#of having made those decisions to begin with

[sailoryuns]

INAMORATA ─── PSH

genre. idol!sunghoon x model!f!reader | established relationship

warnings. angst, fluff (moreso towards the end), smut, accusations of cheating, hoon being lowkey toxic, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, some mentions of crying, not proofread wc -> 1.5k

ps. the position i’m referring to is this (nsfw link), i usually hate vids but this was rly good imo.

“i think we should take a break...” you admit, voice growing shakier as you spoke. this was never something you wish to say in a million years, you wanted this relationship to work more than anything. but you were at your wits end with everything, talking to sunghoon was like conversing with the wall, never fully grasping any of your concerns.

you noticed the cracks beginning to seep in the midst of six months of being with him. he would often be dishonest of his whereabouts, saying he was out late due to “work” but was actually out drinking at some bar with jake or something. it made no sense for him to lie about such trivial things but he does it without even thinking. this was supposed to be a lovely vacation in paris together but lately you’ve grown tired of feeling like you’re unappreciated. a break from each other might be the best solution in getting his act together once and for all.

sunghoon felt his whole body turn limp as you uttered those words. not only was he blindsided by your decision, but you never indicated before to him that you were ready to propose such a drastic idea. “but why though? don’t you think this is a bit random? i mean this came out of nowhere y/n, i thought everything was good between us, why are you suddenly saying this now?” his thick, bushy brows furrowed in confusion, he wasn’t letting you off this easy and you know it.

“i just think it’s for the better right now hoon, we’re both so busy. we have a lot on our plate, especially you… and this relationship is just— it’s only putting more strain on everythi-”

“are you serious y/n? do you hear yourself? i knew what i was getting myself into the day i asked you to be my girlfriend. i’m well aware that i can’t be with you 24/7, and neither can you—however, i don’t expect that anyway. all i ever wanted was to have you by my side, i want to work through the hardships with you but if you’re so willing to give up like this then… i don’t know. i don’t even know what to say to this honestly..” sunghoon couldn’t help but cut you off, once his emotions take over, all sense of logic and reasoning is thrown out the window.

he was never one to question his worth in the eyes of his partner, but you were his longest relationship, he saw you as his first and only true love. it never occurred to him that he could lose you, the possibility of this break lasting long enough to make your love fade away was a scary revelation. there had to be a way he could fix this, he couldn’t bear to be without you.

“are you seeing someone else? maybe that’s why you’ve been so distant towards me lately…” he wanted to scream for saying that out loud but at least he got it off his chest. he knows how petty it sounds but he didn’t care, he wanted you to give him answers.

“no! i’m not seeing other people, i don’t have an interest in anyone but you sunghoon. i want to do this for the sake of us, we’re clearly not where we need to be and this break could help with getting us back on track and spending time apart could be beneficial.” you try your best to articulate your words properly but he remained unconvinced, he wasn’t on board with any bit of this.

how could you even be okay with something like this? spending time away from you drove him absolutely insane, he couldn’t fathom taking a break—not from someone as important as you in his life. he just needed to remind you that the love was still there, though it may be but a dull flame, he could ignite the spark again, with the little bit of hope he had left.

the foundation of your relationship was built from shared interests, since you both are part of professions that rely heavily on looks, you refused to see each other based solely off those superficial aspects. instead you got to know each other’s minds, your core values and beliefs, what mattered to you the most. you cherished every one of those deep conversations you shared together, it was a beautiful experience, an indescribable memory that shaped your bond forever.

so why is it now that you feel this way? was he really that oblivious to everything? he should’ve done more to prevent this but now he fears it’s too late. he’s faced with the conundrum of losing you and there wasn’t much time for him to stall or ask for a chance of redemption, he couldn’t waste another second.

“fuck that,” sunghoon angrily spat, his face contorting into a look of pure disgust. “you’re not going anywhere.” he reaches out to grab your waist before you could walk away, aggressively pulling you into his chest.

no matter how much you attempt to escape his hold, he’s not letting you go in the slightest. he’s much stronger than you, could easily lift you up without breaking a sweat. there was no use in fighting, you had no choice but to give in and let this conversation go. once his lips crashed into yours, everything faded to black. as if a simple kiss was the cure-all of mending this decrepit relationship.

sunghoon’s forehead pressed against yours as he pulled away, “shhh, lye down baby,” he hushes your quiet mewls, instructing you to do as he says. “gonna make you feel so good,” his hands slid under your skirt, gently rubbing over your clothed core “you’ll forget everything.”

* :.･ﾟﾟ･ ✿

“oh my- fuckk, sunghoon!” you cry out, almost on the verge of tears just from how skilled he is, rutting your hips upwards into his mouth as he devours you whole.

the pace of his tongue is relentless, roughly lapping up all your juices like he’s the most starved man alive. you’ve lost count at the amount of times he’s already made you come undone just from his mouth alone. your body’s buzzing with titillation, all you can do is scream and clench your pussy around nothing while he fiercely sucks on your clit.

you couldn’t stop twitching, feeling yet another orgasm approaching. your legs anchored over his shoulders, unable to think or speak coherent sentences as his face was fully buried into your sloppy cunt. he relaxes his jaw a bit more, going all the way from the bottom inching further up as he comes back in contact with your puffy clit. at any given moment it feels as if your heart’s about to stop.

“hoon-” your heads thrown back into the pillow, digging your nails into his shoulder blades from how overly sensitive you are. “n-need to cum.. can feel it. m’so close.” it surprises you when you’re able to even express such words.

a low grunt can be heard underneath, sunghoon loves hearing you— it’s arguably the best part about going down on you. the hand that wasn’t occupied went straight to gripping a fistful of his ebony hair, continuously moaning his name so loud that you genuinely feel bad for whomever the unlucky people that got to hear this.

just when you thought it couldn’t get anymore intense, he slips 2 of his slender fingers inside, making you gasp from the overwhelming sensation. flashes of white invade your vision, violently shaking as your lips form an “o” in the throes of ecstasy. sunghoon knows your body so well that this is nothing for him, he’s got it all down to a simple science. no one knows your body like he does, and especially no one can make you cum as hard as he can.

“go ahead, make a mess for me baby,” he strongly encourages, picking up his pace as his digits fuck into you faster. “just gonna clean it up with my tongue all over again.”

your eyes roll back to the depths of oblivion, feeling an out of body experience when reaching your climax. a string of curses leaves your shaky breath, limbs trembling and faint tears stain your flushed cheeks. sunghoon slows his movements, rubbing his thumb over your clit gently to make you even more sensitive. you love the way he calls you “good girl” and how proud the look on his face becomes while you ride out your orgasm on his fingers. he doesn’t stop showering you with compliments, only ramping up his affection as he plants fleeting kisses to your thighs, hips, and stomach.

once he’s finally come back up for air you grab his face to pull him into your lips again. moaning in his mouth while getting a taste of yourself was probably the hottest thing sunghoon’s ever witnessed.

“can’t believe this is all mine.” sunghoon whispers against you, gently massaging your aching thighs. “i love you so much, baby.”

“love you too hoon.” you instantly say back, feeling more at ease now that things are somewhat back to normal.

maybe a break isn’t necessary after all, how else would you be able to have such earth shattering orgasms?

- 完 ♡︎

[dearru]

do u guys know that one song by doja cat that goes “like fortnite ima need ur skin.” that’s what inspired this. hope u enjoy. | mlist

imagine you, an aspiring singer, starting to date the wildly influential streamer, kodzuken. you two are the definition of a picture perfect couple, and you start to make lots of content together. as a result, your career begins to take off, and kenma’s content grows in popularity,

everything’s great— until it isn’t. the relationship ends up crashing and burning in an embarrassingly public breakup.

people are devastated. video essays are made. diehard fans even claim the split is the equivalent of “parents divorcing.”

it’s a whole ordeal.

but as time passes, the wounds heal. and in true internet fashion, it becomes old news. some people still whisper about how they believe you two are soulmates, but for the most part, kenma’s chat and your comment section don’t get flooded with invasive questions about whether you two will get back together anymore.

fast forward to two years or so after the breakup, you and kenma end up growing in your respective careers. his several business ventures have grown exponentially, and you’re now selling out stadiums.

kenma doesn’t stream as much as he used to when you two were together, but he chalks it up to having to juggle so many different commitments now. fans speculate as to whether or not that’s the true reason, but as a collective, they agree that they’ll take whatever content they can get from the elusive creator.

despite not streaming as frequently, kenma still likes to indulge his audience every once in a while by hopping online. normally, he likes to decide what to play, but every once in a while, he’ll let chat decide.

tonight is one of those nights.

on a whim, he gives in to requests for him to boot up fortnite— an old favorite of his— for the first time in months.

big mistake.

the second he opens the once beloved game, he gets jumpscared by something that even his worst nightmares couldn’t have fathomed.

you.

everywhere.

to his horror, and the chat’s delight, he finds that you’ve become the poster child for fortnite’s newest campaign. your face is on the menu screen, banners of you flash in bright colors, and you’re plastered everywhere in the item shop.

they say men are constantly haunted by the ghost of their first love, and in a cruel twist of fate, it’s a saying that has become ironically true for kenma as he realizes that epic games has made you into a fucking skin.

he debates the consequences of throwing his pc into a wall, but his screen flashes with an overly excitable chat faster than he can make a decision. old fans are freaking out, new gen fans are wondering what all the fuss is about, and someone donates just to type “YOU’RE FUCKED.”

kenma has half the mind to laugh as the notification illuminates his face because he knows the donor is right.

he’s not an idiot. he knows that you’re popular now, but to be so famous that you have your own skin? he’s in absolute disbelief. there’s no way the universe hates him this much. it’s bad enough that you’re on every headline and radio station. now you’re in his favorite video game?!?!

he is so unbelievably, irrevocably fucked.

—a/n: i think that kenma’s viewers are evil and they all band together and emote on kenma with ur skin whenever they see him online.

—a/n #2: has anyone written abt this concept before. pls lmk. i would love to read it bc i giggled so hard when the thought popped in my head HAHAHA.

