#never stopped to look at him long enough. while i was drawing him he seemed very familiar and then i realised.

[catebees]

Could we see an interpretation of Cabot from the tavern? 🥺

Cabot from the Herald's Rest!!!

[onehelluvafan]

Is Octavia afraid of Stella?

This brief scene of them together in Mastermind confirmed for many of us something we’d long suspected—that Stella is not close with nor very maternal towards Octavia. But after watching this a few times, I think it might go even deeper than that. I think there are subtle hints that Octavia might actually be afraid of her.

There is evidence as early as Loo Loo Land that even when Stella was more involved, she may not have been a source of comfort for Octavia.

When baby Octavia is crying for them at the beginning of the episode, Stella says, "You get up," before Stolas sighs and goes to comfort their daughter.

There’s been some debate in the fandom that maybe this exchange was more about “taking turns” than anything else. But the sigh that Stolas gives is clearly a reaction to her response and he is already sitting up before she has even finished her sentence.

I think the implication is that he was going to get up either way and is annoyed that she has no interest in comforting Octavia, whether it be alone or together. The intensity of the sigh may also indicate that this was a regular occurrence at the time.

In the same episode, there is a photo and drawing of just Stolas and Octavia. Then later, in The Circus, we see a another photo of just the two of them.

The only pictures we see that include both Stella and Octavia are family photos with the three of them together. Over the span of 17 years, these are the only two photos that seem to exist and she is not physically touching nor looking at Octavia in either of them.

In Mastermind, Octavia is clearly very upset, but there's more being shown than just her hesitation to embrace Stella.

When she first runs from the television, Stella swoops in front of her so forcefully that there is a *whoosh* sound effect. Octavia briefly puts her hands up as she comes to a stop, so that they don’t collide.

Then, arms back down at her sides, she stands there for a moment with a look of confusion and concern on her face. At first I assumed that this was her reaction to being blocked from the doorway, but then I realized that they are in Stolas’ palace, where she wouldn’t expect her mother to be in the first place.

But the thing that startled me when I first noticed, happens when Stella reaches out to engulf her in a hug. Octavia's reactive instinct is to raise her hands, palms facing outward, and back away.

Once in Stella's embrace, she then stands there limply until she begins to cry. Only after that does she move to hug Stella back, but even then, there is another moment of hesitation when her arms are halfway up before she finally embraces her back.

It makes sense for her to be startled and confused at first, but seeing her recoil when Stella raises her arms, paints a concerning picture.

To be clear, I don't think it's meant to imply that Stella has actually hit Octavia before. Honestly, if she had, I think we can all agree that Stolas would have absolutely kicked Stella's ass straight out into the stratosphere.

We do know, however, that she has seen Stella be physically violent towards Stolas. While it’s possible that she’s never witnessed them fight previous to his cheating, she was at least exposed to it enough afterwards to be completely unfazed when her mother hurls an imp at him in Loo Loo Land.

So, I suspect that, on some level, she does not feel entirely safe around Stella.

Either way, I think we’re supposed to assume from their exchange that Octavia has likely never been comforted, or possibly even held, by Stella before.

Because the fact remains that, even after finding herself merely in an embrace, she still hesitated to accept comfort from her own mother.

[sundayslullaby]

Just thinking about.. Ft. Sunday, Aventurine, Phainon, Dr.Raito, Moze, Boothill

NSFW. TW. Pussy eating, pnv, BDSM themes, use of toys, fingering, marking, tit play MNDI

a/n here as well - all of my content is made with a plus sized reader in mind. However there are no explicit wording that would exclude others. No mention of hair texture or skin tone.

Word count: 894

Being so fucked out by Sunday and the sick pleasure he gets when youre unable to even finish his name so stuck on the “Sun” He will just look at you with a smirk and with a cooing voice 

“Awh poor baby.. Can't even finish my name.. How cute” his own lips were parted and swollen and the tinted pink on his cheeks one would think he would be ethereal, however the sinful words that kept spewing from his lips were anything but angelic. 

Of course you're embarrassed, but the draw of his cock feeling it slipping out of your soaked abused cunt made your head fuzzy. Not like you could speak anyways, your voice getting caught like hiccups and breath hitching with each deliciously pleasure filled thrust. 

How Aventurine would make bets on how long either of you could hold out. Of course he didn't care about the cost, he bets his life away every single chance he gets. However what was on the line was much less extreme, loser could go whatever they wanted to the winner, within reason of course. 

So here you were, tied up to the bedpost. Legs pushed apart by a spacer bar and a vibrator resting perfectly against your clit. You had lost count of the body numbing orgasms you've had. Body twitching craving more yet screaming at you to stop. The aching need to be filled yet so overly sensitive. A gloved hand running down your sweat sheened body as Aventurine let out a deep chuckle. “I told you I don't lose, pretty baby. Awh dont start crying now baby, the fun has only just begun” 

Phainon loves every single thing about you, but the one thing that can’t compare to anyone else no matter the size or beauty. However, the one thing he seems to be yearning for the most is the way you feel in his hands. Nobody has the same feel as you. He wasn't sure if it was the combination of how soft your skin felt against his rough palms or what, but nobody could ever be you. Phainon loves to nuzzle his nose against your neck as his tongue drags up the column of your throat. Soft grunts leaving his lips in quick breaths, sinking his cock deep inside your warm gummy walls. Feeling how you suck him in so deliciously, it made his knees buckle and shake every single time. Phainon was such a sensitive man after all. He could have your sweatshirt or even used panties pressed to his nose as he ruts into his pillow that never felt the same as your cunt. You ruined him, and he was just fine with that. 

How dr.ratio will spend hours between your legs, eating you out, having came more than once already on his tongue, having lost count. Begging for him to stop as you can't take anymore. But he's so drunk on your pussy and how your thighs muffled the sounds of your moans and cries he can't get enough of it. His hands are always on your thighs, having your back against his chest as he pressed the vibrator harder against your clit, hand pressed against your thigh keeping your legs spread open. He loves how they tremble under his grasp, how soft they are when he rubs his hands over them. How they jiggle with each step you take. It makes his head spin. 

How Moze just comes over to you while you’re bent over picking something up and just slaps your ass so hard you’re almost tumbling over. He loves to just cup and grab and knead at your ass. Always met with such a cocky smile too. It’s so full and bouncy and he just can’t help the feeling of how full it is in his hand he really can’t help himself.

Especially when you’re bouncing on his cock and the skin to skin contact drives him mad. Moze also can’t keep his hands to himself ever, it’s his toxic trait really. The groans that he tries his best to conceal but it's so hard when you feel this amazing. His rough hands coming to grip at your plush cheeks. Pawing at them and gripping the flesh as he head knocks back against the headboard. You're not sure who is more gone, you or him. 

Boothill on one hand loves to leave marks all over your body, but his favorite place to leave them is on your thighs. He will spend hours just teasing your body, leaving bite marks and kisses telling you how beautiful you are. Fingers deep inside your cunt making sure you're fully prepped and ready for his cock. He will trail down your body inch by inch but he will spend most of his time on your thighs, giving them the attention they deserve.

 Grabbing at them, biting where you're most sensitive, tugging on his hair trying to lead him where you want him most just for him to go right back to your thighs. Boothill hears your whimpers and cries for him to do something, even if it's just a kitten lick, the throbbing almost becoming unbearable. Needy tears collecting along your lash line, Grabbing at his forearms, it doesn't go unnoticed. He's just not done yet. 

[the-thing-inside-your-closet]

Danny and Ellie are forced to flee Amity Park. And find themselves in Coast City.

I started writing this with the intention of only writing a short prompt, but then I just kept going until I felt like I’d written enough.

Danny gets caught up in yet another fight with Skulker, only this time it wasn’t because Skulker had come for Danny. No. He’d come for Ellie. And she was already weak from fleeing the GIW who had shot at her the moment she arrived in Amity Park.

Whether Skulker is after Ellie for Vlad, or because he wants her pelt can be up to you.

Either way, he manages to beat Skulker and captures him in the thermos. Just as he lets out a long sigh of relief he hears the sound of an ecto-gun being fired and then his side is burning and he’s falling. He’s falling too fast and it hurts and he can’t stop-

Danny guys the ground hard. His head is spinning, his skin feels like it’s burning, and he can hear the stomping of feet as someone runs towards him.

He needs to get up. He needs to get away. Find Ellie and make sure she’s safe. He’s needs to MOVE- but he can’t. Black spots for his vision as he manages to stand up and his eyes meet the end of his mother’s gun.

Before anyone can speak, he’s falling again, handing face first in the dirt. And the familiar feeling of de-transforming washes over him.

The last thing he hears before loosing consciousness is the grief stricken sound of his parent’s voice as three voices shout in unison.

“OH MY GOD DANNY!”

“DANNY ARE YOU OKAY?!”

“NO, GET AWAY FROM HIM!”

When Danny wakes up again, he’s in his room, the curtains are drawn but he can see the sliver of sunlight pouring in through the gap underneath. He notes that his body aches, but not as much as usual after a fight like that. And there’s a warmth enveloping his hand. It’s soothing, and he almost considers going back to sleep when he notices that there’s a ghost in the room. And all too fast he’s sitting up and staring into the exhausted, red, puffy eyes of his mother looking back at him from where she’s sitting holding his hand in hers.

Just behind her he sees Ellie floating just above the ground talking quietly with his dad.

“Danny,” his mother’s voice draws his attention along with Jack and Ellie’s. “How are you feeling, sweetheart? Are you in any pain?”

He didn’t notice when she’d helped him to lay back down again. “Do you need anything? Ellie here was just telling us about how regular pain medication doesn’t work as well for the two of you. But I’m sure we could find something for you that might-”

“Mom,” Danny rasps. Man his throat was dry.

As if reading him mind Ellie appears by his mother’s side holding out a glass of water with a straw in it. Maddie helps Danny to sit up a little more so he can drink.

“Mom,” he tries again, sounding better this time, “I’m okay. I promise. It’s not that bad!” He starts to lie as the panic sets in. He de-transformed in front of them. He knows he did. And the fear shows on his face, it must, because before he can even begin trying to think up an excuse his mother is crying.

“Oh Danny, it’s okay. We know. And we’re not angry at you. We love you. So much.”

And Danny’s heart swells at hearing it. “You don’t hate me for being Phantom?” He asks quietly.

“No! We could never hate you Dann-o!” His dad’s cheery tone doesn’t disguise the sadness and guilt etched into his face. “We’re just…so sorry that we never noticed before. And that we…” he can’t finish his sentence but he doesn’t need to. Danny already knows what he’s apologise for.

“I’m okay. I promise. I heal fast!” Danny tied to reassure them.

It seems to help a little, though his parents still have a grim look in their eyes. As they make connections in just how Danny would know that about himself.

And Ellie, with perfect timing to cut the tension, announces happily, “Danny! Good news! Your parents said I could stay with you!”

Ellie had told his parents while Danny was unconscious about being his clone. She saw how they fretted over Danny, cleaning and dressing his injuries with the love and care she only imagined from a parent that truly loves you. And they had accepted her almost right away. Jack even crying as he proudly declared himself a father of three.

Jack soon excused himself, saying he’ll go see if Jazz needs any help with cooking lunch. Danny and his mother share a look, and with a final kiss to his head says she’ll go make sure nothing gets brought back to life. And she asks Ellie to please make sure Danny stays in bed and rests.

Danny and Ellie are left alone in his room, and it gives Danny the chance to really revel in everything. His parents accept him. They love him, both sides of him. And they accepted Ellie too! And said she can stay! She doesn’t have to be alone anymore.

Now, a lot can happen in the span of a few seconds, let alone minutes. In the time it took for Maddie to reach the kitchen, their front door was kicked down and a group of GIW agents had stormed in demanding they hand over the ectoplasmic scum they were harbouring.

Jack and Maddie drew their weapons and planted themselves directly in front of the GIW agents. The agents state that a ghost shield was put up around the house to prevent any ghosts from escaping, and by law any ghosts within the premises were ti be handed over for destruction immediately. Jazz runs upstairs to Danny’s room to warn them that the GIW were inside the house and that they needed to run. They need to get to the portal NOW.

With all the authority of an older sister Jazz tells Ellie to grab the go bag Danny had insisted on having prepared, and picks Danny up despite his protests that he could walk. Or well, fly. Ellie turns them all invisible and intangible and takes them down to the lab.

They can hear the sound of shouting, and something breaking and a gun being fired all coming from upstairs as Jazz opens the portal for Danny and Ellie.

Another shot rings out. And then another, and more shouting.

“Quickly you two need to go!”

Another shot.

“Aren’t you coming with us?” Danny, now Phantom, asks suddenly as he and Ellie are preparing to enter the Ghost Zone.

Two more shots.

“Someone needs to be here to deactivate the portal in case the guys in white make it down here. I’ll be fine. Mom and dad will be okay, they’re not here for us so you two need to go. Now!” There’s banging on the lab’s door and Jazz shoves both Danny and Ellie into the portal. The last thing Danny hears before the portal closes behind them is another shot being fired.

Danny is scared and angry as he and Ellie are forced to fly through the zone with no currently known way to get back to his family. He needs to make sure they’re okay. He needs to protect them.

But right now Danny is still hurt, and he needs to get himself and Ellie somewhere safe. They begin to slowly make their way through the zone, looking for somewhere to rest and avoiding any ghosts that might want to pick a fight.

Ellie isn’t sure how long she and Danny have been moving for. It feels like it could have been days, or hours, or even minutes. But Danny can’t fly as quickly right now. He’s trying to keep a brave face for Ellie’s sake but she can see the exhaustion beginning to take hold of him.

So Ellie makes the executive decision to touch down somewhere to rest. She tells Danny she’s tired. Danny knows she isn’t and it’s only because she’s worried and wants him to rest. So he goes along with it and they make their way to the next floating island they come across and thank the ancients it’s empty. The two halfas touch down and Danny slumps over as he sits against a nearby rock. Ellie pulls out some energy bars that were tucked away in the go bag and hands one over to Danny.

They do this a few times, stopping to rest, as they gradually make their way to the Far Frozen. Ellie had insisted on going there, Frostbite would know what to do, and he would be able to help Danny with his injuries that had started bleeding again in all the commotion of escaping, and then flying and hiding from ghosts known to attack Danny regularly.

But unfortunately luck is not on their side yet again as a natural portal rips open directly in front of them, and closes behind them after spitting them out in a city they didn’t recognise.

That’s how Danny and Ellie find themselves in Coast City, hiding out in an old warehouse by the docs while Danny heals and they figure out how they’re going to get back home.

That is, until now.

Danny stares up at his little sister and sighs with the resigned tone of an exasperated older sibling.

“Ellie,” he takes a breath, “what did you do?”

“I’m my defence,” Ellie glares up at Green Lantern, who has Ellie scruffed by the back of her hoodie, before looking back at Danny, “I simply do not vibe with the law.”

[connorsui]

I really like the thought of touch starved sukuna ...especially when he refuses to admit it

Sukuna isn’t helpless. Far from it. But there’s something about the way your fingers ghost over his skin that makes him play the part to almost ….perfection? It starts innocently enough, a habit born from your gentle nature and his begrudging acceptance of your presence in his space. He doesn’t ask for it, of course. Sukuna would never ask. Instead, he makes it your responsibility, leaving you to deal with the mess he’s too “tired” to handle himself.

It’s the tattoos that always draw you in first. Thick black lines etched into his skin, weaving intricate patterns over muscles that ripple beneath your touch. He’ll sprawl out on the couch or the bed, or even the floor with his face resting on his folded arms, and mumble something about his back or his shoulders just loud enough for you to hear.

At first, you don’t even realize he’s doing it on purpose. You’ve always been tactile, absentmindedly brushing your fingers over his broad shoulders as you sit beside him or tracing the ink on his arms while you think. But the more you do it, the more he seems to... expect it.

And when you don’t?

“What. are. you doing?”

The words come in that deep, cutting tone, his head turning just enough for you to see the unamused look in his crimson eyes. You roll your eyes, but your fingers return to their task, smoothing over his skin with the care he’d never admit he craves.

It’s not long before he takes full advantage of your weakness for him. He’ll knot his robe just a little too tight or feign exhaustion, draping himself across the nearest surface with a dramatic sigh.

“Fix it,” he’ll grumble, his voice muffled by the fabric of his sleeve.

“You’re more than capable of doing it yourself,” you shoot back, though you’re already reaching for him.

“Wouldn’t ask if I could.”

You huff, your fingers working at the stubborn knot while he smirks to himself, knowing exactly how easily you’ll give in. He’s spoiled, and he knows it.

The worst, though, is when he’s on the bed, lying on his stomach with his face turned to the side of his nightstand.. You’ll be sitting right beside him, minding your own business, when he shifts closer—just enough for his shoulder to bump against your leg.

It’s subtle at first, a silent request you could easily ignore. But then he makes it obvious, his fingers drumming against the mattress or his voice cutting through the silence.

“You’ve been sitting there for a while,” he’ll say, not bothering to look at you.

“And?”

“You’re neglecting your duties.”

You snort, but your hand moves anyway, brushing over his back in slow, deliberate strokes. He sighs, the sound so soft and content you almost miss it. Almost.

Sukuna’s obsession with your touch doesn’t stop there. If anything, it grows worse with time. He starts leaning into you more, his shoulder brushing yours as you sit together, or his head resting in your lap while you thread your fingers through his hair. He never asks for these things outright, he’s too proud for that. But the way he nudges closer, the way his eyes soften when you indulge him, tells you everything you need to know.

And when you tease him about it?

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he’ll scoff, though the faint flush on his cheeks betrays him.

But you know the truth. Sukuna, for all his power and pride, is hopelessly addicted to the warmth of your hands on his skin. And you? You’ve long since accepted that you’re just as hopeless when it comes to him.

[levisjinchuriki]

truly, madly, deeply - toji fushiguro

part 1

summary: toji didn't realize what he lost until he did

warning: angst, crying, toji pleading his case, yelling, mentions of toxic relationship

toji rests until late morning. you don’t disturb him, knowing he needs the sleep after the storm he weathered last night. while he’s out, you sneak into the room to set a glass of water and painkillers on the nightstand for his inevitable migraine. it's not much, but it’s something. 

you linger in the doorway for a moment after, watching him. in his sleep, toji looks so different. the sharp edges of his features are softer now. the furrow in his brow from last night is gone, replaced by a peace that’s rare. it pains you to watch him this way, knowing that the man lying before you carries so much anguish.

when he finally wakes, you hear the creak of the mattress and quiet shuffle of his feet before he appears in the living room, drawn by the smell of you making breakfast. he lingers in the doorway at first, then steps further into the kitchen, his footsteps slow and tentative.

you don’t say anything, keeping your focus on plating the food. you know he’s watching you, debating what to say—or if he should say anything at all.

you plate the meals, just like you always used to, and set his on the counter. still, you don’t make eye contact. it’s not intentional, just the natural result of a mind weighed down with too many thoughts. but toji’s eyes are on you, steady and unrelenting, following your every movement.

should he thank you for last night? apologize for the mess he dragged into your home? ask how you slept, even though he knows the answer? none of it feels right, and the words remain lodged in his throat.

instead, what comes out is something entirely different.

