibrant hues and intoxicating scents that enveloped us in a hypnotic trance.

Each passing week brought a new wave of torment as I watched Teddy's eyes dart towards Rosie's garden, his gaze lingering on her while she tended to her roses. My stomach twisted with jealousy as he made excuses to be outside, his every move calculated to catch her attention.

I couldn't bear the thought of him longing for someone else, and my heart shattered into pieces with each stolen glance towards her. Desperate for answers, I confronted him about their relationship, but he dismissed my fears with a cold indifference and insisted they were just innocent neighbors. But deep down, I knew there was something more between them, and it consumed me with a fiery rage that threatened to consume us all.

As I relaxed in the comfort of my home, the noise from outside suddenly jolted me out of my reverie. My eyes snapped to the window overlooking the busy street below, and there I saw Harry's sleek black Mercedes screeching into their driveway, its engine roaring wildly. Rosie appeared in the doorway, her movements frantic as she planted a forced kiss on his cheek before ushering him inside with an urgency that made my heart race. The door slammed shut behind them, and a foreboding sense of dread settled in my gut as I realized that something was seriously wrong between them. Whatever was happening, they were clearly trying to hide it from prying eyes.

My heart raced with a mix of excitement and dread as I made my way downstairs, my curiosity burning like a wildfire. The front door slammed behind me, the sun setting in a fiery blaze behind my back. My feet carried me across the short distance between our homes, anticipation building with each step. As I approached their front step, muffled voices drifted through the open window above me, a sinister soundtrack to my racing thoughts. I could make out Harry's tense tone and Rosie's pleading replies, but not the words themselves. Their hushed argument went on for what seemed like an eternity before falling silent, leaving me standing frozen in shock. My mind raced as I tried to piece together what was happening. Had my suspicions been correct after all? Were Rosie and Teddy entangled in a secret affair that Harry had finally uncovered? The weight of the truth hit me like a sledgehammer, filling me with a mix of anger, betrayal, and fear for what would

My thoughts were racing as I tried to decide what to do next, but before I could make a move, the front door swung open with a loud bang. My heart jolted in my chest as Harry stormed out, his face contorted with either seething anger or burning embarrassment - it was hard to tell which was more intense. He didn't even spare me a glance as he brushed past, heading straight for his car.

Just then, Rosie appeared in the doorway, her eyes widening in shock when she saw me standing there. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was a wild mess, betraying some sort of frantic activity behind closed doors. "Oh...I-I didn't realize you were home," she stammered, her voice trembling with unease. She attempted a smile, but it fell short and I could see the fear in her eyes.

Before I could ask what was going on, Teddy burst out of our house and called out my name. He sprinted towards us from across the street, his brows furrowed with concern as he took in the sight of Rosie and I standing together. The tense atmosphere was thick between us all, and I knew something serious was about to go down.

"What's going on?" he demanded, his voice laced with concern as he eyed us both suspiciously.

I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, my mind racing with conflicting thoughts and emotions. "I honestly don't know," I admitted, feeling like a pawn in their complicated game. "Do you?"

Teddy and Rosie exchanged a tense look that spoke volumes about their troubled relationship. I could sense the weight of their secrets and lies pressing down on me, suffocating me with their toxic grip. Without another word, I turned and fled back inside, trying to escape the tangled web of deceit and betrayal they had woven around me. My once glamorous new life now felt tainted with suspicion and heartache.

I slam the door shut behind me, my hands trembling with rage and disbelief. My worst fears have been confirmed - Teddy and Rosie were having an affair all along, right under my naive nose. A surge of hot tears fills my eyes as I collapse onto the couch, my heart hammering in my chest. How could he do this to me? After all we've built together, all the love and trust we shared.

My mind races back through the past few months, dissecting every encounter between them that I had brushed off as innocent. His lingering looks at her, her secret smiles directed only at him, their hushed conversations that would abruptly end whenever I appeared. The pieces finally fit together, a puzzle of betrayal and deceit that I was too blind to see. How long has it been going on? Was it when he started staying late at work for that promotion? Or when our once effortless conversations turned into strained silence over dinner? My world is shattered, and I can't help but wonder if it was ever truly as perfect as I believed it to be.

My body curls in on itself, a protective barrier against the pain that radiates through me. My mind is stuck on replay, the tense exchange between them echoing endlessly in my head. Rosie's desperate pleas, Harry's explosive anger - it all points to betrayal.

The tears fall hot and heavy down my cheeks as I realize I can no longer ignore the truth. My heart aches with every beat, but I know I have to confront Teddy. Pretending everything is okay between us is no longer an option.

As I stand up and make my way to the front window, I catch a glimpse of Teddy crossing back over to our house, his defeated posture screaming guilt. The anger and hurt fueling my determination, I take a deep breath and brace myself for the inevitable confrontation.

When Teddy steps into our living room, the air crackles with tension like static electricity before a storm. The unspoken truths between us hang heavily, suffocatingly thick like a dense fog.

"Why don't you just admit it, Teddy?" My voice trembles with a mix of rage and despair.

He responds with words sharp as shattered glass, "Admit what? That you're so blinded by your own insecurity that you'd accuse me without any proof?" His betrayal cuts deep, adding more pieces to the already broken shards of my heart.

My hands balled into fists at my sides, knuckles turning white as I struggled to contain the raging storm inside me. "Don't you dare try to twist this around on me! I saw you, Teddy. I saw the way your eyes linger on her, like she's the only thing that matters."

Teddy's jaw clenched and his calm façade cracked, giving way to a simmering anger. "You're being paranoid. Rosie is just a friend, nothing more."

I took a step closer, my voice dripping with venom. "Oh please, spare me your excuses. I've seen how you look at her when you think I'm not looking."

Fury burned bright in his eyes, his voice rising in a challenge. "How dare you accuse me of cheating? I would never do that to you!"

Tears threatened to spill over as I shook my head in disbelief, my heart shattering into a million pieces. "It's not just about today, Teddy. It's been building up for months. The way you ignore me and shower her with attention... It's like I'm invisible to you now."

He scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping him. "Oh please, stop playing the victim here. You knew what you were getting into when we moved here.You want me to make you feel like you exist? Do you want me to fuck you? What do you want? You’re so needy you put your issues onto other women."

My nails dug into my palms as I fought to keep my composure in the face of his callous words. "I thought I was getting into a life with someone who loved and respected me. Not someone who sneaks around behind my back to screw the neighbor."

The tension in the room reached its breaking point as Teddy's mask slipped completely, revealing the raw emotions seething beneath the surface. "Maybe if you were more exciting, more adventurous, I wouldn't have to look elsewhere for some excitement in my life!"

His words struck me like a physical blow, leaving me reeling in disbelief and pain. The truth hung heavy in the air between us, an invisible barrier that seemed impossible to breach.

"I can't do this anymore," I whispered hoarsely, the finality of those words echoing like a gunshot in the silent room.

Teddy's expression softened for a fleeting moment before hardening once again with resolve. "Fine then! Maybe this is for the best. Actually, yeah it is. Bitch." he spat out, his voice laced with bitterness.

And with those parting words echoing in my ears like a curse, I turned away from him and headed towards the door, leaving behind our shattered dreams and broken promises in a trail of fractured memories.

The low hum of the engine filled the air as Harry sat in his sleek, black car, parked precisely outside of his modern fortress. I approached cautiously, trying to mask my trembling steps on the pavement. With a gentle tap on the window, I could feel his intense gaze burning through me from within the tinted glass. His phone slipped from his hand as he rolled down the window, revealing a sharp jawline and piercing eyes that seemed to glow with an otherworldly intensity. A commanding voice cut through the silence, "Get in." Without hesitation, I made my way around to the passenger side and sank into the plush leather seat next to him, feeling a mix of fear and excitement coursing through my veins.

As we drove away from the chaotic scene behind us, the tension in the car was suffocating. Every muscle in Harry's body seemed to be coiled with a fierce determination, his knuckles turning white as they gripped the steering wheel. I stole a quick glance at him, noticing how his usually calm demeanor was replaced by a dangerous edge, like a predator ready to strike at any moment.

A heavy silence hung in the air of the car, suffocating me as I struggled to catch my breath. Harry's voice pierced through the tension like a sharp blade, cutting deep into my racing thoughts. "Are you okay?" he asked, his expression etched with genuine concern.

I tried to speak, but my throat felt constricted and choked. Finally, I managed to whisper, "I don't know." My mind was reeling from the events that had unfolded only moments ago.

Harry's eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, his words heavy with understanding. "Life has a way of throwing unexpected challenges at us," he mused, his tone grave and contemplative. "But it's how we handle them that defines who we are."

I turned to look at him, grateful for his steady presence amid the chaos raging inside me. "Thank you," I said earnestly. "For being here for me."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Harry's lips, but there was a glint of steel in his gaze. "You don't have to thank me," he replied firmly. "I'm here because I care about you and because your husband is sleeping with my wife." His reassurance was met with a sense of relief and gratitude amidst the turmoil that threatened to consume me.

The stillness between us was palpable, a fragile thread holding back a storm of emotions. The road stretched out before us, winding through fields and forests, as if it were leading us towards a new beginning.

My heart felt heavy with the weight of our shared past, but in this moment, with Harry by my side, I could feel a glimmer of hope for the future. Together, we drove into the unknown, leaving behind the pain and hurt that had consumed us.

But as we reached our destination - a rundown motel in the middle of nowhere - the tension returned. Harry's exhaustion and frustration were etched on his face as he turned to me.

"I know neither of us want to go home right now," he said, his voice laced with bitterness. "For fuck's sake, they're probably sexing each other up as we speak.." A surge of anger and betrayal rose within me at his words. "Let's just stay here for the night, maybe two. We can regroup and come up with a plan." His proposal hung in the air like a dark cloud, reminding us both of the uncertain future that lay ahead. But one thing was certain - we wouldn't have to face it alone.

My voice caught in my throat, unable to form words as I simply nodded, a tight knot of fear and anger coiling in my stomach. My body trembled with the intensity of the situation. We both knew that any misstep could cause everything to spiral out of control. The motel seemed like a fitting backdrop for our strained emotions, its dilapidated exterior reflecting the state of our relationship. The neon lights flickering ominously, casting a sickly glow over the peeling paint and broken windows. But even this rundown place offered some respite from the suffocating chaos and turmoil surrounding us.

Panicked and unprepared for the situation I found myself in, I regretted not packing a change of clothes as my heart raced and my mind spun with fear. The events that had just unfolded left me gasping for air, struggling to stay afloat in a sea of chaos. As we rushed into the rundown motel, I couldn't help but scan our surroundings, searching for any sign of danger. The flickering lights and musty smell only added to the ominous atmosphere. Harry snatched the key from the grimy front desk man and led us down a dimly lit hallway to our room. My anxiety spiked when they informed us that the only available room featured a single king-sized bed. My nerves were on edge at the thought of sharing such an intimate space with Harry, his intimidating presence looming over me like a dark cloud.

As we stepped into the dimly lit motel room, the tension between Harry and me was palpable, hanging heavy in the air like a thick fog. I could feel his eyes on me, assessing, judging.

"I'll take the floor," Harry offered gruffly, breaking the silence that had settled between us like a heavy blanket.

I shook my head, unable to accept his sacrifice. "No, we can share the bed. It's fine," I replied softly, trying to ease some of the strain that weighed on us both.

Harry hesitated for a moment before nodding curtly. "Alright then."

The room felt suffocatingly small as we settled in, the walls seeming to press in on us from all sides. The shadows danced ominously in the dim light, casting eerie shapes across the worn carpet.

"I never thought we'd end up here," I mused quietly, breaking the somber stillness that enveloped us.

Harry's voice was gruff as he responded, "Life has a funny way of throwing curveballs at you when you least expect it."

A bitter chuckle escaped my lips. "Seems like we're both striking out lately."

We sat in silence for a while, the weight of our complicated situation hanging heavily over us. The sound of distant traffic seeping through the thin walls served as a reminder of the world outside our little bubble of chaos.

Finally, Harry spoke again, his voice softer this time. "I'm sorry you're going through this. You deserve better."

I turned to look at him, meeting his gaze for the first time since we had arrived. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that caught me off guard.

"Thank you," I whispered, feeling a flicker of warmth amidst the cold despair that had settled in my heart. We sat side by side on the edge of the bed, two broken souls seeking solace in each other's company.

We sat in silence for a while longer, the weight of our circumstances still heavy on our shoulders but somehow more bearable with each other's presence. The flickering lights outside cast fleeting shadows across the room, adding a sense of fleeting impermanence to our shared moment of respite.

"I'm glad you're here," Harry spoke up suddenly, his voice genuine and heartfelt.

Tears welled up in my eyes at his words, grateful for the unexpected bond that had formed between us in the midst of turmoil. "Me too," I whispered, feeling a sense of hope blooming in my heart despite the challenges ahead.

And so we sat together in the dimly lit motel room, two souls seeking solace in each other's company amidst the chaos that threatened to tear us apart.

My phone began to buzz incessantly in my hand, Teddy's name flashing on the screen. I couldn't bear to see his name or hear his voice, so I forcefully shut off my phone and flung it across the room with a violent toss. As it clattered against the wall, Harry's quiet voice pierced through the air.

"She called me too," he seethed, his fists clenched at his side. "In this moment, I could kill her."

I nodded in agreement, my blood boiling with rage. "Teddy had the audacity to accuse me of being jealous and then suggest that if he just fucked me, my jealousy would disappear," I spat out, feeling both hurt and incensed by his words.

Harry's voice dripped with desire as he turned towards me, his gaze burning into my skin. "Would it?" His words were a challenge, daring me to answer. I could feel the heat radiating off his body as he leaned in closer.

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. "Would what?"

A smirk played at the corners of his lips as he spoke the words that sent a shiver down my spine. "If he fucked you, would you still be so jealous?"

My heart raced at the vulgar question and I let out a nervous laugh. Shaking my head, I replied, "No, Harry. Nothing could change how I feel."

He let out a deep sigh, frustration evident in his voice. "The timing of this is fucking terrible. I've always thought you were stunning, wondered what you saw in a guy like him. And I know I could give it to you so much better."

Our eyes locked in a heated moment and I couldn't deny the sparks that flew between us. But as tempting as his offer was, I knew I couldn't betray my feelings for another man.

I glanced up at him through my lashes and saw the raw intensity in his gaze. It was clear that he wanted me. But we both knew it could never be more than a forbidden fantasy.

“What if we had our own affair, you know, to get back at them.” He said with a smirk.

My heart pounded in my chest like a wild animal in a cage at his words. An affair? The thought sent waves of scandalous delight and sinful anticipation coursing through my veins.

"An affair, Harry?" I repeated tentatively, my voice barely above a whisper. His dark eyes were locked onto mine, the intensity of his gaze making my breath hitch in my throat. The charged silence that hung between us was as intoxicating as the raw desire smoldering in his gaze.

Leaning closer, Harry's lips brushed against my earlobe as he whispered huskily, "Yes, an affair, just like what they did. Us, sneaking around, feeling each others bodies." His hot breath fanned over me, causing goosebumps to rise on my skin.

The room seemed to shrink around us as Harry moved impossibly closer, his hand finding its way to my knee. I watched as his fingers traced patterns along my thigh, desire flooding me with each small movement.

Harry's thumb traced a line up towards the apex of my thighs, igniting sparks wherever it made contact with my flesh through the thin material of my skirt. My body instinctively rose to meet him and I let out a soft gasp.

"You want this," he murmured heatedly against my neck before nipping lightly at the sensitive skin there. A delicious shiver ran down my spine and my core clenched at his actions.

"I...I..." I stuttered, struggling for words as heat pooled low in my belly. He chuckled darkly at my loss for words before returning his attention back to where his hand had slowly began creeping upwards again. His warm touch was like an electric shock, leaving behind a trail of molten desire.

Without another word, Harry pushed up my skirt and slipped his hand into my panties. His fingers brushed lightly against me and I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling a jolt of pleasure shoot straight to my core. He grinned wickedly at me and slowly began to stroke me, his skilled fingers setting my senses ablaze.

"Harry," I moaned out, clutching at his arm as he expertly worked me into a bundle of nerves. His low chuckle did nothing to ease the escalating tension.

His finger easily slipped inside me, making me whimper at the sudden intrusion. Harry pumped his digits inside me slowly at first, but quickly sped up when I let out a needy gasp. The pleasure was overwhelming and soon enough, I clenched around him, a shuddering orgasm ripping through me.

I fell back onto the bed, panting heavily as aftershocks still tingled throughout my body. Harry wiped his glistening fingers on my skirt before smoothly pulling it back down. He then lay next to me on the bed, his smirk evident in the dim light.

"That's just a taste," he said with a wicked glint in his eyes.

"I can't wait to claim you as mine," Harry whispered in my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. My heart raced as he trailed kisses along my jaw and down my neck, stopping to suckle a tender spot just below my earlobe. His hands moved sensually over my body, teasingly tracing patterns on my skin before gripping me tighter.

Desperate for more of his touch, I moaned and arched into him. He took that as an invitation and gripped the hem of my shirt, pulling it up over my head roughly. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath when he saw me bare-chested for the first time. I blushed at his appreciation but internally preened at his reaction.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he growled lowly before capturing one of my nipples between his lips and sucking hard. My back bowed off the bed as I let out a keening whimper, my fingers tangling in his hair. He had a way of making me feel wanted and desired like no one ever had before.

He moved lower, kissing and licking his way down my stomach until he reached the hem of my skirt. With a swift movement, he yanked it up over my hips, baring me completely to him. His eyes darkened even more when they met mine again, full of lust and possession.

"Spread your legs for me," he commanded softly yet authoritatively. I hesitated for only a moment before complying with his request, feeling incredibly exposed but also powerfully aroused by the thought of pleasing him in any way possible.

Harry took advantage of this vulnerability by thrusting two fingers deep inside me without any warning or preparation. I gasped at the intrusion but didn't stop him from exploring deeper within me. Instead, I clenched around his fingers instinctively while moaning out his name in ecstasy. He chuckled softly against my inner thigh before reaching between our bodies to stroke himself in time with his rhythmic fingering of me.

"You're so tight," he groaned approvingly.

As Harry thrust his fingers deeper into me, I couldn't help but moan louder. His fingers curled inside me, searching for my sweet spot while his other hand gripped my hip firmly. My body shuddered with pleasure as we moved together in this intense rhythm.

"You feel so good," I whispered between breaths. "Please don't stop."

He chuckled darkly before biting down softly on the lobe of my ear, sending a jolt of excitement through me. His hips picked up speed, grinding against me as he groaned in approval.

"That's it, baby girl," he growled. "Take what you want."

His words ignited something deep within me, making me even more hungry for his touch. I didn't hesitate to wrap my legs around his waist and pull him closer still. Our skin slapped together in sync with each swift thrust and retreat as we moved together like two bodies meant to be one.

"Oh fuck, you're driving me wild," he whispered into my ear before grabbing a fistful of my hair and pulling my head back sharply. The sudden sting shot straight to my core, intensifying every sensation tenfold. He released my hair just as quickly and crashed his lips onto mine in a demanding kiss that left me panting for air.

We moved from the couch to bed floor where he pushed me down onto all fours before kneeling behind me. One hand gripped the base of my spine while the other caressed its way up my inner thigh towards my core again. He teased me mercilessly with his fingers as he trailed hot kisses down my spine and back up again, sending shivers of anticipation through my entire body.

"I know I'll fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before," he muttered darkly into my ear just before slamming himself deep inside me from behind in one powerful stroke that made me cry out loudly at both surprise and pleasure. In response, he gripped both sides of my face roughly yet tenderly and claimed my mouth once more in a fiery kiss that went on forever or at least it felt like it did until our bodies became entwined.

I could feel his cock hardening in his pants and I needed it no matter how wrong it was.

He gripped my hair tightly and pulled my head back, exposing my neck. His hot breath sent shivers down my spine as he whispered, "You're mine to fuck however I want." Wanting more than anything to feel his cock deep inside me, I moaned in agreement.

Pushing me against the bed, he roughly lifted one of my legs and wrapped it around his waist. With his free hand, he pushed his hard and heavy cock into me. I cried out at the intense pleasure shooting through my body as he began to thrust slowly yet powerfully in and out of me.

"Say you want it," he growled against my ear. "Tell me how much you need it."

"Please," I whimpered. "Fuck me hard."

His answering groan sent a wave of heat coursing through my veins as he slammed into me with all his might, claiming my mind and body as his own. The force of each thrust sent jolts of electricity through every nerve ending i body, leaving me breathless and begging for more.

As he continued to pound into me, I couldn't help but moan his name. His thick cock stretched and filled me, hitting my sweet spot with each powerful thrust. I felt my walls start to quake, ready to explode with pleasure as he took control of our encounter.

"That's it," he growled, nipping at my earlobe. "Just let go."

I clung to him tighter, my nails digging into his skin as I surrendered to the intensity of our lovemaking. Every muscle in my body was on edge, waiting for the release that felt so close yet so far away.

He changed positions again, lifting me up and pushing me against the wall. His other hand gripped my hair tightly as he claimed my mouth roughly in a deep, passionate kiss. My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as he began to thrust even harder into me. It felt so dirty yet so good to be taken like this.

"You are mine," he whispered harshly between breaths. "Only mine. I bet your husband would be fucking dumbfounded when he sees you filled up with my babies."

His words sent shivers down my spine, and I couldn't help but nod in agreement as he took control completely. This was exactly what I needed - someone strong who would make me feel wanted and taken care of.

As we moved together in sync, lost in the heat of passion and desire, I whispered back to him between gasps for air, "Please...don't stop."

He replied by grabbing hold of my ass cheeks and squeezing them tightly as he thrust deeper into me. His rough skin rubbed against mine, sending tingling sensations all over my body. With every push and pull, our hips collided, echoing throughout the room.

I could feel him growing harder inside me, straining against the thin fabric separating us. The anticipation was killing me - I needed him to release that cock and fill me up completely. As if reading my mind, he pulled away from me suddenly and spun me around so that I was facing the wall again.

"Not yet," he growled into my ear before reaching down and teasing my entrance with his thumbs. He pushed one finger inside me slowly, then another, stretching me open until three fingers were buried deep inside me. I arched my back involuntarily as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through my veins at his tender ministrations on my most sensitive spot.

“Where is your damn phone?” Harry demanded, his voice dripping with urgency. I struggled to lift my head off the bed and weakly pointed to the device lying on the floor. Without hesitation, he leapt from the bed and strode over to it.