—a/n #3: guys i don’t play fortnite, watch streamers, or write for kenma at all so pls don’t hate on me ok thx love u

[stephbanana]

I mean this has been par for the course. Of course they’re hypocrites and lie. Republicans and Musk get away with simple explanations or lies about how to solve tough, complex issues all the time. They take those mammoth problems that take so much time to carefully fix and help the most amount of people without major amounts of disruption to everything and find a way to make it seem “simple”. Which then translates to the masses as a “reasonable” solution despite the fact that it throws out LOTS of crucially important details and has no nuance and would hurt more than it would help.

My husband and I just had a conversation with our neighbor who, despite voting democratic nearly all of the time, had very little understanding of 1) how our government works and 2) the factors that lead to politics as they exist today. You cannot explain democratic positions to the average voter without educating them on the last 30 years of politics - my entire life, essentially. We dumped so much information on this poor person. My neighbor had never heard of citizens united. They only vaguely heard of PACs. We explained the court decisions and cases that contributed to laws as they currently exist, how the Supreme Court make up is crucially important, and what decisions made by Congress changed the political course in this country, and even the amount of money Republicans spend vs Democrats as who actually contributes to the US debt.

They had missed so so much, because these kinds of things are not making their way to the masses. And they’re far from the only person that I’ve had to explain these things to. Only once they get political context do they begin to actually understand democratic positions a little better. So no matter the catchy, simplistic name or phrase you give to whatever it is you’re doing, the position itself is not entirely grasped by the masses because the context hasn’t made it to them.

Progressives need to begin talking about context and educating voters on the things that contributed to politics as they are today. Average people do. not. know. They used to be taught by their elks or rotary club or their union - but membership in those community groups has all but died and unions still are a far cry from where they used to be.

Robert, you have done an excellent job of using your platform and voice to break down these complicated issues into things that are easier to understand. Would you consider working with Indivisible or MeidasTouch to talk about the basic history of politics since, say, the rise of Newt Grigrich in the 90’s? Voters need the context of modern history to truly understand what is happening in their government and why it is truly awful.

I will continue to explain political history to my friends and colleagues who will listen to me. Hopefully they will begin to understand what is happening a bit better.

Friends, Musk is trying to downplay the chaos he’s creating by saying it’s much the same as the cost-cutting efforts of the Clinton administration. “What DOGE is doing is similar to Clinton/Gore Dem policies of the 1990s,” he posted on his X platform. Rubbish. I cut costs in the Clinton administration. The contrast with what Musk is doing couldn’t be sharper. As secretary of labor, I took the Department of Labor down from 18,500 employees to 16,600 — but did it without any layoffs. No chainsaws. No meat-axes. And we were careful to improve the services we were providing the public. For example, when people lost jobs in an industry that was shrinking, we devised a way to get them job-training and job-search assistance in addition to unemployment insurance. This helped move them into new jobs faster — which also saved the government over $1 billion a year in unemployment payments. We plowed that $1 billion back into job-training and job-search assistance, making the whole economy work better. In Musk’s attack on the federal workforce, thousands of federal workers have been fired without warning. Or they’ve been offered fake “deferred resignation” buyouts that were never authorized by Congress and may not be legal. Entire agencies have been gutted without legislative authorization, forcing judges to intervene. Our “Reinventing Government” effort was authorized by bipartisan congressional legislation. We worked carefully over several years to identify areas where government could be more efficient, notifying Congress of what we were doing. But the Republicans who control Congress today have allowed Musk to race ahead without them, even though the Constitution states that the legislative branch approves spending and federal law prohibits the president from cutting programs Congress has authorized without its permission. Clinton sought that permission, and Congress accepted $3.6 billion in cuts he proposed. We also involved federal workers, because they knew better than anyone what could be improved and how best to do it. We introduced performance standards, we encouraged our workers to embrace the internet, and we gave out awards to employees who came up with ways to cut red tape and improve service. “There was a tremendous effort put into understanding what should happen and what should change,” said Max Stier, president of the Partnership for Public Service, which seeks to improve the federal workforce. “What is happening now is actually taking us backwards.” We were deliberative and careful. Musk is the opposite. Musk sees government workers as the enemy — as costs to be cut. We saw government workers as assets to be developed, our partners in getting better services to the public more efficiently. Musk also calls people who benefit from government programs the “parasite class.” Presumably that’s why he’s eager to cut back Medicaid. But Medicaid’s beneficiaries aren’t parasites. Half of them are children. Oh, but if we’re talking about people who depend on government, Musk is the biggest “parasite” of all. Over the years, Musk and his businesses have received at least $38 billion in government contracts, loans, subsidies, and tax credits, often at critical moments, helping seed the growth that has made him the richest person in the world. That he views public servants as his enemy and the people who benefit from public programs as “parasites” tells you all you need to know about Elon Musk. When you hear Musk say his effort is similar to what I and others did in the 1990s, know he’s lying. When you see him call people who benefit from public programs “parasites,” know he’s a hypocrite. Thoughts?

[gardenladysworld]

Starbound hearts

Status: I'm working on it

Pairings: Neteyam x human!f!reader

Aged up characters!

Genre/Warnings: fluff, slow burn, oblivious characters, light angst, hurt/comfort, pining, NSFW, human x Na'vi, size difference

Summary: In the breathtaking, untamed beauty of Pandora, two souls from different worlds find themselves drawn together against all odds. Neteyam, the dutiful future olo'eyktan of the Omaticaya clan, is bound by the expectations of his people and the traditions of his ancestors. She, a human scientist with a love for Pandora’s wonders, sees herself as an outsider, unworthy of the connection she craves.

So basically this part is a full smut. But here we are :')

Tags: @nerdylawyerbanditprofessor-blog, @ratchetprime211, @poppyseed1031, @redflashoftheleaf, @nikipuppeteer@eliankm, @quintessences0posts, @minjianhyung

Part 18. vol 2: To remember

Part 19: To carry

You drag the brush through your damp hair, wincing slightly when it snags on a knot. Your muscles still ache in the best way possible, a dull throb deep in your bones that makes you feel flushed all over again. It’s been hours since you left the hut with Neteyam, hours since his lips were on you, since his hands—

The door to your quarters slams open so violently that you nearly jump out of your chair.

Kate strides in like she owns the place, eyes locking onto you immediately. Before you can even protest, she shuts the door just as aggressively, spins on her heel, and plants her hands on her hips.

"Spill," she commands.

You blink. "What—"

"Don’t play dumb," she cuts you off, pointing a finger at you like you’re on trial. "I know damn well you weren’t here last night, and I know Neteyam didn’t walk you back like you two promised Norm."

Shit.

Your heart kicks up, heat creeping up your neck. "How do you—"

"Because Norm was confused as hell when you weren’t at breakfast," Kate smirks, crossing her arms. "So I may have told him you got back late, crashed, and overslept."

Your jaw drops. "What?!"

"You’re welcome, by the way," she says, looking far too pleased with herself.

"Kate!"

"What? Did you want him to know you were out all night getting railed by the chief’s son?"

Your face burns instantly. "Kate! How do~?!"

She grins like the menace she is and flops onto your bed, leaning back on her elbows. "So? Tell me everything."

You groan, burying your face in your hands. "Oh my God—"

"Uh-uh," she tuts, kicking at your leg. "Don’t act all shy now. I just covered for your ass. The least you can do is tell me how it was. And don’t lie—I can see it all over your face. You’re glowing like one of those bioluminescent plants on your desk. And your neck…" She pointed towards the few lovebites what was left by Neteyam.

You exhale sharply, dropping your hands to your neck. Kate’s not going to let this go. And, honestly… maybe you do need to talk about it.

Because, holy shit.

You clear your throat, still avoiding her eyes. "We… we started heading back."

"And?"

You swallow. "And… we got a little distracted."

Kate squints. "Define distracted."

Your stomach flips just thinking about it. The feel of Neteyam’s hands on your waist, the way his lips traced over your jaw as you kissed him back, lost in each other—

You shift in your seat. "We started kissing and, um… we never actually made it back."

Kate’s eyes widen. "Oh, bitch."

You let out an embarrassed laugh, pressing your cool hands to your flushed cheeks. "Okay, so we were walking back, just like we promised Norm," you begin, setting your brush down as you turn toward her. "But then we stopped for a second—you know, to talk..."

Kate groans, flopping back dramatically. "Oh, this already sounds like the beginning of a bad decision."

"Oh, it was," you laugh, shaking your head. "One second, we were kissing. The next I was on his ikran towards the hut.

Kate’s eyes widen. "Wait, wait. To the hut? Outside? You little heathen."

"Listen, I didn’t plan for it to happen like that!" You defend, laughing. "But, you know, one thing led to another, and suddenly, we were stumbling back to the hunter’s hut instead of the outpost."

Kate smacks your arm. "So, you lied to Norm too!"

"I prefer to think of it as an unspoken change of plans," you tease, winking. "Anyway, once we got inside, it was over for me. He was all over me, Kate. Like, kissing me, touching me, whispering all this shit in Na’vi—I swear, I have never been this turned on in my entire life."

Kate fans herself. "Okay, okay, but tell me the real tea. How was it?"

Your grin turns positively sinful. "Insane. Like, I didn’t know I could come that hard. Whether he was eating me out or fucking me, it was just—Eywa, I think he ruined me."

Kate makes a strangled noise, her mouth open in shock. "Hold the hell up. He went down on you?"

"Oh, Kate," you sigh, shaking your head. "Not just 'went down on me.' He fucking worshipped me. He had me shaking, sobbing, gripping onto his braids like my life depended on it."

Kate looks like she might combust on the spot. "You’re lying."

"I’m not," you say, eyes wide with sincerity. "He had me coming in, like, two minutes. And then he just kept going."

Kate groans, burying her face in your pillow. "This is so unfair. Why do you get the ten-foot-tall sex god?"

"Because I deserve nice things," you quip, smirking.

Kate lifts her head, her eyes gleaming with pure nosiness. "Okay, but what about the main event? Like, how big are we talking?"

You pause for dramatic effect. Then, with a slow, knowing look, you simply say: "Big."

Kate gasps. "Like, scary big?"