“can you stop?”. his tone is sharp but not angry—tired, maybe. it’s enough to make you pause, your hands hovering over the dish towel on the counter. slowly, you look up, meeting his gaze for the first time.

“stop what?” you ask puzzled. you’re not trying to frustrate him. you’re not entirely sure what you’re doing.

"acting like everything is normal. it's driving me crazy" toji says, his tone edged with frustration. it’s not really what he wants to say. he’s never been good at expressing himself, not in the way you need him to be.

you notice the turmoil flickering behind his eyes. his words only skim the surface of what’s really going on beneath. there’s so much pain there, unspoken and unresolved, that even he doesn’t seem to know what to do with it.

"i don’t like seeing you like this" you admit softly. it’s an honest confession, one you’ve been holding back for longer than you care to admit. your words catch him off guard, and he visibly flinches, his tough exterior momentarily cracking. for a second, he looks like he’s about to say something vulnerable, but just as quickly, he recovers, masking his emotions with sharp words.

"yeah, well, whose fault is that?" he bites out, his tone harsher than he intends. the second the words leave his mouth, regret flashes across his face. 

he knows it’s his fault. it’s always been his fault. every hardship, every heartbreak, every sleepless night you endured in this relationship has been caused by his actions, his choices. and yet, he still lashes out, deflecting because it’s easier than facing his guilt head-on.

you draw in a breath, steadying yourself against the sting of his words. "that’s not fair" you say quietly. it’s not. he knows it’s not.

toji’s gaze drops to the floor, his jaw tightening as the truth of your words settles over him. the blame shouldn’t be on you for leaving him. if anything, he’s lucky you stayed as long as you did, long past the point when most people would have walked away.

in hindsight, he doesn’t even know why you didn’t leave sooner. you deserve so much more than he ever gave you. 

"how many times has this happened before last night?" you ask carefully, afraid of pushing him too far.

toji’s shoulders sag under the weight of your question. embarrassment flickers across his face, and you can see the truth in the way his jaw tightens. he’s lost count. he doesn’t want to say it, but you already know. his bad habits weren’t new, and they’ve worsened since the separation.

"why does it matter?" he mutters, his tone defensive but laced with shame.

you hesitate, your heart heavy with the truth you’ve been keeping to yourself. it feels too big to say, too tangled with all the unresolved emotions swirling between you. but he’s looking at you now, his eyes searching yours, and you know he deserves an answer.

"because i care about you" you say.

for a moment, his expression softens, the harsh lines of his face easing as your words sink in. he doesn’t say anything, but you can see the conflict playing out in his eyes. 

just because you’re not together anymore doesn’t mean you’ve stopped caring. it doesn’t mean you’ve stopped worrying about him. it doesn’t mean you want to see him drink himself into an early grave. and it doesn’t mean you’ve stopped loving him. that part, you don’t say, but it lingers in the air between you, unspoken but undeniably there.

you half-expect him to make a flippant comment, a typical toji move to deflect from his feelings. but instead, his jaw tightens, and he shakes his head. there’s a twitch in his nose—a tell you��ve come to recognize, the small sign that he’s fighting back emotions he doesn’t want to show.

“don’t do that” he warns. you can hear the strain in his voice, like he's on the edge of something he doesn’t know how to handle. he’s so far from the image of the hard, untouchable man he’s always pretended to be. instead, he looks fragile—struggling, hurting, desperately trying to hold himself together while everything inside him feels like it’s breaking.

toji sniffles, his hand coming up to rub over his face, as if he can scrub away the emotion threatening to surface. the sight of it tugs at your heart in ways you can’t control.

“why did you call me last night?” you ask quietly, your voice careful. 

he looks at you then, and for a second, your resolve nearly crumbles. his gaze is so broken, so full of regret. the deep sigh he lets out seems to drain what little fight he has left.

“because no matter how hard i try, i can’t get you out of my damn head” he says.

your heart hammers in your chest. you open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat. 

“i know i don’t have the right to call you anymore” he continues bitterly—mostly at himself, at the situation, at everything. “but i just—i needed to hear your voice”.

there it is. the truth hurts to hear. despite everything that’s happened, despite the space and pain between you, he still turned to you. when he had no one else, when he was at his lowest, it was you he called. that has to mean something—doesn’t it?

you blink, your chest tightening as you watch him struggle to keep his composure. toji— tough, unshakable toji—looks like he’s barely holding it together.

“i don’t know how to stop” he admits after another long moment of silence, his voice breaking just enough to make you flinch. “thinking about you. missing you”. his hands hang at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching as if he’s fighting some invisible force. “i screwed it all up. i know that. but you—”. he looks at you then, his gaze so intense it feels like it might break you. “you’re still the only thing that makes sense to me. even now”. 

his words sting, but you can see the pain in his eyes—the regret that’s etched so deeply into his features as if it’s become a part of him. he doesn’t move closer, doesn’t reach for you, even though you can tell he wants to.

you’re not even sure what you want to say. that he’s wrong? that he’s right? that you’ve been struggling too?

your heart twists painfully at his words. you want to be angry. you want to tell him that he doesn’t get to just show up like this, throwing his pain at your feet. but you can’t. because deep down, you know that anger isn’t what you feel.

“do you think that makes it any easier for me?” you ask, your voice trembling. “watching you like this? knowing you’re hurting?”. your eyes fill with tears as you stare into his. 

“we ended things for a reason. for a lot of reasons.” your voice wavers as a thousand emotions swirl inside you. his eyes squeeze shut, and he nods, like he’s bracing himself for the final blow. but when he looks at you again, there’s a desperation there you’ve never seen before.

“i know” he says hoarsely. “and you were right to leave. i know i screwed everything up. i know i don’t deserve this—don’t deserve you—but…” he trails off, his voice cracking. “i’ve never felt like this before. not with anyone else. not even close. and i can’t… i don’t want anyone else”.

you want to believe him. you want to believe that he’s changed, that this time will be different, that he won’t let you down again. but you’ve heard promises before. 

“i can’t trust you” you say, the words trembling as they leave your lips, tears slipping freely down your cheeks. even though you’re the one who left, it feels like you’re breaking up all over again, reopening wounds you thought had begun to heal.

“i know i don’t deserve another chance. but i mean it this time. i swear i do”. his voice cracks, and it’s enough to make your chest ache. 

his words sound genuine, the emotion in his voice undeniable, but how can you trust that? he’s hurt you before, made promises before. still, the way he looks at you now—like you’re the only thing holding him together—makes you hesitate.

“i still love you” he adds, the confession spilling out like it’s been tearing him apart. his gaze locks onto yours, desperate and searching for something—anything—that might give him hope.

you look away, wiping at your tears with trembling fingers. you're torn, trapped between the part of you that aches to believe him—the part that longs for the warmth of the love you once shared—and the part that knows better, the one that remembers the cold, sharp edges of his neglect.

you think of the moments of love and laughter—his low chuckle in your ear, the way he’d pull you into his chest and kiss the top of your head, the rare but precious mornings where the world seemed to stop, just the two of you tangled together in the quiet.

but those memories are eclipsed by others, darker and heavier. broken promises whispered in the aftermath of fights that left you raw, the sting of his absence when you needed him most, the hollow ache of lying awake in bed while he chased after his own demons, leaving you to face yours alone.

it hurts too much.

“i think you should go” you tremble.

toji freezes. for a moment, he looks like he might argue, his mouth opening slightly as if the words are on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill out and plead his case. but they never come. instead, his shoulders sag, the fight draining out of him as your words sink in.

he runs a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling as they rake over the strands. his eyes—those same eyes that once held so much confidence, so much fire—are now clouded with regret.

“okay” he says softly, his voice almost a whisper, as if saying it any louder might shatter what little composure he has left. 

he doesn’t move right away. instead, he lingers, his gaze locked on you, searching your face as if trying to memorize every detail, to hold onto this moment even as it slips through his fingers. there’s a quiet desperation in his eyes, a silent plea for you to take it back, to tell him to stay.

but you don’t.

you stand there, frozen, watching as he takes a shaky breath and finally turns toward the door. his movements are slow, reluctant, like every step is an admission of defeat.

when he reaches the door, he hesitates, his hand resting on the handle. for a second, you think he might say something, one last attempt to change your mind. but he doesn’t. he opens the door, stepping out without looking back.

and just like that, he’s gone.

you press your hand to your chest, the ache there unbearable, and you sink onto the couch, tears streaming freely now.

your mind races, his words replaying over and over. i mean it this time. i still love you. i’m sorry. what if he really does mean it? what if he’s changed? what if this time, things could be different?

but then the other voice—the one that remembers the hurt, the loneliness, the promises that were always broken—creeps in. what if he hasn’t? what if it’s the same cycle all over again?

the tears keep coming, and you let them. the ache in your chest feels unbearable, a mix of anger, love, and regret twisting into something you can’t untangle.

you want to believe him. god, you want to believe him. but trust is fragile, and yours has been shattered too many times.

you picture toji on the other side of that door, his shoulders slumped, his face etched with the pain of rejection. you know what he’s feeling because you feel it too—a deep, gnawing emptiness that no amount of reasoning can fill. 

but you also know the truth.

this is the path you chose because it’s the one that hurts less in the long run. toji has to accept that he’s lost the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and you have to accept that some things, no matter how much you want them to, can’t be fixed.

memories of the life you once shared flash through your mind—the laughter that came so easily in the beginning, the quiet nights when words weren’t needed, just the steady rhythm of his breathing as he held you close. 

but then comes the other memories… the arguments that seemed to come out of nowhere, his voice raised, yours breaking. the promises that felt like lifelines at the time but were discarded so casually. the nights you spent staring at the ceiling, the bed cold and empty, wondering why you weren’t enough.

it’s not fair.

you were never the problem.

you clench your fists, your nails digging into your palms as you fight back the surge of anger and grief that threatens to overwhelm you. how many times did you tell yourself that love would be enough? that if you just tried harder, gave more of yourself, things would change? how many times did you accept his apologies, his promises to do better, only to be left in the same cycle of disappointment?

still, the tiny flicker of hope refuses to die. it lingers, stubborn and persistent, whispering what if in the back of your mind. what if this time is different? what if he really means it? what if the love you both still feel is enough to mend what’s been broken?

you hate that hope.

it feels like a betrayal of all the pain you’ve endured, a cruel trick your heart plays to keep you tethered to someone you know isn’t good for you. and yet, you can’t bring yourself to let it go completely.

the weight of your decision feels suffocating, but you remind yourself that trust is a fragile thing. once broken, it’s nearly impossible to piece back together. 

toji has to learn to live with what he’s lost. he has to understand that love isn’t enough without trust, without effort, without change.

your tears have stopped, but the ache in your chest remains, a dull and constant reminder of what you’ve let go.

you hope toji will find a way to heal, to become the man he claims he wants to be. but more than that, you hope you can find the strength to move forward, to leave the pieces of your shattered trust behind and rebuild yourself into someone whole again.

because no matter how much you still love him, you can’t keep breaking your own heart in the hope that one day, he’ll stop breaking it for you.

---

taglist: @lavenderdaydream97 @smaranshakthi

thank you for reading my mini series!! i haven't made an angst fic in a long time and as much as i wanted to have them be together in the end, it felt forced. don't be mad! <3

[cuntphoric]

can u do a bf gojo eating u out roughly out of nowhere and even after begging and crying for him to stop he doesn’t 😛😛

a/n; I GOT YOU, i hope this reached your expectations because i know it certainly didn't for me lol, i'm still working on how to write a fem!reader receiving cunnilingus so bare with me. not proofread!!

you were already gasping, hips twitching as gojo worked his tongue against you in a way that made your brain cloudy. he started soft, slow enough to make your chest ache with how carefully he was taking you apart. he was taking his time to ruin you. his lips brushed over your clit like he was tasting something delicate, and every gentle swipe of his tongue had your toes curling. he was dragging his tongue out - then pushing it back in.

his hands rested firmly on your thighs, thumbs drawing lazy circles into your skin as you shifted under him. you tried to squirm away, just a little for more friction, just so he can go faster- but his grip held you steady. "mm, where’re you goooinng?" he murmured, kissing the inside of your thigh, nipping at the skin to make you whine, before returning back to your clit. "stay still for me, yeah sweetheart? i've got you, don't you worry."

but.. yeah no, now he's the one getting impatient.

everything about him was deliberate. his tongue traced slow, teasing circles around your clit, never quite giving you enough to push you over the edge but more than enough to make your breath hitch. he was in control, and he knew it. every now and then, he’d glance up at you, his pretty, lightening blue eyes that were half lidded and just was glittering with lust. this was a game to him and he was winning, unsurprisingly..

until he shifted that is, because without warning - his grip on your thighs tightened, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks. his mouth that was just gentle, became fast, lips latching onto your clit as his tongue flicked over the sensitive bud with a rough, feverish lick. you jolted, your back arched instantly, a sharp cry slipping out as your hands flew to his hair.

"s-satoru, wait!" you suddenly choked out, your hand flying to his hair in an effort to pull him away but instead, instinctively, your thighs wrapped around his head, locking him in place. it wasn’t intentional, but the pressure only seemed to spur him on, his tongue working meaner, harsher, as if he wasn’t already driving you insane. he let out a low, muffled chuckle, one of his hands sliding down to grip your hips as he pressed his face even closer, nose brushing against your bud.

until his free hand grabbed your wrist, pinning it to your side effortlessly to look up at you.

"wait?" he murmured, his voice thick and dripping with a mocking, mean tone. his lips were slick, chin glistening with your wetness from how thoroughly he’d been working you over. "hmm.. nope! i don’t think i will."

before you could protest, he dove right back in, sucking your clit with a bruising force while his fingers slid between your wet folds. two fingers plunged into you without hesitation, curling perfectly to hit that spot. you thrashed under him, the overstimulation felt too much for you, tears spilling down your cheeks as you begged and begged.

"b-baby, please! it’s too much- i c-can’t!" your voice cracked, broken and desperate, but he didn’t let up. if anything, your pleas seemed to fuel him, a low, short laugh rumbling against your core as he pressed his tongue in harder, drawing another strangled cry from your lips.

"too much?" he said, pulling back just long enough to taunt you, his voice almost a low growl. "nothing's too much, silly!"

your legs trembled uncontrollably, your body writhing as he bullied your cunt. his fingers moved faster, thrusting into you while his tongue circled your clit in quick, rough strokes. your sobs and moans were basically all he heard, your hands clawing at the sheets as you felt yourself on the verge of cumming.

"pleaase, i.." you couldn’t finish, your body jerking as the pleasure ripped through you in waves, but even then, he didn’t stop. he continued to lap your pussy, his hands kept your hip and wrist pinned down as his mouth stayed latched to you, dragging you through a mean orgasm until you were shaking and crying, completely wrecked.

and WHEW. what a mess.. you were sobbing and shaking as your orgasm came through you, your whole body trembling and spent.

only until then when you were finally able to push him off did he finally pull away, lips and chin shining as he grinned up at you. that bitch ass grin. "see? told you you could take it," he teased, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, rubbing the inside of your thigh gently.. back to square one.. again.

"you’re doing soo good for me though.. just one more, yeah? maybe two."

[genderless-naper]

candle shopping

trafalgar law x strawhat!reader

smut! a lil ooc rough law hehe

nsfw, wc: 3.4k, lowercase intended !

a boring day on the sunny draws law to go ‘candle shopping’ from your personal collection. it accidentally escalates to something deeper than meant to be

being stuck on a ship in the middle of the ocean with the strawhats was not the most ideal for law. they were loud, obnoxious, and have no concept of personal space. law would often find himself locked away in rooms to find some peace and quite from the hectic crew.

the only strawhat he could bear being around was you. you had the personality to match with the others humors, but he would discover a completely different side whenever he found himself on the deck at night starring at you while you rambled about how endless the sea was. he could have spent the time lost away in books, but in reality he didnt mind exchanging his time with you. that was more than he could say about any of the strawhats.

law knew something was wrong with him when he looked forward to seeing you during breakfast. the way you appeared in his view made made his mind generate hundreds of thoughts at once. sometimes he would curse himself and avoid looking at you all together. this tactic didnt last long since you were always asking him something.

“hey law do you need any sugar for your coffee?” you held out the small container with sugar cubes

he never added sugar in his coffee, but how could he resist when you asked him so earnestly? how could he say no when you made the effort to think about him?

he took two and added them to his cup as he watched you make jokes with luffy about eating sea monsters for lunch. he was starring at you again before he realized it.

you on the other hand were no stranger to how the surgeon was the slightest bit friendlier to you. he didnt immediately leave when you approached him like when others did. hell, he actually made an effort to converse with you when you said something.

during one uneventful afternoon laying on the lawn you decided to check on your friends to see if they were doing anything interesting. you found luffy, usopp, and chopper fishing at the side of the sunny. their activity seemed more boredom-inducing than yours. you found zoro doing his usual 2000 pushups which were apart of his training routine. you found sanji prepping vegetables for his next meal. you saw nami and robin enjoying the weather laying on chairs on the deck. you found brook cleaning his violin while being told an ailen story by franky. everyones activities just seemed uneventful. you thought of your next stop on your checking-in-with-friends train.

knowing where to find the last subject, you headed to the library of the sunny. you found law nose-deep in some mundane book.

“he’s probably the most uninteresting person to check up on.” you thought to yourself. law heard the door open. he simply didn’t care enough to look up to know who entered, or give a thought of acknowledgment when the unknown person approached him. he only withdraws from his book when you sit next to him asking how his day was. you rambled on about how bored you were and how the crew had nothing fun to do.

at this point law would usually get up and go somewhere else secluded to finish his book. he wanted to, but something was holding him back. maybe it was the way you talked, or the way your hair fell perfectly over your shoulders, or how your confidence radiated when you held his eye contact. he would never admit how he would give anything just to hear you say his name on a loop. it made him feel special.

and yet he pushed those feelings deep into his abyss when he replied, trying to sound as cold as possible, “i honestly dont care. im busy so leave me alone” law was expecting you to be offended or leave. the last thing he thought he would hear was you bursting into laughter.

‘did i say something embarrassing?’ he thought to himself trying to retrace his words exactly.

you shook your head and tossed his book to the side while replying,

“all this reading has made you become the most boring person on this ship! who cares about some variant-strand of a virus whose last infection was recorded 200 years ago?” he kept a cool expression on his face.

you were desperate to find something entertaining to do. realizing how dimly lit the library could be you thought back to your candle stash you kept which had varieties of scents.