A sinister grin spread across his face as he unlocked the phone and shoved his thumb into my mouth, ordering me to suck on it. With a twisted sense of satisfaction, he flipped the phone and snapped a selfie, making sure to capture the tattoos inked on his arm for identification. His next move was ruthless as he pulled up my text messages and sent the photo to Teddy, effectively sending a clear message of dominance over me.

"I'll make sure that bastard knows what he's missing out on," Harry growls, his eyes filled with possessive rage. "You're too good for him, love. A fucking goddess like you deserves to be worshipped and adored, not tossed aside like a used toy." I feel a mix of anger and satisfaction as I realize that I don't need Teddy anymore, not after the wild and passionate night I just had with Harry. He makes me feel alive in a way no one else ever has.

Harry threw the phone back onto the bed, his eyes never leaving mine. I could see the fire in his gaze, the intensity of his desire for me. He reached out and ran a hand through my hair, gently tugging on it as he leaned in to kiss me. His lips were soft, but his touch was firm, demanding. I responded eagerly, meeting his kiss with equal passion.

As we kissed, Harry's hands began to wander, exploring my body with a familiarity that set my skin on fire. He traced the curve of my waist, the arch of my back, the dip of my hips. I could feel myself growing wetter with every touch, every kiss. I needed him inside me again, needed to feel him filling me up, possessing me completely.

But Harry had other plans. He broke our kiss and looked deep into my eyes, his expression serious. "Not yet," he whispered, echoing his earlier words. "I want to savor every moment with you."

He lowered his head and began to kiss a trail down my neck, across my collarbone, down to my breasts. He teased my nipples with his tongue, biting down gently on the sensitive flesh. I gasped, arching my back as waves of pleasure washed over me.

Slowly, carefully, Harry began to enter me once again. He moved slowly at first, savoring every inch of me. But as he felt me grow wetter, more responsive, he picked up the pace. He thrust deeper, harder, his hips slapping against mine. I could feel myself losing control, could feel the familiar tightening in my belly as I approached my climax.

"Turn over, want to see that beautiful ass of yours as I fill you up," he growled, his voice thick with desire.

646 notes · View notes

daycourtofficial · 3 months

Text

I got cursed like Eve got bitten - part IV

Pairing: Azriel x Rhysand's sister!reader | WC: 2.5k | Warnings: none

Summary: reports of a rare powered fae popping up in Illyria send Azriel and Rhysand on a journey through the past, unraveling a truth they thought long buried

Previous part | Next part | Masterlist

You took the High Lady’s arm, accepting her offer to show you about the palace. You had heard about her through harsh tones and loose lips - human, cursebreaker, the High Lord’s whore. The males of your village already did not like Rhysand, but when the news reached your village that he had made a human ‘High Lady’, they were less than receptive to both her new position and her personally.

You didn’t dare repeat the disgusting things you had overheard them saying they would do to her if they got the chance. Instead, you matched her steps as you walked the hallways, her lilac scent swirling around you.

Their home was gorgeous - large hallways spacious enough for winged fae, the walls lined with various paintings, each one depicting various moments in the night sky. You stopped before one of them, eyes moving over the brushstrokes used to depict the night sky on Starfall. It was a landscape painting - the stars falling in hues of green and blue and purple, streaking across the land. The painting was massive - the canvas was the same height as you, but the size was needed to show such detail. It showed the mountains in the background, the lights reflecting off their snow capped peaks.

The focal point of the painting was the stars showering down the town, what you assumed was Velaris. The stars sprinkled down on the clustered buildings, lighting the city below.

The whole painting was stunning, but your eyes lingered on the left side of the painting, a river flowing beside the streets of the city. The water captured the starlight just perfectly, and something about it called for your attention.

“I just finished this a few weeks ago. It was last year’s Starfall. We usually host a grand ball, but this year we flooded the streets with people. We had businesses open their doors and the people of Velaris would come and go as they pleased.”

Feyre’s voice was soft as she recalled the memory, a smile on her face at how well the event had gone, her blue-gray eyes alight.

“I’m sure it was lovely.”

You had spent that same Starfall also gazing at the stars, however your mind had been preoccupied with questions you would never receive answers to rather than flitting in and out of shops. You had stayed home, your small home above the tavern just large enough for one, gazing through the window at the cacophony of colors. Something about Starfall always made your head throb, the holiday eliciting something from you that was unidentifiable. It was this overwhelming sense of sadness and longing, mixed with what felt like hundreds of emotions.

It was too much, the annual holiday seeing yourself locked away in your home as the rest of the village flew through the stars, the males carrying their wives and children through the sky. Illyrian culture viewed the falling stars as lost souls - cursed to wander the skies in search of where they truly belonged. Perhaps your own soul left the confines of your body for one night, searching for a place it would never find.

It was silent, and you looked to Feyre to find an expectant look on her face as she tucked her golden brown hair behind a pointed ear.

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”

She smiled softly before asking, “what did you do for Starfall?”

Your bed was the first thing that came to mind. How every year it was nearly impossible to leave your bed the morning of. How it felt like a great trek across the mountains to use the restroom or to get a mug of water. How, despite the difficulties, every year you dragged yourself across your apartment, peeking out through the curtains to get a glimpse of the sky.

“I spent it at home.” You watched as her mouth began to move, about to ask the question you hated more than anything. You coughed. “Alone. I spent it at home, alone.”

She nodded solemnly and you turned back to the painting, letting your thoughts get lost in the blending of the night sky or how she made the lights touch everything else in the painting in some way.

All of this was so new - you still couldn’t quite wrap your head around being in Velaris, a city no one knew about until a few years prior. You had had several dreams of a quaint town on the river, but you always chalked it up to something you had read in a book once. Perhaps you had merely dreamt of a sanctuary like this.

Your eyes traced the buildings of Velaris, looking vaguely familiar. Your dreams lead you nowhere - you would wake with only vague descriptions and occasional flashes of images.

A city hidden for millenia. It all felt surreal to be here, in the High Lord’s estate, the High Lady giving you a personal tour.

You weren’t even that sure of the High Lord’s reasoning for letting you come.

You had accepted their offer with little consideration. Perhaps it was foolish. But tensions were high between you and the males of your village - you were unwanted, and the males were tolerating you less and less.

Besides, entrusting the High Lord to leave you alone after knowing something so sacred about you seemed unfathomable. He didn’t strike you as someone who accepted the word ‘no’ easily.

“Naturally, we’d like to keep you safe while you’re here. If you want to visit Velaris, please just let one of us know so we can show you around first. It’s a beautiful city, but we would hate for you to get lost.”

You mulled over her words, not even having thought about being able to see the city, you turned to her, watching her hands move as she spoke.

“This house is close to the city, it’d be quite easy to walk. We can show you the best places the city has to offer.” She looped her arm back into your elbow, steering you from the painting. “Besides, I’m hoping you can settle a debate we have - we’re all split on the best place in Velaris to get pastries from. Rhys is convinced…”

Her words trailed off as something flashed in your mind, a brief image of eating at a cafe with Azriel, his face lit up in laughter. He had bitten into a powdered treat, the powdered sugar coating the front of his black shirt, leaving it speckled. His shadows swirled around him as if they too were laughing. The image came and went so quickly, you assumed Feyre’s words did a great job at visualizing the town and her friends.

But the rest of the tour left you distracted, constantly trying to bring that image back to the front of your mind.

Your first lesson with Feyre was the next day. She had told you to stop by her study whenever you felt ready, having shown you where it was on her tour before showing you to your chambers, the room you were going to stay in down a hallway of other closed doors. You wondered how they filled the space in such a large house - empty rooms just waiting for inhabitants.

You were fairly certain the room they put you in was larger than your entire apartment. The bed was spacious - large enough for at least two Illyrains to sleep in. You had packed a bag before you left, telling the High Lord that you lived above the tavern and to wait a few moments while you packed. The bag now sat on your bed, having left it behind for Feyre’s tour.

You pulled your clothes from the bag to hang them, noticing they were very different to what everyone else wore - so far Rhys, Azriel, and Feyre had only been wearing shades of black, but your wardrobe was almost entirely made of hues of blue.

When all of your clothes had been put away, you looked toward the window, the dark night sky inviting you to curl into bed, but you knew sleep wouldn’t come to you. You felt too awake. You opened your door, peaking your head out to look down the hallways. Finding it empty, you padded down the halls, trying to retrace your steps to the library Feyre had shown you.

After trying a few wrong doors, you found the library, slipping in and shutting the door behind you. Without Feyre here, you allowed yourself ample time to search the stacks. Your hands pulled books from the shelves non stop,until you eventually found you had a stack that reached your chin.

You left the library, pattering back to your room, more certain how to get back to it now that you knew where the library was. You turned down the hallway to your door, seeing Azriel at the other end of the hallway. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him, the small shadows whirling around him.

He looked tired, as if the weight of the world laid on his shoulders. Dark bags beneath his eyes did little to deter how beautiful he was, even in the limited light. The shadows on his shoulders danced around his head and you watched as his eyes lifted to yours, looking straight at you.

His gaze was impossible to put into words, but you imagine it’s similar to how sailors from the continent felt when they saw the shores of Prythian for the first time after having spent months at sea.

Impossible. Beautiful. Resolution.

You kept his gaze as you neared your door and he stopped at the door across the hall from yours.

“This is where I’m staying.”

He nodded at your words, slipping into the room without reply, the lock clicking into place before you slipped into your own room. You placed the books on the bedside table before walking over to your wardrobe and changing into a nightgown. You didn’t feel like bathing tonight, opting instead to pull whatever laid at the top of the stack of books, curl up into the bed, and read until you fell asleep.

After you had bathed the next morning, you came back into your room to find a tray of breakfast foods. A variety of scones and jams decorated the platter, as well as some sausage and some porridge. You smelled each of the jars of jam, trying to figure out what fruit they consisted of. One of them was a dark purple, its color called to you as you slathered it onto a scone, the flavor bursting in your mouth. It was sweet and bitter with notes of honey, and before you realized it, you had eaten several scones slathered in it.

You moved down the halls, everything brighter in the daytime, searching for Feyre’s office. You knocked softly on the dark wood, and the door opened before you, Feyre’s smiling face greeting you. “Good morning!”

You nodded your head in greeting, peering about the room. It felt incredibly homey in this room - you could smell the incense burning from down the hall, but the room inside shocked you. Gone were the dark blacks and blues lining the halls - her study was covered in light blues and silvers.

You gazed about the room as you followed her in, sitting in the chair she pointed you to.

You had skipped the pleasantries, the scones you had eaten still on your mind. “What were those jams?”

“Which one did you try?”

“It was almost black, kind of bitter.”

You looked up, the ceiling of the room showing the phases of the moon in beautiful detail. You could make out individual craters of the moon as it moved through its cycle.

“That was the moonberry jam.”

You tilted your head, looking back at her, “a moonberry?”

Feyre grinned, sitting on the ledge of her desk, “I’m assuming moonberries don’t grow on your side of Illyria? They’re a fickle fruit - according to Rhys they only grow in some parts of Illyria. My sister has finally gotten them to grow for her and is over the moon about it.”

You nodded, trying to recollect what you knew about her sister. She had two, you thought. The rumors swirled of two sisters that were dumped into the Cauldron, blessed with new life. Several of the fae of your village spit vitriol about them - seething jealousy that now even humans had been chosen over Illyrians for such blessings.

You often hid your hair over your ears for good reason.

“I mostly wanted to spend today talking about your powers.”

You quirked a brow, the sight not going unnoticed by her. “I mean, I want to know where you stand. Do you have any control over them?”

“Not really. It’s mostly random.” You weren’t sure how to discuss your powers - they had been a well-guarded secret for centuries. You really weren’t sure how to talk about them to others, much less talk about how they worked.

She nodded, jotting down notes onto some parchment. “By random, is there any pattern? Perhaps something big emotionally?”

You thought to the most recent time your powers had flared - a few weeks ago one of the tavern’s patrons had pushed you, causing you to spill wine all over yourself and him. His response calling you a “simple barmaid” did little to control your powers, and he sat down after his eyes went wide, feeling the anger coming from you.

As you thought, her voice perked up. “Remember, we know next to nothing about empaths. There is very little written or known about the powers.”

You breathed through your nose, trying to stay calm. There were some things that always made them swell, but you never had much connection to them. They surged during Starfall or if you spent too long looking at rivers. Those felt too personal, too much a part of you to tell her. So you told her some of the more innocuous ones.

“At night, sometimes my powers flair when I’m falling asleep.”

She jotted that down, the pen scraping the paper making a crisp sound. “When do you usually fall asleep?”

“Right around midnight each night.”

“Does anything draw your attention whenever you’re falling asleep that sets it off?”

You thought about how it felt to lay in your bed, sleep not coming easily. You would relax your gaze, allowing your mind to make shapes from within the shadows, your window open letting the night air in.

“I like to make shapes out of the shadows. Try to see things in them that aren’t there. I do it with clouds during the day, as well.”

Your mind lingered on how most nights you tried harder and harder to form the shape of a man from the shadows, never successfully.

“Do the shadows or clouds bother you?”

Feyre’s voice brings you back to her office, the bright light from the windows illuminating the room. “No. No, they don’t.”

Author’s note: how are we feeling 👀 what do we think’s going to happen 👀👀

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin @magicstrengthandcourage

I got cursed series taglist: @doodlebugg16-blog @ceoofyearning @saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofbatboydreams @willowpains @anarchii @i-am-infinite @bsenpai @sstrohma @teenagellamaangel @allthatisbuck1917 @elsie-bells @rcarbo1

Thanks for reading ❣️

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar writing #i got cursed like eve got bitten #azriel x y/n

348 notes · View notes

bodhrancomedy · 2 months

Text

The Bard Who Returned to Fairyland in Search of a Name by Bodhrán M.

It was the ferryman who met the bard first, a beardless lad in a ragged cloak, broadbrimmed hat, and carrying nothing save an iron knife and one small pack across his shoulders. He watched with mild interest as the bard picked his way down the grassy knoll and onto the black-wood of the small dock, coming to a halt directly before the little boat.

Neither of them moved for a long while. Somewhere in the distance, an eagle screamed.

Finally, the bard spoke.

“I wish to cross the river,” he said.

The ferryman leant on his oar and regarded him with rheumy eyes, pushing a lank hunk of wire-grey hair from his face. “Is that so?” he replied. “Do you have payment, my boy?”

“Yes, I do.” The bard withdrew a coin purse from beneath the green cloak.

“Coin won’t do, boy. Not what I dabble in.”

“I know,” the bard said quietly. He had an odd voice, the ferryman noted, with no hint of fear or trepidation or awe. “I bring seashells from the coasts of Ireland,” he continued, “filled with the songs of the selkies. I bring spices from the borders of India and China with many healing powers beyond that which we can understand, and a trollish crystal gifted by the giantess-queen of Iceland. I deal as little in money as you do.”

The ferryman was impressed, even if he didn’t show it. He dug a filthy black pipe from a salt-encrusted pocket and stuck it between his teeth. He waited, but the bard made no move to light it for him. Finally, he took a tinderbox from another pouch (this one being an oilskin gifted many years ago by a Swedish princess) and struck a spark.

“So,” the ferryman said, his words curled about the billowing black smoke, “you know what is across this river?”

“I know.”

“And yet you wish to cross it.”

The bard shrugged, almost as if to say that the statement was obvious enough that it did not need to be said. “Have I brought enough to pay for passage?” he asked.

“Of course,” the ferryman said as he stepped aside to allow the man to board.

But the bard did not. Instead, he gripped the brim of his hat and pulled it further down over his eyes. His voice was as steady as before, but lower and intertwined with steel. “Both ways?”

The ferryman’s eyes narrowed.

The bard stood there, waiting for an answer, one small hand on his knife.

Hemming and hawing, the ferryman felt a sting of disappointment and suspicion in his gut. He had ferried more hopefuls across this river than he had ferried back and there was almost nothing which he liked more than the faces of those who had returned to his boat having not taken the first precaution. They had thought ahead enough – many of these wanderers and seekers of mysteries and gold – to have gotten his word not to throw them into the cold water or have their treasures taken before they reached human land again, but they had not thought about payment for the return journey.

But seashells and spices were twice the payment for a crossing – and he had never owned a troll-crystal before. He’d heard that they could outshine the sunrises even in the frozen northern plains, that they were rainbow stars from deep within the ground. It would be something to treasure in the dark.

It was through gritted teeth, therefore, which he gave his answer. “Yes,” the ferryman said.

The hat bobbed as the bard nodded. “And I will reach each shore in the same condition as I board your boat, sir? Each way.”

“Yes,” the ferryman agreed sullenly. Then he thought and tried to not brighten in anticipation.

The bard either did not notice or did not care, but he stepped aboard with the ease of one used to the pitch and swell of river boats. He sat in the prow, half-turned so he could look across the water and still see the ferryman.

Clever, that.

Carefully, the ferryman untied the mooring rope and then pushed off the knoll with his oar. He began to pull through the water with broad, powerful strokes and so it was a matter of minutes before they reached halfway.

It was then that the ferryman felt safe in speaking again. Too soon and sometimes the young fools would see the error of their ways and pitch themselves into the water. Once you reached halfway, you were falling into enchantments rather simple cold. It did make him laugh, sometimes, to see them flail and splash their way back to safety. He liked to wave at the ones who lived, standing sopping wet and humiliated on the dock, and sing mocking laments at those who did not.

But he did not think that this young man would do so. Still, he waited.

“You off to fairyland, boy?” he asked cheerfully, “Here to see for yourselves the wonders your bardic forefathers taught you? To see if they’re as real as they say?”

The bard tilted his head and the ferryman saw a flash of white teeth from beneath the hat brim, bared in a savage grin.

“No, sir,” the bard said, “I am not merely going to fairyland, sir ferryman. I am going back.”

“Well, that’s a thing!” the ferryman exclaimed. He rubbed his chin with his free hand and added, “Not many people wish to test their luck twice.”

The bard shrugged again.

“And why have you returned?”

The hat tilted back and suddenly the ferryman saw the bard’s face clearly for the first time. It was even younger-looking than he’d expected, suntanned and heavily freckled, but harsh and set in furious determination. “That is my business and my business alone, sir ferryman,” the bard replied in cold tones. “For I know what you are as we have met before, and you told me in the mistaken belief that we would never cross paths again. And I know that changelings would do what they can to gain favour in the eyes of fairyland’s mistress. I would not give up my slightest advantage to satisfy your curiosity.”

Knocked back a little by the intensity of this speech and suddenly slightly afraid of why he would not remember this young man, the ferryman opened and shut his mouth a few times and said nothing in reply. He rowed on in silence, feeling sweat prickling on his brow. Either this passenger was a grand sorcerer of some great power, or he was an overconfident boy with a head full of stories. But he could not place a finger on either option without some unease. Neither felt right.

“It was curiosity, nothing more,” the ferryman mumbled. “I meant no harm in asking.”

“But you did mean harm in knowing,” the bard replied lightly. “And you could make harm in telling. I am no child, sir ferryman, and I understand how this all works.”

#the bard who returned to fairyland in search of a name #writing #writeblr #long post #fairytales #fairy tale

225 notes · View notes

gadriezmannsgirl · 3 months

Note

can you do a Ruben Dias one with a Portuguese reader where she comforts him after the quarter finals?

As a Venezuelan and also as a Portuguese, I cried more than four rivers combined last Friday, I truly wanted to see my countries winning both Copa América and Eurocopa, penalties are so unfair😭 This req had me a bit emotional and that's why I'm doing it right away, I truly hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: some swear words

No Matter What -R.D3

Summary: In good and bad moments, you'll always support Ruben.

Penalties. Fucking penalties. Your hands were shaking and your heart was beating so fast you thought it would come out of your mouth.

As a Portuguese, you wanted this win with all of your being, along with every other Portuguese in the stadium and the ones supporting from home all over the world, you hoped, prayed and wanted for your country to get through the semis. But you've always said that penalties were the most unfair thing in football.

Your eyes scanned the pitch but it wasn't hard to spot the one you cared the most for, your 3 years boyfriend, Ruben Dias. Your eyes locked with his, you could see he was exhausted but he never gave up for his team, much less for his country, you were extremely proud of him.

He got a smile from you when he throws a wink at you, he always knew how to calm you down even from afar. You see him walking over to his teammates while the captains go over to the referees and soon you could see Diogo Costa line up in the goal.

France was shooting first.

"Foda-se" (Fuck) You curse out seeing the French player score the first one. Cristiano was next and you cheered when you saw he made it.

In the next round, the two players, Fofana and Bernardo did their shots, both of them going inside the net. You did a knot of the green-red flag around your neck and hid your face in your hands while Koundé prepared himself.

You were praying for Diogo to catch the ball but when you heard the cheers of the French fans you knew it was another goal against you. However, when you heard the regrets and cries of the Portuguese you lifted your head to the screen to see Joao Félix had missed his penalty.

A knot was made in your stomach, you felt your legs wobble and you let yourself down on your seat. The feeling only grew more and more each player passing, until you hear the roars of the French and realised you had lost 3-5.

Your eyes were glassy and could only think about how your boyfriend was feeling. You wanted to run into the pitch and hug Ruben with your everything.

He was too excited, he was dreaming about this euro, he often tells you how amazing would it be for him to win something with his country and to see him now so heartbroken, thanking the public, the fans while being sorry for not being able to get through, made the loss more difficult for you.

Along with Ines and other WAGs, you went into the changing rooms and waited for the Portuguese team to go out.

You hugged Bernardo, Bruno, Cancelo, Lēao, Diogo and Félix giving him some encouraging words since the poor guy was beating himself up. You waited for Ruben who came out last, you gave him a small smile and offered your hand out to him, one that he took instantly.

Going back to the hotel was quiet, no one was speaking but Roberto who gave the guys a small speech 'bout their good journey in the Euros.

"You want to eat something?" You whisper to Ruben passing your fingers through his wet locks as shook his head

"Só te quero a ti" (Just want you) He replied in the same tone as yours, you nodded gripping his hands.

"Come on, let's get some sleep then. We've got a busy morning tomorrow"

You entered your shared hotel room and Ruben quickly undressed himself to get into his pijama pants and laid on the bed.

You undressed yourself but went to the bathroom, he might have showered but you haven't.

"Where are you going?" He asked

"I'm going to take a shower" You said looking into his eyes "Why? You feeling good?"

"Can I shower with you?"

"I thought you already showered in the stadium?"

"I did but I want you" You smile walking over to him and kiss his lips.