You laugh. "At first? A little, yeah. But Neteyam was so gentle. He was holding himself back, trembling above me because he didn’t want to hurt me." Your voice softens slightly as you recall the way he shuddered, the way he pressed slow, reverent kisses to your skin as he waited for you to adjust. "He took his time, made sure I was okay every step of the way."

Kate sighs, clutching her chest. "Ugh, that’s so hot."

"But," you continue, eyes darkening with memory, "once I told him not to hold back? He lost it."

Kate’s jaw drops. "And?"

"And then he fucked me so good, I think I forgot my own name." You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. "I was gripping onto him, telling him how good he felt, and he just—ugh, Kate, the noises he was making? He was so deep, so strong, and when he came—"

"STOP," Kate wails, throwing a pillow at you. "I’m going to die alone, and it’s your fault."

You cackle, catching the pillow as she groans dramatically.

Kate sighs, shaking her head. "So, let me get this straight. You had the best night of your life, your hot alien boyfriend practically worshipped your body, and you’re sitting here acting like a normal person?"

"Trust me," you murmur, stretching slightly as you feel the dull ache still lingering between your thighs. "I am not normal right now."

Kate grins. "Damn right, you’re not. You’re the luckiest bitch alive."

You smirk, leaning back against your bed with a dreamy sigh. "Yeah. Yeah, I really am.”

You stretch your legs out on the bed, still grinning as you let your head fall back against the pillow, the memories of this morning making warmth pool deep in your belly all over again.

Kate, still lying beside you, turns her head toward you, her blue eyes gleaming with anticipation. "You’re holding back on me. I can feel it. What else happened?"

You hum, biting your lip, debating whether or not to keep talking. But then again, when have you ever kept anything from Kate?

So, you smirk. "Okay, so… this morning."

Kate immediately sits up, cross-legged, fully invested. "Yes?"

You sigh dreamily, running a hand through your still-damp hair. "He got up before me, right? And when I finally woke up, he was just sitting there, watching me with this stupidly soft look on his face. Like, full-on ‘you are my entire world’ eyes."

Kate clutches her chest dramatically. "Stop. You’re killing me."

You snicker. "And then—he brought me breakfast. Like, actual food. He went out and got fruit for me before I even woke up."

Kate gasps. "So, he dicked you down and took care of you afterward? Oh, he’s a fucking keeper."

You nod, grinning. "Right? And I thought, oh wow, how sweet of him, he’s letting me eat in peace—but no. That was just his way of making sure I had energy. Because the second I finished eating, he went down on me again."

Kate’s jaw drops. "No. Fucking. Way."

"Oh, yes way." You sigh, shivering at the memory. "Kate, I swear, he was starving for it. Like, I’ve never seen a man so desperate before in my life. It was like years of longing just…” you snap your finger “exploded all at once. Kate, I swear, I have never seen someone eat pussy with that level of dedication.”

Kate groans, flopping back down onto the bed, smacking a pillow over her face. "That is so unfair. So insanely unfair."

You laugh, tilting your head toward her. "I mean, not gonna lie, I thought I was gonna pass out. He just would not stop. I was literally begging him at one point, and he still wasn’t done."

Kate lifts the pillow off her face just enough to peek at you. "Begging him to stop?"

"Yes," you groan, throwing an arm over your face. "Like, I lost count of how many times I came, and he still wanted more.”

Kate lets out an inhuman noise. "I am suffering right now."

You grin, rolling onto your side to face her. "And the noises he was making? Holy shit. He was moaning, growling—at one point, I swear he was purring while his tongue was in me."

Kate slaps the bed. "I need a Na’vi man immediately."

You laugh, stretching your arms above your head. 

Kate is kicking her feet like a schoolgirl. "I need to sit down."

"You are sitting down."

"I need to sit down somewhere else and maybe touch some grass."

You laugh breathlessly. "His face was buried between my legs, and the noises he was making—Kate, I think he blacked out at one point. He kept mumbling shit like 'so sweet' and 'I need more' and 'I could stay here forever.' I was genuinely concerned he was never going to stop."

Kate groans into the pillow. "Did you die? Did you actually die?"

"Oh, I ascended. I left my body. Eywa had to personally send me back because I wasn’t supposed to go yet."

Kate wheezes, but you’re not done.

"And after, when I could finally breathe again, he just—he looked so fucking pleased with himself, all smug and satisfied. So, I was like, okay. My turn."

Kate’s eyes go impossibly wide. "You—"

You nod, grinning. "I went down on him."

Kate shrieks, rolling onto her stomach and kicking her feet against the mattress. "Tell me. Every. Single. Thing.”

You groan, flopping onto your back. "Yeah. And let me tell you—it was a fucking pain in the ass."

Kate frowns. "What? Why?"

You sigh dramatically. "Because of the goddamn mask, Kate. I had to hold my breath every time I pulled it off, and let me tell you—when you’re trying to fit a thick-ass ten-foot-tall Na’vi’s dick in your mouth while holding your breath, it is not easy."

Kate fucking howls, clutching her stomach as she laughs.

You shake your head. "I had to keep stopping to put my mask back on and breathe, but I managed. Somehow."

Kate wipes tears from her eyes. "I can’t—oh my god—you literally risked suffocating just to suck his dick."

You smirk. "And you know what? The noises he made made up for the lung-burning pain.” you continue, enjoying the way she looks like she’s about to die. "And when he came, he growled so deep I felt it in my fucking bones.”

Kate groans. "I cannot believe you’re living my dream right now."

You smirk. "Believe it, baby. It happened. And I can still hear those sounds he made. If I die tomorrow, just know I went out happy."

Kate sighs dramatically. "You’re officially my hero. And also, I hate you."

You giggle, stretching out on the bed. "I regret nothing.”

Neteyam barely steps into the family’s tent before Jake’s sharp gaze locks onto him. His father is sitting near the fire, sharpening a blade, but the moment Neteyam enters, Jake’s expression shifts—his keen eyes narrowing as he takes in his son’s appearance.

“You look like shit,” Jake comments, his tone neutral but laced with something pointed. “Where were you all night?”

Neteyam stills, his body instinctively tensing. He knew this was coming. He had been prepared for it—at least, he thought he was. But now, standing here, the weight of last night still wrapped around him like a second skin, he doesn’t want to ruin it. Doesn’t want to let this moment, this rare sliver of happiness, be tainted by the inevitable disapproval. So, he hesitates.

And Jake notices. His father’s jaw tightens. “I asked you a question.”

Neteyam exhales through his nose, keeping his voice measured. “I was out.”

Jake’s brow furrows, his ears flicking back slightly. “Out where?”

“Just… out.”

Jake sets the blade down with a sharp clank, standing up. “Don’t do that.” His voice is firmer now, carrying the weight of a man who has had to give orders his whole life. “Don’t stand there and dodge my question. I know you didn’t come back last night. So I’ll ask again—where the hell were you?”

Neteyam clenches his jaw, forcing himself to stay calm. He doesn’t want to fight. Not now. Not when his body still hums with the memory of her touch, not when he can still feel the echo of her breath against his skin. But his silence is its own answer.

Jake scoffs, crossing his arms. “You know, you’ve been a little too distracted lately. First, you’re sneaking off, now you’re staying out all night?” His expression darkens. “You need to be better than this, Neteyam.”

And that—that does it. Something in Neteyam snaps. His whole body goes rigid, his breath leaving him in a sharp exhale. “Better?” His voice is quiet, but the sharp edge in it makes Jake’s ears twitch.

Jake doesn’t back down. “Yeah. Better. You’re the eldest, Neteyam. You don’t get to screw around like this.”

Neteyam’s fists clench at his sides. His entire life has been spent being better. He has done everything asked of him. And yet—this one thing, this one thing for himself, and suddenly, he’s failing? The frustration that’s been simmering under his skin for years erupts like a storm. “I have always been better!” Neteyam’s voice rises, his breath shaking as he takes a step forward. “I have always done everything you asked, everything you expected of me!” His tail lashes behind him, his ears pinned back in anger. “I kept my siblings safe. I protected them, even when it meant taking the blame for their mistakes! I led the last Iknimaya yesterday without a single mistake!” His chest heaves. “And now—now, when I do one thing for myself, I’m suddenly the worst son ever?”

Jake’s expression hardens. “This isn’t about—”

“Yes, it is!” Neteyam cuts him off, his voice cracking with emotion. His breaths are ragged, his golden eyes burning with something raw, something heavy. “I have given everything to this family! Every damn moment of my life has been spent proving myself—to you, to the clan! And for what?” He lets out a bitter laugh. “So you can tell me I should be better?”

Jake’s tail flicks sharply, his own anger rising. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Then what did you mean, huh?” Neteyam challenges, stepping closer. His whole body is vibrating with unspent energy, his heart hammering in his chest. “Because I am so tired of this, Dad. Of never being enough. Of never getting to be anything other than what you need me to be.” His voice drops lower, filled with something vulnerable, something close to breaking. “For once—I just wanted something for myself.”

The tent is thick with silence, the only sound is their uneven breathing. Jake looks at him, his jaw clenched, his ears twitching as he processes his son’s words. And for the first time, Neteyam doesn’t care if he’s disappointed. Because this isn’t about proving himself anymore. This isn’t about what Jake wants. This is about him.

The silence between them is thick, heavy with words unspoken. Jake just looks at him now, his sharp golden eyes studying his son—really looking at him. And for the first time, he sees not a boy, not the eager child who used to cling to his every word, but a man. A man who is standing before him, chest heaving, fists clenched, his whole body trembling—not with fear, not with uncertainty, but with anger.

A man who has spent his whole life trying to be exactly what Jake expected. And for the first time, Jake wonders if maybe—maybe—he’s been expecting too much. Neteyam swallows, his jaw tight, his ears pinned back as he glares at his father. But beneath the anger, beneath the frustration, there’s something else—something that makes Jake’s stomach twist.

Something that looks an awful lot like hurt.

Neteyam lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You know what really pisses me off?” His voice is raw, strained, cracking at the edges. “It’s not the expectations. It’s not even the pressure.” His golden eyes burn as they lock onto Jake’s. “It’s the fact that no matter what I do, you always make me feel like it’s never enough.”

Jake stiffens.