“hey, do you like candles?” you asked the raven haired man.

law raised an eyebrow suspiciously, “candles? why would you ask that?”

you lit up finally finding an activity to pass the time with. you grabbed his hand and pulled him to the girls cabin, “lets take you candle shopping!”

this was laws first time entering the girls cabin of the ship. he never had a reason to. he was quite surprised to see how much more spacious, cleaner, and taken care of it was compared to the boys. your bed was made, and it looked like heaven to the heavily sleepy-induced doctor who constantly disregarded his insomniac habits.

you rummaged under your bed and pulled out a bag with different colors and sizes of candles. you put the bag on your bed and pulled out candles one by one.

law stared in an utter state of confusion. you popped the top off of one and handed it to him, “smell this and see if you like it”

at first the doctor quietly refused, trying to hand the candle back so he could go back to reading. you huffed and dragged him to sit on your bed, “if youre gonna coop yourself in that library all day like a chicken you might as well take a candle with you. its so dimly lit i dont get how you can read at night. now find one that you like! dont worry i wont charge you.” you winked playfully at the doctor

law fought the blood threatening to rise to his cheeks. he gave up and started ‘candle shopping’ through your pile. he smelt some that were vanilla heavy, fruit heavy, lavender heavy, tobacco heavy (he hated that one specifically), and more. they all left him feeling unimpressed.

you thought for what the man sitting next to you would enjoy. you grabbed another candle that was a shade of deep green. you read the label and handed it to him. “this one has notes of deep forest, sandalwood, and fresh spring water.” law smelt it not expecting much.

he was pleasantly surprised to find how he actually liked this scent. you were excited to see if he found a candle that fit his interests, “do you like that one? should i light it for you??”

he saw at your excitement radiating off of you. how could he say no when you went to the extent to find him something he liked? how could he say no when you cared this much about him? he silently handed the candle back.

you cleared away the other rejected candles and got off your bed. you ordered law to lay down as you lit the candle carefully, “you need to relax to be able to fully enjoy the energy it offers! try to get comfortable.”

he was astonished at your directness, “you want me to.. lay down on your bed? it’s made and ill just get it messy.”

you shook your head and pushed him to lay down. you carefully placed the candle on the floor right next to the bed, “close your eyes and really try to relax trafalgar”

he felt a warm sensation spread in his stomach when you said his name. he was left with no choice but to close his eyes. the scent of the wax filled the room gradually. it wasn’t a scent that was overpowering. he could still smell you on your sheets with the candle’s notes lingering in the background.

you stay quite as you watched the once stoic man fade into a state of relaxation. you were feeling proud of your succession.

law heard footsteps starting to approach the door of the cabin followed by laughter of the other two female members. his once relaxed state quickly washed away not wanting to be caught. he wasn’t just in the girls cabin. he was in your bed. who knows what the strawhats would think of him? he gave you a look of alarm.

as the cabin knob twisted you quickly jumped into bed and pulled the covers up. you were on your side with your back facing the door trying your best to conceal the tattooed man. your legs were practically tangled with each other. mere centimeters was the distance between your faces. you shushed him quietly and pushed him slightly lower while hiding his hat under your bed.

the door opened as the two females walked in. nami saw you in bed and wondered what was wrong, “hey y/n is everything okay?”

nico robin hummed, “its not like you to be in bed in the middle of the day”

you faked a cough trying to convince them of you feeling unwell, “i just wanted to lay down for a bit.”

nami replies, “if you want me to ask sanji to make you some soup then let me know”

you okay’d a response back to her.

law wished he activated his powers before becoming stuck in this predicament. he wished he never got sucked into your side quest. he wish he could be able to say no to you. maybe then he wouldn’t have been stuck hiding in bed with you. his hand was naturally placed on your waist as you had left your hand in his hair after trying to push him down. the position was dangerous for him. he looked up at you while you flashed apologetic looks.

you finally noticed your hand slightly tangled in his hair. you tried to move it to make the position less awkward. moving it a few centimeters before opting to return it to its original position to avoid attention being drawn to you. the feeling of your fingers trying to move yet returning back to him made his mind blank out. his eyes turned half lidded as the forestry scent was of the candle made him slightly sink into you. dangerously closer than ever.

you took in every feature of the man right before you. you quietly moved your thumb from the roots of his hair to trace his facial features softly. you dont know what came over you. you ran your thumb lightly across his eyebrow, his nose bridge, then cheek bone, and finally to his lip. you hesitate, resting your thumb on his lower lip, not daring to move it any further.

laws gaze had changed from its previous cold appearance. he looked different from before, as if he wanted you to continue. he needed you to admire his features just like how he admired yours every moment he saw you. both your desperations climbed in attempt to keep quiet. his hold on your waist pulled you ever so slightly closer to him. enough hoping you wouldn’t notice. you continued to slowly trace his lower lip, pulling down on it slightly to see how far he would really let you take it.

he shot you a dangerously possessive gaze. it was his turn to return the act. he slowly ran his once resting hand down your waist and down your thigh. your curves fitting perfectly in his hand. he gripped your thigh slightly, which earned a surprised gasp from you.

nami looked back over, completely oblivious to the unsuspecting man in bed with you, “are you sure you’re okay y/n..?”

you responded quicker than you liked to admit, trying to hide the panic in your voice, “im fine really! just a bit of a headache i guess. ill be fine once i take a nap.” you glanced back down at the raven-haired man who pressed a ghosting kiss against your thumb.

you felt your heart skip a beat as your body’s heat started to rise. you couldn’t believe how daring he’s trying to show you he could be. any moment other than now would’ve been better to see.

you try to move your legs to untangle them from the man in front of you. you bit your lip as you felt your thigh brush harshly against law in between his legs. you freeze while you feel him harden slightly; member pressing back onto your thigh.

law tried his best for fight these sensations, but it was difficult when all you did was light his body on fire every time you moved. the warm sensation in his stomach from earlier growing into a blaze. he mouthed words at you carefully quiet, ‘don’t move’

you smirk once you realize the position you were in. you were towering over law as he looks at you with eyes which showed slight desperation. you kept tracing his lower lip as you continued to push your thigh against his growing member. you wanted to be the sole reason he fought to make any noise in that moment.

law cursed you silently in his head. he gripped your thigh while digging his fingertips into your skin. he shot you a now threatening look. knowing what you were doing and how you deliberately were doing it to get a kick out of him drove him insane.

he could easily take control of the power dynamic now in place if it hadn’t been for the women still in the room. he knew you were taking advantage of the situation. he fought a growl as you trailed your hand from his lip to the collar of his shirt. playing with it innocently while devilishly tormenting the man with your thigh drove you to feel your stomach blaze as well.

the two women bid their farewells as they left the cabin shutting the door behind them. you felt a sense of relief wash over you, but were pulled back into reality when law grabs your ass while slightly grinding himself on your thigh to feel some relief.

he spoke words of venom to you, “you’re gonna regret this y/n..”

you tilt his chin up to you, reminding him of the power dynamic still in place, “who says i don’t want this?” your words sweet like honey.

law looks back at the door to make sure no more disturbances would bother his current moment with you. he flipped you onto your back and towered over you. hands between your head to support himself.

he leaned down to your ear and spoke while smirking, “now its my turn to see how quiet you can be”

your eyes widen once you see the position you were in. the blaze in your body abandoned any rational thinking you had at that moment. you pulled the man down into a sloppy kiss as you tug up on his shirt desperately trying to expose his body.

he pulled the shirt off mid kiss then worked on taking this belt off. you whined for him to hurry while the desperate between your legs painstakingly grew with each passing second. you both pushed the rest of your clothes off in an attempt to not waste anymore time.

law grabbed his member with a slight groan, “look at what you did to me y/n..”

you couldnt help but feel proud of being able to draw this side of law out. not too long ago he was a mysterious identity on the ship. now he was just mere seconds away from fucking your mind out of you.

he opened pushed open your legs and ripped your panties to the side to give himself more accessibility. you pulled him closer in a desperate attempt to get his member in you. he chuckled deeply at your failed attempt.

he flashed his golden eyes up and down your body, “i should make you wait for being such a tease..”

you shook your head fast. ecstasy completely taking over all your sense, “i didn’t mean to do all tha-“

“you still did it y/n” he shot back lowly, “i want you to beg for me” he smiled sadistically down at you.

desperation on your mind left you no other choice, “please law..”

he raised a brow unimpressed, “thats it? i know you can give me more than y/n” he slowly moved the head of his member up and down your wet folds to tease you.

you shut your eyes as you spewed a line of noncomprehensive begs. you didn’t even understand what you were saying at that point.

once satisfied with your obvious desperation on display law slowly pushed himself into you. the way he disappeared into you made his stomach do flips. your warmth completely captivating him.

you let out a quiet moan as you grip his tattooed biceps. you begged him for more.

every whine and beg drove law further off the edge. granting your wish he started his pace. it was a slow motion which picked up into a faster, harsher rhythm.

law was fascinated with how well your body took him in. every time he pulls to almost abandon your hole you take him back in fully. your moans starting to pick up as the man above you tries to fuck sense back into you, “you think you can pull stunts like that and get away with it?” he grunts in your ear, trying to suppress his own moans.

the slapping of skin becoming louder with every snap of laws hips hitting you. his rhythm, once steady and strong, starts to falter and get sloppy. your own blaze turning into a burning fire reaching the depths of your stomach. you slapped a hand over your mouth to mask the loud moans escaping your lips. law pushes your hand away and pulls you into a messy kiss while taking in every moan you gave to him. you dig your nails into his shoulders indicating you were climbing fast to your high.

the man above you fucks into you with a rough pace. he made the mistake of looking down at your eyes. the way they glossed over with ecstasy and your eyebrows taking shape of desperation made law lose his rhythm completely. he just vigorously pushed into you chasing his own high. he wanted to take a picture of your sight before him. he knew the way you looked at him would burn into his memory forever. you moaned his name while repeating how close you were. unable to suppress his own moans he started to repeat your name back to you. both your names rolling off each others tongues so effortlessly.

the knot in your stomach pulled so tightly. you felt the harsh waves of ecstasy hit you as your orgasm forces itself onto you. you dig your nails into law while he covers your mouth with his hand. the sight of you moaning mindlessly because of him was enough for his knot to pull. he knew he was dangerously close as well. he continued to fuck into you to chase his high. the overstimulation causing your eyes to roll back slightly.

the sight caused laws own orgasm to hit him faster than he imagined. he pulled out quickly and released himself onto your stomach. he collapsed next to you as you both pant to regain your breaths. he stares at your messy hair, plump lips, and how your chest rises and falls. he’d be lying to himself he if he didn’t want to experience seeing you like this all the time. with sweat glistening both your tired bodies he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close to him.

he mumbles to you tiredly, “you dont know how long ive been wanting to do that..”

you giggle as you ease into him, “then you should’ve done it earlier”

the crackling of the candle returns you to your senses, “its good we lit a candle before hand..” you laugh tiredly at the ironic situation.

he rolls his eyes while the corner of his lips tug up slightly. he grabbed your chin and kissed you passionately to make up for all the sloppy kisses he gave earlier(he just wants your lips on his any way possible). you cup his cheek and deepen the kiss while smiling. law feels you smiling into the kiss, and it causes him to smile a bit more than he usually would.

even he’d admit that ‘candle shopping’ maybe wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

you can find pt.2 here!

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Life is like a Box of Chocolates || LandOscar

Summary: When you take an edible chocolate with your boyfriends it has an unexpected side effect. Warnings: 18+ only, edibles, smut, oral (both), mmf. WC: 2. 3k

The box looked inconspicuous enough. 

Oscar turned the packaging over and read through the ingredients while you and Lando opened three individually wrapped treats. They looked like any other boutique chocolate you had tried but this one promised more than a sugar high. 

“Bottoms up,” Lando said with a grin. 

You tapped your square of chocolate against his with a reciprocal smile. “I hope so.” 

You both bit into the treats and moaned at the decadent richness that coated your tongue. You couldn’t even taste the drug that would absorb slowly into your system, leaving you with a long lasting high that would surely make the boring dinner party better. 

“Oh my god, that was so good!” you hummed as you licked your fingers clean and found Lando had finished his too. 

Oscar chuckled as he saw a spot of chocolate in the corner of Lando’s lips and kissed it clean before grabbing his own piece. “We normally take half.”

“You’ve never been to this event before, trust me, you’ll need a whole one,” Lando assured him, taking the chocolate and guiding it to Oscar’s parted lips himself. 

Your body started to heat in response to the small sounds Oscar made as Lando fed him. “Why are you two teasing me? You know we don’t have time to play before the car gets here.”

Reluctantly, Oscar pulled away and swallowed his mouthful before returning to pack up the box. He opened the box again and put the few remaining wrappers back in, before noticing the instruction booklet under the tray. “Uh, guys, I don’t think this was weed,” he mutters.

“What do you mean?” Lando said with a laugh. “This is the box Daniel said to get.”

“Wait, Danny?” You hoped you hadn’t heard correctly. “The same Danny who has been trying to get back at you for the prank in Vegas?”

Lando laughed and shook his head, but realisation seemed to slowly dawn on his face and he snatched the box out of Oscar’s hands. His eyes scanned across the page of tiny disclaimers until it fluttered with his shaking hands. 

“What did you give us, Lando?” you asked as you looked between both of your boyfriends. “Osc?”

“Okay, so, don’t panic,” Oscar’s words immediately made your heart start pumping faster and he pulled you into his arms to draw soothing circles over your back. “It’s fine, baby. You might just feel a little…”

“What?”

“Horny,” Lando answered for him before he couldn’t suppress his laugh any longer. “I’m going to get him for this.”

“You don’t sound very worried,” you said to Lando before looking at Oscar. Obviously, he was never one to worry so he just shrugged.

“I’ll take care of you if you need it,” he promised.

—

“I can’t tell if this is the chocolate or me,” you grumbled as you sat between your boyfriends in the backseat of the car. Your hands gripped their thighs in an effort to keep them from roaming any higher, but it was a losing battle. 

“That’s just you, baby, it said it could take an hour to kick in,” Lando said, fiddling with his tie again. “Why do these have to be so tight?”

“He says it like he didn’t asked to be choked last night,” Oscar chuckled, reaching over your shoulder to tuck the tie back under his collar. “Now relax.”

“That was the plan,” Lando said with a roll of his eyes. “I’m going to fucking kill Danny.”

“Worry about that later, we’re here.”

You accepted Oscar’s hand and stepped out after him to the flash of cameras. It was hard not to feel inadequate when you were standing beside two of the most handsome men you had ever met, but when they curled their arms around your waist and whispered sweet words the worry fell away. 

“You look so beautiful, darling,” Lando said softly as he brushed his lips over your cheek. “I’m having a hard time keeping this PG-13.”

Oscar caught his finger under Lando’s chin and turned his hungry eyes away from you. “Stop looking at each other like that, you’re not the only one having a hard time,” he groaned. You couldn’t help glancing down his body but the black suit pants hid the ‘hard time’ he was growing in them. “Stop looking at me like that,” he warned. 

“I can’t help that I am infatuated with you two,” you said innocently, a sweet smile drawing his attention to your kissable lips. “Tsk, tsk, stop looking at me like that, Osc. Have some self control.”

Lando laughed and led you away from Osc as he tipped his head back with a silent prayer to survive the evening with his brats. When he had his composure back, he scanned the area for you but in those short seconds you and Lando had disappeared into the busy venue. “Fuck,” he groaned before beginning his search.

The crowd of businessmen swallowed you whole and it was only Lando’s hand that kept you from being swept away as he followed the bodies into the venue. His stiff back that you tucked in behind was the only outward sign that he hated the event but it was a night that couldn’t be avoided as McLaren needed investors to continue its growth. 

“Drink, love?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Only if it’s strong,” you winked. He smirked before suddenly changing direction and towing you towards the bar. “Shit!”

Lando turned quicker than your eyes could follow and he was glaring at the shocked stranger who stared at the damp splash in your dress. It would have made you laugh if the dress wasn’t worth more than your monthly pay and currently freezing from the icy drink that now decorated your bodice. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there,” the man apologised. 

“You didn’t see her?” Lando asked in disbelief. He couldn't understand how anyone could miss the most beautiful person in the room. 

“It-it’s just water,” he stammered as he reached to brush the water drops away but Lando caught his wrist before he could touch you. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, I wasn’t paying attention,” you said as you peered around for the bathrooms before spotting the arrow pointing down a hall. “Come on, Lan.”

“Watch where you are going next time,” Lando imparted the advice as he turned with you, feeling your elbow nudge into his ribs at the attitude. “What? There is no way he didn’t see you. Everyone else can’t take their eyes off you.”

You rolled your eyes at the idea and stepped into the room as he opened the door for you. “It’s you they are staring at,” you corrected.

He slipped inside the powder room behind you and checked the attached room for the toilet was empty before he attacked. His lips threatened to ruin your makeup as he pinned you between his body and the wall, grinding himself along your front until your eyes fluttered shut. “You don’t see what I do,” he murmured between his heated kisses to your neck. His hand ran up your thigh, finding the slit in the dress so it could climb higher and brush the edge of your panties. “So fucking sexy and everyone knows you’re mine.”

A throat cleared and your eyes flew open to see Oscar leaning back against the door, an amused smirk on his lips as he watched the show unfold. “Yours?” he taunted as he snapped the lock into place.

“Ours,” Lando accentuated with his usual sass that had Oscar pushing off from the door and crossing the distance in two long strides. 

Desire was pooling at your core as you watched Oscar’s hand envelope Lando’s throat and pull him closer. Their lips collided with a fierce need to determine dominance and Lando tried to fight it before he succumbed to Oscar with a moan. Satisfied, Oscar pulled back to see Lando’s pupils blown out and a breathy whimper escaped his swollen lips. 

“You are both mine,” Oscar clarified before his eyes danced over your body and noticed the wet material. “What happened?”

“Some idiot spilt his drink on her.”

Oscar grabbed a hand towel from the shelf and started to dab away as much moisture as he could but every brush of the material sent little bolts of lightning across your body. Suddenly it felt like your body was on fire and you bit your lip as the flames reached your core.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned as the last touch caught the underside of your beast and it felt heavy with need. “Do that again, please.”

Lando was feeling the same heated effects course through his veins as the chocolates reacted with his body. “I think it’s been an hour,” he chuckled, reaching for the stiff peak he could see pressing against the thin material of your dress. He brushed the back of his knuckles over your nipple and hummed at the sound you made for him. 

Oscar abandoned the cloth and sank to his knees on the tiles. He swore he could smell your sweet arousal, the mouthwatering scent driving him insane as he bunched your dress up and kissed your core over the lace. The ax of time hung over your head as you all knew the dinner was about to begin but you didn’t care  the moment you looked down at Oscar’s eyes. 