"Let's take a shower, meu amor" You grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the bed and into the bathroom

You undid the knot of his pijama pants and pulled them down, you weren't watching him but you knew he had a smirk on his face

"Whip it off. I'm babying you" For the first time in the evening you heard his laugh, you smiled going up and kissed him once again, his arms wrapped around your waist to pull your closer.

He, undid the hold of your towel and let it fell into the floor picking you up and going into the shower to open the cold water

"Ruben, põe-me no chão!" (Put me down!) You yelled in laughter as the cold water soon turned warm and that's when he got underneath.

Both of you were laughing until you stopped, both of you looking into each others eyes, his arms wrapped around you as yours were around his neck.

"I'm sorry"

"What for?"

"We did not go through"

"That wasn't your fault. Things happen"

"I know but I wanted it, you wanted it as well"

"Everyone did, Ru" You shook your head "But this one wasn't meant to be, maybe next year it will" You went to grab his shampoo but he hums in negation "What?"

"Can we use yours?" You smile nodding

"Better now?" You ask whispering as you start washing his hair, he nods.

You wash both of yourselves up

"Can we cuddle after this?" You nod grabbing your towel to dry you up and then his

"And we'll also watch some movies if you want, I ordered room service so we can eat as well"

"I said I wasn't hungry"

"And I know you were lying, amor" You pecked his lips "C'mon, let's baby you"

"Eu amo-te" (I love you) "Obrigado por cuidarem de mim" (Thanks for taking care of me)

"Sempre Ru... Eu também te amo, meu amor" (Always Ru... I love you too, my love)

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Taglist: @gaviymarcsbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld @http-isabela

If you want to be added into the tag list let me know!😊

#gadriezmannsgirl replies #gadriezmannsgirl writes!#ruben dias #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias fic #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias one shot #manchester city #man city #portugal nt #football fanfic #football players x reader

229 notes · View notes

sunandsstars · 1 year

Text

YAWNETU

CHAPTER 7

Tonowari x Ronal x Na’vi!Reader

Summary: With her arrival in Awa’atlu, reader seeks to find a sanctuary for her family, one that she may find in two particular individuals Warnings: N/A Word count: 2.2k A/N: Sorry for any wait guys! I’ve not been feeling myself lately, but doing good now! 🙈🫶🏼 Enjoy baes

Taglist: @itsyoboysparkel @dumb-fawkin-bitch @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @fanboyluvr @mooniequeen @berrybluez @bajadotcom @alwaysinwritersblock @pandoragalora @perfectprofessorloverapricot @lvrcpid @answer-the-sirens @phantomalex14 @neteyamforlife @bat1212 @sadforeversblog @ducks118 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @1800imgay @soushswag @honeybxes @lola-bunn1 @alldaysdreamers @doggodorime @theesexystallion @scarlettwch @annamarieisbae @wallpaintt @zatarias-pandora @daoyus @ambria @simp-erformarvelwomen @simpliheavenli @tojidilfs @automaticwizardnerd @lexasaurs634 @symptoms-of-moonlight @avtprint

@deviismynamewritingismygame @sunrays404 @tsireyassgurl @xx-kaitlyn-trixx-xx @that-one-daydreamer @yeosxxx @noname2246 @ok-boke @rubyrubyruuu @diosmilkymommers @annaleesworld @jiminsthickthighs @holysaladapricothero @peaches-peach-peach @enochi @thispussyshouldcomew @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis @kirisimpster @pompompomegranate @stevebuckysdoll @midhito @any-maybe @nyylovestowrite @omnimaki @blueberryfailureclinic @degenweeb @tejas-kris

The reflection of the sun casted a nice warm glow onto the already lukewarm waters of Awa’atlu, the day was just starting and the Na’vi of the reef headed out to do their chores.

Ronal decided to oversee ___, become her teacher and show her the way of water. Of course anyone else could have done it but as a strange Omaticaya stranger who has had no real experience with the ocean, the Tsahìk decided to pay her extra close attention. Or so she told herself.

“Are you sure they will be ok?” ___ glanced back to where the elderly situated themselves with her babies, cooing and tickling their feet. She did not doubt the older Metkayina’s at all, but they were strangers to her. Ronal watched her from the deeper ends of the shore, the waters just touching her upper waist.

“They will be fine. Za’u” she beckoned the anxious woman over to her and took her tiny wrist, noting the lack of fins and feeling the bony edges of her arm. ‘I must remember to give her extras for lunch, she is too skinny’ her mind turmoiled with the thought of this sweet girl going hungry on her long journey, just to feed her boys, it took her back to the question on why she was really here. ‘In due time Ronal, in due time’

___ nervously waded in and fought against the soft currents, yellow eyes glancing across the expanse of ocean. She was not at all used to this, coming from the forest it was just rivers she swam in, avoiding the harsh rapids and only choosing to glide in calm, flowing streams. The Tsahìk looked back at her and smiled, it was barely noticeable but it was there, bringing the blue woman comfort. Then, they dived in, taking deep breaths to fuel their journey.

Ronal swam ahead, letting go of ___’s wrist and using her own arms and tail to propel herself foreword, hips shaking softly from side to side from the momentum. She turned back to sign “Come, just a little further” and watched with confusion when ___ only stared on with a blank look “do you not understand?”. Taking the lack of signing as an answer she shrugged and continued on, slowing down just a little and checking back once in a while. For a forest Na’vi she is breathing quite well.

The corals of the reef were beautiful and vibrant, colours ranging from greens to bright pinks. Fish big and small swam around her, eyes blinking in curiosity at the newcomer in their home. ___ stopped her movement, turning around to admire the sights she has never seen before and watched as the creatures of the reef circled her feet. Her grin was large and pure, heart beating just a little bit faster from nervous excitement. Unbeknownst to the Omaticaya, soft blue eyes watched her every move and observed how curious ___ was in her home.

Suddenly the mother of two felt her lungs constrict and knew it was time for air, she pushed against rocks to go up to the surface, breaking the barrier and gasping for air. Ronal’s head popped out of the water, second eyelids blinking back the excess salt from her blue spheres. “You have done well for a forest girl, but you must learn to hold your breath for longer…and to learn our language”

“Is that what it was?” ___ panted, “the movement with your hands?”

“Srane” Ronal nodded “We cannot speak underwater, and making noises like we do for calling ilu takes up too much air, so my people adapted, created sign language”

“Your people are amazing for doing that. The only thing we have done in the forest is create different calls and noises for communicating when we are on our ikran”

“And that takes skill on itself” Ronal nodded, admiring how their cultures are so similar, yet so far. It reminds her that at the end of the day, they are both Na’vi and Eywa deems them the same in spirit and soul. “Let us dive again, I want to see how far you can go. Then, I will teach you to breathe”

Time flew by so fast, the lessons Ronal gave her on ‘breathing’ took a long time to get right, posture was important, breathing from the stomach was important, calm mind, no racing heart. It was a lot, but ___ felt confident in her abilities to go under the waters for longer than she had. But in due time.

For now she rests in her marui with her boys, whom the elders say were a delight to take care of. Apparently Sylwaì and Syatxì both loved eating the fruit which was gathered deep within the forests of the mangrove trees, they were mushed and paired with various bits of soft fish which was chowed down in an instant. ___ observed the soft flesh of Syatxì’s belly and giggled, noting the large rolls and the slow rise and fall of his chest. ‘Sleeping so heavily, he has eaten his fill for the rest of the day’ she mused.

The padding of footsteps made her ears twitched, hearing the bounce of the netting outside and in front of her home, she turned and saw Tonowari looking in, holding various items in his strong arms. “I have came to drop these off for you, it is your first night here and we want to make it as comfortable as possible for you” he proceeded to step in and place some woven blankets on the floor, along with a basket of fruits in case she got hungry during the night.

“Irayo, Tonowari” ___ nodded in thanks, smiling at him. Sylwaì cooed at the man, taking note of him in the room and reaching out to grab him by his akula teeth necklace.

The Olo’eyktan grinned and held out his large hand, watching as only his finger was grabbed with the babies four fingers, he shook it gently and watched as the boy gave him a gummy little grin which matched his own toothy one. “He is strong for his age. A mighty warrior in the making. Him and my son, Ao’nung will do just fine together”

___ chuckled “maybe the old ladies were right about him being a warrior, a fierce hunter is what Eywa wills for his future” she turned her head slightly and noted how close hers was to Tonowari’s, blue eyes clashing with bright yellow. ___ turned her head back and coughed a little, ears twitching, not getting the chance to see the slight purple on the clan leaders face.

“Srane” he nodded slightly, Ronal was not lying when she told him the Omaticaya woman’s eyes were the nicest shade of amber on the whole of Pandora, rivalling even the most brightest of fish in the bioluminescent night. “Well, I will leave you and your sons to rest. If you need anything, please, we will be happy to help you” ___ thanked him as he left, sighing in slight embarrassment.

Oh Eywa, what was she going to do.

“Good morning ___!” One of the older ladies, Naola, called out to her as she walked down the beach towards them. “How are you and your little ones?”

___ stopped right in front of the group, adjusting her grip on her twins and smiled “We are good, Syatxì is hungry though, even if i fed him a couple of minutes ago” the mother sent a playful glare to him, the baby looking at her with wide eyes in return. ‘too cute’

She handed the two to Naola who cooed and wiggled her fingers at them, Sylwaì giggling. “Well, you best on head out to Tsahìk, she does not take kindly to late comers” ___ nodded, kissing the heads of her sons as goodbye and headed off towards Ronal’s home, as instructed last night after her lessons.

The Metkayina women was inside, grinding herbs and powders into a mortar. Her head snapped up at the cough ___ let out to indicate she was there, “Ah, you are just in time. Come, sit. I have decided to spend our morning today doing my duties, you will join me”

The blue lady blinked in surprise “Ronal, I am not Tsakarem, I do not need to learn”

The said Tsahìk shook her head, frowning. “No you are not, but Eywa sees potential in you” she then smiled slightly, blue eyes twinkling in the morning sun. “During my prayers, she has willed me to teach you, to help you learn. You were a skilled healer back with the Omaticaya. You will do well here”

___ smiled back “irayo…what are you doing now?” she squatted and observed the clay bowl and noted that the ingredients were different to that she was used to at home. Or her old home.

“This is to treat scrapes and cuts, one of our hunters came back earlier with wounds from the coral outside the reef. Luckily it was not life threatening. But it must be treated soon” Ronal turned back to her task and continued grinding the paste, adding more water and herbs when necessary. She glanced at ___ from the corner of her large eyes and watched the way her thin tail moved about in genuine curiosity.

It made her heart flutter just a bit.

“Za’u” the Tsahìk snapped herself out of her daze and stood up, walking out of the marui and towards another a few ways down where the hunter laid, talking to his mate. “Txatì. Your husband lives, he will be fine”

Txatì looked to her clan leader with glistening eyes, “Sorry, Ronal. I am just worried about him” she then turned to ___ who stood behind the healer. “What business does she bring?”

“___ will learn my work. As is willed by Eywa” Ronal saw the look Txatì gave the Omaticaya and decided to shut her down. Who would deny Eywa’s will? She understood the girl wanted the best for her mate and may have not agreed for an outsider to be in the hut with them, but that was no reason to be rude.

Fortunately ___ did not notice the harsh glance that was directed to her and immediately focused in on the grazes that adorned the man’s skin. “Does it hurt?” she knelt down and observed it, not too deep, not too large. It should scab within a week if he was lucky.

“Kehe. I will be fine, thank you Tsakarem” he nodded to her in gratitude for her kindness and hissed when his Tsahìk applied the cool paste into his wound.

Ronal gave him a look “you are a warrior and yet you cower under mere herbs” her ears twitched when the soft giggles of ___ echoed through the marui, pupils dilating. She did not dare look in her direction, afraid she would make her budding infatuation more obvious.

But it was noticeable to the hunter, who turned to his wife and winked slightly, speaking with his eyes. He remembered when he was the same with Txatì, giving her admiring looks but trying to act calm and cool whenever she was around.

Once Ronal finished with her job, guiding ___ on the pastes and the dangers of the coral that can come in and outside the reef and healing other hunters that came and went, she stood and nodded to her last patient and swiftly turned around and lead ___ outside. “You learn fast I have noticed” she turned her head back to watch her “let us go see your boys, I am sure they miss their mother”

They traveled along the ropes above the waters, bouncing slightly with each step. Eventually they jumped down to the beach, the sands getting in every crevice of their feet and leaving footprints when they padded along, searching for the group of elders who held ___’s children.

“Hey! Over here!” A man waved at them from afar, holding a laughing Ao’nung in his strong arms. Ronal grinned at the boy who made grabby hands at her, thanking Lìtxan who passed him over.

The mother brushed the little hair he had over his head and bounced him in her arms, watching ___ pick up her own sons. “Have they been behaving?” she heard her softly ask.

“Oh! No they have been terrible! Always demanding teylu every minute of the morning! Any more and they will sink to the bottom of the ocean!” Naola cried out in jest.

___ let out a loud laugh, blowing into Sylwaì’s little tummy “is that right ‘itan?” the boy squealed in happiness, feeling the love his mother holds for him.

The Tsahìk watched on with admiration in her eyes. Heart thumping in her chest. She understood what these feelings mean, she has the same feelings with Tonowari, she likes ___, really likes her. But she does not know her, not really. She still does not know why she came to Awa’atlu, to live among the Metkayina.

One strong thought plagues her mind though, one that would stop her from ever pursuing the Omaticaya.

Her mates, what happened to them?

previous | next

#*ੈ✩‧₊˚ yawnetu #avatar the way of water #atwow #x reader #avatar x reader #atwow x reader #avatar the way of water x reader #neytiri #jake sully #aonung #OC #ronal and tonowari

2K notes · View notes

humanpurposes · 1 year

Text

De Facto

She can't afford to fantasize over Aemond Targaryen, he's her boss and the Prime Minister... but stopping is easier said than done- this fic now has a part two :)

Main Masterlist

PM!Aemond x unnamed female character

Warnings: 18+, smut, mentions of SA, questionable power dynamics, politics (putting my degree to good use), unnecessary world building

Words: 7700

A/n: Thanks for the inspo @ewanmitchellcrumbs, sorry it's not Dishy Rishi tho :(

Throughout the whole train journey into Central King’s Landing, she’s sure she’s dreaming. Her body feels strangely light, her hands are restless and her heart is beating steadily in her chest.

She flows effortlessly with the stream of commuters, along the platform, through the station’s glass atrium, then left towards Conquest Street. She knows her way around this part of the city already, and though she’s never been inside, she’s walked past Hightower House countless times.

This time is different. Now she walks up to the iron gates, pressing her thumbnail into her index finger, because the armed guards are making her nervous.

She tells them her name and one of them mutters into a radio.

Her eyes run along the gold crest that marks the gate, a shield divided into seven, a sun for Dorne, a rose for The Reach, a stag for The Stormlands, a Trout for The Riverlands, a Falcon for The Vale, a Kraken for The Iron Islands, a wolf for The North, and at its heart is the symbol that unites them, the three headed dragon (although strictly speaking, Westeros abolished its monarchy centuries ago).

Suddenly one of the guards catches her attention. He opens the gate for her, and says she’ll be given a security pass and instructions to use the staff entrance following her official induction.

Hightower House stands proudly before her, an ornate facade of balustrades and columns, order and symmetry, an obvious juxtaposition of the medieval majesty of the Red Keep, just down the road.

It all feels very daunting, but the last five years have led her to this moment, the entirety of her adult life. She keeps telling herself that she deserves to be here, after all, she was the one who made it through the first round of applications, who made it to the shortlist and the final interviews, and she was the only one of hundreds of applicants who received the phone call, offering her a position as a personal advisor to the Prime Minister.

The contract only lasts two years, but it is the most effective stepping stone into a career in politics that she could ever ask for.

The entire morning is spent working out formalities. First she meets the deputy chief of staff, a handsome man named Criston Cole, who she’ll directly report to. He shows her through mountains of paperwork and gives her a brief overview of her role. Essentially, she is to assist the Prime Minister on whatever he deems necessary, policy aims, speeches, media coverage, political rhetoric, public image.

“You’re a glorified assistant,” Cole says as she reads and signs page after page of her employment contract, “but with a salary to reflect it, so don’t feel discouraged. There will be some admin work which can get tedious, but you’ve been selected for your expertise and your passion for the party.”

That’s the crucial part of the job. Everything she does will be to benefit Mr Targayren as head of the Green Party, still running off the high of their victory at the last general election, just under a year ago.

She signs her last signature triumphantly, despite the ache in her wrist, and hands the pen back to Cole with a smile. “All done?” she asks hopefully.

Cole grimaces sympathetically. “Not quite.”

There are four people to meet before she’s officially in. She takes a deep breath to soothe herself. It’s all just more formalities, which she can understand, given the weight of this job.

The first is the Prime Minister's private secretary, a glamorous woman with black hair and piercing green eyes, named Alys Rivers. She greets her warmly, having already spoken over the phone with her several times. She also knows her CV off by heart. It’s a little strange having someone know almost everything about her education and employment history when her face is unfamiliar.

The next is a young woman named Maris, the other of Mr Targaryen’s personal advisors. She has dark hair and a look of determination in her grey eyes. She explains that there are always two personal advisors, but hired on alternating years. She was hired at the start of Mr Targaryen’s premiership, and has a year left of her contract.

There are a thousand questions she wants to ask Maris, but before she can even scratch the surface, Cole’s checking his watch and dragging her off to another office.

Otto Hightower is the chief of staff. He’s thin and wiry, but incredibly intimidating. He has tired, sunken eyes that seem to glare right through her, and a passive but severe expression on his face, as though he’s scrutinising, having already decided she’s a waste of his time.

It’s not a great feeling, being looked at like that by a man she’s idolised for years. She knows his career timeline by heart. He earned his bachelors in Politics and Economics from Oldtown, before doing a masters in International Relations at King’s Landing, where he met and befriended Viserys Targaryen. He worked his way to becoming an MP and soon into Viserys’ cabinet when be became Prime Minister.

But things changed when Otto’s daughter married Viserys. No one really knows the whole truth, but Otto resigned from the Black Party, and took over from his own brother as leader of the opposition.

Now he works in the background, the mastermind behind his grandson’s remarkable successes.

Cole explains that Mr Hightower had the final say in the shortlist and determining which applicant would be given the final job offer.

“You had an impressive application,” he says, briefly looking up from a document. “I’m sure you’ll do well with us.”

“Thank you, Mr Hightower,” she says through the slight tremble in her jaw.

Other than that, the interaction is brief, and soon Cole is ushering her out of the room, back to Alys’ office, as richly decorated as the rest of the building. Maris is sitting at another desk, typing away furiously on a laptop.

“Tea? Coffee? Water?” Cole offers her, gesturing for her to take a seat on a green leather sofa.

“Water would be lovely,” she says.

“Maris,” he calls.

She glares up from her laptop. “That’s not my job.”

“No, but it’s courtesy,” he says.

Alys’ slight smirk doesn’t escape her attention.

Maris purses her lips, but she closes her laptop, pointedly slams her hands against the arms of her chair, and marches out of the room, her shiny black heels clicking against the dark wood floor.

“She’s nice really,” Cole says, “just a bit… direct at times.”

“Direct,” Alys groans to herself.

She feels her brow flicker into a frown but stops herself.

“She’s good at her job,” Criston says like he might say something else, but he doesn’t.

When Maris returns, she seems a little less on edge.

She takes the glass of water with a cautious hand, Maris’ eyes lingering on her maroon painted nails.

“I like your top,” Maris says.

She glances down. It’s nothing special, black and long-sleeved, to go with her long blue and green patterned skirt.

“Thank you,” she says.

Maris hums to herself before she goes back to her desk.

“Do you often work in here?” she asks.

Maris shrugs. “It depends.” She doesn’t care to explain further.

Alys is smirking again.

“Mr Targaryen was in a meeting with the cabinet this morning,” Cole says, then checks his watch. “He has a few phone calls to make, but he should be ready to see you at about 4pm. Maris?”

“Yes?”

“Will you show her in around then?”

“Yeah,” she says, flatly, “of course.”

Cole shakes her hand before he leaves. “Alys will show you out when you leave. I’ll see you on Monday morning.”

She continues to wait on the sofa, restless in the silence that follows once the door has shut. Alys and Maris are both typing, their nails clicking against their keyboards. She starts to bounce her leg and stops herself.

Her mind is racing. The day seems to have gone well so far, but what if she meets Mr Targaryen and it all falls apart? What if he decides he doesn’t like her and sends her packing?

She’s too lost in her own head to notice the flash of Alys’ emerald green dress as she stands in front of her. That is, until she’s leaning down and waving a bar of chocolate in front of her. “Get a bit of sugar in you,” she says, “and breathe slowly.”

She smiles as she takes the bar and places a single cube on her tongue. She lets it melt, savouring the sweetness and the slight bitterness of its taste.

You can do this, she thinks to herself with every inhale. And then she exhales. You are here for a reason.

The phone on Alys’ desk rings. She checks her own phone. It’s exactly 3:59.

“Yes, sir, Maris will show her in now.”

Aemond Targaryen is on the other end of the line. Her heart drops at the thought.

As the second son of Viserys, it seems like he was always destined for the family business. He differs from his father and grandfather in that he did Politics and Philosophy at Sunspear, before going on to do his masters in History at Oldtown, and then another masters in International Relations at King’s Landing. By all accounts, he is fiercely intelligent, mature beyond his years, with the right balance of intimidating and charismatic to command the support he needed to get in as MP for Rosby, then as party leader.

In fact, it had been his first campaign that inspired her to apply for a degree in politics in the first place. She loved how he spoke, how he managed to strike a balance between grace and passion, and how deeply he cared for his policies. He was poised and perfect, but driven by a genuine want for improvement.

He perfected his craft within a matter of years. With the mess Rhaenyra Targaryen had made of the country, it was all too easy for him to win a majority with a few winning speeches, a hand running through his silver hair, that lazy half-smirk and the intense look in his eyes that just made you want to fall at his feet. And people do. The press adore him, his party worships him, foreign dignitaries often remark on his charm but also his capabilities as a negotiator and a leader.

Maris leads her out of the office, along a quiet corridor. She stops outside a door with gold lettering: Office of A. Targaryen, Prime Minister

Seeing it in front of her, strangely, seems to subdue her nerves. Her chest flutters, but the anxiety is more manageable than before.

Maris taps her knuckles against the door three times.

From the other side of the door she hears a gentle but chilling voice. “Enter.”

She follows Maris inside.

He’s perched against his desk, his long, silver hair falling around his shoulders as he looks over a few pieces of paper. He wears a white shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, black slacks and brown leather shoes.