Neteyam takes a shaky breath, running a hand through his braids in frustration. “I have always tried to be the son you wanted, the leader you needed me to be. I listened. I obeyed. I put my family, my siblings—the entire damn clan—before myself. I never once complained. Not once.” His voice drops lower, rough with emotion. “And you still look at me like I will never be the man you want me to be.”

Jake exhales through his nose, his expression unreadable. “Neteyam—”

“No.” Neteyam shakes his head, his hands balling into fists. “You don’t get to talk your way out of this. Because I see it, Dad. I see it in your eyes every time I make a mistake. The way you look at me, like I’m failing, like I’m not good enough.” He lets out a harsh breath, his shoulders shaking. “And the worst part? I believed it.” His throat bobs as he swallows, blinking rapidly. “I spent my whole life believing that no matter how hard I tried, I would never be the son you wanted me to be.”

Jake’s jaw tightens, something flickering behind his gaze. Neteyam lets out a broken laugh, shaking his head. “Do you know how badly I wanted to make you proud?” His voice cracks. “How much I needed to hear you say that I was enough?”

Jake swallows hard. Because fuck. He thinks back—to every time Neteyam took the blame for his siblings, to every time he stood tall, unflinching, unwavering, carrying responsibilities that Jake put on his shoulders. And now, standing here, looking at his son—really looking at him—Jake sees it clearly.

Neteyam never just wanted to be a good warrior, a strong leader, the perfect heir. He just wanted to be his father’s son. Jake lets out a slow breath, his shoulders easing as something inside him shifts. “Neteyam.” His voice is softer now, calmer.

But Neteyam doesn’t want calm. Not now. His ears flatten, his tail lashing behind him. “What? Are you going to tell me I should be better again?” His lips curl into a humorless smile. “That I should be the perfect son? The perfect leader? Because guess what, Dad—I am trying. I have always been trying.”

Jake’s expression shifts—his ears twitching, his lips parting slightly, like he wants to say something, like maybe—maybe—he’s finally starting to understand.

But Neteyam doesn’t want to hear it. Because he already knows the answer. His chest still tight with emotion, he shakes his head and turns away. “I have training to do,” he mutters. His voice is steady, but his body is rigid, his tail snapping behind him.

Jake watches him go, his face unreadable, his jaw locked. Neteyam doesn’t look back. He walks out of the tent, his breath heavy, his mind racing.

The younger warriors are already waiting for him, gathered in the training grounds. The same place he’s always been. The same responsibility he’s always carried. Once, he might have thought it was just another duty—another burden placed on his shoulders simply because of who he is.

But now?

Now, it’s his. They are his responsibility. His warriors. His lessons to teach.

The duty his father put on his shoulders. The responsibility that has always belonged to him. He is the eldest. The future leader. And no matter what personal battles rage inside him, he will do what is expected.

And as he steps forward to lead them, pushing down the lingering ache in his chest, he reminds himself of one thing— Even if his father will never see him for who he is, he will still stand tall.

The lab is dimly lit, humming softly with the quiet whir of machines, the faint glow of monitors casting long shadows over the walls. The others have long since gone to sleep, but he knows you haven’t.

You never do.

Neteyam moves easily through the outpost, ducking through the doorway and passing through the airlock with quiet familiarity. He’s been here enough times to know exactly where to find you. Past the main workstations, near the back corner where your massive desk is buried under notebooks, equipment, and scattered samples.

And there you are. Hunched over a microscope, completely lost in your work, oblivious to everything else. His chest tightens with something deep, something warm.

He missed you. He hadn’t realized just how badly he needed to see you until this moment. And it’s ridiculous, because he had you last night—finally, fully had you. And again this morning, wrapped up in you, touching and kissing and worshiping you until neither of you could breathe.

But it wasn’t enough. It will never be enough.

Neteyam steps closer, his large frame casting a long shadow over your workspace, but you don’t notice him. Your brows are furrowed, lips pursed in thought, entirely consumed by whatever sample you’re analyzing. He smirks slightly, shifting his weight before speaking. "You never sleep, do you, syulang?"

The sound of his voice shatters the silence. You jump so violently that you nearly knock over the entire microscope, a startled yelp escaping your lips. Your wide eyes snap up to him, your hand flying to your chest. “Holy shit, Neteyam!” you gasp, breathing hard. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Neteyam grins, but it quickly turns into a wince as you hurl the nearest object at him—a small vial of clear liquid. He easily catches it, holding it up with a smirk. "Throwing things at me now, ma’yawne?"

"You nearly gave me a heart attack!" you accuse, still trying to calm your racing heart.

Neteyam chuckles, setting the vial down on the desk before leaning against it, his tail flicking lazily behind him. "You need to be more aware of your surroundings. What if I was a real threat?"

You huff, rolling your eyes as you retrieve your fallen notebook. "The only threat here is me deciding not to kiss you for scaring the shit out of me."

Neteyam gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "No kisses? You wound me."

You squint at him, suspicious. "You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?"

His ears flick, the playful smirk still tugging at his lips. "Maybe a little."

You shake your head, sighing. "You are so lucky you’re hot."

Neteyam grins, leaning down until his face is just inches from yours. "Lucky, huh?" His voice drops, warm and teasing. "So you do think I’m hot."

You scoff, trying (and failing) to fight the smile pulling at your lips. "Obviously." You gesture to him, your eyes flicking over his broad shoulders, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement. "You are unfairly gorgeous."

Neteyam hums, smug. "Good to know."

You shake your head, exhaling, and then your expression shifts—your teasing smirk softens, your brows knitting together just slightly as you look at him. Really look at him. "You look troubled, love," you murmur, your voice gentle, but sure.

Neteyam stills. For a moment, he doesn’t move, caught off guard by how easily you see through him. How effortlessly you pick apart the pieces of him, no matter how well he hides them. He swallows, his golden eyes lingering on your face, before he steps forward, moving with quiet intent.

Your chair is small compared to him, the metal wheels scraping softly against the floor as she pushes herself away from the desk when he kneels before you. His massive frame folds with practiced grace, his strong arms sliding around your waist as he rests his forehead against your stomach.

Your breath hitches, but you don’t hesitate. Your hands move instantly to his head, fingers slipping into his thick braids, stroking, soothing. “What happened, my love?” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss against the crown of his head.

Neteyam exhales slowly, his grip tightening around you. And finally—finally—he breathes.

You don’t ask again. You just hold him.

Your small hands cradle his head, your fingers threading through his thick braids with slow, soothing motions. The steady rhythm of your touch is grounding, pulling him back from the storm raging in his chest. And then—softly, barely above a whisper—you begin to hum.

The melody is unfamiliar, but it’s gentle, warm, wrapping around him like a lullaby. Neteyam exhales, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as his body sags against you. The tension in his shoulders doesn’t fully leave, but it lessens—just a little.

Your lips press another soft kiss to his head, lingering there for a moment. “You don’t have to tell me,” you murmur, voice quiet, patient. “But I’ll be here if you need me.”

Something in Neteyam clenches at that. At how easy you make it. You don’t push, don’t demand answers, don’t pry at the wounds he isn’t ready to expose. You just hold him, letting him exist in this moment without expectation.

His breathing slows. Your hands begin to move, sliding down from his hair to his shoulders, your small fingers pressing gently against the tight muscles there. Your touch is featherlight at first, testing, before you start working out the tension coiled beneath his skin.

“My strong warrior,” you coo softly, kneading at the knots in his shoulders, coaxing the stiffness away.

Neteyam shudders. A quiet, shaky exhale slips past his lips. He doesn’t know how to say it—how to tell you that this, you, are the only thing keeping him together right now. So he doesn’t. He just holds you tighter, pressing his face deeper against your stomach, breathing you in, letting your warmth settle into his bones.

You don’t say anything at first—just let him breathe, let him exist in the quiet safety of your touch. Your fingers continue their slow, gentle movements over his shoulders, kneading away the tension that lingers there. The weight of him against you is grounding, and you can feel the way his body slowly relaxes, melting into your warmth.

But you can also feel the storm still lingering beneath the surface—the way his grip on you is just a little too tight, the way his breathing is steady but not quite even.

So, you do what you know he needs.

You start talking.

Softly.

Gently.

Filling the silence with something light, something safe.

“So,” you murmur, fingers tracing idle circles over his skin, “I finally got some readings back on the plant samples Norm brought in yesterday.”

Neteyam hums against you, a wordless sound of acknowledgment. You smile, pressing another absentminded kiss to the top of his head before continuing, keeping your voice quiet, soothing.

“It’s interesting,” you muse, letting your fingers drag down the strong lines of his back before smoothing over his shoulders again. “The bioluminescence is stronger in the younger samples, but as they mature, it seems to fade. Almost like they outgrow it.”

Neteyam shifts slightly, pressing his forehead a little firmer against your stomach. “Strange,” he murmurs, voice low, rough from exhaustion.

You hum in agreement, continuing your slow massage. “Yeah. We’re thinking it might be a defense mechanism—something to deter herbivores when they’re still small and fragile.”

Another hum from him, deeper this time. Encouraged by the way his body is slowly unwinding, you keep going, letting the soft cadence of your voice distract him, pull him from whatever dark thoughts he’s been trapped in.

“I had to run a few more tests, though,” you continue, smiling slightly to yourself. “And of course, Brian managed to spill half a vial of solution all over my desk, so I had to clean that up before I could even start.”

Neteyam lets out a quiet, tired huff against your skin. “Clumsy.”

You grin. “Right? I swear, for a scientist, that man has zero coordination.”

His tail flicks lazily against the floor, the tension in his muscles fading little by little. You keep talking, filling the air between you with easy, gentle words. And Neteyam—whether he responds with a hum, a quiet murmur, or simply the way his arms tighten around you—just listens.

You keep talking, letting your voice stay soft, soothing, your fingers working methodically over the knots in his shoulders. Neteyam doesn’t move, doesn’t interrupt—just breathes against you, his arms locked around your waist as if holding onto you is the only thing keeping him together.

"So," you murmur, letting your fingers trace along the curve of his traps, "Kate noticed something was off with me today."