“Just a quickie,” he agreed as he read your mind. Lando crushed his lips against yours as Oscar pushed your panties aside and tasted you with a languid swipe of his tongue. One boyfriend made you cry out and the other stole the sound with his kiss. Your hands tangled their hair, feeling the different textures between your fingers as you deepened the kiss and rocked your hips against Oscar’s face.

“Fuck,” Lando groaned at the pretty sight. “I’m so unbelievably hard right now.” He grabbed your hand to prove his words and you stroked his length over his trousers. “I don’t know if I want to kill Danny anymore.”

Oscar laughed against your clit and the vibration curled your toes in your heels and you cried out at the sensation. The sound cut through Lando’s amusement and his belt snapped open, his trousers falling just enough to free his cock. Your hand wrapped around him and he covered your hand with his, guiding you up and down in long slow strokes. 

“We are going to make a mess of your dress, baby,” Lando moaned as he felt his orgasm coming embarrassingly quickly thanks to the chocolate. You barely heard him as your own impending release hazed your mind but Oscar thought quick enough to pull away. Your body missed his mouth instantly but your cunt clenched at the sight of him taking Lando’s cock deep in his throat. “Fuck, Osc, that’s it, babe.”

You could hardly breathe as you watched Lando’s jaw clench and he shuddered as he spilled himself in Oscar’s mouth. Your boyfriend’s throat bounced as stood up and he swallowed the mouthful down, leaving Lando to sag against the wall while he recovered. 

“You missed a spot,” you said as you leant in and caught the drop of cum that clung to the corner of his lips. A soft hum reverberated as you shared the taste with a kiss and you pressed yourself against him to feel just how much he was feeling the drug too. “Need a hand?”

“Not quite,” he smirked, turning you around to face Lando. “Hold on.”

Lando reached out and you gripped his forearms as Oscar bundled your dress up in one hand and pushed your panties aside again with the other. He gave no warning before he sheathed himself deep inside your cunt and you buried your face in Lando’s chest with a gasp. You felt impossibly full before he snapped his hips back and then buried himself in you, over and over, an unrelenting pace that quickly brought back the edge of your orgasm.

Your cries were muffled by Lando’s dress shirt and your nails threatened to rip the expensive jacket he wore as you were rocked by your release that came so suddenly white spots danced across your vision. For a second your body was disconnected from your mind and the two only collided back together when Oscar joined you, warmth pooling in your core as he filled it with his seed. 

“Wooow,” Oscar chuckled as he pulled out and combed a hand through his hair. “That shit is strong.”

“At least we have something to take the edge off,” Lando said, before tossing the hand towel to Oscar. Oscar ran the towel under the warm tap and carefully cleaned up the mess he made before he pulled your panties back into place and let your dress fall around your unsteady legs. 

Oscar curled a brow at his boyfriend and the glint in his eye that said he expected a few more stops to this room during the night. “Let’s try to make it back to the hotel next time.”

“No promises,” he said with a wink. “Now, shall we go and sit through a bunch of old man speeches and try not to fall asleep?”

You looked down at your dress and found the wet patch had dried considerably, so much that it wouldn’t even be noticeable in the dim lights of the hall. “You still owe me a drink.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Lando gave you a salute and unlocked the door, opening it to an empty corridor. “A strong one. Osc?”

“No, thank you, one of us has to be responsible.”

Lando looked at you, his lips barely suppressing the grin on his face. “He says it like he didn’t just fuck you in a bathroom.”

[hiraethwrote]

❝ AND I SIMPLY BLEND IN WITH THE WALLPAPER ❞

[ satoru gojo x f!reader]

♬ ₊˚. insp: wallpaper - megan cromwell

✧ summary: witnessing satoru with his new girlfriend, eight months after your breakup ✧ cw: angst, no comfort, attending a party, college au ig, no use of y/n ✧ word count: 2.2k

part 1 - part 2

“Don’t want to alarm you babe, but you-know-who just walked in.” You turned your head to confirm her warning, and sure enough, there he was. Satoru, handsome as ever.

So many months you had desperately tried to stitch together the heart he obliterated into tiny pieces, but there mere sight of him had the badly sewn stitches tear apart at the seams.

He looked happy — genuinely happy, with his familiar grin spread across his face to expose his adorable dimples and creasing his eyes.

And at his arm was her.

His new girlfriend, absolutely stunning as well. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she was tailor made for him. Craftily put together into the perfect girl who just fit beside him.

The way things were now, you knew you could never escape him. Not entirely. As long as you attended the same college, and had the same friends, you were destined to cross paths. And when that happened from time to time, you were just reminded of the gaping void he’d left in you.

But at the end of the day, you guess you were just glad you had friends after it all — even though those friends were his, first and foremost. But you were grateful that they had decided to remain at your side to some degree after they all had watched your relationship with their best friend crash and burn eight months ago.

“Hey,” Shoko broke your stare, drawing the attention to her. “Don’t let him ruin your evening, ‘kay? You’ve been doing great lately. Let’s just keep it that way!” She tried to give you a happy smile, but she didn’t manage to conceal how it was filled to the rim with pity.

“Yeah. Sure, it’s whatever.” There was an awkward pull of your tight lips. By letting her gaze flitter across your entire face, she could easily tell that it was in fact not ‘whatever’.

You wanted to shake off that horrible feeling that was sprouting in you, but it seemed like the universe had other plans. Because when Satoru suddenly came walking over, girlfriend right behind him, all the air immediately disappeared from your lungs.

“Hey guys,” he said cheerfully. You hated the fact that you couldn’t stop yourself from letting your eyes travel down his arm before it settled on his hand that was interlocked with her fingers in a tight and caring grip — like he was never planning on letting go.

Everyone’s eyes were on you. Everyone’s but his.

They could all feel the tension, the incredibly uncomfortable atmosphere of having to share the same space as the two of you — made worse by the fact that Satoru was acting as if you were just another acquaintance.

His gaze only grazed you when travelling the crowd, just like it did when he looked at the others. There were no signs of him even recognising that the two of you shared an intimate past, your theory reinforced as his hand let go of hers to move it to a loving grip on her waist.

The suffocating lump in your throat only grew as he kept chatting about all and everything. The conversation went smoothly within the group, watching intently as he talked with his friends with such ease, while you simply stood there. You might as well have disappeared into the wallpaper and he wouldn’t even have noticed.

“I’m just going to get some air,” you whispered to Shoko with a sad smile, not waiting for a response before you turned around completely to step out on the terrace in hopes to clear your head.

The fresh air greeted you like an old friend, serving some comfort while your mind was taking you down a dark path of ‘what if’s.

What if you had put up more of a fight that night eight months ago? If you’d followed him out the door instead of standing in a puddle of your own tears as you just watched him close the door in your face?

What if you could have prevented it? If there were signs along the way that you missed, and if you’d picked up on them in time you could have stopped him from leaving you?

There was, however, one ‘what if’ that was answered tonight.

What if it had nothing to do with you, and Satoru simply didn’t want to be in a relationship — seeing him tonight, with his hand resting reassuringly around her middle like he used to hold you, proved that was not the case.

Watching him shower her with affections of a boyfriend, you felt as if you were being abandoned all over again. It was utterly selfish, but you wanted for those romantic actions to be reserved for you only. For the loving smiles he bore to be directed at you again. You missed having his heavenly blue eyes stare deeply into yours, while you let your fingers brush through his soft, white locks. You wanted all that back, but it seemed like it wasn’t meant to be for you after all.

You turned around to see if he was still hanging around your friends by the kitchen island, if it was safe for you to return without having to feel as if you were only in the way. A sense of relief crept up on you when all you saw was Shoko and Utahime waving for you to come back inside, eagerness smeared on their faces for you to hang with them.

“How you holding up?” Utahime asked, draping a comforting arm across your shoulders before giving you a soft squeeze, pulling a sad chuckle from your lips.

“You know, it’s been eight months. I gotta let it go, right?” You said, looking between the two knowing it was a naive thought that you spoke, but it was at least a step in the right direction. “He’s dating again, which he is obviously allowed to. Maybe I should jump on that trend as well!”

“Aah, love the sound of that,” she gushed before placing a wet kiss on your cheek. “Satoru was never worth it anyways.” You playfully shoved her off you with a small laugh, as you desperately tried to wipe it away.

“Yeah, yeah. So you’ve said-“

The universe had to stop.

You were abruptly interrupted when no other than the man himself, simply breezed right past you. His arm just barely grazing yours as he passed, but it didn’t even faze him that you were standing right there.

Again, you let your eyes follow him as he hurriedly approached his girlfriend before wrapping his arms around her with haste, lifting her up in a tight embrace, her cute squeals finding their ways to your ears even through the music and sounds of the party.

This was just cruel — pure torture. As if you’d been given front row tickets to the show dedicated to your pain. Couldn’t the end credits just start rolling? Couldn’t the curtains close? Why was it fair for this scene to play out just a few feet in front of you?

And oh, how he gazed at her, as if she was the only girl in the world. Looking at them, one couldn’t even begin to think he’d ever had feelings for someone else prior to being with her.

Your hands turned numb, your heart beating so loud it was all you could hear. It even tuned out both Shoko and Utahime’s pleading attempts as drawing your attention elsewhere.

Gently tearing away from their grip, you ignored them calling your name as you ran up the stairs and entered the first door you came across. There was not a single ounce of care for who the bedroom belonged to, but it was empty. Along with the door, you shut the party out, now able to hear your own thoughts.

It came crashing over you, the sadness overwhelming you in an instant. Your hand found its way over your mouth as a loud and sharp sob came flying out of you. Taking a seat on the neatly made bed, you desperately tried to choke them back, drying the tears as soon as they fell from your eyes in order to try and save your makeup. When you eventually walked out that door again, you didn’t want anyone to be able to tell you’d bawled your eyes out seconds before.

For a while now, you had been doing fine, relatively speaking. Did he always manage to pop into your mind one way or another on a daily basis? Yes. But, you were slowly but surely moving on with your life. Even when you heard the news of him and his new girlfriend a month ago, you’d managed to keep it together until you were alone in your dorm that same evening.

But it was something about seeing them together, how his hands caressed her so gently like he worshipped her, was too much for your poor heart. There was only so much a girl could take.

Your sobs were quickly strangled in your throat when the door swung open.

“Oh, sorry thought this was the bathroom- hey, you okay?”

Of course… of course she had to be the one to walk in on you in the midst of your sorrowful breakdown, her name unwillingly parting your lips.

She was even prettier now, without all the distortion and disturbance of the party around her. Someone could have told you she was Aphrodite reincarnated, and you would believe them in a second. But it wasn’t just her physical beauty that radiated. She had something about her, a warmth nearly uncanny, destined to grab the attention in any room she walked into.

Her eyes rested on you, and you could swear you saw a flash of remorse gloss over them — she knew who you were. She knew you were his ex, but god knew what that entailed.

“Yeah!” You sniffled weakly. “Yeah, just tired. It’s been a long week.” You tried to chuckle, finally able to tear your gaze away from her to look down in your lap.

“I can imagine.” Her voice was dripping with true compassion. “If you wanna talk…”

“Thank you, I’m good.” You hated how bitter you sounded. She hadn’t done anything wrong, and from what you’d heard she was just a very sweet person all around.

“I’ll see you around?” You didn’t think she meant for it to sound like a question, but you had just managed to make her uncomfortable enough to the point where she didn’t have anything better to say to you.

Once you heard the door shut, hot, quiet tears started to fall from your eyes again as your mind began to wonder.

It had already been a month since they started dating — how well did she really know Satoru?

Did she know him like you did already? His secrets, like how he had a secret stash of sweets at the top of his wardrobe, because he was the only one who could reach it? Or his flaws, like how he tended to shy away when things turned rough? If you were to sit down with her, would you be able to tell her more about her boyfriend than she could?

As the constant spiralling continued, you knew you couldn’t stay here anymore. There was not a chance you’d enjoy the evening as long as these were the circumstances — watching them stare at each other with nothing but pure adoration in their eyes.

Running back down the stairs, you heard Shoko immediately call your name. “Don’t leave,” she pleaded as she came rushing over, tugging at your arm.

“I can’t stay here,” you said in a low voice, avoiding her gaze in hopes it would allow you to leave faster.

“No, please! You can’t let him do this!”

“I’m not.” A sound that was supposed to be a chuckle, but resembled more like a sob, slipped out of you. “It’s just… I talked to her. I don’t know, I just can’t look at them. Not tonight.”

When you finally found it in you to meet her gaze, you were pleased to tell by the look on her face that she understood. She wasn’t going to force you to stay if you were truly as uncomfortable as you appeared to be, softly giving your hand one last squeeze before letting go.

“I’ll come by tomorrow. We can order some food or something, okay?” You simply nodded weakly, forcing the faintest smile before she turned to join the party again.

One last time, you decided to shoot another look in Satoru’s direction. As expected, he was fawning over her still, the back of his hand grazing her cheek with the lightest touch while the other was intertwined with hers.

Maybe this was for the best.

As much as it pained you to witness it, he looked to be content — as if he was supposed to be with her. And when that breathtaking smile painted his features, you know it was for real. Of course you’d preferred it if it was you who were allowed to make him smile like that, but that wasn’t the case anymore. All you wanted for him, was for him to be happy. So if it was with her, so be it.

And you still love him, so dearly, enough to let him go.

a/n this is short and sad lol love that... this song came on my discover weekly like two weeks ago and had to write something about it so here you go

reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated

plagiarism not authorized

[winterstelltales]

Coffee and Vanilla

word count: 1k

pairing: zayne x reader

summary: you just can't get enough of zayne's scent

content tags: winter setting, cuddling, loads of kisses

warning: slightly suggestive at the end

a/n: fic was inspired by post by @wolfofcelestia

The air inside the cabin was surprisingly warm. Despite the heavy snow storm raging outside, inside was filled with a cozy silence, only interrupted by the crisp sounds of the wood crackling by the fireplace every now and then. 

 The room was bathed in a pleasant glow, and the scent of fresh snow seemed to linger around, but it wasn’t enough to conceal the sweet smell of hot chocolate and the plate of cookies placed in front of you. 

 You didn’t know what it was, maybe it was your sense of awareness as a hunter that made you pick up all these at once, and you were suddenly filled with an overwhelming feeling that you couldn’t explain. It wasn’t bad, you were partly sure it was because you were overjoyed, but it still left a heavy something inside you.. With nothing to do about it, you tightened your arms around the person you were cuddling with, burying your face further into his neck and took a deep breath. 

 His scent easily conquered everything. With Zayne taking a break from the hospital for a long time in a while, he didn’t smell much like disinfectant and hospital anymore. Sure, it was still there, a faint scent that you hoped would never leave him because you had gotten so used to it and you knew you were going to miss it if it ever disappeared. 

But with his usual scent gone, only the warm sandalwood and touch of sugary scent of pastries remained, though you were certain the latter was because he had stuffed himself up with some unhealthy amount of desserts, justifying it with the excuse that it was the holiday season.

 You indulged him of course, just as he has done countless times in the past when you particularly felt like you didn’t want to follow his doctor’s orders. 

 Zayne didn’t react immediately as always, his brows furrowed a bit, one hand coming up to pat the top of your head as he observed your sudden burst of affection. 

 You both were already cuddling in front of the fireplace, unable to go out because of the sudden snow storm that had occurred. You sat sideways on Zayne's lap, head supported on his broad shoulder while his right hand played with your hands lying on your lap. 

 “What is it?” His gentle voice knocked on the door of your thoughts, his hand coming back up to wrap around your waist.

 But you weren’t capable of giving him an answer, so you took another deep breath and tightened your arms around him more. 

 You weren’t sure if you could consume someone’s scent, but you were desperate for Zayne’s. 

 “It’s not that I don’t love you hugging me, my love, but I’m having trouble breathing,” his voice sounded strained in your ear. This time, you immediately loosened your arms around him, looking up at him with apologetic eyes.

 “Sorry,” you said softly.

 The corners of his mouth turned up, “don't apologize,” he said, his hand coming up to brush a stray hair on your face.

 “Is something bothering you?”

 You stayed silent for a second, then rested your cheek on his chest, feeling the beating of his heart. 

 “No,” you said and lifted your chin, smiling, “You just smell really good.”

 Zayne pursed his lips, the tips of his ears turning red almost immediately. He was never good at receiving compliments, but that didn’t mean you were ever going to stop giving them. 

 He coughed slightly, turning his head away for a bit. 

 You traced his sweater covered chest with your fingers, drawing simple patterns, “Like a little bit of coffee and a little bit of vanilla,” you continued, nosing his slightly red cheek, inhaling his scent deep to your core. His newly shaved face was soft to the touch, and it was getting warm more and more as words left your mouth. 

A smile grazed your lips as you kissed him softly on his ear, making his breath hitched.

Zayne’s hand on your waist tightened, squeezing you in warning. The blanket covering both of you had slided off by now, exposing you to the cabin air. 

“Did you use that sandalwood soap I bought you?” you asked, adjusting yourself somewhat to straddle him. 

Now with your whole body facing him, Zayne had no choice but to look at your face with his arms resting at your sides. Adam's apple bobbed slightly as he swallowed, the gentle movement drawing your attention to his neck.

 “You’re so beautiful,” You said softly, palming his neck with your hand.

You leaned in and pecked his lips, pressing your face against his forehead.

You were certain that even if you lived a thousand lifetimes, you could never fully grasp the depth of Zayne's beauty. It was a wonder that defied time, something you could admire endlessly, yet never quite get enough of.

His hand caught yours in a gentle grip, his flustered state disappearing in a blink of an eye as he stared at you with intense eyes, gaze falling on to your lips, “Not nearly as beautiful as you.”

And suddenly you were aware of everything again, but nothing was quite as alarming as the hard thing resting underneath you. Blinking, you returned your gaze back to Zayne, eyes twinkling with excitement.

 “Oh”

“Oh?” Zayne lifted an eyebrow and before you knew it he was grabbing you by the waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him until everything you could feel was the warmth radiating off him and his hard length resting under you. 

You support yourself by grabbing onto his shoulders, mouth slightly agape as you try to calm yourself down.

Seeing you like that was enough for Zayne, his lips found your neck instantly, peppering your skin with kisses that turn into little bites and sucks. You gasp softly, letting the weight of your body fall onto him. 

One of his hands finds themself under your sweater, calloused fingers trails up your spine, rousing a path of goosebumps as you lean more into his embrace.

“It looks like I've been far too lenient with you,” Zayne’s voice low and resonant, sending soft vibrations against your neck as he spoke. 

His nose presses against your skin, inhaling and tracing a path on your neck with his teeth before whispering, “Since you seem to enjoy teasing me so much, maybe it’s time I return the favor.”

dividers by @rookthornesartistry

[moonstruckme]

hi angel!! i was wondering if i may please request something with protective!sirius? (maybe rockstar!au but obviously doesnt have to be) and they’re at a party or something idk!! i just think he’s hot LOL

you’re such a good writer! also this is my first time sending in a request- so sorry if i did it wrong🩷🩷🩷

You didn't do anything wrong, thank you for requesting lovely!

cw: spiked drink, anxiety about bad trip

rockstar!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 655 words

You’ve got Sirius’ jacket and Remus’ arm heavy around your shoulders, and your sinuses are starting to hurt as the shouting coming from the kitchen intensifies. Sirius’ voice is the loudest, with James’ interjections only slightly less sharp but certainly no less upset. No one seems to be arguing back at them. 