He looks up slowly, the light of the early Autumn evening beaming through the windows, over the sharp features of his face, his cheeks, his nose, his jaw, his neck.

His eyes find hers, unashamed and curious.

Suddenly she can feel her heart in her throat.

Maris introduces her. “I’m sure Alys already debriefed you, but she’s here for her induction. Cole said you wanted to meet her as a formality and–”

It feels awfully like she’s talking for the sake of it.

“That will be all, Maris,” Mr Targaryen says softly. She can’t help but watch the way his lips move when he speaks.

“Oh, are you sure, sir?” she asks. Her face is twisted into a slight frown but her eyes are wide. “I just thought, for her sake, it might be useful if I’m here to explain everything.”

“I’m sure, thank you.”

She stands with her hands clasped in front of her skirt as she listens to Maris’ footsteps move towards the door. It opens and closes, and now all she can hear are her own breaths, gently flowing through her nose.

She doesn’t know where to look. At the patterned carpet on the floor? No, it would be rude of her to hang her head. At the portraits that line the wall? At the bookshelves? At the desk? No, that all seems too intrusive. Out the window? No, that might seem like she’s not paying attention.

So her eyes settle on him.

He hasn’t moved from his position, but he’s placed the paper on the desk behind him, leaning with his palms at the edge. His eyes glance over her once, up and down.

Fuck, he’s so much better looking in person.

Then he stands to his full height, and picks up a clipboard from the desk. He flicks through a few of the pages and hums softly to himself.

“You had an impressive application,” he says.

She swallows through the slightly dry feeling in her throat. “Thank you, sir.”

“And an excellently written cover letter.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You did your masters in Comparative Politics at Sunspear. Oberyen Martell is still head of faculty there, isn’t he?”

“Yes, sir. He taught one of my modules, Security Studies.”

“He’s an interesting character,” he muses, smiling to himself. “He was my supervisor for my undergrad dissertation.”

She already knew that. Dr Martell loved to go on about his star student. She would too if she taught the future Prime Minister.

He flicks to another page. She watches as his eyes skim over the words in front of him. “And you came with glowing reviews from Tyland Lannister.”

She’s not sure how she’s supposed to respond to that– it makes her sound more like a product than a person– so she just smiles, as delicately as she can, making sure not to squint her eyes too much.

She had spent the last year as Mr Lannister’s Parliamentary Assistant, at his office in the Red Keep, starting just as he had been appointed as Foreign Secretary.

“How was he as a boss?” Mr Targayren asks.

Straightforward, she thinks. He took his job seriously and was decidedly not a fan of smalltalk. His office often worked in silence, and even when he was stressed he was efficient.

“No complaints,” she says.

“I’m sure you were all kept busy, cleaning up Corlys Velaryon’s mess after the Stepstones.”

A minor military excursion to defend a few key trading routes, or at least that’s how it had started. Within a matter of months the Stepstones had spiralled beyond control, costing Corlys Velaryon his seat and the Blacks their majority in Parliament.

“If I remember right, it was Daemon Targaryen pushing that particular policy,” she says.

The corner of his mouth curls upward. It could be a smile but she’s not entirely sure.

“Sir,” she adds, hoping to soften the blow of her unintentional insult; what idiot tries to correct the Prime Minister on their first day on the job? She does, clearly.

He doesn’t seem irritated or angry, more amused. A cryptic “hmm” sounds in his throat as he flicks back to the first document. “And before that you were a campaign manager for the party, yes?”

“Yes,” she says brightly, grateful for the change of subject. “I was working in the Stormlands in the lead up to the general election.” The region was formerly a Black stronghold, but turned Green thanks in part to her efforts.

“Excellent work,” he says.

The smooth, seductive tone of his voice seems to come so naturally to him. She bites her tongue at the image it prompts in her head, of his lips brushing over her ear, his hands resting on her waist, she can almost feel it–

No. That’s wrong. So wrong.

Fantasising about the Prime Minister of Westeros is not a habit she can afford to keep up, not when she’s supposed to be working with him in such close proximity.

But that’s easier said than done.

Cole enters his office, bright and early on Monday morning, before the rest of Hightower House is awake.

Aemond’s routine is the same every day. Up at 5am, run a few laps of the expansive gardens or spend an hour going through his meticulously planned gym routine. He showers, shaves, applies his skincare and haircare products, dabs some perfume on his wrists, dresses, and takes breakfast and a black coffee in his office. By 7:30am he’s ready to work.

He needs the routines and the outlets. They help keep him sane.

He’d seen how this position twisted his father into a tired, irritable and irrational man, how it got to Rhaenyra’s head until she became a liability to herself. He won’t be like them. He has a reputation to uphold, a legacy to claim.

Cole places a folder on his desk. “The background check you ordered, sir.”

He thanks him, quietly and sincerely, and waits until he’s left the room to open the folder.

His new personal advisor intrigues him. He’d made the request for the background check as soon as their meeting had ended on Friday.

She has no criminal record, which is unsurprising, that definitely would have come up sooner if she had one.

He browses through her education history, a star student at Storm’s End Grammar School, a bachelor’s in history from Rainwood, a masters from Suspear, where she was head of Debate Soc and Amnesty International, while working various internships and retail jobs in between.

The next page is full of articles from student publications, The Importance of Integrity in Politics for the Rainwood Student Journal, Sovereignty in the Stepstones for Red Sun Rising. He reads through them both. Her writing is immaculate, concise and convincing.

The final page is more personal, social media profiles. It’s nothing scandalous, but she clearly has a certain image she wants to project. Her Instagram is full of art and history museums, coffee shops and preppy outfits. She has a few pictures on her LinkedIn of her at the Green Party conference last year, pictured with a group of girls her age and a caption that talks about the importance of representation in politics, with links to various charities and initiatives. In the photo she’s wearing a white silk shirt, open just enough to show off a dainty gold necklace and a hint of the swell of her chest.

She seems perfect. Too perfect for his own good.

The first months go smoothly enough.

Maris is a practical person. She’s good with numbers, good for bouncing off ideas for economic policies and analysing data for him, even if she is a little overbearing at times.

But she fills the gaps perfectly. He secretly looks forward to their meetings and debriefings, when he asks her to write or edit speeches for him, or run through questions with him before a press conference. Politics is never easy, but she has a remarkable talent for keeping a level head. He likes that she’s always calm and composed. He likes her soft, reassuring smiles and the sharp look in her eyes.

They just click. She’s always switched on, always knows the right things to say and do, always knows what he needs.

Every moment they are alone feels monumental; the settled quiet of his office when she first walks in and takes a seat on the other side of his desk; when they make an exchange, debriefing papers for an empty coffee cup, and their fingers will brush over each other; when he stands over her shoulder to read the document she’s working on, close enough to smell her perfume and feel a heat simmering under his skin. It’s starting to become unbearable, and yet he craves that feeling.

And then, one morning, he gets a phone call from the Crownlands Messenger. They’re about to publish a story. His brother has been accused of inappropriate conduct by no less than three women.

Fucking Aegon.

The entire country is in an uproar. How can anyone trust their Parliamentary representatives when they do shit like this? Is Aegon an outlier or is this just scratching the surface? What will his punishment be? What else are the Greens hiding?

There are hundreds of emergency meetings with his grandfather, tense phone calls, bearating headlines, and onslaughts of outrage online. There’s no question about it, Aegon has to resign as an MP, but the damage is done. The polls are turning Black instead of Green. People don’t trust the ruling party, or its leader.

It’s late. Aemond paces his office while a headache pulses in his head. He’s long ditched the coffee for whisky, swirling it about in his glass. He sent Maris home hours ago. He doesn’t have the patience for anyone at the moment. Except for the woman leaning against his desk, flicking through news articles and the pages of notes she’s prepared for him.

Tomorrow is PMQs. No doubt there’s only one topic the Blacks will be asking about. He can already see Rhaenyra and Daemon’s smug faces, the delight they’ll take in watching him fall apart. There’s just no way he’s getting out of this easily.

He feels so restless. His hands are trembling and his lips won’t seem to stop moving, so he places himself against the wall, mindlessly tapping his fingers against his glass as he takes another generous sip.

From the desk he hears a heavy sigh that hums slightly in her throat. “Is there anything else you want to go over, sir?” she asks.

“No, I think we’ve exhausted the hypotheticals,” he says, running his free hand through his hair. He resists the urge to pull at the roots, to take his frustration out on something. “It’s just– fuck’s sake, I’ve been saying Aegon’s a liability for years. But no, Otto always wanted to keep pushing for him. Said it was good for the family’s image.”

She places her phone and the document behind her, and takes a few steps towards him.

He glances down at her, at the way the low light of the lamps and the fireplace glows against her skin, the contented sort of look in her eyes.

Her eyes flicker down at his now empty glass. “Refill, sir?” Her lips stay slightly parted once she stops speaking.

Then he realises he’s staring.

“No, thank you,” he mutters, tapping his finger against the glass. “I should probably stop now.”

She takes the glass from him with her middle finger and thumb, avoiding touching his hand before she takes it away. Maybe it’s the alcohol getting to his head but his heart sinks at the lack of contact.

What is he doing? It must be after 9pm now and he’s still keeping her here without a real reason.

She’s standing by the drinks cabinet, carefully placing the crystal bottle of whisky away and setting the empty glass out for housekeeping to clean up in the morning.

Instead of thinking about her, the way her hair looks, the way her skirt hugs her waist and the curve of her backside and thighs, he tries to think about how much he hates Aegon. This only makes him more agitated.

He closes his eyes and throws his head against the wall. His heart is racing and there’s a hollow feeling in his chest. He’s craving something, not another drink, not a smoke (he quit once he was first elected as an MP). He wants something else, something dangerous and damning.

The heels of her shoes tap softly against the floor, until she’s standing in front of him.

He opens his eyes.

She frowns slightly before lifting her hand and delicately placing it on his shoulder. “You need to relax, sir,” she says.

He lets out a low “hmm,” as he weighs out his options. This seems like a bad idea. A really, really bad idea.

“That’s not going to happen with you here,” he says.

Her calm, somewhat smug expression falls. She looks so innocent now, so sweet. “What does that mean?” she says.

He leans in closer to her, until the tip of his nose barely brushes against hers. “I think you know what it means, darling.”

She hesitates, before her mouth spreads into an eager smile that shows off her teeth.

Her hands find his, ensnaring him under a soft but commanding grip. She leads him away from the wall, to the sofa by the fireplace.

He settles on it, leaning against the arm as she comes to her knees before him, spreading his legs apart to make room for herself.

She palms her hand over the hardness that’s been straining painfully against his trousers for hours now. She feels along his clothed cock, pressing her cheek against it and gazing up at him with a look of teasing innocence.

Aemond knows he is done for, jaw slack, chest rising and falling as he breathes. He would have never presumed he would find himself in this kind of position, not after all the work’s he’s had to do cleaning up the mess of Aegon’s fuck ups, not after working this hard to get where he is, and least of all because he believes himself to be a decent man.

But he doesn’t stop her as her fingers undo the button and the zip on his trousers, and he doesn’t make any kind of protest as she takes his freed cock in her hand and teasingly strokes along it.

He keeps his hands firmly on the sofa, digging his fingertips and his nails into the leather, as if he hasn’t been dreaming of having her like this for weeks, as if he hasn’t fucked his own hand countless times pretending it was her.

He doesn’t have to pretend anymore. He looks down, his jaw slack, barely containing his strained breaths, and there she is, doe-eyed and eager as she places a delicate kiss to his flushed tip. Her lips barely brush against him before she pulls away, keeping a hold at the base.

His arousal stains her mouth and she fucking grins.

“Enjoying yourself?” he says through gritted teeth.

“Yes, sir,” she says, sweetly, earnestly.

He runs his hand against her hair, gently, as if trying to soothe her. It seems to take her by surprise which only serves to excite him further.

She leans into his touch, lips parting, her eyes half-lidded and dreamy.

Until he grips his fist and pulls. He tilts her head up. It shouldn’t hurt, but it’s enough to bring her attention back to him.

He decides he won’t tell her what to do, not directly, but she’s a smart girl, she knows what he wants.

With her eyes wide again, she opens her mouth and inches his cock past her lips. The tightness in his gut starts to burn as she works up and down his length, slowly– excruciatingly slowly. It’s not in anyway relaxing, he thinks, but it’s a nice kind of torture.

He loses himself to the warmth and the wetness of her mouth, her tongue running over the underside of his cock, her lips teasing over the tip before she moves back down, using her hands where her mouth can’t reach.

He chokes out a throaty “fuck,” knowing there’s a security guard outside the door, and probably a few of the staff still lingering about.

But she looks so beautiful like this, her brow furrowed in determination as she tries to take him deeper and deeper, desperate to please him, happy to make him suffer for it. And the little noises she makes, the gags and the moans. He imagines that she likes this, that she’s been wanting this for as long as he has, and if he pulled her onto his lap and slid his fingers under her skirt, he’d find her drenched.

She starts to up the pace until he brings his hand to the side of her face again, his hand large enough that he can rest his palm against her cheek and tease his fingers through her hair. Her eyes dart up to his, wide and teary.

“Good girl,” he whispers, “nice and slow, just like that.”

She whimpers around him, breathing desperately through her nose.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he coos, “you started this, didn’t you? Wanted to taste me? Wanted to feel my cock in your mouth?”

She hums in agreement.

“Just fucking take it then,” he says with a clenched jaw, gripping her hair to bob her head up and down, keeping that torturous pace.

The pleasure builds slowly, running hotly through his body, but he fights the urge to clamp both hands around her head and buck his hips up to fuck her throat.

He comes harder than he thinks he ever has before, keeping himself sheathed within her as he paints the inside of her mouth, and pulls her head away to see the last few drops spill against her lips.

She gazes up at him with dazed and glassy eyes. She’s panting, trying to catch her breath. Her forehead glistens with sweat, mascara runs down her face and his spend drips over her chin.

He wipes some of the mess away with his thumbs, cradling her face in his hands. “Swallow,” he orders.

Her mouth closes and her throat bobs. He can already feel the tension in his gut tightening again.

If only he could keep her like this forever.

She makes it to Hightower House at the usual time of 8am, despite leaving work so late last night. Despite the hours she spent consumed by thoughts of Aemond Targaryen as she rode the train and dragged herself into her bed. Despite the aching arousal that went unfulfilled. Despite the marks on her knees and the stiffness in her jaw.

When she walks into Alys’ office to sign in, she’s already there, perfectly poised and typing away on her laptop.

“Morning,” she says brightly.

Alys looks up from the screen. The white light shining from below makes her face look a little eerie. “Morning,” she says with a smug look on her face.

She ignores it, scrawling down the time and her signature beside her name.

“You were working rather late last night,” Alys says.

“Yeah, I was,” she mutters, placing the pen down and straightening her spine.

Alys is staring at her. Her eyes are unnervingly bright. “He never asks Maris to work late.”

Her heart drops.

It’s like she can feel the weight of him in her mouth, the taste of him on her tongue.

“I bet he’s just realised I’m more of a people pleaser,” she says.

Alys hums and smiles. “Yeah?”

She doesn’t have time for this. She hangs up her coat and her bag, and picks up two black coffees from the coffee machine in the kitchenette down the hall.

Aemond is in his office, leaning back in his chair with his mobile pressed to his ear. He doesn’t react much when he sees her, he just watches her as she sets one of the cups in front of him. He raises his eyebrows in thanks and brings it to his lips.

She imagines the person on the other end of the call is starting to bore him.

“Yeah… yeah… I know… well there’s not much to be done now but get it over with.”

She takes a few sips from her own cup, wiping the corners of her mouth. Aemond follows her fingers as she does.

“I’ll speak to you after. Yes, thank you, grandfather.” He hangs up the phone and tosses it onto a stack of papers on the desk. “Seven fucking Hells.”

“How did that go?” she asks.

Aemond rolls his eyes and huffs a tired laugh. “He wants to talk through candidates for the by-election in Duskendale. I said I’ll think about it if I survive PMQs.”

She sets her coffee cup down. “What are you most worried about? You’ve prepared for this. What’s worrying you?”

Aemond taps his fingers against the desk. She tries not to ignore the thrill it sends through her belly.

“I’ve never had to deal with something like this. I’ve never been this worried about the party’s image, but that’s usually because I do everything right.”

The whole Aegon situation is beyond his control, and yet he’ll be getting the scrutiny for it.

“People need to be able to trust you,” she says.

Aemond looks up at her expectantly.

“Is Aegon still a party member?” she asks.

Aemond’s expression darkens. “That was discussed. Otto wants him to remain an official member.”

“You’re the Prime Minister. Put your foot down.”

“I can’t,” he says, standing and fixing the rolled up sleeves and undone buttons on his shirt before he reaches for his tie.

“You can’t afford not to. If you go easy on Aegon, Rhaenyra’s going to play to some kind of ‘the Greens are anti woman card.’ Your voters need to know you’re taking this seriously.”

“And throw my own brother under the bus?” he says, sternly.

But she can tell he’s still nervous. His hands are shaking as he ties the tie around his neck.

She pauses, wondering where the line is here. Aegon Targaryen will be fine. He’ll be put under investigation and keep getting bad press for a while, but he can live off daddy’s money in the meantime, and in a few years the whole scandal will be forgotten.

She takes a few steps towards him and comes close enough to smell the dark, boozy smell of his perfume, and shoos his hands away.

“What would be better for the country,” she asks, tilting her head and keeping her eyes focused as she fastens his tie, “presenting yourself as a leader who is committed to integrity and respect, or leaving yourself open to further criticism?”

She pushes the knot up tightly against his collar for emphasis.

Aemond just smirks. “You’re very persuasive,” he says.

“That’s my job, sir.”

She gasps as his hand grabs her hip and pulls her against him. His breath runs hotly over her face as he tilts her chin up to look at him. His throat hums as he breathes.

She could fall apart then and there.

Until a knock on the door has her practically shoving him away.

Aemond chuckles and shrugs on his suit jacket. “Enter,” he calls.

She turns her back to the door to hide the flustered look on her face, pretending to look through a bookshelf that she’s never really looked at properly before.

“Car for you, sir,” Alys says from the doorway.

Aemond calls for her by her surname. Fuck– she was supposed to pack his briefcase before he left. She takes a breath and goes about collecting all the pages of notes and briefings he’ll need.

She brings it to him, and notices Maris standing in the hallway behind Alys. Maris usually goes with him to the Red Keep for PMQs, but today he requests that she accompany him. She supposes it makes sense, she’s been the one helping him prepare after all.

Maris’ face is a storm. Alys looks down at her feet and tries to stifle a giggle.

The next few hours are a blur. She trails after Aemond through the ornate corridors, keeping her eyes on his silver hair, flowing down the back of his black suit jacket. Somewhere along the way, Cole and the head of security, a man Aemond greets as “Mr Westerling”, joins them.

They leave through the front entrance, into the sharp September air and into a black car. The hum of the engine and the smell of leather makes her nauseous, but they’re only in the car for a matter of minutes before the door swings open and she’s been ushered towards the Red Keep.

Once a seat of Kings, now the red stone castle seems a little out of place with the rest of the city. This is where Parliament gathers.

As they walk through its halls, Aemond tells her to throw a few questions at him. She has them all memorised in her head, able to recite a few without really thinking about it. Aemond mutters the answers they’ve rehearsed under his breath, smiling politely and waving as they pass by civil servants, MPs, Green and Black party members alike. They even pass Cregan Stark, leader of the Northern Independence party. He whispers all of their names in her ear.

There’s a small room where Aemond waits in before he enters the Great Hall. She can hear the noise and the chatter on the other side of the double doors, engraved with the same crest that marks the gates to Hightower House.

He won’t stop moving, adjusting his tie and his cuffs, tutting and pursing his lips.

She makes sure Cole and Westerling are muttering to each other before she leans into Aemond, putting her hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine,” she whispers, “don’t see it as a chance for them to criticise you, see it as an opportunity for you to reassure everyone else of how brilliant you are.”

Aemond turns his head towards her. He’s not touching her but she feels the proximity.

“That’s an interesting way to look at it,” he says.

She smiles. “It’s all perspective.”

Before Aemond is called into the hall, Cole directs her to the gallery, above the benches where the MPs sit.

She and Aemond meet eyes before she leaves. She stops herself from reaching for him, not wanting to leave his side.

“Good luck,” she says.

As if he needs it. She watches everything unfold from the gallery, the MPs sat below her like she’s watching a play in a theatre.

Aemond starts off with an amazing opening speech which, at her recommendation, doesn’t shy away from the issue of the whole Aegon scandal. He affirms his commitment to ensuring that central government is a safe and inclusive working environment, which is when he announces Aegon’s resignation as an MP, as well as his removal from the Green Party.

The chamber in an uproar. A few members of the Green Party make a bit of a fuss, but mostly Aemond’s announcement is applauded, even by a good number of Black Party members.

Rhaenyra, Aemond’s sister and predecessor, is at a loss for words, as is her deputy, Daemon.

Aemond seems to get a boost of confidence from this and takes every question in his stride, using elements from the answers she had rehearsed with him and even throwing in a few one liners which has half the room cheering him.

And he’s fucking hot when he’s cocky.

While he speaks all she can think of is how he sounded while she was between his legs. “Good girl… just fucking take it…” she has to clench her fists and her jaw at the wave of arousal that rises within her.

Afterwards she walks with him to the car. A whole host of Green Party members crowd him as they walk through the hallways, praising him, commending him. He smiles graciously, looking over his shoulder every so often to look at her, to make sure she’s not fallen behind.

The silence of the car is unbearable with Cole and Westerling in the front, and Aemond beside her, drumming his fingers against his thigh and running his other hand through his hair.

She presses her thighs at the obvious arousal pooling at her centre.

Seven hells, she’s acting like she’s in heat.

She follows Aemond back through Hightower House, past Alys’ office, to his own office. When he closes the door behind them, he locks it.

She leans against the desk, keeping her hands on the wood behind her.

Aemond turns back to her with a ravenous look in his pale blue eyes. He reaches into his pocket, effortlessly pulling his hair into a low bun, as he usually does in informal company.

She can’t take her eye off him as he tosses his jacket over the sofa, and begins to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. Then he stalks towards her, his chin tilted down and his lips in a tight line, until he’s close enough to paw at her waist.

“I suppose I should thank you for your help,” he says, eyes fixed on his hands as they tease over the fabric of the red mini skirt she had picked out this morning, the way she squirms underneath him.

“Oh,” she breathes. One of his hands trails up, untucking her blouse from her skirt and brushing his fingertips against the bare skin underneath. “Just… doing my job, sir.”