That gets a reaction. Neteyam’s ears twitch slightly, but he doesn’t lift his head. He just lets out a slow breath against your stomach. You smirk. "Actually, ‘noticed’ is an understatement. More like she interrogated me like a damn FBI agent."

Neteyam hums, barely lifting his head enough to mumble, "What is FBI?"

You grin, fingers kneading into another stubborn knot. "Doesn’t matter. The point is, she knew. The second she saw me this morning, she was all over me, demanding details. You should have seen her, Neteyam. She was relentless."

One of his hands rubs absent circles against your lower back, and you feel his exhale before he speaks. "What did you tell her?"

You roll your eyes, even though he can’t see it. "What do you think I told her? She covered for me with Norm, so I kind of owed her. And, well..." You pause for dramatic effect. "Let’s just say she knows exactly why I was late today."

Neteyam groans, shifting slightly against you. "Skxawng," he mutters under his breath, the sound vibrating against your skin.

You grin. "Oh, come on. Like I could have gotten away with saying nothing? She literally called me out for glowing."

That makes him lift his head—just enough to rest his chin on your stomach, peering up at you with a smug, lopsided grin. "Glowing?"

You flick his ear gently, rolling your eyes. "Yes, glowing. Her words, not mine."

Neteyam just smirks, golden eyes gleaming as he watches you. "So, you told her everything?"

You arch a brow. "Maybe." Then, leaning down slightly, you lower your voice to a playful whisper. "Just enough to make her die of jealousy."

His tail flicks lazily behind him, his ears twitching under your touch. "And what exactly did you say, syulang?"

You sigh dramatically, letting your fingers continue their slow, soothing work on his shoulders. "Oh, you know. Just that I could barely walk this morning thanks to someone big and persistent."

Neteyam growls, the sound low and playful, and you can’t help but giggle. His hands tighten slightly on your waist, his tail flicking again. You grin down at him. "My whole body is still sore," you add, flicking his ear again for emphasis. "So, thank you for that."

His smirk deepens, his ears flicking forward in satisfaction. "You are welcome, yawne."

You scoff, playfully rolling your eyes. "I wasn’t thanking you, skxawng. I was complaining."

Neteyam just hums, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Mmm. You didn’t sound like you were complaining last night."

You groan, smacking his shoulder lightly. "Oh my Eywa, shut up."

Neteyam chuckles, his warm breath brushing over your stomach as he squeezes your waist, pressing a lazy kiss just below your ribs. "Never."

And despite the exhaustion still lingering in his body, despite whatever weight had been pressing on him before he walked in here—right now, in this moment, he’s lighter. Because you are here. Because you see him. Because you know exactly what he needs, even when he doesn’t say a word.

You watch him in silence for a long moment, your fingers stilling against his shoulders as you take him in. His massive frame is still kneeling on the hard metal floor, his arms wrapped securely around your waist, his head resting against your stomach.

And it makes you frown.

"Neteyam," you murmur, your hands moving up to cradle his face gently. He barely lifts his head, golden eyes flickering up to meet yours. You sigh, brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones. "Get up."

He blinks, his ears twitching. "What?"

"The floor is too hard," you insist, pushing lightly at his shoulders. "Too cold. You can't just kneel here all night."

But he doesn’t move. His arms tighten slightly around you, his tail flicking once before going still. Your frown deepens. "Neteyam."

His jaw clenches for a second, but then, with a small sigh, he finally relents. You guide him up with gentle hands, pulling him toward you until he settles, shifting his weight to sit cross-legged in front of you. The moment he’s fully seated, you pull him in again, his head resting on your lap this time.

A soft smile tugs at your lips as you run your fingers through his braids, watching how this massive, powerful Na’vi warrior—someone who so many look up to, who carries so much responsibility—clings to you like a lost child.

Your heart aches for him. You lean down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his temple, your fingers still weaving through his hair. "Want to stay with me for the night?" Your voice is barely above a whisper, gentle and careful, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile moment between you.

Neteyam stiffens slightly, but only for a second. Then, he exhales, melting further against you. His grip on your waist loosens just enough for his hands to slide down, resting against your thighs, grounding himself.

He doesn’t answer right away. But when he does, his voice is quiet, raw. "Yes."

You press another kiss to his forehead, letting your lips linger for a moment before pulling back. Your fingers continue their soothing path through his braids, feeling the tension slowly ease from his body.

Then, your eyes flick toward the wall where the Na’vi-sized exo-masks hang, right next to the airgate.

"Get your mask," you murmur softly, still combing your fingers through his hair. "I know the air here won’t hurt you right away, but you’ll need it."

Neteyam huffs softly, tilting his head to look up at you. "I don’t need it." But looking in your eyes he hums against but doesn’t move immediately. Instead, he nuzzles into your touch just a second longer before finally shifting, his golden eyes meeting yours with something unreadable in them.

Then, with a quiet exhale, he pulls himself up. His movements are slow, unhurried, like he’s reluctant to leave the warmth of your touch, but he eventually stands to his full height, stretching slightly before making his way toward the airgate.

You watch him carefully, your heart squeezing at the way his shoulders sag just slightly, the way his tail flicks in subdued exhaustion. Even in the dim artificial light of the lab, he still looks tired.

Not just physically. But in the way that makes your chest ache. You don’t know what happened today—he hasn’t told you yet. But you’ll wait. You’ll always wait for him.

Neteyam adjusts the exo-mask on shoulder as he walks back to you, his steps slow but sure. His golden eyes soften slightly when he sees you already on your feet, waiting for him. Before he can say anything, you grin, tilting your head playfully. "Come with me. I will show you my palace."

His ears flick in amusement at your teasing tone, but he follows without hesitation as you lead him toward your quarters. The outpost halls are dimly lit at this hour, the hum of machinery the only sound aside from your soft footsteps. Neteyam moves silently behind you, his presence warm and grounding. When you finally reach your door, your fingers hesitate for just a second before you press the keypad to unlock it.

As the door slides open, a sudden, unexpected nervousness creeps in. You step inside and glance over your shoulder at him. "I just realized… you’ve never seen my room before."

Neteyam ducks his head slightly as he steps through the doorway, his massive frame nearly filling the entrance. He straightens once inside, his golden eyes slowly taking in the space. "I know it’s nothing like the kelkus in the village," you murmur, watching him carefully. "But it’s mine."

Your quarters are spacious by human standards, but with Neteyam standing in the middle of the room, he looks comically large. The ceiling is high enough that he doesn’t have to crouch, but the furniture, the layout—everything is clearly designed for someone much smaller.

His gaze drifts around the room, lingering on the shelves lined with books, the soft glow of a lamp casting warm light over your desk, the small personal touches that make this space yours. But when his eyes land on your bed—neat, a bit small by comparison—he glances back at you, a silent question clear in his expression.

How could I fit there?

You see the thought forming before he can voice it, and before he can ask, you answer with a grin. "I’ll make a bed on the floor. So we can sleep together."

Neteyam’s brow furrows instantly. "No. You should sleep in your bed. It is soft. I will be fine on the floor."

Your expression shifts, a knowing look crossing your face as you cross your arms. Neteyam doesn’t even need to hear your reply—he can already see the stubborn determination written all over you.

He sighs. "You are not going to let me win this, are you?"

You shake your head, smirking. "Not a chance."

Neteyam exhales through his nose, a defeated but fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Eywa, he thinks, how did I ever stand a chance against you?

Neteyam watches in quiet amusement as you move around your room, gathering blankets and pillows with an easy familiarity. There’s a softness in your movements, a quiet care as you arrange everything on the already carpeted floor, making it feel like a proper sleeping space instead of just cold metal. He notices the small details—the way you fluff the pillows just a little extra, the way your fingers smooth over the fabric like you’re making sure everything is perfect.

The sight warms something deep inside him. When you finish, you step back, surveying your work with a pleased smile. Then you turn to him, your tiny form sitting cross-legged on the makeshift bed as you tilt your head up to meet his gaze.

"Now it’s ready." Your grin is radiant. You pat the thick blanket beside you, your eyes twinkling with invitation. "Come here, love."

Neteyam doesn’t hesitate.

He lowers himself onto the blankets, folding his massive frame beside you with surprising grace. The moment he’s close enough, you curl into him, tucking yourself against his chest. His arms wrap around you instinctively, his body relaxing for the first time since he left the village. The steady, comforting weight of you against him is grounding, and he lets out a quiet, contented breath.

For a while, you both just exist like this—wrapped up in each other, warm and safe. He can feel your breathing, the subtle rise and fall of your chest, the gentle way your fingers trace idle patterns against his side.

But then—you start to squirm.

Neteyam hums in mild protest, tightening his arms around you. "Where do you think you’re going?"

You laugh, wiggling against his grip until you manage to slip free. "I need to take a bath."

Neteyam raises a brow, his tail flicking lazily behind him. "Now?"

"Yes, now," you insist, pushing yourself up. "I stink."

He tilts his head, a smirk playing at his lips. "I don’t mind."

You roll your eyes, shoving at his shoulder playfully. "Well, I do. But I’ll be quick."

Before he can argue further, you’re already on your feet, bolting toward the door on the other side of the room. Neteyam huffs a quiet chuckle, watching you disappear behind it. His golden eyes linger on the closed door for a moment before he shifts onto his back, staring at the ceiling with a soft sigh.

He hadn’t realized how much he needed this—how much he needed you.

Neteyam sits cross-legged on the floor, his sharp eyes quietly scanning your room as he waits for you to return. The unfamiliar space feels strange yet oddly comforting, filled with little details that are so you.

His gaze drifts to your bed first. It’s small, the mattress raised off the ground on some kind of human-made frame. A few soft-looking things rest against one side—round and colorful, with stitched-on smiles. He tilts his head slightly, curious. What are those? Some kind of sleeping companion? He huffs a quiet chuckle at the thought. Humans always have strange customs.

Shifting his attention, his eyes find the opposite side of the room. Your desk. It’s massive compared to the rest of the space, almost chaotic with how many books and small trinkets clutter the surface. The shelves above it are no different, stacked with even more books, old notebooks, and glass vials filled with preserved plant samples.

And then—his eyes catch something else.

A wall of photos.