“Are you okay?” Remus asks quietly. 

You hum. “I think I want to go back to the hotel.” 

“That’s probably a good idea. Want me to take you?”

“I was hoping Sirius might…” You chew your lip, eyes stuck on the closed kitchen door. 

You don’t want Remus to think you don’t want him to take you, but he seems to take it as you mean it, his expression characteristically kind as he follows your gaze. 

“I’m sure he will.” He stands, his arm slipping from around you as he starts towards the kitchen. “Someone’s got to tell this tosser off, but it doesn’t have to be him.” 

You follow after him more tentatively, staying behind Remus’ arm as he pushes the door open to stand in the threshold. 

James turns towards the both of you immediately, but Sirius is too caught up in his diatribe to notice. There’s an empty bowl of punch tipped over in the sink, rivulets of pinkish red running into the drain. A boy stands beside it looking positively terrified. You’re not sure exactly how James had found him, the groupie’s friend’s boyfriend who had thought it would be a fun idea to spike the punch with acid and not tell anyone about it, but clearly they’re not letting him off without forcing a thorough understanding of the consequences of his actions.

“Sirius,” you say softly. 

You’re not sure how he hears you over the sound of his own voice, but your boyfriend’s demeanor changes completely as he turns to you. His next insults fade from his lips, his posture shifting, the crackling fury about him melding into something softer and more pliable.

“Hey,” he says in a wholly different voice, “you okay?” 

You think the next time someone asks you that you might burst into tears. “Can we go?” you ask instead of answering. 

Sirius nods, brushing his hair behind his ear. With the many strands falling out of his loose bun and the messiness of his eye makeup, he looks about as frazzled as you feel. “Yeah, sweetness.” He starts towards you. “Let’s go. James—”

“I’ve got it, mate.” James gives him a weighted look. Though you’ll probably never be able to entirely decipher the language the boys share, you can read his meaning clearly enough: I’ll make sure he’s properly torn into whether you’re here or not. 

You ignore the boy by the sink and murmur a thanks to Remus. He lets the door shut after you and Sirius on your way out. 

Sirius guides you through the party with a hand on your back, the feel of his handprint distinct even through layers of fabric. People try to stop him, to ply the both of you with drinks and conversation and promises of after-after-parties, but he ignores most of them and keeps his responses short with the rest. It’s not long before you’re spilling out into cool night air. 

“I didn’t realize how smoky it was in there,” you admit. 

Sirius pushes out a breath and draws you tighter against him in a sort of walking half-hug. “I’m so sorry about all of this. Do you really feel okay?” 

“Yeah,” you say honestly. “I don’t think it’s kicked in yet.” 

“You’ve probably got a little while, but we’ll get you to the hotel and make sure it’s not bad for you.” He kisses the top of your head firmly, nose pressing into your hair. “I have no fucking clue what would lead someone to think that was okay. That prick thought it would be funny, as if you can just drug people without telling them and everyone will—” 

“Sirius.” You can hear him getting riled up again, and you really can’t deal. It’s not that you don’t love how much he cares, that protective ire that swells up in him on your behalf. But you’re scared right now. You feel tired and unsteady, and having someone to blame doesn’t help you the way it does him. “Can we not talk about it right now, please?” 

Sirius shuts his eyes, and you can see the stiff, quiet breath he takes to settle himself. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, baby, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” you reply softly. 

When he looks at you, all the anger in his gaze has fizzled out, leaving only raw tenderness in its wake. “Are you nervous?” 

“A little,” you say. It’s a half-truth. “I don’t know what to expect.” 

“You’ll be okay,” he promises. “I’ve done it before. We’ll just get you comfy in the room, and I’ll be there to look after you. Does that sound okay?” 

You lean into his side. Sirius takes your weight happily, moving his hand so his arm goes around you. His thumb sweeps over your ribs. 

“Yeah,” you answer honestly. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

[hoffmansgirl]

supernatural ━╋ father charlie mayhew

★̶̲ a/n. this is short, fluffy & smutty <3 (also new filter woohoo!) warnings. ꗃ blasphemy ･ slight worshipping ･ charlie has a big dick (surprise...) ･ masturbation ･ handjob ･ heavy religious imagery ･ blowjob ･ father charlie & reader being in love <3 wc. 959

"ephesians, 6:12", charlie's voice filled the room, rough and demanding. you lifted your gaze, looking up at him through your lashes while stroking his cock in both of your hands. your mind was empty, but you tried your best to focus ⎯ it was hard when all you could think about was his hot, leaking length just in front of your face.

"i⎯ i'm not sure", you babbled, at which charlie rolled his eyes, irritated. you bit your lip anxiously, stopping the movements of your hands altogether.

"i never told you to stop, angel", he cooed, brushing his thumb against your cheek lovingly. "focus".

it was pure torture; the way your innocent eyes met his, the way your hands moved slowly over his thick, long cock ⎯ the way it casted a shadow on your pretty, angelic face that seemed to glow in the darkness of his office.

"for do we not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rules of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places", you chanted, and charlie's chest swelled with pride. he sent you a sweet smile, nodding slowly, leaning back against the chair. "indeed, my dear", he whispered, and your lashes fluttered at the praise. with a newfound confidence, you swiped your thumb against his angry, leaking tip, earning a low moan from the priest.

"good girl", he cooed, and you moaned softly, putting one of your hands on his thigh, your long nails digging into his skin deliciously. "so good for me, so obedient. you've been made for me, haven't you?".

you nodded, beginning to stroke him faster ⎯ though it wasn't that easy when you only used one hand.

"corinthians, 6:18-20", he raked his fingers through your black, silky hair, and you leaned into his touch, swiping your thumb against his strong thigh soothingly. charlie's muscles tensed under your touch, and his cock twitched when he took in your focused expression. his other big hand replaced your own, as he began to stroke his cock swiftly right in front of your face. charlie melted into the chair, eyes threatening to close, sick satisfaction spreading across his body at the sight of you on your knees for him ⎯ almost worshipping his cock with only your eyes.

"flee from sexual immorality. all other sins a man commits are outside his body, but he who sins sexually sins against his own body", you whispered. your knees dig into the wooden floor painfully when you leaned closer, running your hands across his abs, sighing at the feeling of his muscles clenching under your skin. "do you not know that your body is a temple of the holy spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from god? you are not your own; you were bought at a price. therefore, honor god with your body". you finished, biting your lip when you met his proud gaze.

"tell me how much you love me", charlie demanded, although you could hear a slight desperation in his voice. he slowed down the movement of his hand, his chest heaving with uneven breaths.

"i love you, i love you so much, charlie", you didn't hesitate for a second, pressing soft kisses on the inside of his thigh. your hands travelled up his stomach, tracing the outline of his muscles with your fingertips. the priest groaned, his brows furrowing when he felt your touch and lips on his hot skin. the veins in his arm popped out when he stroked himself, looking deep into your eyes, biting his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

"please, charlie⎯ let me make you feel good. let me worship you", you whispered, sticking your tongue out for him to see. "let me show you how much i love you".

father charlie's hand in your hair tightened, and you whined in pain and pleasure; you met his eyes yet again, lowering your head to press a kiss on his pretty, thick tip.

"god, help me", the priest cried out, his hips bucking involuntarily, at which you smiled softly. encouraged by the sounds leaving his mouth, you swirled your tongue around his tip, dipping it into the slit experimentally. you closed your lips around him, beginning to bob your head, pressing your tongue against the pulsing vein on the underside of his dick.

"you're such an angel. always so good f'me", he praised, bucking his hips into your mouth. a whine left your mouth at his words, as you used your hand to jerk off parts of him you couldn't take in your mouth. "fuck, i love you. i love you so much", he chanted, and you opened your eyes to look up at him, the innocence of your gaze combined with the hollowing of your cheeks on his girthy length ⎯ it was almost too much for the priest to take.

with a groan of your name, his back arched off the chair, spurts of his cum landing on your tongue and in the back of your throat. you continued to bob your head, swallowing around him, moaning at the taste.

when you finally pulled away, charlie fell limp against the chair ⎯ you licked your lips, fighting to catch your breath.

"there is no fear in love. but perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment.", you whispered softly, getting up from your knees. charlie fixed his pants before pulling you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you lovingly. you leaned back against his chest, feeling safe in his warm embrace. the priest pressed soft kisses all over your face. with a smile, he mumbled: "the one who fears is not made perfect in love".

hoffmansgirl © 2024

nicholas chavez masterlist. | request here ♡

[makoodles]

ミ the mightiest

part one | part two

🍓 pairing: neteyam x human fem reader

🍓tags: nsfw, aged up neteyam (obviously), jealousy, alien cultural misunderstandings, oral sex (f receiving) vaginal sex, size kink, voyeurism, brief na'vi oc x reader, mentions of reader sleeping with other na'vi men

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

notes: adult neteyam art created by the incredibly talented @cinetrix, whose work motivated me to write for adult neteyam in the first place!!

It was just a fluke, you tell yourself. A moment of weirdness that had come about because… because…

Okay, so you can’t really explain it.

You don’t like Neteyam! You never have! The sight of him appearing while you’re mid-rendezvous with Txetyo (the same man he had interrupted you with only a few days before!) should have sent you into an angry tailspin. And yet, you can’t forget the pulse of excitement that had throbbed low in your belly when you realised that he was standing there watching you.

Really, you should have been the one to speak up. But it was like your brain had switched off, like all your rational thoughts had gone on a temporary leave of absence; why else would you have stayed silent instead of stopping Txetyo and drawing attention to Neteyam’s presence?

Just like after your last confusing encounter with Neteyam in the healing hut, you end up sticking close to the human outpost for the next week.

It’s probably a little cowardly to hide instead of facing your problems head on, but you don’t care. You avoid Neteyam, you avoid Txetyo, you avoid any of the guys you’ve had flings with before because even the sight of them reminds you of what had happened that night in the forest. Inevitably, that leads to you avoiding the village entirely.

The outpost is as boring as ever, but it’s better than facing the mortification that’s no doubt awaiting you in the village. But at the very least, it’s not lonely.

Spider is kind enough to keep you company in the outpost for the first few days, though you quickly wish he wouldn’t. There’s not much to do, and Spider never deals well with boredom.

“Quit that.” You grit out, your eyes sliding sideways.

Spider is sitting next to you, drumming his fingers insistently on his thighs. He sighs, rolling his eyes up towards the ceiling and leaning back on the lumpy couch you’re both sprawled on.

“This is mind-numbing.” He complains, throwing his dirty bare feet over your thighs. “It’s so boring here. I don’t think I’ve ever spent this much time inside in my whole life.”

“You don’t have to be here.” You remind him, shoving his feet off you.

Spider sighs, swinging his legs back to the ground so he can sit up properly. “Right, sure. I could leave you here alone to mope all day by yourself in your dank little bedroom. Or you could tell me what’s going on with you.”

You grumble, and avert your eyes. Okay, so maybe your avoidance has been a little more obvious than you had intended. You’ve barely missed a day in the village your whole life, and yet in the last two weeks you’ve spent most of your time hiding out in the outpost.

“Nothing’s going on.” You say, and it rings hollow even to your own ears.

Spider purses his lips. He seems pointedly unconvinced, and stretches back on the couch with his arms across the back of the headrest.

“So it has nothing to do with whatever the hell happened when you went off with Txetyo during the hunt celebrations?”

You almost wince, but manage to keep your expression neutral as you stare at your knees. “Nope.”

Spider hums. “And I suppose the fact that Neteyam very conspicuously disappeared into the forest about ten seconds after you left is also unrelated.”

That cracks your composure, and you take a shaky breath as you glance sideways at Spider’s face. He doesn’t look like he’s judging you or anything; he’s just waiting patiently for your answer, a single eyebrow raised.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” You mutter, avoiding his eyes.

There’s a long pause, and then Spider huffs out a sigh and tilts his head back to stare at the water-stained ceiling up above you. You feel a little bad about keeping secrets from him; usually you and Spider act as each other’s confidants by virtue of the fact that the two of you are humans the same age amongst all the Na’vi. But this whole mess with Neteyam is something that you’re struggling to wrap your own head around – you don’t want to start explaining the whole mortifying ordeal to someone who was as good as your brother.

“Lo’ak’ll get it out of you.” Spider says confidently.

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “Please tell me he’s not coming over.”

“He’s worried.” Spider protests. “You’ve been acting super weird, dude.”

“He’s nosey.” You correct.

Spider shrugs, unable to argue that point. “Well, whatever.”

It’s as if speaking his name summons him, because the shoddy linoleum floor creaks behind you as a big nine-feet-tall body steps into the room. You catch a glimpse of bright blue skin out of the corner of your eye and groan, tipping your head back against the back of the couch and closing your eyes.

“Seriously, I am not in the mood to be interrogated by the Idiot Brigade today.” You complain. “Can’t you come back and bother me another time?”

There’s a pause. And then, a low voice filled with amusement says, “Am I a member of this “idiot brigade?”

That is not Lo’ak’s voice.

For a moment, you don’t even turn around. You just breathe slowly, your eyes shut tight. Maybe if you don’t turn and look, Neteyam will just vanish from your presence as if he had never spoken at all.

But instead of Neteyam’s spontaneous disappearance, you get Spider shifting on the lumpy couch beside you before climbing to his feet. Your eyes shoot open at that, and your head whips around to stare at him in disbelief.

“Where are you going?” You hiss, already reaching out after him.

Spider stops, hesitates, his eyes flicking between you and Neteyam. He looks as though he would rather be literally anywhere other than here; you know the feeling.

“Uh… I’m gonna go find Lo’ak.” Spider mutters, his eyes darting around cagily. “Seems like you two probably need time to talk some things out.”

Before you can even protest that, Neteyam is stepping forward, marching his way around the couch. You sit up, properly startled now, realising that your window for escape is rapidly narrowing.

“Tell Lo’ak not to come.” Neteyam says simply, stepping nimbly around the couch so that he’s in front of you. It’s like he knows that you were thinking of an escape, because he tilts his head as a subtle smile tugs at his mouth.

“Yeah. Got it.” Spider sounds a little strangled, sending you a look that you can’t quite decipher before turning and scampering out the door, letting it slide shut behind him with a quiet thud.

You stare at him for a long moment, your mouth hanging open like a moron. Neteyam just stares back, his expression even, as though he’s waiting for you to speak first.

You swallow thickly, then push yourself up so that you’re standing. It’s a weak attempt to put yourself on a more even level with him, but it fails as you find yourself eye-level with his damn belly button.

“What are you doing here?” You snap, though it comes out a little weaker than you had intended.

Neteyam doesn’t answer immediately. Instead he gingerly lowers himself down onto the ancient lumpy couch that you and Spider had commandeered for yourselves from the desolate wreckage of Bridgehead. He’s almost comically large for it, his knees bent awkwardly up as he settles back, the springs creaking ominously.

“You have been avoiding the village.” He says simply.

And… oh god, you can’t stop staring. It’s stupid, because you’ve known Neteyam your whole life, you know what he looks like. But it’s like your eyes are taking him in differently now. You hadn’t spent much time with him as kids; you were always chasing after Lo’ak, Kiri, and Spider, and Neteyam usually maintained a distance as he trained under the guidance of his parents. And then he was gone, departed for the reef villages, only to return after the worst of the war years had passed.

But it’s different now. He’s a man, his shoulders broader than ever and his muscles more defined than is typical of the Omaticaya warriors – no doubt thanks to his time in the reefs with the bulkier Metkayina.

Your mouth is a little dry; it’s not a good time to be reminded that you find big, muscly Na’vi men really, really attractive.

“Yeah.” You say, your voice scratchy. “Uh… I’ve been busy.”

Neteyam’s hairless brow raises in an unspoken gesture of doubt as he leans back into the couch. Your eyes dart down nervously over his abdomen. Each sculpted abdominal muscle speaks of his physical prowess and the sheer discipline and dedication to his training, and his slim waist is accentuated by the woven battle band around his waist. Fuck, you want to touch his belly.

You can hardly believe that you had this man’s cock in your hand, or that he had been grunting and fucking your fist. Maybe you had hallucinated that. Looking at him like this, taking in his big amber eyes and strong jawline and high cheekbones, you’re reminded rather harshly of just why he’s one of the most sought-after men in the village by the unmated Omaticaya girls. It seems unlikely that he’d ever lower himself to allow himself to be touched by you.

And yet, you know you hadn’t hallucinated him standing only mere feet from you in the forest, watching intently as Txetyo had railed you into the mossy ground.

As if he knows what you’re thinking, Neteyam speaks again. “Avoiding Txetyo? I do not blame you.

You almost choke at that. Good lord, the audacity of this man. He knows perfectly well that you’ve also been trying to avoid him, judging by the smug look on his face.

“No! He- he wasn’t so bad.” You protest, though the words ring unconvincingly in your own ears.

“Tawtute, you’re so tight!” Neteyam gasps mockingly, lowering his voice into a dude-bro register that decidedly does not sound like Txetyo. “Fuck, you’re so wet, I’m gonna cum—"

You squawk, hastily stepping forward to swat ineffectually at his shoulder. “Will you shut up, that’s not what–“

Neteyam grabs at your wrist when you smack his shoulders, his long fingers wrapping all the way around you before tugging. You stagger, pulled off balance as he tugs you onto the couch beside him. You end up with your limbs in an ungainly sprawl as you attempt to collect yourself beside him, flustered behind belief. He doesn’t let go of your wrist.

“And he– he made me finish, so.” You say lamely. You’re sitting next to him. Why are you sitting next to him? You should be trying to shove him up off the couch and shoo him out the door.

“I’m pretty sure you made yourself come.” Neteyam corrects, his head tilting. His glossy braids spill over his shoulders, colourful beads clicking together. “Which wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t there, by the way.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just pointing out the obvious.” Neteyam’s smug little grin is growing, and he leans in a little closer. “I don’t think you were enjoying it at all until I showed up.”

You gape at him, stunned.

“I- you-!” You stammer, your breath catching from the sheer swell of your indignation. Who does he think he is, showing up here all muscled and gorgeous like this only to embarrass you?

“Speak for yourself!” You finally manage to splutter, trying to sit up on the couch; Neteyam’s grip on your wrist prevents you from going too far, so you give up and resign yourself to being stuck beside him until he grows bored of tormenting you. “Txetyo was– That was pretty much par for the course. I mean– it wasn’t unusual, sometimes that’s just how sex goes–“

Neteyam sits up straight, so suddenly that it startles you. His brow is furrowed, his eyes flicking rapidly over your face as though he’s trying to assess if you’re being honest.