He hums to himself as his hand works its way round to her backside, squeezing gently. “Do you like calling me ‘sir’?”

She can’t help but nod, dazed at the feeling of his hands tracing the shape of her body.

“Yeah, I think you do,” he says, leaning in to press a slow, firm kiss to her neck.

Her resolve is shattered. She throws her hands around his neck, pulling herself into him, desperate to feel him against her, to stay close to him.

She almost whines when he moves away, much to his amusement, feeling her mouth fall into a pout.

“Don’t tell me I’ve got a brat,” he says, taking her chin in his hand. “Are you going to be good for me, pet?”

“Yes, sir,” she utters.

“See? You don’t even need to be told,” he says with a smile. “You’re going to turn around and lean over the desk.”

She follows his instructions without missing a beat, bracing herself on her forearms, against the surface. She feels her skirt being pushed up over her hips, her tights and panties pulled down in one go, fingertips trailing over her thighs. Then she feels his breath against the wetness of her bare pussy.

She can’t help but let out a quiet moan, pressing her nails into the wood in anticipation.

“Haven’t even fucking touched you yet, are you that desperate for me?”

“Yes, sir,” she whimpers, trying to look over her shoulder.

Aemond’s hand finds its way against her head, pressing her down. And he doesn’t let go.

His fingers drag through her folds, teasing her entrance and her clit before he slides in a single digit. It feels so different from her own, longer and thicker, pressing into her at an unfamiliar angle. She feels utterly weightless, the obscene sound of him moving in and out of her only adding to her arousal.

Aemond’s voice is dark and husky, as it was last night. “Good girl,” he coos, “that feels good, doesn’t it?”

When she doesn’t reply, he withdraws and lands a stinging slap against her cheek, before he pushes into her again. “Answer me,” he says, clearly and firmly.

“Yes, sir,” she says, frantically trying to nod against his hold of her head. “Feels so fucking good.”

He increases his speed, pumping in and out of her until her climax washes over her. It happens gradually, building and building before a pleasant numbness washes through her, to every corner of her body.

While she comes down from her high, her attention is caught by the sound of a belt buckle and rustling fabric.

The tip of his cock presses into her without warning. He inches further and further in until he bottoms out, the material of his trousers pressing against her skin– the cunt hasn’t even bothered to take off his clothes.

He finally relents his hold of her head, grabbing at her waist as he ruts into her. It’s fast and primal, adrenaline pumping through her blood, Aemond’s fingers digging into her flesh, her breath coming out in moans, his belt buckle hitting the desk with every harsh thrust.

“Knew you were a little slut,” he grits out, grabbing at her cheeks and spreading them out to watch his cock moving in and out of her. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

She covers her mouth with her hand to hold back the wanton noises threatening to slip past her lips.

Suddenly a hand comes to her shoulder, pulling her up against his chest. One hand kneads at her breasts through her blouse and her bra, while the other slips between her legs, tracing quick circles over her clit.

“I wanna feel you come,” he rasps into her ear, “wanna feel my good girl clench around my cock.”

She doesn’t know what to do with herself. She clings to his arms and digs her teeth into her bottom lip. She can feel herself hurtling towards her climax, if only he would move his fingers a little faster.

“Please,” she whispers.

“What was that, pet?” Aemond asks, brushing his lips over her cheek. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to come!” she whines. “Fuck– please… please, I just want to come, sir.”

She feels him smiling against her as his fingers rub faster over her clit. She can feel how deep he is inside her, how his cock bullies against that sensitive spot, over and over again, until her orgasm tears through her.

She tries to keep her mouth shut but she can’t help the pleading groan that hums in her throat. Aemond holds her as she falls apart, fucking her thoroughly through it all.

Until finally, he reaches his end, hissing through his teeth and pulling out to spill himself onto her pussy. She feels the warmth, how it drips through her folds, for now uncaring of the mess they’ve surely made.

Aemond keeps holding her against his chest. His forehead falls against the back of her head and his hot breath echoes over her neck. “I really appreciate the work you’ve done for me,” he says breathlessly. “I think you and I make quite a pair, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, sir,” she mewls, letting her head fall against his arm.

Aemond hums a laugh to himself, it rumbles in his chest and against her back. “So pretty and polite,” he coos, “how did I ever manage without you until now, pet?”

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya @dreamsofoldvalyria @targaryenrealnessdarling

A/n: I might do a part 2 to this so let me know if you would liked to be tagged :)

905 notes · View notes

kalki-tarot · 7 months

Text

How would I describe you, if you were a character in my book ? 💌 ✧˖°.

Take a deep breathe and be in a meditative state. And pick only one picture.

Tap on Masterlist for more !

01 - Orion

Orion had whatever it took to walk on this cruel path of human life. The divine and sacred knowledge flowed through their veins and made them someone extraordinary, unique and different from everybody else. Through plenty of betrayals and encounters with these two faced human beings, they learned that life was a mere game of acting and deception. They did not know what was wrong and right in this human world anymore. The ones that they loved the most, were the ones that hurt them the most. Their muffled heart was not able to release themselves from the shackles of the so called love. They wept in silence hoping for the gods to help them. The misery of this earth shattered them, hence, they grew weary of this world.

They found their peace under the shadows of green trees. They experienced unconditional love through their soul tribe, the people who will never let them down and deceive them. They discarded the maya of this world and started to go on the journey inwards. They started finding little pieces of them in the rivers and trees. Mother nature blessed them. They are not hoping for someone else to help them now, they have outgrown to heal themselves through the vast spiritual knowledge they gained over time. Now, they reside in the woods, alone but not feeling lonely. They have finally found themselves.

- kalki, Orion.

02 - Euphrosyne

Somehow Euphrosyne escaped the bondage of their mind. They were surrounded with ugly fights which were imprinted on their mind since they were a child. How erratic it is! An innocent child mirroring the wrongdoings of childish adults. They escaped and went far, far away, from this bizarre world. They had to do justice with themselves, for the small child that resides within them, at least. They were presented with a choice, either to stay unhealed, or learn the lessons this harsh world had taught them. They slowly looked up the sky, trying to reach the golden stars that shined in the darkest nights. They promised themselves, the love that they never received from others, they will give themselves.

They promised themselves, that they will destroy the walls that surrounded them in the name of safety but acted as a barrier between them and themselves. They discovered their superpowers and transformed the lack into emotional abundance. They stood up for themselves, hence the universe stood up for them. Both working together on the path of self awareness and growth. Expanding their horizons to infinity and beyond.

- kalki, Euphrosyne

257 notes · View notes

osco-rabel · 1 year

Text

#irpinia #italy #osco rabel #green #nature #water #trees #falls #river #wonderful #trip #journey #travel #places

1 note · View note

misguidedasgardian · 1 year

Text

I need to... (1)

1... Get the f*ck out of here

MASTERLIST

Summary: An awful event leads you to rethink of everything

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader (for now)

Warnings: There are mentions of them being Minors! at some point in their relationship, cursing, cheating, angst, depression, age gap (not for reader), coercion, toxic relationship, drinking alcohol to cope, in some countries it is underage drinking, (reader is 18). might forget some warnings…

Wordcount: 4 k

Notes: This just started like a blurb, and now we are here. AAAHHHH this is going to be soft, romcom sort of thing, but a bit angsty at first…

You knew him like the palm of your hand, and that is how you could pinpoint the exact day something went wrong, were perhaps his affair started, you couldn’t be sure

You wanted to go to Winterfell University, it was far North in the continent, they say it was always winter there, cold, and wild, but you had seen pictures and had been there briefly on vacations with your family and you absolutely loved it, besides, it had a great program on what you wanted to study, you wanted an adventure, you wanted to completely change your surroundings, get out of your comfort zone, fly off the nest.

But Aemond, your loving boyfriend and highschool sweetheart didn’t think so, you didn’t want to break your relationship, besides, Aemond’s family owned an airline, it would be a four hour journey to meet you there. But he insisted it was too far. You believed that on the one hand that a time apart could be good for you, you would miss him more, and therefore your reunions would be way more intense and hotter, but no.

An that time it made sense, you were drawing your future together, so he convinced you to go to Dragonstone University with him. The university of his dreams.

It was completely his environment, the university specialized on what he wanted to study, diplomacy and political sciences, so for him it was a perfect fit.

But not for you

All the alumni were perfect, serious, dressed like they all belonged to old money, just like Aemond, he was like a fish of the same pond, and you? were a fucking Alligator. You felt big, clumsy, unwanted.

There wasn’t a career in design, like the one you wanted to follow, instead, there was plastic arts and photography, even architecture, so, in your first year, you made sure to take a couple of subjects leading in all of those directions.

That was your first mistake.

You should have stayed in architecture, maybe, photography even, but instead, you decided to take a course with Professor Alys Rivers. In a plastic arts class

That was your second

Soon you became some sort of friends

She was tall, beautiful, dark long locks, big green eyes, the woman was stunning, young, just started teaching, and soon she became your mentor

You liked her

She realized you were frustrated, and take special care in you, mentoring you, and keeping you close to her, she told you maybe you would be good at teaching, and maybe she wouldn’t have taken so long in deciding she wanted to teach

She was thirty five years old

But as Aemond was thriving, you were quickly losing yourself

Classes were boring, didn't raise your interest, the people here were strange, you were afraid to say you weren’t making any friends and not for the lack of trying

It got so bad you only went out with Aemond, who was even after a few months, the most popular guy in his class, it was becoming a very unbalanced relationship

You and Aemond had grown up together, you were neighbors with his nephews Jacaerys, Lucerys and joffrey, the first one being your classmate with Aemond

You played together as children, and in eleventh grade he had formerly asked you to date him, to be his girlfriend

Both your families were ecstatic

HIghschool sweethearts, you knew each other forever, you were going to marry and live a perfect life, Aemond wanted to be a diplomat, and you were catching up to be his beautiful, smart, joyful trophy wife.

You didn’t see it that way then

You wanted to follow a design career, he didn’t take you seriously, but encouraged you

The problem is that Winterfell was too far away, so he convinced you to take architecture courses in his university, the best one in the country for what he wanted, the kind of university that grooms the men and women that were going to take over the world one day. It was huge, a big castle from five thousand years ago, the least you could do was enjoy the architecture.

He was the perfect man, the perfect boyfriend, the one your parents would adore, and they did, he was chivalrous, patient, kind, generous…

You introduced him to your favorite teacher hen you ran into each other at the campus’ coffee shop

That was your third mistake, to invite Alys to join you both to take a cup of coffee,

If you only payed attention to the looks they gave each other

“So she is the teacher you have talked to me about”, Aemond said sheepishly, you only hummed as you kept reading a tome about a tyroshi painter who was the first in drawing the human body in all its forms, he was sort of famous, had lived more than a thousand years ago

“Yes, she is so sweet”, you whispered, “she is an artist, but so down to earth you know?”, you said without even thinking, “you can completely see the process behind her works, she is amazing”

Aemond had the luck (or money), to get single in the dorms, so he slept alone, so you could stay with him anytime you’d like, and you really liked it, your roommate was a bit mean.

And suddenly, Aemond has to study… a lot, you didn’t sleep with him anymore, even though your after class activities were as active as ever.

He was concentrating on his classes, (or that is what you thought), so you were going to start and do the same, and you tried, so so hard

But you were failing

You were already started the last month of the semester, and two of your teachers told you unceremoniously, that you were failing

BAD

You barely contained your tears, your lips were quivering and your nose tickled, and you went to the only person who could bring you comfort… one of the two… your professor Alys, whose class you had been getting pure A’s in

You never saw it coming

Her classroom was the last one in one of the towers of the incredible castle, and when you started climbing up the stairs, your stomach sank

It was late, the sun already hiding on the horizon, but you knew she was still in her atelier, and there she was

You could what the moans and whispers before you saw them, your cheeks heated and a sick curiosity made you sneak a peek inside the classroom

Oh how you wish you didn’t

There she was, your thirty five year-old teacher being pounded by your nineteen year old boyfriend

You’d recognize that silver hair anywhere, everywhere

You wanted to throw up

Alys and Aemond, Aemond was fucking Alys

Together

Fucking

Sweating

You just stood there

Your arm moved alone, as you raised your phone and took a picture of them, you could need it for later, but it wasn’t you who made that decision, it certainly wasn’t you

You were crying

You covered your mouth to sob outloud and for them to hear it, and you walked away, it was a miracle you managed to went down those treacherous steps and not smash your head, perhaps you would have preferred it, to smash your head against the stone floors, to turn off your head

the tears stopped, and your feet moved on your own as they took you out of there, you didn’t want anyone to see you, you didn’t want to give this university more of you, not your tears, not more of your efforts, no nothing

You didn’t go to your room, you couldn’t, you know she was going to be there, Maris Baratheon, and you couldn’t face her, not now, not ever.

You needed something else…

So you walked to the only bar near campus, many of your classmates would call it a “slum”, it wasn’t very popular with students, and that’s exactly what you needed.

You sat on a stool on the bar, and waited for the bartender to get to you, didn’t push him, just looked at the

“looks like you need a drink”, you looked to the side to find a young guy, maybe short twenties, dark born hair, green eyes

“Don’t I?”, you mocked, smiling shyly, he was cute. You couldn’t help but notice his Winterfell University Jersey. He offered you a pint, and you took it gladly, you really needed it, “aren’t you a bit far from”, you pointed at his chest where the varsity letters told you where he was from, he only chuckled

“They sent me in a… diplomatic mission”, he said with a mystery tone, and wiggling his eyebrows

“Are you recruiting students to go to the far North?”, you said, and if he said yes, you were going to beg him to take you with him

“Yes”

“Oh”, you seemed truly amused so he offered you his hand

“Ben Tallheart”, he whispered, and you shook his hand, giving him your name. “What do you know about the university anyways?”, he asked, taking a sip of his beer

“I wanted to apply there”, you answered, and he looked at you surprised, “I wanted to take the designer degree”

“Why didn’t you?”, he asked

“I decided to follow my boyfriend here, who I just found out is screwing my plastic arts teacher”, he spitted his beer

“What?”, he asked, not knowing if to laugh or just be horrified

“Yep”, you said, taking a long sip of your own beer

“Uf, that must be tough”, speak of the devil, your phone started ringing, to no surprise, you discovered it was Aemond who was calling you, and fuck it hurt

“I’m gonna need something stronger than this”, you said to him, canceling the call, you just wouldn’t let it ring, you wanted him to realize you had hung up on him. Ben smiled, asking the bartender for two tequila shots

It was to pints later and five tequila shots, that you were laughing your face out, hugging him with one of your arms the shoulders of Ben

“I want to go to Winterfell, fuck this college”

“Yes, fuck it!”, he said, “this college sucks, filled with stuck ups…”

Your phone had ringed so much it vibrated off the table and it was currently missing from your earshot and eye shot

You didn’t want to know either

“You think they’ll take me?”, you asked him with teary eyes

“Of course they will!”, he laughed

“Half semester?”, you asked

“Of course!”

“Let’s fucking do it!”, you cheered, and everyone in the bar cheered with you, “I need to get the fuck outta here”, you said, and Ben laughed wholeheartedly.

The rest of the night was a blur, you knew Ben had walked with you back to campus and accompanied you to the door of your room

“My stuck up roommate is probably in”, you told him, and he nodded

“If you meant what you said”, he said, “and you are truly interested in coming to Winterfell University, here”, he passed you his presentation card, “give me a ring tomorrow”, you only nodded

“Thank you”, you whispered, and he only nodded, and left you.

You entered your room and there she was, your roommate, putting innumerable creams in her face

“Eh, where have you been?”, oh that tone

“What?”, you asked, already coming down from your binge, “what do you care?”

“Ugh, you’re drunk!?”

“A little”, you grumbled, dropping to your bed

“Iu”, she whined, “Aemond was here you know, looking for you”, she told you, “you truly don’t deserve him, he was so concerned”

Oh poor Aemond, he couldn’t find you after he was fucking your plastic arts teacher, i bet that filthy motherfucker didn’t even shower before he came looking for you

“I bet”, you whispered, you then remembered you couldn’t find your phone, probably was still on the floor of that bar… Shit you were going to need it if you truly planned on contacting Ben for that transfer.

But tonight you couldn’t do anything because you were practically kicked out of that bar, it had to be tomorrow, so, to the horror of your roommate, you just dozed off, dressed in the same clothes, reeking of bar and secondhand smoke.

The next morning you woke up and thankfully, you were alone, your head hurt, but not as much as your heart.

Gods it hurt

You had burned the image of Aemond and Alys, fucking on top of her desk, and you couldn’t believe it. Aemond, your Aemond.

Your nose started to tickle, knowing you were about to cry you stood up, and searched for a change of clothes, you took your towel, and went straight for the bathroom, to wash your night off of your hair.

That morning you had classes with profes-… with that bitch Alys, so you didn’t even bother showing up. And since most of the college was in classes by now, you found yourself alone in the big bathroom.

You hadn't cried until now, but as you undressed yourself and got under the generous flow of water, something inside you just… unraveled. You started weeping uncontrollably, choking with your tears and the water, you hugged yourself under the falling boiling water seeking for comfort, but you couldn’t find any

Every breath you took hurt, deep within your chest, and you cried and cried until you felt your eyes sore

Your Aemond, your boyfriend, the one that gave you a promise ring… the one you knew since kindergarten, the one who was your first kiss, your first… everything! He was cheating on you with your own professor, Alys, the one that encouraged you and tried to nurture you, and guide you through this uncertainty in this part of your life. The one that you considered to be your only stone here besides your loving boyfriend

What was wrong with them?

What was wrong with you? What did you do wrong? you chose school because of him, you changed careers, you endured a hell for him, you dressed how he liked it, to arranged your hair the way he liked it, you stopped doing things you enjoyed, stopped watching films that made you laugh because they were “childish”, you stopped listening to upbeat music because it wasn’t “proper”

Everything for him

You loved him with all your heart

You knew Friday morning he had this debate class, very important and he couldn’t miss it, or he would have been throwing your door down, so you took that as a sign, you needed to work fast and sneakily.

You needed to get out of here

You didn’t want to see him ever again

So you ran back to your room, got dressed quickly, and the first thing you did was run back to the bar, where the cleaning lady returned your phone to you.

You turned it on and to no surprise, you found thousands of texts and missed calls from Aemond

“love where are you?”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m coming to your dorm”

“Maris says you were not there, wtf? where are you?”

“You clearly don’t want to speak to me, but I just wanted to know you are ok”

“I don’t understand why you are doing this to me, did I do something wrong? Are you mad?”

“The least you could do is face me like an adult”

You rolled your eyes as you read the messages, he growing angrier, trying to turn this on you

But then he sent a video of a instagram story, of you and Ben hugging and laughing, taking tequila shots, it was uploaded by a classmate of Aemond who had clearly saw you

“I see that you were not alone, I can’t believe you would do this to me”, he wrote, and you chuckled darkly, the audacity of him had no limits whatsoever, “I just wanted to see you, and be with you, I wanted you to help me study for my finals, I know this few months had been hard on you, but I least I thought we had eachother”, but then it got worse, he send you a picture of a flower bouquet and a dark red box, “I wanted to gift you this, to show you how much I love you, and how much I was looking forward to a future with you”, you couldn’t kept walking, you had to sit down in a bench looking down at a cliff, you couldn’t even walk because of how much you were crying.

You couldn’t believe this

Why would he do this to you? you had given him your everything, you had sex almost every day, you complimented each other, you told each other everything, you were what you thought a power couple, only that he had all the power while you were his cheerleader….

This fucker, you wiped your tears angrily from your face.

You were feeling a pain in your chest and you truly believed for a second you were having a heart attack, that you were positively going to die right here in this rusty bench, alone.

Your drunken thoughts from last night came rushing back in, of wanting to transfer to Winterfell University half semester.

It was an insane thought

But you also believe you couldn’t stay here, for what? this isn’t what you wanted, the only thing you thought you had was Aemond, who you just found out fucking YOUR teacher in the classroom. Staying here was insane, you had no friends, now you had no boyfriend, no career

When you finally calmed down and walked back to your dorm room, Aemond was waiting for you right outside.

And it's like all your convictions of leaving him and this school faltered just like that, just seeing him like that standing, his furrowed brow looking concerned for you. He was worried bout you, for a second you even believed that this was all a misunderstanding, they he couldn’t possibly do this to you

Right then and there you just wanted to beg him to stop, to stop his affair and look you in the eye and promise you it was never going to happen again, that he loved you, that you were the one. That he was drunk, or she made him do it. She coerced him into it.

But then he looked at you, and his concern went to annoyance

“Where have you been?”, he asked, walking towards you, “I was concerned for you!”, he immediately went to himself and what he was feeling, and you didn’t know where you got the strength from, but you looked at him, serious in the eye

“I failed color theory and anatomy drawing class”, you said, looking him in the eye, and the worst part is that you weren’t truly lying. His face softened as he looked at you with pity, “I feel like a massive failure, and I didn’t want to cry to you because you are already in the excellency program”, you whispered, looking at the ground in front of you

“So your solution was to go drink at a bar?”, he asked then, again, annoyed

“I found this guy that was from Winterfell University, the one I wanted to go, and asked him about the programs…”, he sighed

“We talked about this”, he said, “that college is not even ranking…”

“I don’t care Aemond”, you whispered, “I just need to sleep, please, and you are going to be late”, you whispered, not daring to look him in the eye

You believed you knew his schedule, but apparently not, because when he was supposed to be in study group, he was fucking your teacher…

“Are you going to be alright?”, he asked, “because I need my study partner”, he said, trying to sound hopeful. Yes you helped him study, you prepared flashcards for him, because you knew he had visual memory so he studied better with colors and images, so you prepared his study material and quizzed him

Maybe a couple of times with stripping quizzes…

Oh how foolish you had been

“Yes Aem”, you said, managing to smile at him, “I just need some time”

“You have it love”, he whispered, “I love you”

“Love you”, you closed the door gently, leaving him outside, and threw yourself in the bed, hiding your face in the pillow and weeped a bit more.