He leans forward slightly, studying them. There are a few with your colleagues, arms thrown around each other, grinning at the camera. You look happy in them. Carefree. His lips twitch into a small smile at the sight. But then—his gaze lands on an older photo. A much younger version of you stares back at him, standing next to a smaller boy. He is grinning wildly, one arm slung around your shoulders as if the two of you were inseparable.

Neteyam’s chest tightens.

He remembers this boy.

Your little brother. The one who died along with your parents when they were in a car. You never speak about them—not in detail. He knows it still hurts. Knows it’s a wound that never fully healed.

For a moment, all he can do is stare at the picture, taking in the way your younger self leans into your brother, how effortlessly happy you both look. He wonders if you still dream about them. If their voices still echo in your mind when you’re alone. If the weight of their absence lingers in your heart the same way his own burdens weigh on his shoulders.

A quiet sigh escapes him as he forces his gaze away. That’s when he spots it. An old, worn sketchbook tucked among your things. Recognition sparks in him instantly. He knows this book. Three years ago, when you first started visiting the village after your arrival, it was always in your hands. You carried it with you everywhere, constantly flipping it open to sketch the world around you.

He reaches out, careful as he lifts it from its resting place. The cover is slightly frayed from years of use, the edges soft and worn beneath his fingertips. Gently, he opens it.

The first few pages are filled with detailed sketches of atokirina, the small, luminescent woodsprites sacred to the People. He remembers when you showed him one of these drawings, excitement shining in your eyes as you described how you had seen one deep in the forest.

The next pages are filled with plants—Pandoran flora drawn with such careful precision that it’s almost startling. Then, animals. Creatures from the forest and sky, all captured with an artist’s touch, their movements frozen in ink and graphite. As he flips through, a strange warmth spreads through his chest. You were always watching. Always observing. Always admiring everything around you.

Then—near the end of the book—he finds something that makes him still.

A drawing of him.

It’s different from the others. More detailed, more intentional. While the other sketches feel like quick studies, like you were capturing fleeting moments, this one is deliberate. Precise. Every line, every shade of graphite etched with careful attention.

His breath catches slightly.

This is not something you drew in passing.

This is something you studied. Something you spent time on. His younger self stares up at him from the page—strong and proud, his braids falling over his shoulders, his expression thoughtful yet serious. He looks… regal. Almost noble. And suddenly, he realizes—this sketch must be years old. You haven’t carried this book in a long time.

Which means… You were drawing him before you were together. Before you were anything more than acquaintances.

Something warm, something deep and overwhelming unfurls in his chest. How long, ma’tanhi? How long have you seen me like this? His fingers brush over the page, lingering on the details of his face—the curve of his jaw, the careful strokes that form his braids. A small, almost disbelieving smile ghosts over his lips.

He thought he was the one who watched you. Who admired you from afar, who secretly memorized your every movement, your every smile.

But you had been watching him too. And you had been seeing him long before he ever realized it.

Neteyam quickly shuts the sketchbook, hurriedly placing it back where he found it as the sound of the water shutting off reaches his ears. His heart pounds for an entirely different reason now, the warmth in his chest still lingering from what he found inside the old pages.

Just as he settles back, pretending to be focused on something else, the bathroom door creaks open.

He looks up—And immediately forgets how to breathe.

You step out, steam curling around you like a veil, your hair piled into a messy bun on top of your head. Your skin glistens slightly, still damp from the bath, and the only thing covering you is a single, small towel wrapped around your body.

Neteyam’s ears flick back as heat floods his entire face, his blush darkening to a deep shade of purple. His eyes flicker away for a moment, then back—just for a second—before he quickly looks elsewhere, his jaw tightening as he struggles to keep his composure.

You notice instantly. A slow, teasing smile tugs at your lips as you saunter forward, your bare feet padding softly against the floor. His ears twitch again, his tail curling slightly behind him, and you bite back a laugh at how utterly caught he looks.

The mighty warrior, completely undone by you. When you reach him, you lean down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against his lips. He stiffens slightly, caught between wanting to touch you and keeping his hands firmly in his lap.

Then—your voice, soft and playful against his lips.

"Do you like me?" A simple question. Innocent, yet filled with mischief.

Neteyam exhales sharply through his nose, his golden eyes half-lidded as he fights the urge to drag you onto his lap, towel be damned. His hands clench against his thighs, his self-control hanging by a thread.

"You know I do," he murmurs, his voice lower than intended, rough with restraint.

Your smile widens slightly. "Are you sure? Because you look like you’re in pain, love."

He groans softly, his head tilting back slightly as he closes his eyes, as if pleading to Eywa for patience. "You are testing me, tanhì."

You hum, feigning innocence as your fingers gently trace over his jawline. "Maybe just a little."

You smile at him, your fingers tracing softly along the edge of his jaw before your gaze flickers downward. His fists are clenched tightly on the thick blanket beneath them, his knuckles taut with restraint.

"You know you can touch me," you whisper, your voice gentle, coaxing.

Neteyam swallows hard, his golden eyes flickering up to yours, something raw and vulnerable swirling in their depths. But still, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t reach for you. His body is tense, as if he's afraid that if he does, he won’t be able to stop.

You lean in, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead, the warmth of your lips melting against his cool skin. "I love you so much," you whisper, your breath brushing over his temple as your small hands slide up his arms, tracing the firm muscles before wrapping around his head, holding him close.

The moment you do, Neteyam exhales, his body shuddering as his forehead comes to rest against your collarbone.

Your scent surrounds him—warm, clean, familiar. The lingering freshness of soap clings to your damp skin, mingling with the natural scent of you. He inhales deeply, breathing you in, his arms finally loosening at his sides.

But the storm in his mind doesn’t quiet.

His thoughts are a tangled mess, everything from his argument with his father to the moment he stepped into your room swirling chaotically in his head. It’s too much, too fast. He doesn’t even know what he’s thinking, only that he feels—everything.

The weight of his father’s disappointment. The frustration, the anger, the exhaustion. But also you. The comfort of your presence. The way your hands move over him, slow and deliberate, smoothing over the tension in his shoulders.

"How can I ease your mind?" you whisper, your fingers still combing through his braids, your voice soft and patient.

Neteyam’s lips part, his breath stalling in his throat.

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what will quiet the storm, what will stop the twisting in his chest. He doesn’t even know why he feels the way he does.

And so, without thinking, without meaning to—he asks the first thing that comes to his mind.

"What is cat?"

The words slip from his mouth before he can stop them, and the moment they do, he stills.

You blink.

"What?"

"What is a cat?" he repeats, this time with more hesitation, realizing how nonsensical the question is in the middle of all this.

For a second, there is only silence. And then—A small giggle. His ears flick up, confused, until he feels the way your body shakes slightly against his.

"Oh my god," you mumble, your voice filled with amusement as you press your lips together, clearly trying to hold back laughter. "You're talking about last night, aren’t you?"

Neteyam frowns, confused. "Last night?"

"Yes," you snicker. "After sex, when I said you were like a big cat because you were purring."

His ears flatten slightly in embarrassment. "I do not purr."

You lose it. A loud laugh bursts from your lips, full and unrestrained, and Neteyam immediately huffs in protest, his tail flicking in irritation. "Oh, you definitely do," you tease, grinning as you pull back just enough to look into his eyes. "It was the cutest thing. I’ve never heard a Na’vi purr like that."

Neteyam groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck, as if that will somehow protect him from your teasing. "You are impossible."

"And you are adorable."

He growls softly, nipping lightly at the skin of your shoulder in retaliation, but his lips curl into the smallest, most reluctant smile against your skin. For a moment, just a moment, the weight on his shoulders feels a little lighter.

Neteyam watches as you step away, walking toward the tall shelf across the room. His ears flick forward, tracking your movements, but when you rise onto your tiptoes, reaching for something on the highest shelf—

Eywa help him.

The towel around your damp body shifts, riding up just enough to reveal the soft curve of your bottom. His jaw tightens, his fingers clenching into fists on the blanket beneath him as he forces himself to look away. But he can’t.

His golden eyes remain locked onto you, his breath catching in his throat, and he has to bite back a groan at the sight. He is already struggling to keep his hands to himself, already battling the fire still lingering from the night before, and now—this? This?

"This is cruel," he mutters under his breath.

You finally grab what you’re looking for, a large, heavy book, and turn back toward him. He forces his gaze up—higher—meeting your eyes just as you grin mischievously. "This," you announce, "is an encyclopedia about Earth’s flora, fauna, and every other thing you could possibly imagine." You saunter back toward him, entirely unaware of how close he is to losing his mind, and sit down next to him on the floor, the weight of the book settling between you.

Neteyam exhales, steadying himself.

"And now," you continue, flipping through the thick pages, "I can show you what a cat is… if you’re brave enough."

That smirk. That wicked, teasing little smirk you give him—

Neteyam lets out a low, resigned sigh, his head tilting back slightly. "You are going to be the death of me, yawne."

You giggle, nudging his thigh with your knee. "Oh, hush. Come on, let's find the cat."

Neteyam huffs, his tail flicking behind him as he leans in, peering down at the book, though in truth, he’s only half paying attention. Because you are sitting so close, your bare skin brushing against his, your scent still fresh and warm from your bath, and he’s painfully, painfully aware that you are only wearing that tiny towel.

And worse? You know exactly what you're doing to him.

Neteyam watches as you flip through the thick pages, his tail flicking idly behind him. His curiosity is piqued, though he’s still acutely aware of the fact that you’re sitting so close—your bare skin brushing against his every time you shift.

"Why do you have a book like this?" he asks, his voice low, his gaze flickering between the pages and your face.

You shrug, not looking up as you turn another page. "I like to read it. And look at the pictures."

He hums in acknowledgment, glancing at the detailed images of creatures from a world he has never seen. His fingers twitch slightly, resisting the urge to trace the illustrations of massive forests, sprawling plains, and strange animals with thick fur and small eyes.

Then, your voice softens. "But most of the animals you’ll see in this book are already extinct."

Neteyam frowns, glancing at you. Your expression has changed—your playful smirk replaced with something sadder, something distant. "Extinct?" he echoes, brow furrowing.