He’s… he’s leaning in rather close to you. You blink at him, but don’t move back. It’s so rare for you to be around Neteyam without your respirator mask acting like a shield over your face, and you feel a little naked now without it.

“That was a standard experience for you?” He asks, and his voice has… changed a little. That smug amusement on his face has vanished, replaced with what looks like bewilderment.

You scoff at his surprise, rolling your eyes. “Shouldn’t you know what my standard experience is? You’ve interrupted enough of them.”

He doesn’t respond to your snarky remark. He just stares at you as if he’s examining you, and you shift awkwardly on the couch, unsure in the face of his scrutiny.

“What, you’re surprised that all men aren’t sex gods?” You ask a little testily. “They want to experiment with a Sky Person, and I like sex with Na’vi men, so… win-win.”

Neteyam just frowns, pulling back a little. “No, that’s not… I don’t understand. Why do you spend time with them if they are not successful in pleasuring you?”

Boy, is that a loaded question. You don’t want to explain to Neteyam that it’s not really about sex, that it’s more about a pathological need for physical connection and comfort, especially when you try your very hardest not to think about it yourself.

“Maybe I’m just hoping one of them will really impress me.” You mumble, a little sourly. “I guess I’ll keep holding out hope.”

Neteyam’s ears flatten, pressing low against his head as his eyes widen a little. He shifts, his body looming over you like a big blue behemoth as the couch springs squeal beneath his weight.

“I could.” He says. “Impress you, I mean.”

You snort, glancing up at him with a wry sort of smile that falls off your face almost immediately when you see the look on Neteyam’s face. His expression is perfectly earnest, his jaw set and his pupils dilated with an odd sort of urgency that you’ve never seen from him. He… he doesn’t look as though he’s making fun of you at all.

“What?” You croak, blinking.

And then you realise what all this about. Neteyam is always so determined to prove himself, to be the best at everything. He’s always pushed himself beyond his limits and worked himself to the bone to be stronger and faster and wiser, to be a better leader and a better hunter and a better fighter. You probably shouldn’t even be surprised that now he’s decided to prove that he’s better than his peers at fucking you, too.

“This is just a competition for you, isn’t it?” You scoff, yanking your wrist out of his hand. He shifts forward on the couch then as though preparing to catch you if you move to run, but you’re not making any move to leave.

“No. They are not worthy competitors.” Neteyam scoffs as if the question is absurd. “This is to prove to you that you have been wasting your time with men who are not capable of pleasing you.”

You scoff again, but it’s a much weaker sound this time. “I–”

“You have bad taste in men, paskalin.” Neteyam murmurs, shuffling closer on the ancient couch.

You stare up at him, your breath catching a little in your chest. God, he’s so much bigger than you. You hate that it’s making your body heat up, and you feel yourself growing wet as he leans in close, smelling like fresh water and the forest.

“Are you going to let me?” Neteyam whispers, reaching out to trace a finger along your jawline. “Let me prove myself.”

You should say no. You should tell him to leave, to get out. You should absolutely not feed into his own ego by fucking him.

“Yes,” You breathe stupidly. “Okay.”

You’re expecting him to grab you immediately and flip you around onto either your back or stomach; in all your previous experiences, you’ve gotten right down to it with your partners. But to your surprise, Neteyam leans in and holds your hips with his big hands as he presses his mouth to yours in a kiss.

Kissing is not something that you’re used to; the Na’vi you’ve hooked up with have stayed clear of the human outpost, unlike the Sully kids who had paid frequent visits, which means that all of your sexual encounters have occurred in the forest or in empty corners in the village with your respirator mask firmly attached to your face.

Now your face feels naked and vulnerable, and you gasp shakily against Neteyam’s mouth when he leans in and kisses you firmly.

It’s slow and deep, at first. All-consuming. It lights a fire in your gut, which expands and spreads throughout your body.

Neteyam doesn’t just kiss with his mouth, either. He kisses with his hands, his whole body. He clutches you to him, holding you close even as the force of his kiss bends you backward, your body pressing into the raggedy couch cushions.

At the same time, it’s all you can do to concentrate and respond to the kiss itself, your attention stretched and strained by the feeling of Neteyam’s hands running over you, stroking your sides and clutching your neck and squeezing your ass.

“Hah,” You gasp out when Neteyam’s lips slide sideways to find the corner of your jaw. His mouth is hot against your skin, bruising, and you’re embarrassingly wet already, just from a little kissing.

Fuck, he’s a good kisser. That’s so annoying.

You run out of breath too fast, and you have to gasp. Neteyam breaks the kiss for barely even a second, and shifts some of his weight to his elbows as he follows you down onto the couch, nuzzling and nipping at your jaw before returning to your mouth.

There’s a hand on either side of your head during that blink-and-you-miss-it break in the kiss, but then he moves his big hands to hold onto your face like they’re afraid you’ll escape, and now they don’t want to let go at all. One of his hands cups your jaw, the other clasping around the back of your neck and tilting your head farther back, deeper into the couch, opening you up. You think about the fact that he can thread his fingers together behind your head with his palms pressed to your cheeks and nearly moan like a whore into his mouth.

Neteyam’s eagerness surprises you. The kiss is messy and graceless and airless and greedy, frantic and full of teeth, and you can only roll your hips in reflex, in mindless desperation, in a feeble attempt to buck, your mind repeating a refrain of yes holy shit holy shit YES. You can’t even squirm, because holy hot fuck Neteyam is heavy, and he’s got every inch of you covered and owned.

God, have you always been this easy? Just kiss you, feel you up a little and want you enough and you’ll end up happily whimpering under someone on the couch? Even someone like Neteyam, who you’ve been so resentful of for so long?

You spread your thighs, and Neteyam’s narrow hips slot into place like a damn puzzle piece. Neteyam hums a small laugh and pauses, pulls back an inch or so, gazing steadily at your lips and smoothing the tips of his thumbs back and forth over your cheekbones. He takes a moment to fumble with his respirator and takes a deep breath before dropping it and leaning down to kiss you again.

“Oh, fuck.” You whimper, your eyes fluttering shut when his hips roll fluidly against you.

You pull back from the kiss, just enough to get a look at his face. His eyes are a little clouded, his lips puffy and spit-slicked. He looks dazed, and there's a thin line of saliva connecting your mouths together. His brow scrunches in a frown, as though you pulling away from him is a personal offence.

Oh god, you think. I'm so fucked.

The hand that had been cupping your cheek releases you, slides down your body as well. Your breath hitches when he passes over your breasts, drags down the plush skin of your belly, before reaching in between your thighs to cup at your pussy over your clothes. His hand tightens, grabbing you. Cunt, pubic bone, the whole shebang, all of it right there in the palm of Neteyam’s shockingly big hand.

“Bedroom.” You gasp, your head spinning as he just holds your cunt over your denim shorts. “Bedroom now.”

Neteyam grins, and wraps his arms around your waist to haul you into his arms before he lifts you off the couch and practically staggers down the hall. His excitement surprises you, and you cling to his neck as he ducks his way through the corridor.

Mercifully the outpost is quiet today, with most of its human occupants out in the forest or in the village – that means there’s no one around the witness the sight of Neteyam’s enormous blue ass squeezing himself in through the small doorway of the closet-like bedroom you’d claimed for yourself, with you dangling from his arms like a doll.

You’re still breathing hard when Neteyam clumsily gets the door shut before placing you on your squeaky old bed, following you down on it. He’s careful not to crush you with the bulk of his body, instead resting his weight on his forearms where they’re planted on either side of your head.

The consideration makes something squirm in your belly, and you reach up to intertwine your fingers at the back of his head and pull him down to resume kissing him.

Neteyam rolls his hips into yours, and you can feel the thick ridge of his erection pressing into the seam of your shorts, right over your clit. The sound you make is absolutely humiliating, and you will deny ever making it until your last breath, but you twitch as you try to catch that exact same friction again.

And fuck, kissing like this may be new to you, but you never want to stop. You didn’t even know that kissing with tongue could feel so erotic; Neteyam’s hands are on your face again, angling you this way and that way and however the fuck Neteyam feels like angling you, and goddamn he must be doing it just because he can.

You try desperately to remember any little kissing tricks you’ve learned and draw a pathetic blank. Luckily, Neteyam seems intent on showing off. His creativity is more than enough to occupy you both, and you’re too busy being excruciatingly horny to really be self-conscious anyway.

Besides, your next exhale is a chest-rattling groan, and if Neteyam’s immediate grunt of approval and slow thirsty grind against your trapped body is any indication, then you're doing just fine by his standards.

But then, to your absolute distress, Neteyam pulls away.

“Hhh — Shit! Shit, hang on. Shit.” Neteyam hisses, turning his face away and levering himself up on his arms. He’s breathing hard, and the sound of the English curse words falling out of his mouth in that strained tone of voice has your thighs squeezing together pathetically.

“What?” You ask, your voice sounding dazed and stupid even to your own ears.

Neteyam huffs out a few centering breaths and then shakes out his head to clear it. He fumbles for the respirator, takes several deep gulps of air before dropping it again. He angles his hips away from you for a moment, breathing steadily.

“Why’d you stop?” You hate the way the words come out as a whine; you feel as though you’re losing your mind, as though you’re actually going to die if he doesn’t keep kissing you.

Neteyam breathes out a quiet laugh, sounding a little disbelieving as he drops his forehead down to rest on your shoulder.

“Fuck.” He whispers, but he doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he pushes himself down your body, sliding between your legs.

When he tugs your shorts, you lift your hips eagerly to help him shuck your pants off. As he’s tugging at your panties, you work on yanking your oversized pyjama shirt off you. It feels as though the two of you are descending into a frenzy, touching and kissing and tearing at each other like animals.

When you’re naked beneath him you shiver, staring up at him in eager anticipation. You wait for him to come back up and kiss you, to take his own loincloth off and stick his cock into you, but he doesn’t. Instead, his head bullies its way in between your thighs.

“No,” You whine, making a face. You don’t want him to waste time with eating you out when you’re ready now. “Just put it in.”

Neteyam shoots you a reproachful look as though he thinks you’re acting crazy. “You said you would let me please you.”

“But–” You frown, feeling a little ridiculous for having this conversation when his big head is blinking up at you from between the pudge of your thighs. “You don’t have to. I don’t enjoy getting head all that much anyway.”

But instead of changing his mind, that just makes him snort as though you’d told a damn joke.

“Let me show you, syulang.” He whispers, turning his head and brushing his lip over the soft skin of your inner thigh. He kisses you there, and then sucks a hickey-like bruise into the squidge there.

And damn, you can’t turn him down.

“Fine.” You sigh, a little irritated, and spread your legs wider so that Neteyam can muscle his way in.

He grins as if he knows something you don’t, grabs your legs and pulls them so your thighs are hanging off his big broad shoulders. You can feel his warm breath ghosting over you between your legs, and you prepare to lie back and let him lick you down there until he deems you’re wet enough to start fucking you properly.

But then he actually gets his mouth on you, and… oh. Oh.

You tilt your head back, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes. That feels… better than you had expected, actually.

Each of Neteyam’s movements are calculated, precise. He laps against your clit, then closes his lips and sucks. You nearly yelp, but manage to tamp down on your reaction and merely wheeze instead. Neteyam points his tongue and presses inside of you, sucks and licks like he’s actually eating something. At one point, he even bites, and you jerk so hard that you accidentally grind against his face.

It’s not like any of the head you have ever received. You’ve enjoyed it before, sure, but it’s never felt like this, and it’s definitely never made you come. And yet, to your honest surprise, you can feel a familiar coil of tension beginning to build deep in your abdomen.

“Oh god.” You breathe, sounding a little bewildered.

You feel his tongue against your clit again, hardly noticing that his hands are gripping at your ass until he yanks you forward as he buries his whole damn face between your legs. His fingers return, delving into you, deep and searching. His mouth works against your clit and it feels like you’re being squeezed between the kinds of pleasure, worshipped and wrung out and attacked all at once.

“Neteyam,” You gasp like a fool. “Oh, what the fuck, it– Neteyam, hang on, it’s too–”

Neteyam is still devouring you, sucking hard and persistent until you cry out. You try to clench your thighs around his head as he laps at you like a man starved, but his hands are still on your thighs, locking you in an iron grip, keeping you spread wide for him, and you can hardly breath because every time you think to try and take a breath his tongue is moving over your clit again and he’s sucking against you.

Your head swims, and you wonder why on earth you had been so resistant to allow him to make you feel good like this. Fuck, have you just been getting really bad head this whole time? You didn’t even know it could feel like this.

Your heels are digging into his back, and the closer he brings you to the edge the harder your thighs clamp around his head. He barely seems to notice the force you’re exerting, merely groaning to himself everytime you squeeze tighter.

Your thoughts splinter and unravel, and you can do nothing but buck uselessly against his hold, desperately chasing more of his lips and his tongue.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god.” You chant, eyes squeezed shut tight as you whine.

He's just so good with his tongue, and you’ve never felt like this in your life. It feels as though you can't breathe properly, as though you’re melting from the inside out. None of those awkward, fumbling sexual encounters with those other Na’vi ever had you feeling like this.

Your breasts are heaving with the effort it takes just to breathe through the white hot pleasure crashing through you, and you stare down at him with wide eyes as he suckles again at your clit. When he sees you looking down at him, he throws you a cheeky wink as he laps at you.

You let out a helpless, gasping laugh at him, your hands clenching compulsively in his braids. Your giggle has him pulling back a little so he can look up at you properly; the grin he shoots you is extra shiny thanks to the fact that the lower half of his face is covered in his spit and your own slick, but he looks dopey and happy.

You manage one word, on a long and broken moan- “Please!”

Neteyam laughs quietly, the sound vibrating through his lips and into your pussy, but then his tongue is on your clit again, sucking you into his mouth, and you’re shattering around him as he finally pushed you over that edge you’ve been teetering on.

You keen and shake violently, spasming around Neteyam’s fingers and jerking into his mouth, coming so hard that you see black spots in your vision. Neteyam doesn’t let up, pulling broken moans out of you with tongue until you’re writhing.

You squirm and whimper until suddenly it’s too damn much, and then you’re reaching down to push at Neteyam’s neat braids to try to get away from his relentless tongue. Damn, he’s acting like he’s hungry for you, like he’d swallow you whole if he could. He doesn’t let up until you’re begging him to, albeit wordlessly — whimpering and shoving at his face, trying to arch away from the too-sensitive touch.

Finally, Neteyam relents. He lowers your legs from his shoulders and you practically crumple, going limp against your mattress. Neteyam’s face is wet and shiny, and he looks ridiculously smug. You’re still trembling, throbbing with the aftershocks.

“Mm, you sound so pretty.” Neteyam murmurs, his words coming out muffled and almost slurred as though he’s drunk.

“Fuck.” You whisper to yourself, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes as you struggle to catch your breath.

Neteyam hums, pressing kisses all over your pubic mound and lower belly. He seems so damn pleased with himself, pushing himself up your body so that he can nuzzle into your neck, pressing sweet nipping kisses to your throat.

His breathing is a little strained, and you grab blindly at the respirator hanging around his neck before bringing the mask up to his face.

“Breathe, Neteyam.” You gasp out, still a little breathless yourself.

He grunts, as though irritated over something of secondary importance, and takes a couple of deep breaths before dropping the mask again. His pupils are blown so wide that his iris is barely visible, just a thin ring of gold around a pool of black.

You laugh, panting and overwhelmed at the sight of his shiny face, and reach up to wipe his slick face with the palms of your hands. He huffs a quiet laugh of his own, turning his face towards your hands and nuzzling against you like an oversized cat.

“That was… that was better than I expected.” You say, still struggling to collect yourself.

Neteyam’s smile turns a little sly, his teeth flashing as he kisses at your palms. “Impressed?”

And you can’t help but laugh at that, feeling as though this whole situation is spinning around far beyond your wildest imagination. Fuck, he’s really giving his all to this, just to prove to you that he’s superior to the other men of the clan.

“Not yet.” You whisper, biting your lip and hoping that he takes it as the challenge/invitation you mean it to be.

And luckily he does, his smile only growing.

“I should keep going then.” He murmurs, his hands stroking up your sides.

He gently caresses both breasts, a little knead of big, rough hands that can cover much more than just one tit and you love it. Your back arches as you shiver, revelling in how bizarrely gentle he’s being with you.

“Yes,” You whisper eagerly, your legs spreading further until the muscles of your inner thighs are burning with the strain of it. “You definitely should.”

You reach out to tug at the band of his loincloth, your fingers actually trembling a little as you try to unknot it at the sides. Neteyam’s own breath hitches, and his much more nimble fingers reach to help you untie it and draw it away.

And fuck, now he’s naked too. You sit up eagerly, peering down between your bodies to try and catch a look at him properly. You may have touched him that day in the healing hut, but it’s completely different seeing him.

He’s big. So big. All the Na’vi are big when compared to you, of course, but this just… it feels different, because this is Neteyam. His cock is the same pretty blue shade as the rest of him, decorated with darker stripes and pretty glowing tanhì. Your heart thumps recklessly at sight of it twitching towards his belly, and you reach out towards it eagerly.

Your small fingers wrap around the hard length of him — he’s too thick for you to comfortably hold in one hand, but that doesn’t seem to matter because he groans appreciatively anyway when you run your fingers down his length and then back up, feeling warm and sticky precome gushing from the tip to coat your fingers.

“Ah!” Neteyam groans breathily, his hips rocking as your hand slides up the long, velvety length of him. “Fuck… so good.”

You feel like you’re burning up, your skin sweat-slick and far too hot. The weight of his cock in your hand has your head spinning; you want him inside of you, stretching you wide and fucking you deep. If he fucks as good as he eats pussy, you feel like you’re in for a very good time.

“C’mon,” You breathe, writhing a little. “You– you promised me that you’d.. That you would…”

“Mm, I promised I’d make you feel better than Txetyo ever could,” Neteyam finishes for you, leaning in to kiss your neck. “You like ‘em big and stupid, huh? That’s why they can’t please you, syulang.”

You toss your head back, your eyes fluttering shut as his sharp canines drag over the sensitive skin at the side of your throat. Fuck, maybe he’s right. None of those guys have ever made you feel this good before; you don’t think you’ve ever been this slick and eager in your whole life.

“God, you have such a big head,” You huff, quivering. “Maybe you’re big and stupid too.”

He just laughs at that, a dark chuckle that has your nerves buzzing, and leans down to nip at your shoulder hard enough to make you jerk beneath him. “I am not like Txetyo, or Art’alak, or Pewalsku, or Urtiltey.”

You scoff, before reaching up to push hard at his shoulders. You’re not actually strong enough to shift him, but he pulls back obediently, falling back to lay on his back on the bed. You rise up on your knees then, looming over him as he lays flat.