Perhaps you should face Aemond, hear what he has to say, you wanted to believe it so badly, that there was something else to it, that perhaps…

You were a fool

They were fucking on top her desk… what else is there? he was cheating on you, she was violating hundreds of protocols, so was he

You dozed off to sleep

You woke up when your roommate entered the room

“You still drunk?”, she sneered

“No”, you whispered, “just tired”, you didn’t even know why you bothered

You have made a decision…

You were going to leave this place

You were going to leave and not tell a soul, not even Aemond, you were going to disappear from his life, from one hour to the next

You contacted Ben, and he told you everything you need to know, the semester was almost over, but the next one was just around the corner, and you had to do this, not even for spite, but because this is what you wanted from your future

So you did the only thing you could think off

So went to speak with the dean

She was an old family friend, she knew your parents and family since forever, she was very professional and never showed favoritism, but, you knew you were on her good side

“I want to know if I can transfer to another university”, you asked shakily, once she invited you to take a seat in in front of her desk, she looked at you puzzled

“Did something happen? the school year is not even over yet”, she said with her kind eyes, truly worried for you

“I realized I didn’t choose the university for the school path I wanted to take”, you tried to explain, but the sorrow in your face made her believe you were not being truthful, or that you weren’t telling her the truth, “I choose Dragonstone because of love”. you continued, “and now I don’t have that love, and… I want to study a design mayor”

“I see”, now she was more pleased, “Where would you like to go?”, she asked

“Winterfell University”, you said without even thinking about it, she only nodded

“I have a good friend up there”, she said, “so the change wouldn’t be the problem, you have the grades and the Maester exams scores in your favor, but, are you sure this is what you want?”, she asked.

“More than anything”, you said with a smile

Rhaenys Targaryen was the cousin of Aemond’s father, but they didn’t get along very well, it was messy, she was the Headmaster to Dragonstone University

“You will have to start in the middle of the year”, she warned, and you only nodded

“It’s what I want”, you assured her, she looked at you, analyzing you

“Good, but first, I need you to finish the courses you are in”, your face said it all as it froze in place, looking at the face of that witch is the last thing you wanted to do

“That is expected of me”, you said, and smiled, she smiled back

“I’ll start with the paperwork, I have already received a letter of recommendation from Ben Tallheart, a representative of Winterfell university that is in the grounds this week”

“Yeah, I’ve met him”, you said smiling shyly

“Good luck finishing the rest of the courses”

Luck, you will need.

After chapter notes: look, if I stopped and wrote all the details of their relationship, this whole fic would be around them, so I narrated what happened instead of making the reader “live it”, get my meaning? This is about healing and seeing that there is something more than “that great love”, so I didn’t stop to focus on the toxic relationship with Aemond, so… One mroe chapter of reader's mess, and we are off to Winterfell! jeje

taglist!

@mxtokko @princesssterek @thefandomimagines @iamavailablesstuff

#misguidedneed #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hbo house of the dragon #cregan stark x reader #cregan #cregan stark

457 notes · View notes

vivid-ink · 1 year

Text

"Show Me & Teach Me" Part III - A Heart Full to Bursting

Neteyam x fem!Omatikaya OC Part III Summary: Will Seyla finally find the courage to tell Neteyam how she feels?

Content: SMUT 18+ MDNI, angst & fluff, pining, protective Neteyam, romance, Neteyam is your mentor, teacher-student chemistry, eventual happy ending, slight age-gap fetish, older man-younger woman. Word count: 9.3k

Part I - Show Me & Teach Me Part II - I Like Your Stars Better

Author’s Note: I apologise for the delay between Part II and this final Part III. I’ve had a difficult few weeks at work and I can’t write when I’m tired, the words just don’t flow. But here it finally is! The conclusion to Neteyam and Seyla’s journey. This part is more emotional than the last, but it’s no less spicy. Enjoy! 😉

***~~~***

It had started as a dull ache at first, just a mild pressure in Seyla’s chest that niggled at her throughout her days; three unspoken words whispering and swirling gently in the tender depths of her heart. I love you...

She kept them a secret.

The small ache had then grown, ebbing and flowing like the modest currents of the spring water streams that ran down through the mountains and hills, feeding into faster-flowing waters. And as more time passed, the three words began to chant themselves louder within her, the ache surging into capricious currents like river rapids that frothed and churned, filling her heart with a deep yearning to speak what she felt aloud. I love you, Neteyam…

But still, Seyla kept her lips sealed.

Now, the three unspoken words roared like furious thunder in her soul, demanding to be freed so they could dance on her tongue and slip past her lips into the realm of spoken truth. It was almost unbearable how full her heart felt, so full it was close to bursting. The pressure was almost akin to pain.

Seyla did not know whether it was her timidity, her fear or just plain youthful inexperience that caused her to cling on so tightly to her silence. Perhaps it was a combination of all three. She had no doubt about her feelings; there was nothing she felt more certain of in her life. She loved Neteyam. Her heart was his to possess and yet she could not find the courage to speak the words.

The only times she was distracted from the agonising ache was when she was deep in concentration; focused singularly on a complex healing task at work, or focused so entirely on Neteyam during another one of their lessons. Indeed, her heart was not the only thing too full of him at the present moment. Her mouth was currently also too full to speak the verity in her heart even if she wanted to.

A deep, rumbling moan sounded from Neteyam as his hands threaded themselves into Seyla’s beaded braids where she was knelt before him, his cock in her mouth. His grip was firm and her braids pulled against her scalp where he had fisted them in his hands, but the slight pain was pleasurable, Seyla found.

Running one hand in a tantalising caress along the inside of one of his thighs, she moaned keenly, bobbing her head while she worked his beautifully hard length in and out of the wet heat of her mouth. Her other hand was wrapped tightly around the base of his cock where it was too far down for her mouth to reach, and she stroked him in time with the bobbing of her head.

A string of expletives ground their way out from between Neteyam’s gritted teeth, “Fuck, that feels so good. You’re getting too good at this, numeyu (student).”

Hollowing her cheeks and drawing up his length with a long, slow suck, Seyla’s lips popped free of his cock with a soft slurp and she looked up at him through coquettish eyes, “Mm, I’ve got a good tutor.”

With her bright green eyes never leaving his, she stuck her tongue out and began to run it in a slow swipes from side to side against the sensitive, ridged underside of his cock head. The move earned her a strangled grunt from Neteyam and a little spurt of pre-cum against her tongue, salty and sweet. His head lolled backward against the bark of the tree he was leaning against and she revelled in the way his breaths came in deep heaves; each one causing his broad chest and shoulders to expand and contract raggedly.

Seyla could feel her own arousal like a thumping beat between her thighs. Her sensitive flesh tingled and she was sure she could feel core drenching itself in slick. She absolutely relished seeing Neteyam like this, completely undone and unguarded. It made her feel empowered in a way she had never felt before to have such a formidable male at her mercy.

“Yawntu, please stop teasing.” Neteyam’s words were a pleading whine and his grip tightened in her braids, though he made no move to force Seyla’s head closer to him. She giggled. He was ever the gentleman even amid his burning desire.

Licking a teasing stripe up his length, she conceded to his request and took him into her mouth again, carefully puckering her lips like he had taught her so she would not nick him with her teeth. Enjoying the way his girth stretched the moist confines of her mouth, she slowly pressed her head down until he hit the back of her throat, before pulling back up again in another tormenting suck.

Seyla carried on at her unhurried pace, making sure to pay special attention to the swollen tip of his cock every time she bobbed back up to it with a particular suck and swirl of her tongue. She caressed his balls with her free hand, encircling them in a loose grip and fondling them with her thumb and fingers. Neteyam emitted a whimper and his hips jerked.

Humming in satisfaction when his cock hardened impossibly further in her mouth, Seyla brazenly reached down with another hand to touch herself. Her fingers ran easily past her core, collecting the slippery moisture that had pooled there. Her eyes lifted to Neteyam’s face again and she found him watching her with a slack jaw and hooded eyes. Raising her slick-soaked fingers from her core, she ran them smoothly up the skin of his thigh, leaving a glistening trail of dampness in their wake, all the while still dutifully bobbing and sucking like a conscientious student.

Neteyam’s face twisted and he panted wantonly, his hips squirming a little under her ministrations, “Seyla, please.”

Drawing back off him again with another pop so she could speak, Seyla purred, “Please, what? Tell me what you want karyu (teacher).” She continued to fondle his length with a hand, squeezing and stroking his shaft, but she stopped her strokes just short of the sensitive head in a deliberate move to tease.

It was at times like this that Seyla amazed herself. She had discovered a feminine confidence within herself these last couple of moons in these provocative situations with Neteyam. She took control where she wanted to, whispered filthy things to him, coaxed whimpers from him and made him beg with a self-assurance she never knew she possessed.

It was ironic really. She was like a bold palulukan during their carnal evening explorations, but when it came to voicing the ardent emotions she harboured for him in her heart, she was like a wilting tsawksyul (sun lily).

A bead of pre-cum seeped out from his cock and Seyla swiftly cleaned it away with a keen lick of her tongue. Neteyam had yet to give her an answer, but he appeared too consumed by his pleasure in that moment as she proceeded to play with him even further. She toyed gently with the mushroom-shaped tip, softly caressing it in small up and down strokes with only her fingertips.

Neteyam was clearly becoming impatient in his endeavour to find ecstasy. He pumped his hips lightly, seeking more friction against the devilry her hands were wreaking upon him. Deciding to indulge him a bit, Seyla clasped his length firmly with both hands and allowed him to thrust into her grasp. She lowered her head towards her hands and positioned her lips in such a way that would permit the head of his cock to press against her puckered lips in a salacious kiss with each upward thrust of his hips.

The daylight was diminishing quickly now with the onset of eclipse and Seyla absorbed the masculine vision before her in the tawny light. Neteyam’s tanhì (bioluminescent freckles) were aglow now in the darkening atmosphere. His skin glistened with a sheen of perspiration and a single rivulet of sweat was beading its way down his sternum between impressive pectorals. The muscles of his abdomen and his thighs flexed from time to time with his thrusts and by Eywa did he smell divine.

An intoxicating musk was pouring off him, a rich aroma of woodland pine and pure male sex appeal. It made Seyla very much wish that his cock was filling something else of hers instead of her hands. Her core pulsed and clenched in want between her legs, disappointed at the emptiness it felt which she knew would be so satisfyingly filled by the beautiful, hard cock pumping in and out of her grasp.

But she and Neteyam had yet to cross that line. And besides, they were late for dinner at his family’s home now too.

Seyla saw Neteyam’s gaze flicker briefly to the darkening horizon as if he too was registering the latter-mentioned fact. His lips peeled back from his teeth in an unsatisfied grimace and he panted at her through his thrusts, “I’m so close. Can you be a sweet girl and finish me off like I taught you last time?”

Seyla felt a spark of excitement rush through her at the memory of their last encounter. Neteyam had guided her around what he liked and he had been a striking and wild picture of pleasure when she had thrown him over the edge. “Yes, karyu.”

Remembering what she was taught, she grasped his balls with her left hand in a firm grip, snug enough that she felt the skin of his scrotum pulling but not so tight as to be painful. A pleasure-filled hiss from Neteyam confirmed she was right. Encircling his shaft with her right hand, she positioned it at the base to hold him still before wrapping her lips over the swollen tip of his cock. Focusing just on the tip, Seyla began to bob her head quickly, the flat of her tongue roving over the oozing slit at the top with each rapid draw and suck.

Neteyam’s reaction was immediate and a long, throaty groan exhaled from him, “Oh Great Mother, yes. Just like that, yawntu.”

Seyla knew he would not last long based on the telltale stuttering of his hips and the shuddering of his breaths. He was so beautiful like this, all rippling muscle and moaning with wild abandon as he hurtled towards his peak. She felt her own nipples stiffen at the stimulating sight and the throbbing want between her own legs intensified.

His groans were getting harsher now and Seyla felt one of his hands leave her braids to cup her jaw, which she had learned was his indication that he was about to orgasm. She was not going to pull away though. She wanted to taste him on her tongue and imbibe every drop of the essence he was about to gift her.

Neteyam’s entire frame tensed and Seyla took a quick and indulgent glance at his face, noting how his jaw was dropped and his eyes were screwed shut while he sailed over the edge into oblivion. Gorgeous. She pressed her head down, taking his length as far as she could go. She felt his cock harden before it pulsed and jumped, hot fluid spattering the back of her throat as she instinctively swallowed it all down with a gratified moan.

The stifled cries of bliss from Neteyam as he came were music to Seyla’s ears and she rubbed his thighs relaxingly while he came down from his climax. She slowly drew her mouth back over his sensitised flesh one last time to clean him off before she released him, licking her lips demurely and patting the sides of her mouth with her hands to make sure she had not missed any stray drops.

A breath blew out from Neteyam’s lips and he chuckled at her with a shake of his head, “By Eywa, look at you, you’re so beautiful on your knees. Pleased with yourself, are you? Enjoyed your dessert before dinner?”

Seyla rose elegantly to her feet with a smug smile, “Very pleased.”

She moved to pluck her loincloth from where it lay over a nearby rock, but she felt Neteyam catch her wrist and spin her to face him. Clutching her against him, Neteyam stole a hungry kiss from her. Evidently his desire had not been completely slaked.

“We’re late for dinner now and it’s all your fault.” Neteyam murmured against her lips, his hot hands roaming in a searing trail down her back and over her pert bottom.

“You needed it.” Seyla breathed in return, “You were so wound up after the disagreement you had earlier with the other warriors. You were strung tighter than a bowstring that’s too short for its bow. Do you regret my offer?”

“No, I could never regret that delightful mouth of yours.” Neteyam’s hands roved past the cleft of her buttocks and she gasped when two of his fingers slipped easily through her folds to breach her core. He smirked, devilishly handsome, while he curled his fingers within her tight heat and revelled in the way Seyla writhed against him, “Perhaps the only thing I regret about letting you have your way with me is that I now have to wait until after dinner for my own dessert. I’m not done with you, yawntu. We’ll finish what you started later.”

***~~~***

Dinner with the Sullys went tremendously. The comfortable teasing and banter they all shared was both a wonder and a comfort to Seyla who had grown up an only child. They shared the happenings of their day with each other, joking and laughing as they ate.

Neteyam had been incredibly attentive to Seyla the whole evening. Not that his family had excluded her by any means, but knowing she was shy, he had made sure to keep her included in conversation and had encouraged her with a squeeze of her knee whenever she spoke. He had checked what foods she preferred and consistently ensured she had enough on her grazing mat, topping it up with more teylu grub, stewed yerik, spiced grains and leafy greens as she ate. In return, Seyla had peeled and cored the various fruits they shared afterward. They had fed each other fragrant pieces of sweet fruit by hand, so wrapped up in each other that they were completely oblivious to the quietly approving eyes of the rest of the family, Neytiri and Mo’at in particular.

“They make a very sweet pair, sa’nok. She’s a good choice for Neteyam.” Neytiri remarked under her breath, sitting alongside her mother as they enjoyed their dessert of fruit.

Mo’at’s eyes crinkled in the corners, a wizened smile gracing her lips as she watched her grandson and his betrothed. They were sat closely together, their crossed knees touching. Their sides were pressed against each other’s and their tails were twined like lianas while the downy tufts of hair at the ends whipped and frolicked in a frisky tango with each other. The tsahìk breathed a tranquil breath, “Yes, they suit each other remarkably well and the bond they share is deep.”

“Seyla is blessed by the Great Mother too. I can feel the grace of Eywa about her. Her heart is tender, but her spirit is strong.” Neytiri added, chortling to herself when she saw Seyla attempting to fend off another piece of fruit, which Neteyam was trying to coax into her mouth.

“Indeed, she will be a formidable tsahìk in time. I daresay they will be among the greatest leaders the Omatikaya have ever seen.” Mo’at agreed, “Eywa calls to them both, maite. It won’t be long, I feel, before we will be celebrating their blessed union.”

“No, not long indeed.” Neytiri smiled, feeling balmy warmth swell in her heart at the sight of the young pair. She recognised the expression Neteyam wore, his attention focused singularly on the young woman beside him as he beamed at her through golden eyes that were radiant with contentment. Her son was absolutely besotted and it only warmed Neytiri further to see the same enamoured expression mirrored on Seyla’s face.

“One more.” Neteyam cajoled, lifting another saccharine fruitlet to Seyla’s lips. Her giggles were infectious and he tittered along with her, playfully zipping his hand this way and that to avoid her repeated attempts to bat him away.

“No, I’m full! I’ll be sick otherwise. The fruit is very sweet!” Seyla twittered, twisting away from his fruit-laden fingers.

“Just like you are.” Neteyam said, yielding to her wishes and slipping the fruity morsel into his own mouth instead, “Although, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you, yawntu.” He bumped his nose softly against her cheek in a tender nuzzle and winked at her, before helping himself to more fruit.

Seyla sucked in a small breath at his affectionate words and she felt herself flush from her cheeks all the way to the pointed tips of her ears. There it was again, that teeming pressure in her chest and the uncomfortable tingling on her lips; an ever-mounting urge to confess to him how she felt.

Great Mother, Neteyam was so beautiful. His cerulean skin gleamed slightly in the lambent glow of the firelight and Seyla particularly enjoyed the lean flex of the muscles on his broad back as he reached across the platters of food to pick at more teylu grub. Physical appeal aside, Neteyam was also a good man, a much-loved brother and son, and a wonderfully attentive partner.

Neteyam was her betrothed. They had kissed, played and enjoyed each other’s bodies for many weeks now, and she had known him and respected him as her mentor for far longer still. He had been clear in his initial affection for her, had asked her to accept him as her future mate, so why was she struggling to tell him she loved him?

Or perhaps her struggle was fuelled by the underlying insecurity of the converse question: Why had Neteyam not told her he loved her?

Those three words that hankered to escape the confines of her sealed lips had not crossed the threshold of his either. Maybe he did not feel for her as deeply as she did for him and Seyla did not want to make a fool of herself by being too eager.

“Seyla!” Tuk called from across the space, approaching them with a cheery grin, “I hate to peel you away from my brother, but can you re-do my braids for me, please? You’re so good at them. Besides, we’re overdue some girl time and Lo’ak is being gross over there.”

A loud burp sounded from the far corner where Lo’ak was lounging and Kiri swatted his thigh before scrambling away from him. She heartily agreed with Tuk, “Yep! He’s got enough gas to light a bonfire currently.”

“Hey, man!” Lo’ak protested with an exaggerated pout, patting his distended belly, “Go easy on me. I feel like I’ve eaten an entire sturmbeest cow.”

Neteyam gave an emphatic laugh, “You look like you’ve eaten a cow, bro!” He placed a warm kiss on Seyla’s forehead then and gestured for her to join Kiri and Tuk where they were seated not far away. His voice was low as he uttered a promise, “I’ll catch you later. I haven’t had my dessert yet, remember?.”

Seyla’s eyes widened at him in shocked warning, hoping his voice had been quiet enough that no one had overheard his comment, but she grinned at him anyway and joked, “Go, I think Lo’ak might need your help burping him. Firm pats on the back should do it.”

Kiri was already helping Tuk to undo the existing braids of her hair and Seyla moved to join the two women. Being only a couple of years older than Tuk, Seyla was closer to her than she was to the other Sully siblings. She and Tuk had been in the same circle of friends as children and she had a few fond memories of the games they used to play together.

“Your hair is getting so long.” Seyla breathed, settling herself at Tuk’s back as Kiri moved over to make space for her, “It’s nice and thick and healthy too.”

“Groundnut oil, like you said. Works wonders for the hair.” Tuk beamed.

“Yes, I’m sure Tuk wants to look her best to impress her tunutu (crush).” Kiri teased, jabbing Tuk lightly in the ribs, which the young woman protested with a playful swat at her older sister.

Seyla sucked in an excited breath, chortling impishly at the topic of conversation, “Ooh, who is it?” She ran her fingers through Tuk’s hair and her skilled hands began their braiding work, “You’re stuck here now while I do your hair so you have plenty of time to tell me about him.”

Tuk gave a narked harrumph and Seyla saw Kiri laugh at what must have been a glower on her younger sister’s face.

Kiri snorted with an eyeroll, busying her hands with some flax weaving, “She isn’t going to tell you so you’re going to have to guess. I’ll help you.”

“Kiri!” Tuk squealed in complaint, though her tone held more embarrassment than heat.

“Is he around our age?” Seyla queried. Tuk stubbornly remained mute, but Kiri shook her head and tilted her head upward in a hint. “Oh, older? Let’s see, what does he do?”

The kittenish game carried on, Seyla guessing various occupations and making several deductions based on Kiri’s enthusiastic hints and expressions. Tuk was muttering curses under her breath at the discomfiture of the whole situation though she had no choice but to sit still while Seyla finished her hair.

“It doesn’t matter.” Tuk grumbled, “He doesn’t take any notice of me.”

“Well, why don’t you go up to him and talk to him?” The suggestion earned Seyla a pointed look from both Kiri and Tuk, who turned to purse her lips at her with an expression of scepticism.

“That’s a bit rich coming from you, oh shy one. You barely speak to anyone you’re not familiar with.” Tuk retorted.

“I just mean that maybe you should put yourself out in his space? Greet him as you walk past? I don’t know. I can’t really offer any tips if I don’t know what he does or who he is.”

Another peevish harrumph from Tuk, “I would go and put myself in his space, but he’s never alone.” Her sentence was punctuated with a sulky pout and she turned her head slightly to shoot a glower in the direction of her older brothers.

A distant memory of her and Tuk talking about boys as children wafted through Seyla’s mind as she registered the scowl on the other girl’s face... An image of the warriors’ party coming and going on their daily assignments came next, and her brain conjured clear recollections of Neteyam and Lo’ak laughing and joking with one of their warrior friends…

A bright spark went off in her brain and Seyla gasped by Tuk’s ear, “Ateyo?”

A startled gulp from Tuk and a victorious hoot of laughter from Kiri was all the confirmation Seyla needed that her guess was correct.

“Shhh! Stop it!” Tuk squirmed, swatting lightly at Kiri again who evidently found the entire situation incredibly entertaining. Tuk cast wary eyes in the direction of her brothers, “Be quiet or they’ll hear you!”

Reaching for another bead to adorn the braid she was working on, Seyla chuckled, “I remember you liked him even when we were kids!”

Tuk shifted self-consciously on her crossed legs and sighed dreamily, “He was cute when we were young. Now he’s hot. Don’t tell Neteyam or Lo’ak or I’ll never stand a chance! They’ll think he’s too old for me.”

Kiri scoffed, turning her flaxen work over and holding it up to the light so she could check her patterning, “Ateyo is only four years older than you. You’re grown now, Tuk, our brothers shouldn’t be meddling. Besides, Neteyam can’t really talk on that point.” Her perceptive eyes fixed on Seyla and they narrowed deliberately while a grin played on her lips.

“Well, Seyla is two years older than me. Plus, you know what Lo’ak is like. Ateyo really looks up to him and Neteyam, and I don’t want Lo’ak to pull the whole ‘don’t touch my baby sister’ shit on him.” Tuk griped, reaching back to carefully pluck at one of her finished braids. She surveyed Seyla’s handiwork with admiration and gave her a grateful smile.