You nod slowly, flipping through the pages with a bit more care now. "Gone. Wiped out. Either because of us—humans—or because their world changed too much for them to survive."

Neteyam watches the way your fingers linger on a page depicting a large beast with curved tusks and thick fur, standing in a frozen landscape. His ears twitch slightly at the way your shoulders sag just a little. "I am sorry," he murmurs, his voice gentle.

You give him a small, sad smile, shaking your head. "It's just... strange, you know? Growing up learning about all these animals, seeing their pictures in books and old holovideos, knowing I’ll never actually see one alive."

Neteyam stays quiet, absorbing your words. He knows what it means to lose something—someone. He knows what it means to be unable to go back. After a moment, you shake yourself out of your thoughts and brighten up again, turning to him with a small grin. "Some Pandora animals actually have Earth siblings, you know."

He raises a brow, intrigued. "Siblings?"

"Not real siblings, but they look alike," you explain, flipping through the pages again. "Like, the pa’li—they look a lot like horses from Earth. Same long legs, strong bodies, and fast runners. See?"

You stop on a page with an image of a sleek, four-legged creature with a flowing mane, standing tall in a vast field.

Neteyam tilts his head. "It does look like a pa’li."

You smile. "And then there were creatures like the Great Leonopteryx—on Earth, millions of years ago, we had things called pterosaurs. They weren’t exactly the same, but they were big, flying reptiles with wings."

Neteyam hums, genuinely intrigued now as you continue flipping through the pages, showing him different creatures that once roamed your world. Some are similar to Pandora’s animals, others unlike anything he has ever seen before.

"And now…" You turn a few more pages before stopping on a particular image, your eyes lighting up mischievously. "Here is your namesake, mighty warrior."

Neteyam leans forward to look— And immediately pulls back, blinking in disbelief. "What—" he scowls slightly, pointing at the small, fluffy creature on the page. "This? This is a cat?"

You burst into laughter at his reaction, clutching your stomach as you lean into his side. "Yes! That is a house cat!"

He stares at the picture, utterly baffled. The creature is tiny—soft-looking, with large round eyes and a short snout. Its ears are pointed, and it has a long, thin tail that curls at the end. "This little thing?" Neteyam gestures at the image, then back at himself. "You compared me to this?"

You are cackling now, shaking your head as you wipe at your eyes. "Well, not exactly this one—there were bigger kinds too! But, I mean, listen—cats purr, they’re sleek, they’re graceful hunters, and they can be moody as hell." You give him a pointed look. "Remind you of anyone?"

Neteyam’s ears flatten as he narrows his eyes at you. "I do not mope like a small, fluffy creature."

You grin, poking his chest. "You totally do."

He huffs, crossing his arms. "I am nothing like this ‘cat’ thing."

You sigh dramatically, resting your chin on his shoulder. "You say that, but you’re literally purring right now."

Neteyam stiffens.

His ears twitch.

His tail flicks behind him.

And then—

He realizes.

The soft, low rumbling in his chest. Just because of your closeness.

He is purring.

Your delighted laughter echoes through the room as Neteyam groans, covering his face with one large hand. You nudge him playfully, your grin wide and victorious. "Face it, my love. You’re a big, sexy cat."

Neteyam sighs heavily, shaking his head—but despite himself, he can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corner of his lips. "You are insufferable, tawtute," he murmurs, his golden eyes shining with amusement.

You beam up at him, leaning in to press a soft kiss against his cheek. "But you love me."

And Eywa help him—He does.

Neteyam watches as you turn the pages with practiced ease, finally stopping on another image. You shift the book toward him, tapping a slender finger against the page. "This is a tiger," you say with a knowing smile. "A bigger kind of cat. See? Even the stripes are identical."

His golden eyes drop to the image. The creature is undeniably powerful. Large, muscular, its body covered in sleek orange fur with bold black stripes running along its frame. Its head is broad, ears slightly rounded, and its gaze—though frozen in the picture—is sharp, intense.

Neteyam glances down at himself, at the deep blue stripes running along his own body. Then back at the image of the tiger. A slow exhale leaves him. "This one… I do not mind."

You let out a triumphant laugh. "I knew it! You are a big cat."

Neteyam huffs, shaking his head, but there’s amusement in his expression. He studies the tiger for a moment longer before looking back at you. "And this creature… was it a great hunter?" he asks, curiosity slipping into his voice.

You nod, excitement flickering in your eyes. "Oh, absolutely. Tigers were apex predators—meaning nothing hunted them. They were strong, fast, and incredibly smart. They could take down prey much bigger than them and were known to be patient hunters, stalking for the perfect moment to strike."

Neteyam tilts his head slightly, intrigued. The more you speak, the more he finds himself admiring this Earth creature.

"They were also solitary," you continue, your fingers tracing over the tiger’s image. "Unlike lions, which lived in groups, tigers preferred to roam and hunt alone. They were independent, proud, and deeply territorial."

Neteyam hums, his ears twitching slightly. "So… strong, intelligent, skilled hunter… and prefers solitude." He casts you a sly glance. "Now this, I can accept."

You grin, leaning in close, your chin resting against his shoulder. "See? I wasn’t wrong."

He chuckles, the low sound vibrating against your skin. "Perhaps not, yawne."

Your fingers reach up, brushing idly over the stripes on his bicep. "And tigers were beautiful," you murmur. "Just like you."

Neteyam’s chest tightens, warmth blooming in his core at your soft, genuine words. He turns his head slightly, looking down at you, his golden gaze warm and filled with something deeper—something reverent. "I only care to be beautiful in your eyes," he murmurs, his voice softer now, more intimate.

You smile, your lips brushing against his skin as you whisper, "Then you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen." Neteyam exhales slowly, his heart thudding steadily beneath his ribs. And, as he watches you grin up at him, eyes bright with affection, he decides—

If being your big cat means he gets to hear you say things like that… He can live with it.

A soft gasp escapes your lips as Neteyam suddenly scoops you up, lifting you with effortless ease. "Neteyam—!" you squeak in surprise, but the sound is swallowed by a breathy laugh as he settles you onto his lap.

His long legs remain crossed as he pulls you flush against his chest, his massive arms wrapping around you securely. The heat of his skin seeps through the damp towel still wrapped around you, and you melt into his embrace, instinctively tucking yourself closer.

"You like to talk," he murmurs against your temple, his lips brushing against your skin. "And I like to listen. But I want you here while you do it."

A warmth spreads through your chest at his words, and you sigh, relaxing into him. You shift slightly, adjusting the book still in your hands, before grinning. "Alright, mighty warrior," you tease. "Then let’s see how much you can handle."

Neteyam huffs a quiet chuckle. "I have faced palulukan and nantang in the forest. I think I can handle a few Earth creatures."

You smirk, flipping the page. "We’ll see about that."

Your finger trails down to an image of a large, grey, wrinkled-looking creature with massive ears and long, curved tusks. "This is an elephant," you say, tapping the picture. "One of the largest land animals that ever lived on Earth. They were gentle but incredibly strong. They lived in herds and had deep family bonds. They were also really intelligent—able to remember things for years and even grieve their dead."

Neteyam hums, golden eyes studying the creature. "It is… strange-looking," he admits, tilting his head. "But wise. Like the angtsìk of Pandora."

You nod. "Exactly! The angtsìk are kind of like elephants, but with more legs and, you know, the whole six-eyes thing."

He smirks at your casual tone, watching as you eagerly flip to another page. "And this," you continue, "is a wolf. They hunted in packs, much like your nantang. They were incredibly loyal to their groups, working together to take down prey. But they were also affectionate, forming deep bonds with their families. Some were even domesticated by humans, evolving into dogs."

"Dogs?" Neteyam echoes, frowning slightly.

You laugh, flipping to another page with an image of a fluffy-looking canine. "Yeah. They became one of our best companions. Humans and dogs formed bonds so strong that they were considered family. Some were trained to help with hunting, others to protect. But mostly, they were just… loved."

Neteyam’s ears flick, considering this. "Strange… that a predator could become a companion."

You shrug, smiling. "Not so strange. You’re a predator, and I love you."

His breath catches slightly, and you glance up at him, smirking.

"See?" you tease. "Not so different."

Neteyam exhales through his nose, shaking his head in amusement. "You twist words too easily, yawntu."

"It’s a gift."

He chuckles, pressing a kiss against your damp hair before nodding toward the book. "Show me another."

You flip through the pages, continuing to tell him about creatures long gone, their stories preserved only in ink and memory. And as Neteyam listens—his arms holding you close, his deep voice rumbling with thoughtful questions—he realizes he could stay like this forever. Just you, your voice, and the warmth of your body against his.

Your voice is soft as you continue flipping through the pages, reading aloud about the animals that once roamed your home planet. Neteyam hums in response, his deep, steady breathing warm against your skin as he listens, his arms still wrapped securely around you.

But then—he shifts.

You barely notice at first, too focused on the book in your lap, but the way his hold on you tightens ever so slightly makes something stir in your stomach. His lips brush against your bare shoulder—just a whisper of a touch—but enough to make you falter for a split second.

You clear your throat, pretending to ignore it. "And this," you murmur, tapping another picture, "is a red panda. They were small, mostly found in trees, and—ah!"

A soft nip lands at the curve where your neck meets your shoulder, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Neteyam—" you huff, tilting your head slightly to look at him, but he’s already smirking, his golden eyes gleaming mischievously.

"Pay me no mind," he murmurs against your skin, lips grazing your shoulder again. "I am simply listening."

You narrow your eyes at him but choose to let it slide. With a small huff, you turn back to the book, flipping to another page. "Fine. Here—foxes. Now, these little guys were known for their cunning and intelligence—"

Another kiss. This time at the base of your neck. You inhale sharply, fingers tightening slightly on the book. "—for being clever and tricky. They were smaller than most predators but used their wits to survive—"

His nose nuzzles into your hair, his lips grazing just below your ear. "Neteyam," you warn, but your voice wavers slightly, betraying you.

He chuckles softly, the sound sending a thrill through you. "Go on, syulang. I am listening."

You exhale, pressing forward, determined to get through this. "Always causing trouble," you continue, voice a bit breathless. "Always outsmarting those bigger than them. And very, very beautiful."