The way Neteyam is looking up at you, it’s like he’s seeing god. If he could worship you with just a look alone, he is. It’s a little overwhelming, and you feel something deep in your stomach knot just at the sight of him looking at you like that.

“Prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen.” Neteyam whispers, reaching out to grip at your hips, guiding you into straddling his lap.

You don’t think anyone has ever talked to you like this, or looked at you like this. You hardly know what to do in the face of his attention, so you revert to what you’re familiar with; you settle yourself against his lap and grind there, feeling the length of his cock glide along the seam of your cunt.

It feels as though your belly has been set alight, and you take a slow breath as you rock against him. His lips drag from the base of your throat up the length of your neck, then he nips gently at the hinge of your jaw. The softness of his breath against the sensitive skin of your throat elicits a shiver from you, and Neteyam’s hands pull you closer when he feels your reaction.

You make a soft sound against his mouth when his fingers clench tight around your hips. His hold on you encourages you to grind down against him. It's not as though you really need the encouragement, but the way his eyes darken as he stares up at you is enough motivation for you to tilt your hips and grind down just like he wants you to.

"Fuck." He breathes, his eyes going half-lidded as he tilts his head back against your bed to watch you move above him.

Heat is growing alarmingly quickly in your lower belly and at the apex of your thighs, and you tremble over Neteyam as you use your grip on his shoulders for leverage. The soft sounds of pleasure that are pulled out of his throat every time you roll yourself against him send sparks through your entire nervous system; it feels as though you just can't get close enough to him.

Your patience runs out, unable to keep up the teasing; Neteyam seems to feel much the same. When you raise yourself up, chest heaving, Neteyam grabs at his cock and holds it still to allow you to settle against it, the head notched against your entrance. He glides over the opening again, pressing in the barest amount. You can already tell it’s going to be a stretch. Neteyam is thick, and you want it in you, want to feel it pressing you open.

You clench around the head of his cock, trying to pull him in, and Neyeyam groans.

“You’re—” He starts to say, his big hands clutching at your hips. “Shit. You’re tighter than I even imagined, paskalin.”

The idea that he might have imagined this is almost more than you can take, and you surge forward to kiss him again, your mouths clashing clumsily.

“You—you thought about it?” You manage to say, your words coming out a little muffled as he sucks at your lower lip.

He just rumbles a laugh, as though your question is ridiculous, and doesn’t even bother answering. Instead he places one hand securely under your ass, the other adjusting himself—there’s a short, sharp burst of pain as you felt him start to push in, just the tip and your head is spinning. Your nails are digging into his shoulders but if he feels anything it doesn’t show.

He kisses your cheek and then pushes in a little deeper as his mouth falls to yours once more—swallowing up your sharp cry as another inch sinks into you, and you feel like you’re splitting open.

Fuck, you feel as though not grabbing lube was probably a mistake; you were too cocky, too confident in your ability to take him, so sure that he’d be as adequately satisfactory as the other Na’vi men you’ve been with.

He goes in and in and in, pressing farther into you than you even thought was possible. The stretch and the pressure inside you is glorious, so tight that you can barely even flex around him. His mouth is open, each breath escaping him quickly, and you can see your own amazement reflected back to you on Neteyam’s face.

You dig your nails into his shoulders to offset the pain radiating through your core as he shoves himself deeper into you, chased by another wave of warmth as his free hand move between you, thumb settling gently over your clit.

“Ohmygod,” You gasp, pleasure mixing with that burning ache. You squeal, but your noises are half-moans as you try to rock your hips against his hand even as you try to ease the feeling of his girth inside you.

“Ungh..” Neteyam groans into you shoulder as he rocks another inch into you, until you’re sobbing and moaning by turns. “Oh. Fuck. Txetyo didn’t deserve this, syulang. Didn’t know what to do with you.”

You whimper in his grip as he just holds you there, buried to the hilt, thumb still working at your clit and sending frissons of electricity up and down your spine.

“Feels good,” You slur. “You feel good.”

Neteyam pulls out half an inch and fucks back into you from below, making your breath hitch. “Yeah?”

“So big,” You gasp. “I-I want—"

“I know, I know. I’ve got you,” Neteyam rumbles, his full lips brushing gentle kisses over your temple, right in your hairline. “Take what you want, lovely girl.”

And you do, rocking your hips and taking one of his enormous hands to pull between your legs so he can continue to rub at your clit with his fingers, so he can feel all the ways you’re leaking onto him as you lean forward to run your own hungry mouth along his collarbone, his pecs, as your hands grip his shoulders to try and lift yourself up and onto him over and over again.

It doesn’t take long for that coil in your belly to swell, sweet and hot. It’s as if Neteyam is intimately familiar with the way you want him to rub your clit, how you want it pinched but only just so between two fingers, as if he’s been taking fucking notes all those times he had walked in and interrupted you. It doesn’t take long until you’re trembling and squeezing impossibly tight around him, taut like a violin string.

It’s like Neteyam is puncturing your lungs, and every time he fucks into you, you respond with stupid sounding little ‘ah’ sounds.

“Ah, ah, ah!” You gasp, teary-eyed and desperate. Neteyam’s mouth is parted, his eyes wide. They flick over you quickly, drinking you in as you ride him.

Your movements are slow to build, but gradually you establish a steady, desperate rocking. It doesn't take long for you to realise that grinding in his lap feels better than raising yourself all the way up and down. Distantly, you feel little guilty — you know that grinding and rocking in his lap in the way that you are feels better for you than it does for Neteyam, but he doesn't seem to mind. He's watching you with a rapturous expression, his arms urging you closer so that your sweat-slicked chests are pressed close together and your foreheads are resting against each other.

You find a rhythm that both satisfies and stokes you, riding him with abandon as your thighs clench tight around his narrow hips. Neteyam’s hands slide from your hips down over your lower back, worshipful as they drift lower to clutch at your ass and use his grip there to help lift you up and down.

You ride him with mindless intent. His fingers dig at the meat of your ass, his mouth dropped softly open as he fights to keep his own breaths even — it takes a long moment for you to realise that he's fighting to keep himself still and to stop himself from thrusting wildly into you. His restraint and the realisation that he's really allowing you to have all the power in the exchange strikes you hard. You’ve never felt any real sense of agency in sexual intimacy until now, and the realisation that he's being so considerate of how you’re feeling only contributes to the intensifying of those flutters in your belly.

The rush builds in you, relentless, mounting with every jerk of your hips. There would be no catching your breath until it broke.

You rock on him, hard, hard and fast and there, there it is, that’s it — that perfect deep unfurling. A moan rises from the depths of your chest as you gasp at it, your body trembling. Neteyam just stares up at you, mouth open, eyes gone wide and dark.

The wave crests, the world explodes around you, a kaleidoscope of sensation as you come undone in his arms, trembling even as he keeps sliding home into you. You keep moving over him through the ebb of it, through the helpless little sounds that break from his throat. You’re still shuddering when he reaches up to take a firm hold of your waist. As though he can't help himself, his hips thrust up into you.

“Yes,” Neteyam hisses, his flat nose all scrunched up in a feral sort of pleasure. “That’s my girl.”

You tremble, gasp-moaning as your joints turn to jelly. Your orgasm very slowly gives way to thunderous aftershocks that rocket through your body every few seconds, shuddering your whole frame in intervals.

"Fuck," He groans, his breathing gone ragged. "I'm going to-"

He doesn't even finish his sentence before he seems to lose some of that iron control he's been exerting; his hips jolt up into you, and then again, until he's thrusting up into you with a sense of urgency that's almost breath-taking. All you can do is cling onto his hair and bury your face into the crook of his neck, attempting to muffle the embarrassing little gasping sounds that you’re making into his skin as his fucking into you prolongs the breath-taking pleasure of your orgasm.

You don’t fuss when his big hands use his grip on your ass to lift you up himself, fucking up into you and letting loose. Then he's shaking, stilling, spilling himself inside you, and you watch eagerly as his face goes slack and relaxed.

You don't go still immediately. Your hips keep rolling slow and steady as you tremble against him, chasing that feeling of molten shivery pleasure that's still burning in your belly even as it starts to turn into almost unbearable oversensitivity. It's not a fully conscious movement, as you’re moving mostly on instinct, and after a few moments Neteyam takes a hold of your hips to slow you to a stop.

He stays inside you like this for what feels like an eternity, spent and nestled deep inside you as you sit in his lap, slumped against his large strong chest.

"Oh my god," You whisper eventually as another pleasant shudder jolts down your spine. It feels as though you’ve been kicked in the chest, as though the breath has been knocked out of you entirely to make room for the lovely floaty lightness that's beginning to fill the space between your ribcage”

"Mm." Neteyam hums quietly, his fingers tightening in the soft flesh of your hips as he tilts his chin up to brush his lips over your sweaty temple. "Alright?”

No, You think, with no small amount of panic. You’re absolutely not alright. Neteyam may have just been fucking you to prove a point, because it’s always been so important to him that he’s perfect at everything he tries his hand at, but it feels as though he’s just cracked you wide open. You don’t think anyone will ever make you feel as good as he just did.

When you don’t immediately answer, one of his big palms cups the back of your neck so he can tilt your head back, and he leans down to kiss you again. He sucks your swollen bottom lip into his mouth so he can worry at it while you whine, toes curled where you tucked them under your legs, balanced on his thighs.

"Impressed?” He murmurs into your ear, his warm, dry hands stroking soothingly over your sweat-dampened skin.

You laugh despite yourself, and it comes out breathless and broken. “Fuck. I—yeah. Yeah. I’m impressed. Asshole.”

Neteyam’s expression brightens, his ears twitch back as his smile grows. He leans in and kisses you again, once, twice, then three times in quick succession, and out of the corner of your eye you see his tail coiling lazily against your sheets.

“Feel like I need to lay down,” You say. “For a week maybe.”

Neteyam just chuckles as you slowly lift your hips; when Neteyam slides out of you a soft sound of loss escapes from his mouth. You sympathise — you feel uncomfortably empty now that he's no longer nestled inside of you, but Neteyam is already gathering you into his arms and flopping back onto your mattress with you all curled up ontop of his chest.

It all feels so natural — you’ve never cuddled after intimacy like this, and you never would have imagined that Neteyam would allow you to do this. But it seems like he craves physical touch as badly as you does, because it feels as though his hands are everywhere as he holds you.

"Don't look so pleased with yourself, dickhead." You grumble, though you’re already relaxing under the pleasant warm weight of his hands

Neteyam’s smile only grows. "Why shouldn't I be pleased with myself? Have I left you unsatisfied?

You groan loudly, before burying your face in the pillow. The worst part is that it's true — you’ve never felt so satisfied in your life. You think that you could close your eyes and cheerfully float away on a cloud, but you don't want to suffer the humiliation of admitting that.

“I’m satisfied.” You admit, mortified. “It— yeah. You won that stupid competition. Well done.”

That has exactly the effect you had expected it to have; Neteyam’s chest puffs up where you’re laying across it, his eyes crinkling up as he grins. God, he’s so fucking smug.

You manage to swallow down your embarrassment so that you can ask the question that’s been knocking around your head since the first time he had kissed you.

“Can we… do that again, sometime?” You mutter, keeping your face pressed into his chest so he can’t see the vulnerability on your face.

Neteyam’s chest rumbles in a deep laugh, and his large palm settles between your shoulderblades.

“Whenever you want, yawntutsyìp. We have all the time in the world.” He murmurs, nuzzling his face into your hair. “Where ever you want. Here, the forest, my hut in the village—”

You laugh, blinking in surprise at his eagerness. You guess he must be absolutely pussy-whipped right now, which is pretty sweet.

“Next time we mate, we’ll do it in the forest so Txetyo can find us.” He says, and you can feel his teeth against the top of your head when he grins. “Let him watch as I make you scream again.”

"I did not scream!" You snap, embarrassed, reaching to smack at his chest. But then his words actually parse in your head, and you push yourself up quickly on top of his chest so you can look down at him, wincing a little at the ache between your legs.

Neteyam obviously catches your wince because he frowns and one of his hands reaches for your thigh, but you grab at his wrist as you gape at him.

“What the fuck did you just say?” You blurt.

That must have been a slip of his tongue. Every man you’ve been with before has been so damn careful to avoid the term mating, obviously terrified of you somehow getting the wrong idea; they made it painfully clear that it was just fucking, with no strings attached, because you were small and exotic and apparently the tightest thing they’ve ever gotten to put their dicks into.

Neteyam blinks owlishly, as though confused by your response. “What?” He asks, before his face relaxes. “Ah, it’s only the thought of me watching that does it for you?”

“No, it—” You blink at him. “You said… you said next time we… we mate.”

“Yes.” He says, wrapping one big arm around your waist to tug you back to him, as though he doesn’t like the fact that you’re shifting away. “I enjoyed mating here, where I can kiss your face, but it is very...”

He pauses then, and glances around your room. For the first time, you see it through his eyes; it’s small and dingy, the electric lights buzzing and flickering as they run on the ancient generator that Norm and a couple of the other older scientists had dragged from Bridgehead. Even though he’s gotten comfortable cuddling you on your bed, it’s far too small for him; his legs are hanging off the end of it, his feet flat against the floor. Compared to the fantastical natural homes of the Na’vi, your little bedroom seems like a shithole.

“You will be more comfortable in my hut in the village.” Neteyam says decisively, using the arm wrapped around your waist to pull you closer to his chest again. “I wish to take you in the forest, at Vitrautral, as is tradition.”

“Mating.” You repeat, just to check if you had heard him right. “We—that was mating.”

“Mhmm.” Neteyam’s hum sounds casual enough, but you can see the ridiculously pleased wave of his tail in the air behind him. “I told you that you were wasting time with those skxawngs, but I did not mind waiting for you. I did not like hearing them talk about you, about how you felt and how they pleased you, but… I knew I could prove myself a better prospect than all of them.”

“But—” You’re still struggling with this, staring at him with a bewildered expression. “But it—that was sex. It wasn’t—”

“I will take you to Vitrautral tomorrow, and mate you properly,” Neteyam murmurs, and you feel his big chest rumble beneath you in a pleased purr at the idea. “You do not need any other now. Yes?”

It feels almost too good to be true. Almost. Because damn, you want that so badly that it actually aches. After so many years of craving intimacy of any kind, it seems shockingly unlikely that it’s being offered by Neteyam, the very personification of an Omaticayan golden child. How have you gone from getting fucking in empty corners and deep in the forest to having the Olo’eyktan’s son talk about mating you?

You think of the herbs and plants he always brings to the healing hut, the bones and fibres he forages, the food he brings you after hunts. You had always thought he was just shoving how great he was in your face, but now all of that is starting to rearrange itself inside your head. Was he seriously just trying to impress you?

You laugh a little disbelievingly, and Neteyam’s arm tightens around you.

“I have a necklace,” He murmurs, nuzzling against your forehead. “Made with freshwater pearls from the ocean. I was going to give it to you earlier but—we got distracted. It is in my tewng—”

“Get it later,” You whisper, clinging to his chest. You’re so comfortable, you don’t want to move, just in case the moment slips away forever. He made you a necklace. Fuck, he made you a necklace! You’ve only ever seen Na’vi mating gifts from a distance; the thought of receiving one is beyond anything you’ve ever imagined.

Neteyam’s chest seems to swell, his expression brightening the moment you cling to him. He hugs you close, his purr now reminiscent of a damn chainsaw as he curls his whole big body around you.

Taking a chance, you do something that you’ve always sort of wanted to do, ever since you found out what it was; you reach behind him and take his kuru in your hand, feeling the thick, glossy protective braid in your fingers.

Neteyam shudders under you, his rumbling purr stuttering a little as his eyelids flitter, his eyes going dark. He doesn’t stop you, watching you with lightly parted lips as your hand closes around the most sacred, sensitive part of him.

“This is okay?” You whisper, your vulnerability clear in your voice.

“Of course,” He whispers back, as though the moment is a soap bubble that could burst at a slightly raised voice. “It is yours, syulang.”

Emboldened, you drag your fist down the glossy braid until you reach the end, where the glowing tendrils that make up the exposed manifestation of his nervous system. The fleshy pink tendrils writhe in the air, and you watch in eager amazement. You’ve only ever seen diagrams of this part of the Na’vi anatomy, and you want so badly to touch it.

“You can play with it all you want,” Neteyam murmurs, and his voice is breathless.

You breathe a laugh, glancing up at him with a little grin. His pupils are blown, his lips parted, his chest heaving. You want to gnaw on his ribs, swallow him whole; he’s so cute.

“I’ll save that for tomorrow,” You whisper, the words ringing like a promise.

Neteyam looks briefly disappointed, before his mood is promptly buoyed at the thought of mating you again at the Tree of Souls, as he had promised you. He buries his face happily in your neck as you pet absently at the protective braid covering his kuru. It’s a non-sexual touch, and yet he goes entirely boneless, purring up a storm as you stroke your hand over it.

“Told you those others could not please you, paskalin,” He murmurs, his words slurring a little as his eyelids flutter with every soft touch to his kuru. “Told you they did not know what to do with you.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the fond smile pulling at your mouth.

“Mm. You did. Guess I needed someone like you, huh? A mighty warrior?” You say, teasing him with that silly little nickname he always called himself when you were a teenager. At the time you had thought he was so annoying, but now, looking back… you’re willing to admit it was pretty adorable.

Neteyam’s drowsy face pulls up in a sweet smile, his flat nose brushing against your collarbones. It seems like he’s pleased you remembered, or maybe he’s pleased that you’re impressed with him.

He kisses your neck, then mumbles sleepily, “The mightiest.”

[kissitbttr]

miguel with a jealous fiance

-

“stare a little longer and you might actually kill her, y/n” jess chuckles as she follows your eyesight, spotting miguel being flirted by a woman whom you’ve never seen before.

you and miguel are attending a gala fundraiser. run by some rich bastard named ‘bruce wayne’. he didn’t want to go at first, but because mr. wayne had sent the invitations to you both himself, it would be rude not to attend. plus, it’s best if he’s out and try to socialize, make some new friends instead.

but now you’re starting to regret the decision when you see some red haired getting cozy with your man. she keeps touching his arm, giggling obnoxiously at something he said. which pisses you off because your fiancé is not that funny.

Ignoring jess’s comment, you twirl the wine glass softly, emerald green manicured nails clicking against it. you bite the inside of your cheek with cold eyes dead set on the girl. you wanted to laugh at how that woman had been trying too hard to catch his attention.

miguel isn’t doing anything rather than answering without holding an eye contact, casually sipping his whiskey on rock as he searches through the crowd. you could tell he’s annoyed. but it wouldn’t be polite for him to tell her to fuck off, would it?

god, you wish he had the balls to actually do it.

“you know he wouldn’t do such thing right?”

scoffing as if it’s the most stupid question ever, you nod. of course he wouldn’t. he’s too damn crazy about you.