“One last bead,” Seyla breathed, her skilful fingers securing the last braid, “And there, you’re done.”

Tuk ran a gentle hand over her head, patting at her new braids and she turned to give Seyla a hug, “Thank you, sister!”

“Immaculate work as always.” Kiri praised, tucking a loose strand of her own chin-length hair behind her ear, “The only time I feel a tiny inkling of desire to grow my hair out is after seeing the results of your beautiful braiding, Seyla.”

Seyla smiled appreciatively in response at Kiri’s words and returned Tuk’s hug with equal fervour. She placed her hands on Tuk’s shoulders as they drew away from each other and she said, “Mantis orchids are in season right now and our healers’ stock of the flower’s nectar is running low. The orchids bloom their widest at night. I think you should be brave and ask Ateyo to accompany you on an evening walk while you gather more mantis orchid nectar for your grandmother.”

“Just like you should be brave and tell my brother you love him?” Tuk’s riposte came without missing a beat and Seyla’s breath caught in her throat on her next inhale, and she choked, coughing.

“Tuk.” Kiri reproached her sister, knowing her remark bordered on inappropriate as it touched on a very personal subject. Her eyes still held a twinkle of mirth though and her smile was astute as she regarded Seyla.

Seyla felt the saliva in her mouth dry up. Her ability to speak also proceeded to abandon her in a poof of smoke and she felt hot blood rushing to her face and neck in mortification. Great Mother, was she that obvious?

“I don’t- I mean, we haven’t-”

Tuk was now sporting a shit-eating grin that could rival Lo’ak’s at Seyla’s discomposure, and Seyla knew this was her friend’s cheeky payback for being teased about Ateyo.

Tuk gave Seyla’s knee a supportive pat, “It’s OK, it’s not just you. You’re both really obvious.”

“You’ve got that look on your face when you look at Neteyam.” Kiri added, “That moony-eyed and slightly constipated look that people wear when their heart is bursting to jump up their throat and out their mouth.”

Squirming under the scrutiny, Seyla murmured under her breath, “I don’t want to be too forward.”

“He loves you too, I know it.” Kiri reassured, “My brother is good at many things and he’s a fairly open person, but he’s shy with his words especially where he feels deeply about something. He’s a mighty warrior, but even the bravest of warriors will be less than mighty when it comes to matters of the heart.”

Tuk nudged Seyla’s side with a giggle, “I’ll do you a deal. I’ll ask Ateyo out if you tell Neteyam how you feel.”

“Only if you’re ready, Seyla.” Kiri countered with a pointed glance at Tuk, “But don’t be afraid to speak your truth if it’s burning in your heart. Be brave for my brother and tell him.”

***~~~***

The light twittering of the insects and the gentle croons and calls of the nocturnal wildlife resonated through the woodlands like a peaceful melody. Their swift footfalls lit a bioluminescent trail on the mossy ground as Neteyam and Seyla jogged toward the forest loft that served as their private retreat.

The nights were cooling off rapidly with the approach of the cold season, but their speedy pace as they headed for their destination kept them warm. Seyla trotted ahead of Neteyam, her heart beating both in excitement as well as in nervous anticipation of what was to come. The jogging kept her warm now, but she knew that the sensual activities they were soon to engage in would do more than stave off the cold. Neteyam wanted his dessert and she was going to let him indulge.

She felt a playful tweak on the tuft of her tail behind her and Seyla increased her pace, laughing. This was a game they often played. Neteyam was understandably stronger and faster than she was, and the only reason he always ran behind her was because he enjoyed chasing her flicking tail.

Reaching the familiar cluster of tall trees where their loft hung, Seyla scaled a massive trunk with Neteyam hot on her heels, reaching for one last tug of her tail. He succeeded just as she reached the flat of the woven platform and she squealed, whirling away from him.

“You can be such a child sometimes!” Seyla laughed, her chest heaving slightly from the physical exertion of the climb.

“How many times did I get you today? Four? Five?” Neteyam questioned, chasing her over to the warm rugs and blankets they had laid out in a corner over the past few moons. “You have to keep me guessing a little better.”

“Like a child.” Seyla admonished again with no real crossness in her tone, her expression mirthful.

Neteyam dipped his chin, his gaze turning predatory, and she spied the roguish weaving of his tail behind him. She watched him intently, loving the way his eyes glowed with mischief and his tanhì glimmered in the darkened atmosphere. Great Mother, he looked anything but childlike. He was an imposing picture of masculinity; like a stone-cold hunter that had identified his next target, whose countenance held the promise of the most delightful kind of danger that she was quite happy to fall prey to.

Seyla remained undaunted. On the contrary, her heart gave a tight squeeze, full of fondness as Neteyam stalked her towards the blanketed corner. Though his eyes were hungry, his smile was warm and her arms instinctively twined around his neck when he lunged forward to envelope her about the waist and take her to ground.

He laid them both on their sides facing each other and showered a series of kisses over her forehead and cheeks, “Thank you for coming to dinner with my family again tonight. It means a lot to see you getting to know them all. I hope we weren’t too rowdy.”

“It was wonderful. Your family has always been very welcoming.”

“You looked like you had quite a good time with my sisters. What were you all talking about?”

A nervous pang hit Seyla at the recollection of her conversation with his sisters and Kiri’s words rang in her ears; be brave for my brother and tell him… She licked her lips and swallowed, suddenly feeling edgy. Remembering Neteyam was still awaiting an answer, she brushed the subject away, “Just girl stuff. Secret girl stuff.”

“Yeah?” Neteyam did not look at all deterred from the topic. He trailed a warm hand down Seyla’s arm, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles and then each of her fingertips, “You’re not supposed to keep secrets from your betrothed, yawntu.”

Eywa help her… Seyla gulped and gave a taut chuckle and tried feebly again to end the conversation by making it seem mundane, “We were just talking rubbish about boys.”

If anything, her remark had the opposite intended effect and Neteyam cocked his head coyly at her, “Are your eyes wandering towards other men, Seyla?”

“No!” She gasped in a mild panic, and while her next words refuted his statement, they also damned her further into the conversation she was trying to get out of, “We were talking about you!”

“Oh? What about me?” Neteyam’s voice was a low and teasing rumble, but Seyla found nothing about her present circumstances funny.

Her eyes were wide as she stammered, trying and failing to find an answer. Seyla froze, looking at Neteyam who had his head propped up on one elbow as he surveyed her. She probably looked like a stunned yerik facing the pointed tip of a hunter’s arrow.

The truth in her heart swelled and the pressure amplified in her chest. The words she so badly wanted to say crept up her tightening throat. She was a little concerned that she was going to be sick, but there was no nauseous roil in her belly, just a jumble of nervous flutters.

You know he loves you… he has shown you that he does through his actions… Seyla’s brain supplied encouragingly. His sisters, those closest to him have reassured you…

Sure enough, Neteyam sensed her upset and he was quick to soothe her, “Hey, it’s alright. You don’t have to tell me. I was just teasing you.”

A little bit of the pressure in Seyla’s chest fizzled out and she shook her head with another attempt at sounding light-hearted, “Sorry, it’s girl code.”

A chuckle rumbled through his chest, “I can accept that you were talking about me and not to me. As long as you were only saying good things.” Neteyam ended his statement with a wink at her.

Seyla forced a grin and rolled gently onto her back, pillowing her head on a small bolster roll, relieved that at least she did not have to lie, “Yes, it was only good things.” A yawn overcame her then and she rubbed lightly at her eyes.

“Tired? Grandmother said that it was busy today in the healers’ hut.” Neteyam asked, to which he received a bleary nod in response. He chuckled again and reached out to stroke her cheek, “Just rest then, go to sleep.”

Seyla’s heart was galloping behind her ribs and she still felt on edge. Sleep would not find her easily in this state and besides, she wanted Neteyam to have his dessert. He was about to roll onto his own back and get comfortable when she protested his movements and pulled him in for a kiss.

She slanted her lips against his and his upper body moved to shelter hers as he deepened the kiss with a groan. It never failed to amaze Seyla how he stole her breath from her every time. Her blood began to heat and everywhere, all over, she felt like she was liquefying into a pool of desire. She wanted him, all of him.

Neteyam drew away slightly and the cold air of the night caressed her lips again at the absence of his warm mouth. He spoke, “We don’t have to do this. I know what I said earlier, but you’re tired and you should sleep.”

“No, I want you to touch me.” Seyla took hold of one of his wrists and manoeuvred it to cup one of her breasts through the delicate string of leaves over her chest. Still sensing and seeing the hesitation on his face, she added, “It’ll relax me and help me sleep. Please?”

With a shake of his head, Neteyam took a deep inhale before his breath whistled out of him in a sigh that sounded very much like a surrender, “I can’t deny you anything, yawntu. You have me wrapped around your finger. And I guess I’m happy to help myself to dessert too. Just relax, sweet girl.”

He claimed her lips again with so much fervour it was a little painful and Seyla clutched at his face with both hands, letting her mouth fall open to his plundering. This would be an apt distraction from the yearning in her heart. The pleasure would divert her attention away from it and a climax would relax her enough to find sleep.

Her heart gave a hard and petulant thump, almost as if it wanted to challenge her cunning plan.

Neteyam’s lips roved over her neck and chest, and her chest covering was swiftly discarded. He busied his mouth with the supple skin of her breasts, his tongue and lips worshipping her peaked nipples in hot and moist suckles. Seyla let her eyelids slide shut and she focused on the pleasurable madness that he continued to wreak upon her body.

I love you… The thought speared through her conscience. Seyla pushed it away, doubling down on her efforts to concentrate elsewhere.

The ties of her loincloth were being loosened by large, hot hands and she lifted her hips to help Neteyam shimmy the fabric from her hips and legs. She heard him groan at the bare sight of her, which made her lips quirk a little.

Pressing his lips to the inside of her thigh, his hot breath tickled her sensitive skin, “You’re so perfect, Seyla, and you’re all mine.”

His words sent her heart into overdrive, her tender emotions spiking exponentially. Seyla’s conscience chimed in yet again, tell him how you feel… he has claimed you as his… tell him you love him…

She was panting now, but she was unsure if it was because of the rising tidal wave of emotion within her, or because of the fact that Neteyam had buried his face at her core. Heady bursts of pleasure shot through her as he lapped and suckled at the little nub of nerve endings above her entrance. Her core pulsed in bliss under his attentions and a wanton moan escaped her when he snaked two fingers inside her.

However, despite the pleasure, Seyla was trying and failing to lose herself in it.

Her emotions had risen to the challenge and they were steadily overwhelming her. Her plan was not working... She could feel that her entire body was tense from the mounting anxiety, and a painful lump was forming in her throat where she had clamped her tongue to the roof of her mouth in a bid to stem the pressure.

Speak the words... Be brave… She pressed her fist against her open mouth, the points of her teeth digging into the bony protrusions of her knuckles. It caused her pain, but it was yet another helpful distraction from the pressing burden of the words that threatened to evict itself from her body by force.

Eywa, she was being absolutely ridiculous... Why was she so afraid? This was Neteyam, her Neteyam…

Seyla knew there was no escaping her predicament anymore. She had kept her love for him to herself for too long and it had eaten away at her slowly until now. Her feelings had reached a head and she needed to tell him tonight.

Neteyam stilled between Seyla’s legs. She was sprawled on her back for him as she had been all the previous times he had pleasured her like this, but that was where the similarities started and ended. Her legs trembled where his firm hands pressed into her pliant thighs, but they were not trembling with need. The air around him was devoid of her breathy moans and panting breaths. Instead, her torso was stiff and she was silent.

He kissed her clit gently, drawing it into his mouth again while curling his fingers within her, but his head shot upright and away from her when a hitching sob reached his ears.

Bolting upright and wiping his mouth on the back of his wrist, Neteyam shifted so he could peer at Seyla’s face. Her fist was wedged tightly against her mouth and she peered back at him through wide and anxious eyes that were pooled with tears.

Panic flared in Neteyam’s gut and his concern was instant, “Seyla? Have I hurt you?”

Seyla’s legs lowered themselves until they were flat again and she rolled onto her side to sit up. She was partially facing away from him now and he could see her dabbing at her cheeks. Her response was a wet gurgle, “I’m sorry. It’s not you, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Why are you apologising, yawntu?” Unable to help himself, Neteyam placed a cautious hand on her shoulder and applied pressure, urging her to turn back towards him. She did, but her eyes remained downcast. “Something’s bothering you, what is it?”

Her head bobbed in a slow nod and she took a shuddering breath, “I need to tell you something.”

“Alright, take your time.” Neteyam said in a gentle croon, fighting back the urge to press her further. Patience was something he learned early on with his siblings, especially with Kiri or Tuk when they were upset. Putting pressure on them for information before they were ready to speak only had the opposite effect of making them shrink further into themselves.

Worry and dread started to bubble like an amalgam of trepidation in his belly. Seyla was clearly upset and his mind was jumping to all sorts of the worst conclusions. Was the pace of their relationship moving too quickly?... Had he scared her with his enflamed desire for her over the past weeks?... Or worst of all, was she having second thoughts about being his betrothed?...

The points of Seyla’s ears rose and fell with her next deep breath and she began softly, “I hope that this doesn’t change what we have or make things awkward. And it’s fine if you aren’t where I am with things.”

“Go on.”

Seyla lifted her gaze to meet his and while it pained Neteyam to see her cry, the wetness of her tears shone beautifully in the moonlit reflection of her bright green eyes. Her hands lifted from where they had been clasped in her lap and she reached out with overturned palms. Neteyam took them intuitively in his, rubbing his thumbs pacifyingly over her smooth palms.

He could see she was struggling with her words and her tail had curled itself around her knelt thighs, the furry tuft quaking slightly. Keeping careful control of his own insecurity, he reassured her in a measured tone, “Don’t be frightened. Whatever you have to say, it’s just me. Even if it’s bad news.”

That earned him a watery laugh from Seyla and she shook her head, “No it’s not bad news.”

“OK, then speak freely.” Neteyam raised her hands to his lips, kissing her knuckles again. It was one of his favourite things to do to show his affection for her. Seyla had beautiful hands; healing hands that were gentle and soft, skilled and lifesaving. They were also hands that had set his body aflame with desire, hands that had brought him to the edge of paradise and beyond.

“Neteyam,” Seyla murmured, her voice almost barely a whisper. She squeezed his hands then, drawing strength from the feel of them around her own, “I love you.”

The moment the words left her, it was like a great weight had heaved itself free of her being. Seyla felt as if her lungs were suddenly able to expand better, the cool air filling and refreshing them with renewed vigour as if they had been impeded previously by the emotional burden she had carried.

Neteyam sat in speechless silence for several moments. Seyla could glean no hint of his thoughts or feelings, his expression the careful and neutral mask she had seen him don before in high pressure clan situations that called for composure amid heated chaos. His silence felt like an eternity to her and the black tendrils of her dreaded doubt began to unfurl in her heart.

But then his face split into an effulgent smile, stretching across his cheeks, all gleaming teeth and bright eyes.

Seyla could not help her own smile in reaction, her face illuminating in an overjoyed reflection of Neteyam’s. He pulled her towards him, one of his hands cupping one side of her face as he drank from her lips again in a deep kiss.

Cradling her face in his hands, Neteyam rested his forehead on hers, “Is that what you needed to tell me, sweet girl? Great Mother, I love you too. I love you so much.”

Seyla’s heart was bursting now with a different kind of pressure. It was light and warm, full of gladness and teeming with her love for him, which she now knew was returned with equal fervour. Sniffling and giggling in turn, she pawed at her eyes, “You never said anything and I was scared to tell you in case you didn’t feel the same.”

“That makes two of us. I was scared too. We’ve come a long way in the last while and I didn’t want to rush you or put any pressure on you by admitting how I felt too early.”

Seyla chortled at the thought that Kiri had been right about Neteyam (as she often was with most things). Rubbing her cheek affectionately against his, Seyla teased by his ear, “My mighty warrior was scared?”

Neteyam pressed a kiss to her neck, “Only when it comes to you. Only you have that power over me, to rattle my confidence and make me question my actions. I told you when we started this that we would go at your pace.”

Secure now in herself and in the profound connection they shared, Seyla knew what she wanted. “Then I want you tonight. I want to have all of you.”

“My life and my body are yours, as you wish.”

Neteyam groaned when Seyla climbed into his lap and her sweet mouth slanted over his. Their position elevated her head a little over his, giving her better control of their kiss as their faces twisted and moulded to each other’s from side to side. He was very aware that she was naked atop him and his cock was painfully hard within the confines of his loincloth.

Skimming his hands up her bare sides, he found her breasts and cupped them, delighting in the way her nipples stiffened immediately against his palms. Toying with the interested peaks, he felt Seyla whimper into their kiss, her hot breath sweet and moist against his mouth. He moved one of his hands to grip the softer flesh of her bottom, while his other hand snaked its way between their bodies to rub at her centre. She was so silky slick and she raised her hips to allow him to insert two fingers.

A gasp left her and she threw her head back, clutching at his shoulders as she undulated her hips, grinding herself against his hand. Neteyam’s other arm moved to her lower back to support her movements and he nuzzled the soft skin of one breast, purring, “That’s it, sweet girl. Do whatever feels good for you.”

To say that Neteyam felt like his control was slipping was an understatement. Watching Seyla like this and feeling the sensual clench and pulse of her core around his fingers inside her, as she writhed in his lap, was the best kind of torture a man could ask for. It was so easy for him to pretend that it was his cock she was riding. He knew that the fabric of his loincloth would be damp from the pre-cum he was leaking if he touched it.

Neteyam knew her peak was fast approaching by her breathy whimpers and the rhythmic fluttering of her core. Burying his face against her bosom, he attached his mouth to one nipple, sucking and flicking it with his tongue to further push her towards her oblivion.

However, Seyla gave a cry and abruptly stilled her movements, “Wait no, not yet.”

“What? Why?”

Seyla gingerly clambered off his lap, her hands reaching for the ties of his loincloth, “I want you inside me when I finish.”

Neteyam felt very divided in that moment. His body screamed its approval, but his mind hesitated with his concern. He gave a cautious chuckle, “This is your first time and it could be a little uncomfortable. It’s not a bad idea to finish first before we explore further.” He saw her wrinkle her nose in disagreement and she looked resolute.

Seyla loosened the ties of his loincloth and tugged at it insistently, prompting him to raise himself onto his knees so he could free it from his body completely. She stated clearly, “You said I could set the pace. This is what I want.”

Neteyam could never refuse her, he was powerless to. His cock throbbed with the relief of being freed from its cloth prison and he palmed it gently. Seyla was about to lie down on her back when he reached for her, “No, come here, numeyu. Stay in my lap like you were before. It’ll give you all the control.”

Following his guidance, Seyla settled over his lap again, greeting his cock with several tantalising strokes. Neteyam’s hips jerked, but she instantly understood what he meant when he said that this position gave her total control. His hips had jumped at the contact of her hands, but her weight prevented his pelvis from doing much more than squirm in place with no real upward motion.

She felt the aching throb at the apex of her thighs heighten at the sight of him, hard and wanting. She did not need any more foreplay. She felt hot all over, sensitised to every whisp of wind that whispered past her tingling skin; sensitised to every caress of Neteyam’s hands as they roamed her hips and back.

A flush had begun to tinge Neteyam’s cheeks a dark violet and his breaths blew out of his parted lips in shallow puffs. His golden orbs were desirous, but Seyla still perceived his gentleness in them and she smiled, “I’m ready.”

Neteyam swallowed tightly, resting his hands on the swell of her hips and guiding her as she raised them to position herself over him, “Take your time. Don’t worry about me, I’m already enjoying this far too much. Just focus on you.”

The blood was pounding in Seyla’s ears and they burned hotly too, but she was not afraid. Her heart was thumping in sensual anticipation. She reached down between them to take hold of his hard length, running the blunt head through her folds to find the right angle for entry. Neteyam whined at the contact and he buried his face into her neck.

The head of his cock nestled itself into place where Seyla could feel her entrance was and she slowly began to press downward. Her mouth popped open as the tip of him breached her with a slight burning sensation. She carried on, seating herself further and further down along the length of him. The girth of his cock filled her with an uncomfortable and burning stretch that made her wince, but there was also a satisfying fullness to it that urged her hips down all the way until her thighs were pressed flat against his once more.

Seyla’s discomfort thankfully did not last long and the stinging pain soon gave way to a gratifying pleasure at the notion that he was inside her. Sitting back a little, she beamed at Neteyam who grinned at her through half-lidded eyes and he squeezed her hips encouragingly.

Neteyam was going to explode from the sensation of Seyla’s tight walls around his cock. Her body was wet and so, so blissfully hot. She began to tentatively swivel and lift her hips and the friction made him hiss aloud in pleasure. He was vaguely aware that he was also cursing under his breath and he fought against the urge to press her hips down harder with his hands. Her pace was what they had agreed on and he would not violate that.

“You feel so amazing.” Neteyam breathed as she rocked against him with a gratified moan.

“So do you.” Seyla returned breathlessly.

Neteyam’s hands shifted to support her pert bottom, easing some of the pressure in her thigh muscles while she continued to lift and sink her hips, stroking her core up and down his erection. His head spun with blissfulness and his cock throbbed its enjoyment within her. However, he could soon feel that she was tiring and one of her hands was rubbing desperately against her clit as she chased her climax.

A whine of frustration escaped her as Seyla tried and failed to reach the peak she was yearning for. It all felt so good, but her thighs burned and she somehow needed more of him. Sitting herself against him and pausing to catch her breath, she felt Neteyam kiss her chin tenderly.

“Let me take over, yeah?” Neteyam carefully manoeuvred them both to lie her on her back, never breaking the contact between their bodies as he did so. Her thighs hugged his hips and she turned to press a kiss against one of his biceps where he was now leaning over her on his forearms.

Seyla loved being caged by him like this, their bodies pressed as close as they could be and his face hovering by hers, close enough to kiss, nuzzle and whisper in his ear. Her hands ran up his muscled chest and she pulled his face towards hers for a searing kiss.

Neteyam rolled his hips, thrusting into her with a full stroke and she broke away from his lips with an abrupt inhale. She gasped at the new sensation. She felt him even better like this, even fuller and more completely than before. He had stilled at her gasp and his expression was concerned as he stared down at her.

“I’m fine.” Seyla reassured, pressing her thighs against his hips and squirming in an unspoken urge for him to continue, “That feels great, keep going.”

Placing a gentle kiss against her lips, Neteyam nodded before tucking his face against hers to rub his cheek along hers, “Alright. Stop me if I’m hurting you, yawntu. You feel so amazing and I’m on the brink of losing my control.”

Neteyam rolled his hips against hers once more and then continued, setting a sustained rhythm that made Seyla’s head loll to the side as her pleasure consumed her. Every roll of his hips pressed his pubic bone against her clit while the length and girth of him pushed and pulled in and out of her core in the most delicious manner. Her entire body prickled and seared with ecstasy, her orgasm building quickly where they were joined between her thighs.

Moans and whimpers were leaving Seyla with each solid thrust of his hips against and the sound was the most titillating thing Neteyam had ever heard. The burning coil of his impending orgasm was winding low and tight at the base of his spine and his control wrestled with his pleasure. She was close to her own climax and he was determined to see her through to it without losing his control.

Cracking open her eyelids to catch a glimpse of her lover, Seyla relished the picture before her. She could not see Neteyam’s face as it was buried into the crook of her neck, but she could feel his expression was pinched, no doubt in pleasure, and his breaths were tearing from him in ragged moans against her skin. The muscles of his shoulders and torso contracted with each punishing thrust of his hips and she trailed her hands up his sides to press her palms against his hot skin, wanting to feel his muscles bunch and flex beneath her fingertips.

The telltale pulsing at her core signalled her impending climax and Seyla’s head lolled back, a hoarse cry leaving her as her body went rigid with ecstasy. Her fingernails clawed involuntarily across the skin of Neteyam’s back while her core contracted and throbbed around his cock in a powerful orgasm that made bright spots burst behind her clenched eyelids.

If Neteyam thought that he had enough control left to let himself savour his bliss a little longer, he was wrong. The violent clutch of Seyla’s centre around his cock as she orgasmed was vise-like and it forced his own climax from him with a guttural shout. He was helpless to stop the intense pleasure from consuming him as he ejaculated, his seed surging from him in harsh spurts into her welcoming heat.

Neteyam was panting against her like he had sprinted for a sustained distance. His chest heaved and his perspiration made his skin slick against her body. She nosed the side of his head where his beaded braids fell, tickling her cheek, and she inhaled his musky scent which was always the most potent after they had played.

He slipped off her to the side and she whimpered a little at the feel of his cock leaving her body. The sensation was closely followed by an oozing trickle of warmth that seeped down between her buttocks. An immense sense of gratification filled Seyla as she relished in the idea that Neteyam had reached the height of his pleasure inside her. She marvelled at how perfect she felt; how perfect it had all been bodily and emotionally.

Seyla whispered a small prayer of thanks to Eywa and her heart was so full.

Now that his breath was returning to him, Neteyam rolled onto his side to face her, “I love you, yawntu. Know that I always will. You’re the most precious thing in my life.”

“I love you too.” Mirroring him to roll onto her side as well, Seyla ran a hand across his forehead to wipe away several beads of his perspiration. She glanced downward at the thick braid of his kuru (neural queue) which was lying between them. Perhaps the afterglow of sex made her daring, but she reached out to trail a gentle hand down its tightly braided length.

Neteyam shuddered and his drowsy eyes slipped open at her touch. She watched him carefully. It was an incredibly intimate gesture, to touch the kuru of another. However, he appeared unbothered and a sloppy grin danced across his lips. Seyla’s own queue trailed at her side next to his, not touching but close enough that a mere shift of either of their arms would put their queues in contact.

Neteyam reached out to return the gesture, his hand stroking gently down her corded braid. It was a very pleasurable sensation and most definitely erotic in nature.

Seyla settled her hand over his, “I meant what I said earlier. About wanting all of you.” She traced her hand down his kuru again.

“What are you saying?” Neteyam murmured quietly. His eyes were bright and the corners of his mouth were twitching upward in what looked to be a hopeful smile.

“That I’m ready to be yours, fully, when you’re ready too.”

Seyla nudged her neural queue to lie alongside his, the thick braids coming into contact. The fleshy pink tendrils at the ends of their kurus unfurled, twisting and undulating in delicate coils. A few of the tendrils on each of their queues reached for the twisting wisps of the other’s, feeling and tickling each other but not fusing completely.

They both sighed in mutual pleasure at the intimate exchange, but they would not do this here tonight. It was not the way of things. Mating bonds needed to be forged before Eywa at the sacred grove.

Neteyam wrapped a strong arm around Seyla, pulling her body flush against his, “I’ve never been more certain of anything.”

Seyla snuggled against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart as slumber called to them both. She pressed a lingering kiss to his jaw, her heart singing with elation, “Well then, we better tell your grandmother that we have a wedding to plan.”

The last thought that flitted across Seyla’s mind before sleep claimed her was a humorous one and it brought a small smile to her lips: Tuk was going to have to hold up her end of the bargain after all.

***~~~***

Author’s Note: A massive THANK YOU again to all of you for reading and for your support. Leave me a line if you enjoyed this, I’d love to hear from you. It makes it so fulfilling to write when I hear your feedback. Reblogs are also massively appreciated! This is the last part of this work. I don’t have any plans to continue it. Maybe now I’ll be able to go back and add to my epilogue draft for ‘To Know You Again’ and hope my writers’ block for that gets lost! Much love to you all. xx

@glimmering-darling-dolly @liluvtojineteyam @han-sirentell @cinetrix @bluealiensimp @nmin @bellstwd @baahsaama @oasiswithmyg @creepytoes88 @strawberri-blonde @luvteyams @couragemydearheart @jaeyutabae @fandom-geek17 @anonymousailurophile

P.S. If you asked for a tag and you aren't in this list, then for some reason it hasn't worked and I wasn't able to tag you, sorry. 😟

#neteyam #neteyam sully #avatar movie #atwow neteyam #avatar james cameron #avatar twow #avatar neteyam #atwow #avatar #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam x oc #neteyam smut #avatar smut #neteyam fic #neteyam fanfiction #avatar fandom #james cameron avatar #avatar fanfiction

455 notes · View notes

cynic-spirit · 2 months

Text

Arches and Turns

Benny Cross x reader

warnings: longing, fluff

A picturesque stone bridge arches gracefully over a tranquil river in the countryside. The bridge is made of weathered gray stones, each one carefully placed to form a sturdy yet elegant structure. Moss and small ferns grow in the crevices between the stones, adding a touch of green to the otherwise muted tones.

The bridge is surrounded by lush meadows filled with wildflowers in shades of purple, yellow, and white, gently swaying in the breeze. Tall trees with dense, leafy canopies frame the scene, their branches creating dappled patterns of light and shadow on the ground. The river beneath the bridge flows gently, its clear waters reflecting the blue sky above and the vibrant colors of the surrounding landscape.

A dirt path, worn smooth by years of use, leads to the bridge, inviting travelers to cross and continue their journey through the idyllic countryside. The peaceful ambiance is occasionally broken by the soft rustle of leaves or the distant chirping of birds, creating a sense of serene isolation. The bridge, though simple, stands as a timeless piece of architecture that seamlessly blends into its natural surroundings, offering a perfect harmony between man-made structure and nature.

Benny, a solitary figure clad in a leather jacket and helmet, frequently rides his motorcycle along the winding country roads. His path often takes him over the old stone bridge, which he usually crosses without a second thought, the roar of his engine echoing through the serene landscape. The bridge, though beautiful, has always been just another part of his journey—a fleeting moment in his ride, never a destination.

One day, as he approaches the bridge, something unusual catches his eye. There, standing alone on the bridge, is a young woman with long, flowing black hair that cascades down her back. The breeze gently lifts the strands, playing with them as if in a dance. She's wearing a simple, flowing white dress that contrasts starkly with the earthy tones of the bridge and the vibrant colors of the countryside.

She stands near the edge of the bridge, looking out over the water, seemingly lost in thought. The sunlight bathes her in a warm glow, making her appear almost ethereal, like a figure out of a dream. The biker slows his pace, captivated by the sight. He's used to the solitude of these roads, where it's rare to encounter anyone, let alone someone so striking.

For a moment, he contemplates stopping, maybe saying hello, but something holds him back. Instead, he keeps his distance, pulling his bike to the side of the road, just out of sight, where he can observe her without intruding. The woman doesn't seem to notice him; she remains still, gazing out over the water, her expression serene and introspective.

The biker watches her in silence, a mix of admiration and curiosity stirring within him. There's something about her presence that feels almost magical, as if she's a part of the landscape, belonging to the bridge and the countryside in a way he never could. The moment feels timeless, and he finds himself wishing he could freeze it, hold on to the peace and beauty of it forever.

But he knows he can't stay. The road calls to him, as it always does. Reluctantly, he revs his engine and continues his journey, casting one last glance back at the bridge. The woman remains where she is, a solitary figure on the ancient stones, as the sound of his motorcycle fades into the distance.

From that day onward, Benny finds himself drawn to the bridge more than ever. His rides, once aimless and driven by the need to escape, now have a clear purpose: to catch a glimpse of the mysterious woman. He times his rides so that he passes by the bridge at the same hour each day, hoping to see her standing there as she always seems to be.

He never stops to speak to her, though the urge to do so grows stronger with each passing day. Instead, he keeps his distance, letting the engine of his motorcycle hum quietly as he slows down to take in the sight of her. The woman, with her long black hair flowing in the breeze, seems as much a part of the landscape as the bridge itself, as if she belongs there, waiting for someone or something.

Each day, he notices something new about her—how she sometimes wears a light scarf that flutters in the wind, or how her gaze seems to linger on the horizon, lost in thought. He sees the way she gently brushes a strand of hair behind her ear or how she occasionally leans over the edge of the bridge, watching the water below with a contemplative expression. She seems quiet, introspective, and perhaps as lonely as he is.

The more he sees her, the more he feels a connection, an inexplicable bond forming between them. He imagines what her voice might sound like, what thoughts occupy her mind as she stands there alone. He wonders what brings her to the bridge every day and what it is that she’s searching for. In his mind, he begins to create a story for her, one that intertwines with his own, filling the empty spaces in his heart with the possibility of a connection he’s never known before.

Though they never speak, her presence becomes a constant in his life, a source of quiet comfort amidst the noise of the world. He finds himself thinking about her even when he’s not riding, her image lingering in his mind like a beautiful, haunting melody. He knows nothing about her—her name, her life, her story—but it doesn’t matter. He’s falling for her, slowly, deeply, and without even realizing it, she becomes the most important part of his journey.

For nearly a month and a half, the biker’s routine remains unchanged. Each day, he rides out to the countryside, making his way to the old stone bridge. Sometimes, instead of simply passing by, he stops his bike at a discreet distance, far enough not to disturb the peaceful solitude of the bridge but close enough to watch her without being noticed. He often lights a cigarette and leans against his bike, the smoke curling up into the air as he observes her quietly.

He’s come to know her habits, though not her name. Some days, she stands by the edge of the bridge, gazing at the water below, lost in her thoughts. Other times, she sits on the low stone wall, a book in her hands. He can never make out the titles, but he watches her turn the pages slowly, her eyes fixed on the words as if the world around her has ceased to exist. There's a calmness in her demeanor, a quiet resilience that captivates him. She reads with such focus, her expression occasionally softening into a smile, as if whatever story she’s immersed in brings her some small joy.

Benny finds himself more drawn to her with each passing day, her presence on the bridge becoming a strange yet comforting part of his life. She’s a mystery, one he’s in no hurry to solve, content to simply watch her from afar. His thoughts are often filled with her image, her dark hair, her delicate fingers turning the pages of her book, the way she seems both present and distant at the same time.

But one evening, after a long ride with his biker club, he finds himself in an unexpected predicament. They’ve gathered at their usual spot, a small, dimly lit bar where the air is thick with the smell of leather, smoke, and cheap beer. It’s a place where he usually feels at ease, surrounded by the familiar faces of his friends. But tonight, something feels off. He reaches into his jacket pocket for his lighter, intending to light a cigarette as he listens to the banter around him. But his fingers come up empty.

He checks his other pockets, then his saddlebag, but the lighter is nowhere to be found. He realizes he must have dropped it somewhere, maybe during his ride, or perhaps it fell out when he stopped by the bridge earlier that day. The thought of it being lost nags at him, not because it’s irreplaceable, but because it was a part of his routine, a small yet significant piece of the time he spends watching her.

Without the lighter, the ritual feels incomplete, and he finds himself distracted, unable to fully engage in the conversations around him. His thoughts keep drifting back to the bridge, to the woman who now seems even more unreachable without the simple act of lighting a cigarette to fill the silence between them. It’s a small thing, but it feels like a crack in the carefully constructed world he’s built around his quiet obsession.

As the night wears on, he grows restless, the need to return to the bridge and see her again becoming almost unbearable. The loss of the lighter seems to symbolize something more significant, a reminder of how fragile this connection he feels with her truly is, how easily it could slip through his fingers without him ever having the courage to reach out.

Benny, unable to shake the feeling of unease, decides to ride out to the bridge, even without his lighter. As he speeds down the familiar roads, the cool evening air brushes against his face, doing little to calm the restlessness growing within him. He knows it’s irrational, this need to see her, but the pull is too strong to ignore. The lighter, though just a small object, had been a part of his quiet ritual, a companion to his moments of silent longing. But more than the lighter, it’s her absence that weighs on his mind.

When he reaches the bridge, the sun is dipping low in the sky, casting long shadows over the landscape. The stone bridge is bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, the river below shimmering like liquid gold. But as he pulls up to his usual spot, something feels off. The bridge, normally graced by her presence, is empty.

He scans the area, searching for any sign of her, but there’s nothing—no fluttering scarf, no dark hair catching the light, no book resting on the stone wall. Just the quiet hum of the river and the rustling of leaves in the breeze.

A sense of emptiness settles in his chest. He dismounts his bike, standing there for a moment, hoping that maybe she’s just late, that any second now, she’ll appear like she always does. But as the minutes pass, the bridge remains deserted, and the reality begins to sink in: she isn’t coming.

He walks closer to the bridge, his boots crunching softly on the gravel path. For the first time in weeks, he steps onto the bridge itself, moving to the spot where she usually stands. The stone is cool under his touch as he leans against the railing, looking out over the water as she so often did. The peaceful scene before him, which once brought him solace, now feels eerily still, as if the world has lost some of its color in her absence.

His mind races with possibilities. Perhaps she’s simply late, or maybe she’s found another place to pass the time. But the deeper fear, the one that gnaws at his heart, is that she might be gone for good. That he’ll never see her again, never have the chance to know her beyond the silent moments they’ve shared from afar.

As the sun continues to sink, the sky fades from gold to deep purple, and a chill settles into the air. The biker lights a cigarette with a spare match he found in his pocket, the action feeling hollow without his familiar lighter. He takes a long drag, the smoke curling up into the dusky sky, and stares out at the empty road ahead.

The evening feels strange, unsettling. The bridge, which had become a place of quiet connection and unspoken feelings, now feels like a void, a place where something important has been lost. The biker realizes how much he’s come to depend on her presence, how much he’s been changed by those silent, shared moments. And now, with her absence, he feels more alone than ever.

He stays there for a long time, long after the sun has set and the stars have begun to emerge, hoping against hope that she might still appear. But the night grows colder, and the bridge remains empty.

Just as he’s about to mount his bike and ride off, he hears a soft voice from behind him, gentle yet clear in the stillness of the evening.

“Hey, is this yours?”

He freezes, his heart skipping a beat. It’s a voice he’s never heard before but instantly knows. Slowly, he turns around, his breath catching in his throat.

There she is—standing just a few feet away, the woman who’s occupied his thoughts for weeks. She looks as stunning as ever, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders, her eyes bright with a mix of curiosity and something else—shyness, perhaps? In her hand, she’s holding his lighter, the one he thought he’d lost, the one he’d been missing all evening.

For a moment, he’s completely at a loss for words. The world seems to narrow down to just the two of them, standing on that bridge in the fading light. His heart beats erratically, the sudden rush of emotions overwhelming him. He’s spent so much time imagining what it would be like to talk to her, but now that she’s standing in front of him, words fail him entirely.

The first time Benny sees her up close, it’s as if the world around him fades away, leaving only the two of them standing on that quiet bridge. He’s seen her from a distance so many times, admired her beauty from afar, but nothing could have prepared him for this moment.

As she steps closer, her long black hair catches the light, shimmering like a cascade of midnight silk. Each strand seems to move with a life of its own, framing her delicate face in a way that makes her seem almost ethereal. Her skin, soft and pale, contrasts with the dark locks, and he can’t help but notice how it seems to glow with an inner warmth.

Her eyes—he’s never seen eyes like hers before. Up close, they’re even more striking, a deep, dark brown that holds a universe of emotions within them. They’re large and expressive, framed by thick lashes that flutter slightly as she looks at him, curiosity mingling with something more elusive. There’s a depth to those eyes that draws him in, making him feel as though he could get lost in them forever and never want to find his way out.

As she speaks, her voice soft and gentle, Benny notices the way her lips move, their fullness accentuated by a hint of natural color. He finds himself mesmerized by every word, every subtle movement, as if she’s casting a spell over him without even trying. Her lips, slightly parted as she breathes, are inviting, and for a fleeting moment, he wonders what it would be like to kiss them, to feel their warmth against his own.

He’s close enough to see the delicate curve of her collarbone, the gentle slope of her shoulders, and the way her chest rises and falls with each breath she takes. There’s a fragility to her, something that makes him want to protect her, to shield her from anything that might harm her. Yet, at the same time, there’s an undeniable strength in the way she carries herself, in the quiet grace with which she moves.

Benny’s heart pounds in his chest, his breath catching as he drinks in every detail. He’s utterly captivated, entranced by her presence. It’s as if time has slowed, allowing him to savor this moment, to memorize every feature, every nuance of her being.

For the first time, Benny feels something shift deep within him—a connection, a pull that goes beyond mere attraction. He realizes, in that instant, that she’s not just a fleeting infatuation, not just a beautiful woman standing on a bridge. She’s someone who has touched something deep inside him, awakened feelings he didn’t know he could have.

As he stands there, looking into her eyes, Benny knows that he’s enchanted—not just by her beauty, but by the very essence of who she is. And in that moment, he understands that he’s willing to do whatever it takes to get to know her, to be close to her, and to see where this newfound connection might lead.

All he can do is nod, his eyes locked on hers, trying to keep his composure as his mind races. She smiles, a small, shy smile that makes his heart pound even harder.

“I found it over there,” she continues, pointing to the spot where he usually stops to watch her. “I wasn’t sure whose it was, but I’ve seen you here before, so...”

Her voice trails off, and she takes a step closer, holding out the lighter for him to take. He reaches out, his hand trembling slightly, and takes it from her, their fingers brushing for just a brief moment. The touch is electrifying, sending a jolt through him that leaves him even more tongue-tied.

“Thank you,” he finally manages to say, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. It’s all he can muster, but it’s enough. She nods, still smiling, her eyes lingering on his for just a moment longer before she glances away, a slight blush coloring her cheeks.

There’s a silence between them, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s filled with all the unspoken words, all the feelings he’s been carrying in his heart without even realizing it. He wants to say more, to tell her how he’s noticed her every day, how much her presence has meant to him, but the words are tangled up inside him, caught in the whirlwind of emotions he’s never experienced before.

Finally, she breaks the silence. “I’m here most evenings,” she says softly, her eyes meeting his again, as if inviting him to stay longer next time, to maybe speak to her instead of just watching from afar.

He nods again, still too overwhelmed to say much, but his heart is racing with the possibility of more moments like this—of conversations, of connections, of maybe, finally, getting to know the woman who’s been a silent part of his life for so long.

With a final shy smile, she turns and walks away, heading toward the other side of the bridge, her figure gradually fading into the twilight. Benny watches her go, his lighter clutched tightly in his hand, feeling as though everything has changed in that brief encounter.

As he stands there, still processing what just happened, a sense of hope fills him—a hope that maybe this is just the beginning.

As the woman disappears into the twilight, the biker remains rooted to the spot, staring at the space where she had just stood. His heart is still pounding, but now that she’s gone, a wave of frustration begins to wash over him.

“What just happened?” he mutters to himself, still clutching the lighter she handed back to him. The realization of how he’d stood there, dumbstruck and unable to say anything meaningful, hits him hard. He runs a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh of exasperation.

“I stood there like a buffoon,” he chastises himself, shaking his head. He had imagined this moment so many times, had thought about what he might say if they ever spoke. But now that it had finally happened, he’d barely managed to get out a single word. “I could have said so many things,” he groans. “I didn’t even ask her name!”

He kicks at the gravel beneath his boots, annoyed with himself. This wasn’t like him at all. Normally, he was confident, smooth even. He knew how to talk to women, how to charm them. He’d never had trouble before—he could snap his fingers, and women would be drawn to him. But this woman, the one he’d been quietly obsessed with for weeks, had completely undone him with just a few words and a shy smile.

“What has this woman done to me?” he wonders aloud as he finally mounts his bike. He revs the engine, the familiar sound giving him a small sense of comfort, but it doesn’t shake the strange feeling that’s taken hold of him.

As he rides away from the bridge, the cool night air rushing past him, his mind is a swirl of thoughts and emotions. He tries to make sense of what happened, but the more he thinks about it, the more confused he becomes. There was something about her—something that made him feel things he hadn’t felt before, something that made him vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to.

The ride back is long, giving him plenty of time to think. He goes over the encounter again and again, replaying every detail in his mind. He imagines what he should have said, what he should have done differently. But despite his frustration, there’s a part of him that’s excited, hopeful even.

He knows now that she’s noticed him too, that she knows he’s been there, watching her. And the way she looked at him, the way she spoke—it was almost as if she wanted him to come back, to talk to her again.

As he pulls into his driveway, he kills the engine and sits on his bike for a moment, staring up at the night sky. He’s never felt this way about anyone before, and it scares him a little. But it also exhilarates him.

With a deep breath, he decides that the next time he sees her, things will be different. He’ll find the courage to speak, to ask her name, to finally start the conversation that’s been building in his heart for so long. He’s not sure what will happen, but he knows he can’t just let this opportunity slip away.

As he heads inside, he pockets the lighter, the small object now holding much more significance than before. He knows he’ll be back at that bridge tomorrow, and this time, he won’t just stand there like a fool. He’ll do what he should have done tonight—he’ll make sure she knows how much she’s come to mean to him.

part 2

let me know, you guys, my first benny fic, likes and reblogs welcome. <3 let me know if i should continue this....

#austin butler #benny cross #bikeriders #benny cross x reader #benny cross x you #the bikeriders

74 notes · View notes