“i know. it’s her i don’t trust” you mutter, almost growling. “that bitch could clearly see he has a ring on his finger. she fucking blind or something?!”

jess could only laugh while shaking her head. she thinks you and miguel are too much alike. a perfect pair. “then show her who’s the boss.”

“oh i will” you respond with hesitation, gulping down every last drop of your drink before setting the glass down on the table. “be right back”

with that, you flick your hair over your shoulder, adjusting the straps of your silky emerald green dress and begin walking towards your fiancé’. jess’s commentary about ‘try not to kill her’ from behind fall deaf upon your ears.

sorry, jess. no promises.

you could feel all eyes on you as you walk. it’s hard not to. men and women craning their shoulders to get a better look at the beautiful woman who looks like she’s invented class and beauty herself. the world completely stop when you walk through the crowd.

and not to be cocky or anything, but you’re fully aware of how gorgeous you are. with curves that look like built by the gods themselves, full plump soft lips and long, beautiful thick hair that cascade down to your back and eyes sharp enough to draw sailors if you were ever a siren.

it’s like looking at freyja the goddess whom paid a visit on earth.

as miguel’s eyes continues to scan through the busy evening filled with mindless chatters, his dark red irises then stop at you. a small grin creeps to his face when he sees you walking towards him with your head held up high.

but your eyes aren’t on him, it’s on the woman.

“i just think, that you are sooo-“

“so what?” you cut her off with a fake smile and arms crossed over your chest. standing beside your soon to be husband, you watch how the woman’s eyes then flicker to your figure. “making friends without me, my love? how impolite”

miguel shakes his head, his hand quick enough to snake around your waist pulling you close. “of course not, mi vida. this is—“

“not interested. so, you wanna fuck my husband?” your voice coming off venomous, glaring at the woman who seems to be shocked at your question.

a sigh escape from miguel’s mouth, one that implies ‘this is not going to be good’

the woman has her mouth hang wide open as she struggles to respond. she can’t exactly decide whether she’s intimidated by you or attracted to you.

“i—i’m so sorry… I didn’t know he had a wife—“

with a scoff, you roll your eyes. “you’ve been eyeing and talking to my man for at least twenty minutes. you’re saying that your eyesight is so fucking jacked you couldn’t even see the ring on his finger?!”

miguel could only stand there and listening to you scold the woman. because if there’s one thing he learned being with you? is that to not meddle or interrupt.

she shakes her head rapidly, stuttering out a nervous response, “n-no! i—i—I did see it, i j-just thought—“

“oh you did see it!” you exhale a sarcastic laugh. “and what, you think it’s okay to flirt with someone else’s husband when clearly he has no interest?! you really think he’s gonna go for you, sweetheart?”

the tone of your voice is far from polite. miguel could sense that, and he squeezes your waist in attempt for you to take it easy on the girl but you only shrug it off and pay no mind to it.

the woman look like she’s about to cry by how you’re scolding her. shaking quiet a bit and embarrassed that her flirty gesture had failed to steal someone else’s man.

“i’m s-sorry… I’m—i—“

“you” your raise your finger at her face. “need to get the fuck out of my sight before i drag you by the hair and beat your ass hard that no one will ever recognize that pretty face of yours again.”

she nods quickly at that, taking her champagne flute before walking away quickly. you’re still fuming on the inside. glaring at the back of that girl’s head until she’s fully disappears.

“damn, mami” miguel lowly whistles, a dark chuckle follows after as he moves to stand in front of you. hand around your waist still attached, pulling you close to him. “you’re so sexy when you get jealous.”

jealous. you hate that word.

everyone needs to know that you don’t take it lightly when it comes to miguel. he belongs to you and vice versa. and if you have to beat a bitch up to get your point across, then so be it.

“let’s get one thing straight, miguel. I don’t get jealous” You emphasize the word as you turn your focus on Miguel, giving him a stern look. “I get territorial. they need to know that you’re my man. I see a girl trying to take over my territory, then consider her fucking finished. you got that?”

miguel can’t argue with the fact that you just turned him on just by saying that. especially when you come off as demanding like this. It’s one of the reason why he fell in love with you.

bossy. ambitious. confident. and Independent. traits that miguel loves in a woman.

he smirks, looking down at you as he clicks his tongue against his bottom teeth. “yes, ma’am” he replies with a nod.

you nod back, crossing your arms. “good.”

“and just when i thought you couldn’t get any sexier” he shakes his head, squeezing your ass before leaning down a bit to give you a kiss on your cheek. “you do”

rolling your eyes, you lightly shove his shoulder. yet you can’t help but blush at the gesture. “easy there… we’re in public.”

he cocks an eyebrow, palm not leaving your ass. “and when has that ever stopped you before, mi amor?”

you bite your lower lip softly, remembering the times when you and miguel had done it over and over outside the comfort of your home.

yeah, both of you are pretty experimental.

“bathroom in 5. don’t keep me waiting”

[motherismotheringggg]

Heheh this is the sub Nicholas anon. And if you can’t or don’t feel comfy no pressure at all. Maybe virgin Nicholas with dom experienced reader giving him a blowjob for the first time. Maybe the reader has the house to themselves and invites him over. And he’s had a crush on them for so long and is so excited… he’s so whiny too 🫣

surrendered

summary: see request above, thank you to this lovely anon who suggested this <3

type: dom fem! reader x sub nicholas chavez

tags/warnings: 18+, dry humping, sex while slightly intoxicated, oral (m! receiving), nipple play (m! receiving)

author’s note: my first request 🤭🤭🤭 i really leaned into the sub! thing which made the reader more dom by comparison so this was SO much fun to write!!!

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

Nicholas sat across from you at your dining table, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that felt both thrilling and a little shy. He tried to play it cool, laughing at your jokes, but you could sense his subtle nervousness. His dark eyes would drift to the side occasionally, or his fingers would tap his glass, and he seemed to hesitate just a fraction of a second whenever you leaned in closer.

This was your fourth date, and you’d decided on a cozy pasta-and-wine night at your place. The warmth of your space—the candlelight, the soft music, the little quirks of your apartment—seemed to relax him, bringing him into your world. After dinner, he offered to do the dishes, and soon after he returned to join you on the couch, where you handed him another drink. He accepted, but barely took a sip, glancing at you as if he was gathering the courage to make a move or perhaps trying to savor the moment in silence.

You couldn’t deny your attraction to him; everything about Nicholas drew you in. His appearance held a fascinating contrast—a rugged confidence softened by boyish charm. His dark eyes were intense yet warm, and they crinkled at the corners when he smiled, hinting at something vulnerable beneath his steady exterior. His strong jawline and light stubble gave him an air of maturity, though his laughter, easy and genuine, brought out a playfulness you loved. His tousled hair fell somewhere between dark brown and nearly black, and every time he ran his fingers through it, it gave him that effortlessly handsome look that was impossible to ignore.

Settling in beside him, you let the conversation flow. The natural ease between you felt grounding as if you’d known each other far longer than a handful of dates. Yet with every inch you shifted closer, Nicholas grew visibly tenser. His fingers traced the rim of his glass, his shoulders squared up as though preparing himself for something, and he seemed to hold his breath when you brushed against him. You could tell he was torn, the mix of nerves and anticipation almost palpable. His gaze met yours fleetingly, only to dart away again, his lips parting as if to say something before pressing them together, unsure.

Smiling, you leaned in, brushing a gentle kiss against his neck, feeling the way his breath hitched. Emboldened, you let your fingers rest lightly on his knee, brushing over the fabric of his jeans. He stilled, his gaze shifting back to you, eyes wide and captivated.

"Do I make you nervous, handsome?" you teased, your voice low, just playful enough to draw him out.

Nicholas swallowed, trying to maintain his composure with a smile that didn’t quite hide his vulnerability. "Trying to not be," he murmured, though the faint blush rising on his cheeks betrayed him.

“Trying?” you asked with a laugh, pressing another soft kiss along his neck.

He hesitated, then took a steadying breath, and finally opened up. “I’ve wanted you since our first date,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “On our second date, when you wore that mini skirt, I couldn’t stop thinking about you… but, to be completely honest, I’ve… never been with anyone…sexually.”

You leaned back slightly, surprised but gentle, letting him continue without pressure.

“I thought I’d have more time to prepare,” he admitted, his cheeks flushed. His words began to tumble out a little quicker, the way they did when he was nervous. “There’s this whole idea that guys are supposed to just...know exactly what to do, you know? Like we’re born with some secret guidebook. And it’s not like I haven’t done anything, but I haven’t...gone all the way.” His voice softened, slowing as he looked at you, a vulnerability in his eyes that felt raw and genuine. “I just didn’t want to disappoint you.”

You watched him, warmth building in your chest. The trust he placed in you felt like a gift, and you found yourself even more drawn to him. With a soft smile, you took his hands in yours, bringing them to your lips and kissing each one. “You talk so fast” you started lightheartedly, to break the tension in the room. “Thank you for sharing that with me,” you said, your tone gentle but reassuring. “If we want, we all have to have a first time, and it only makes sense that yours is with someone you like.”

His expression softened, a grateful smile crossing his lips as he met your gaze.

“If you’re ready,” you continued, voice soft, “I’d love to be your first, and we can go as slow as you need. No pressure.” You placed another kiss on the back of his hand, feeling his fingers tighten around yours as he let out a long, relieved breath.

“And I can even take the lead,” you added, a playful glint in your eyes. “Forget all that stuff about what guys are ‘supposed’ to know. Trust me, you don’t need it. Besides,” you leaned in, your voice dropping to a whisper, you flicked your tongue gently against his ear “I was kind of hoping you’d let me control you just a little”.

Nicholas’s cheeks flushed a deeper red, and he let out a shaky breath, his eyes widening at your words. “O-okay,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, tinged with both excitement and nervousness. His fingers flexed against your waist, clinging to you as if you were his anchor, and he gave a slight, pleading whine, biting his lip and inhaling sharply while you continued to work on his neck.

You shifted closer, removing his shirt to reveal his firm strong chest and perfect body. You straddled his lap, your hands settling on his broad shoulders. His hands rose tentatively, resting at your waist as you leaned in, brushing your lips over his. He let out a soft, needy sound, his grip tightening slightly as if afraid to hold you too firmly. His response was hesitant at first, but as you deepened the kiss, he began to melt into it, a whimper escaping him as he pressed closer, almost desperately. His fingers pressed to your sides, in distress to keep you in your place.

You felt him shift, his grip tightening, as if he were gathering the courage to take a bit more control. Sensing it, you pulled back, just enough to keep him wanting, giving him a teasing smile. “Uh uh baby boy,” you murmured, your voice low and playful, “let me handle it.”

His eyes widened, a flash of that earlier nervousness crossing his face, and he let out a soft, almost frustrated whine. His hands loosened slightly, fingers tracing gently over your waist, his need evident in the way he looked up at you. “Sorry… just, you make it hard,” he whispered, his tone half-apologetic, half-pleading.

“I know,” you matched his pouty tone while caressing his face “but you have to wait, I want you to enjoy yourself. He leaned into your hand with heavy breath, you loved the nervous way his chest rose and fell, he was so desperate and needy for something -- anything in this moment. You started running your thumb over his lips a few times, before parting his lips slightly. You didn’t have to direct him before he you in his mouth.

Of course, that’s what you wanted but his willingness even caught you off guard - not that could show it. He looked up at you, wanting approval. You inhaled through your teeth calling him a good boy. His body responded to the praises, you could feel him grow as you sat on top of him, heat radiating from him.

You leaned in, brushing a slow, teasing kiss along his jaw, feeling his breath catch as you murmured against his skin, “Good. Now, just relax and let me take care of you.”

The soft sounds he made were adorable—small, breathy gasps between kisses, little murmurs when you traced your fingertips down his neck, skimming the sensitive skin just below his ear. The way he reacted to each touch sent a thrill through you, making you want to draw out every reaction, to push him just a bit further, to watch him come undone.

“Can I get a little rough with you baby,” you asked him. His half-lidded eyes fluttered as his body was still riding out the high of you nibbling on his neck. He nodded, cheeks pink, his hands resting lightly on your waist. “Yes, please,” he breathed, voice soft, the need unmistakable in his tone.

Without a second passing, you wrapped one hand around his neck and used the other to balance yourself on his knee. You started to rock rhythmically on his, making sure you made contact with his hardness. He turned into a mess, sweat beads forming on his forehead as he squirmed under you.

“Keep it together for me baby,” you begged him “We haven’t even gotten to the best part.” You teased, he complied letting out more whimpering moans, he was committed to trying. He bit his lip, eyes squeezed shut in a mix of effort and desire, trying desperately to hold himself back. His hands gripped your hips, trembling with restraint as he fought to keep his movements steady, despite the way you rocked against him. Sweat glistened on his skin, his breath ragged and shallow, his chest rising and falling rapidly as though every inch of his body was on the verge of losing control.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice strained, “Don’t stop Y/N.” His words were laced with a mix of desperation and determination, his brows furrowed as he bit back another whimper.

You felt the struggle in his movements, the way he held himself back, the intensity in his gaze, and you couldn't help but smile at his effort. “I know, baby,” you teased softly, your voice dripping with sweetness. “I’m almost there and then I’ll treat you right.”

His hands flexed on your hips, his grip tightening, and you saw him swallow hard like he was fighting an internal battle. He nodded, still trying to keep his composure, but every little sound that escaped his lips and the way his body trembled under you told a different story. He was close, so close, and you knew the hardest part for him was still to come.

You rode out your climax on him, coming undone right on top of him. You took his hand and put it on your panties, letting him feel the wetness he created. “Thank you for being a good boy for me baby, now it’s your turn.” He crashed into your lips fast and hurriedly, he was so excited and just as grateful, immediately pulling away feeling apologetic.

You gave him a smirk and a gentle face tap as you shifted your position, guiding him back until he lay against the arm of the couch, letting yourself settle between his legs. He watched you, his eyes wide with anticipation as you trailed kisses down his neck, along his collarbone, taking your time, savoring every shiver and quiet gasp he let out.

Your body drifted lower until you were on your knees in front of him and his breathing became shallow, every inch of him sensitive to your touch. He whimpered softly when you paused, looking up at him with a teasing smile. You only had to give him a look to instruct him to take off his shorts, he did it with a starving hunger. He was in briefs, glaring at you in anticipation. You teased him, rubbing on his thighs getting closer and closer to him.

“For this, you just have to promise me that no matter what, you’ll wait to cum until I say you can - okay?” you asked, your voice a soft murmur. His eyes filled with worry, he felt like he could finish just by your touch alone.

“Please,” he whispered, “I…don’t know if I…please” There was a desperation in his voice, a need so pure and open that it made your heart race.

“Shhhh,” you put your hand up to his face to calm him “You’re my good boy right?” He nodded his head. “And you want me to take care of you right?” he nodded his head again, “so you can do this for me right?” he nodded again, still nervous but ready to obey.

You took your time, savoring every second as you let the moment unfold slowly. Each touch was deliberate, designed to heighten his anticipation, to make every sensation feel more intense. You hovered just close enough to him, letting the tension build between you, before your fingers traced down his chest, brushing lightly against his skin. His breath hitched, his body rigid with need, and you couldn't help but smile at how easily he was unraveling.

With careful intent, you reached for the waistband of his boxers, your fingers grazing the fabric, teasing the edges. His hips twitched involuntarily as you slowly, agonizingly, pulled them down. The moment he was freed, he sprang up eagerly, his excitement evident in the way he was already so hard, flushed, and dripping with need.

You kissed his red wet tip a few times before taking him into your mouth. A few quick motions on the length of his shaft and he was so beautifully responsive —soft, needy whines escaping his lips, his hands flexing as though he didn’t know where to put them, eventually settling on your shoulders, his fingers gripping you tightly. The way he squirmed, the way his body responded to every touch, every brush of your lips—it was intoxicating, sending a thrill through you like nothing else.

You reveled in the control, savoring the power that came with every move you made. It wasn’t just the way he responded—it was the way his restraint faltered with each touch, every soft press of your lips, every calculated caress. You could feel the tension in his body, muscles taut under your hands, but you remained in charge, guiding him through the moments.

As much as he surrendered to the pleasure, it was something deeper for you. The way his body responded, how he trusted you with his vulnerability—it drove you wild. Each shift in your rhythm, each soft command, had him trembling with need, and you knew you were the key to unlocking every part of him. The power you held over him stirred something inside you, a satisfaction far greater than his pleasure, and it made every moment even more intoxicating.

You were still working on him, giving him praises when you could; “you’re such a good boy”, “you feel so good in my mouth”, “you’re so fucking hot when you moan like that”. Each compliment made him come closer and closer to unraveling. He writhed in pain trying to contain himself.

He responded, “I’m a good boy…I’m your good boy”, he thrusted a few times in your mouth, getting ahead of himself, but you knew what he wanted. You anchored him down on the couch, pressing your hands on his thighs taking him far into your mouth. He whined your name out, truly frazzled. His hair was a mess, he was drenched in sweat, and his lips were swollen from trying to contain his whimpers and moans - you knew he was very close.

“Y/N” he could barely get out between gasps, “I’m sorry but I’m close…so close”, he was pleading with you, “can I please cum…please”.

You kept a steady motion on him, taking his full shaft and using your hands to stroke him too. You acted like you didn’t hear him but he whined out your name again “Y/N please!”

You stopped for a split second to lick from base to the tip, only stopping to ask him “Do you think you deserve to cum baby?”

He threw his head back, his chest rising and falling with each strained breath, unable to form words—only a whiny sound slipping from his throat, thick with need. His body arched toward you, desperate for more. You kept him on edge, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the hard, quick beat of his heart beneath your touch. Your fingers teased over his pecs, then down to his nipples, pinching them sharply as you maintained a fast, steady rhythm with your mouth, drawing every shudder from him.

He gasped, his body trembling, his grip tightening as he fought to hold back. You could feel him unraveling, inch by inch, his desperate whimpers only fueling your control. Every movement, every touch, was a reminder of just how much you had him—completely in your grasp.

His mouth was stuck open, his eyes were shut tight, and he was seconds from it, he just waited on your command and you gave it, “cum for me beautiful boy” you said quickly going back to your motion. It took him no time to meet your request, shooting a full warm load into your mouth.

He let out moans and groans as he came down, you gave him a few last-minute licks around his tip just to make him squirm. He laughed and writhed in pain, leaning down to kiss you, “You’re amazing” he got out between exhausted breaths.

By the end of it, after you got him a towel to clean himself off and he changed into the clothes he brought for the night he lay sprawled against the couch, you nestled into his side and he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close.

“Thank you,” he murmured, voice soft, a hint of awe in his tone. He seemed almost at a loss for words, still caught in the afterglow, a mixture of relief and wonder shining in his eyes.

You smiled, brushing a gentle kiss along his jaw. “Anytime,” you whispered back, already looking forward to the next chance you’d have to show him exactly how incredible a first time could be.