Neteyam hums approvingly, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple before whispering against your skin, "Then it is like you."

You blink. "What?"

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression warm and full of teasing affection. "The fox," he repeats. "Cunning, clever, small. Always causing trouble. Always outsmarting those bigger than them. And very, very beautiful."

Your breath catches, warmth blooming in your chest at his words. You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. And Neteyam—satisfied with the way you suddenly look so flustered—grins, tightening his arms around you as he presses another slow, deliberate kiss to your cheek.

"What is it, syulang?" he teases, voice thick with amusement. "Did I render you speechless?"

You huff, rolling your eyes, but the smile on your lips betrays you. "Shut up."

Neteyam chuckles, resting his chin on your shoulder. "As you wish," he murmurs.

But the way his fingers slowly trace circles against your hip tells you that he’s far from finished.

Neteyam smirks faintly every time your voice falters—every time his lips find the right spot on your skin, making you pause mid-sentence. He enjoys how easily he can alter your thoughts, how just a few well-placed kisses are enough to make you forget the words you were reading aloud.

But what amuses him even more is that you have the same effect on him.

Your weight in his lap, the warmth of your body pressed against his, the soft rise and fall of your breath—it’s enough to pull him from the turmoil in his mind, grounding him in the present. The tension from earlier in the day, all fades into the background as you continue speaking, flipping through the pages of the book.

And yet—his thoughts begin to shift. He feels the way your thighs press against his, the way your damp towel clings loosely to your now dry skin, teasing him with glimpses of the softness beneath. His gaze flickers down, watching the delicate curve of your collarbone, the damp tendrils of hair clinging to the nape of your neck.

You wouldn’t say anything, but he knows you feel it—feels the way your breath hitches slightly, the way you shift just a little when you notice how hard he’s growing beneath you. Neteyam exhales slowly, his hands resting on your waist before sliding beneath the towel, his fingertips brushing over the soft skin of your stomach. You gasp softly, your fingers gripping the book a little tighter, but you don’t stop him.

Encouraged, his hand moves higher, his large palm spreading over your ribs before cupping your breast fully, his fingers flexing gently against the soft swell. And just like that—you go completely silent.

The book in your hands trembles slightly as your back instinctively presses against his chest, your body molding into him, as if surrendering to the slow, deliberate way he’s touching you. Neteyam hums in quiet satisfaction, his lips ghosting over your temple. "You were saying?" he murmurs, his voice deep, teasing.

But you don’t answer. And from the way his smirk deepens against your skin, you know he’s very, very pleased with that.

Neteyam tilts his head down, brushing his lips over the side of your neck, slow and deliberate. The warmth of his breath fans against your skin, and he’s pleased when you instinctively tilt your head, exposing more of your throat to him—silent permission, an unspoken invitation.

His lips press against your pulse, then lower, trailing slow, lazy kisses along the curve of your neck. He savors the way your body shivers slightly against him, the way your breath comes just a little faster. His fingers flex against your breast, his thumb dragging in slow, teasing circles over your already-hard nipple.

You bite your lip, looking away, your fingers curling slightly against the pages of your book. "It’s sensitive," you mumble quietly, your voice barely above a breath.

Neteyam hums in amusement, his lips curving into a small smirk against your skin. "Sensitive?" he repeats, his deep voice vibrating against your throat. His thumb brushes over the peak again, slower this time, just to see how you react.

You inhale sharply, your body twitching slightly in his lap, but you don’t stop him. "Hmm," he muses, kissing just below your ear, his voice filled with faux thoughtfulness. "You say that… but you’re not stopping me."

You let out a small, frustrated sound, squirming in his hold, but he only tightens his arm around your waist, keeping you still. "Neteyam," you sigh, half a plea, half a warning.

He chuckles against your skin, his nose nuzzling the spot just below your jaw. "What, sevin?" Beautiful. "Am I distracting you?"

You exhale sharply, rolling your eyes. "Obviously."

His thumb flicks over your nipple again, just to hear the small, unintentional gasp you let out. "You were telling me about these… foxes," he says, his voice dripping with amusement. "But now you’ve fallen awfully quiet, little one."

You swallow, trying to regain some sense of composure. "Maybe if a certain someone wasn’t touching me like this, I could actually finish my sentence."

Neteyam only hums in response, entirely unbothered, his thumb continuing its slow, teasing strokes. "Do you want me to stop?"

You hesitate. And he lives for that hesitation. "That’s what I thought," he chuckles, pressing another slow kiss to your shoulder, enjoying the way your body melts against his.

The book snaps shut so suddenly that Neteyam barely has time to react before you toss it onto the bed. Before he can ask what you're doing, you're already moving—turning in his lap, shifting until you're straddling his thick thighs. The towel that had barely clung to your body in the first place slips away completely, pooling onto the floor, leaving you bare before him.

Neteyam barely breathes.

Your warm, soft skin presses against his, your smaller frame fitting so perfectly against his massive form. His hands instinctively move to your waist, fingers tightening as if he needs to hold you there, needs to ground himself.

And then—you kiss him.

Hard.

A desperate, heated press of your lips against his, all urgency, all need. His breath stutters as he responds immediately, his large hands sliding down your back, gripping your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer. Your lips move together in a hungry dance, your fingers tangling into his braids, tugging just enough to make him groan into your mouth.

"I fucking missed you," you whisper against his lips, your breath hot and uneven. "Since you brought me back to the outpost, I haven't stopped thinking about you."

Neteyam exhales sharply, his golden eyes darkening as he grips you tighter. "I know, sevin," he murmurs, his voice rough, strained. "I missed you, too."

Your hands slide over his broad chest, feeling the way his heart pounds beneath your fingertips. You trail your lips down the sharp line of his jaw, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses to his skin. Tiny bites follow each kiss, your blunt teeth scraping against the sensitive spots you know drive him crazy.

Neteyam growls low in his throat, his grip tightening on your waist. And then—you grind against him.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Your bare, dripping heat presses against the hardness beneath his loincloth, and a sharp, strangled sound rumbles from his chest. His ears flatten against his skull, his jaw clenching as his fingers dig into your soft flesh. "Tanhi," he exhales, his voice wrecked, strained with need.

Your lips curve into a smirk against his neck. "Yes, ma'Neteyam?" you purr, rolling your hips again, feeling the way his body tenses beneath you.

His control hangs by a thread. And you—his clever, beautiful, deadly little human—are about to snap it.

Neteyam exhales sharply through his nose, his grip on your waist tightening for a fleeting moment before he forces himself to loosen it. You're so soft against him, your warm, bare skin pressing against his in a way that should be comforting—is comforting—but his mind is still tangled in the remnants of the day.

Your nails graze over his shoulders, tracing along the strong muscles that are still taut with tension. "I want to help, love," you murmur, your voice soft, barely above a whisper. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply, breathing him in like his scent alone can soothe you.

Neteyam shudders. "You’re so tense," you continue, pressing a gentle kiss to his throat. "Ever since you walked in. You still didn’t tell me what happened. I don’t like it when you are so burdened." Your small fingers find his forehead, tracing over the deep-set furrow there, smoothing over his frown like you can erase the weight he carries with a touch alone. And Eywa, he wishes you could.

"Let me make you feel good," you whisper, tilting your head to press another soft, lingering kiss to the corner of his lips.

Neteyam swallows hard. His chest rises and falls in a slow, measured breath, but the heat of you—your scent, your warmth, the way your body molds so perfectly to his—it’s unraveling him piece by piece. His hands slide up your back, his fingertips dragging lazily over your spine, feeling the way you shiver beneath his touch. His voice is deep, strained when he finally speaks. "You already do," he murmurs. "Always."

But you’re not satisfied with that answer. You shift in his lap, rolling your hips with purpose, making a quiet, breathy sound when his hardness presses right against your soaked folds. Your nails dig in slightly against his shoulders, your lips brushing against his in a barely-there kiss.

"Then let me show you," you whisper.

Neteyam lets out a deep chuckle, his golden eyes glinting with amusement as he watches you fumble with the knots of his loincloth. Your fingers, so small compared to his, tug at the fabric in frustration, your brows furrowing in concentration.

"Need some help, syulang?" he teases, his voice rich and warm, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

You huff, shooting him a playful glare before nodding begrudgingly. "It’s not fair," you say with a pout, your fingers pausing as you let him take over. "Yours are always tied so damn tight."

Neteyam laughs, shaking his head before effortlessly loosening the knots with a few deft movements. You barely have time to react before his loincloth is discarded behind you, his hardened length finally freed. Your breath catches slightly as you glance down, and Neteyam catches it instantly. His smirk grows.

"What?” he murmurs, tilting his head, his ears flicking forward in interest. "Intimidated, yawne?" You scoff, rolling your eyes before shifting forward, letting your slick folds drag along his length in a slow, teasing grind. Neteyam groans, his hands tightening on your hips, fingers pressing into your soft skin as he watches you with dark, hooded eyes. "Eywa..." he breathes, his voice rough, strained.

You bite your lip, smirking as you press a slow kiss to his lips. "You’re so big," you murmur against his mouth, your breath warm, teasing.

Neteyam’s grip flexes, his tail curling behind him, the restraint in his body evident. His golden eyes burn as they flicker between your face and where your bodies are pressed together. "And yet," he growls, his voice low and full of challenge, "you take me so well, yawne."

A shiver ripples through you at his words, your fingers sliding up his chest, feeling the way his muscles tense beneath your touch. "Then let me take you again," you whisper, your lips ghosting over his, your voice filled with nothing but hunger.

Neteyam groans, his grip tightening on your hips as he feels the desperate roll of your movements against him. Your slick folds glide along his hard length, coating him with your arousal, the friction making his breath hitch. "Please let me..." you practically purr, your voice dripping with need as you slowly reach down, your delicate fingers wrapping around his thick length.

His breath stutters as you lift yourself slightly, guiding him toward your entrance. His ears flick back, a flash of concern flickering across his face. "Syulang," he murmurs, his large hands bracing your waist, holding you still. "You’re still sore from this morning. If you go too fast—"

You silence him with a deep, lingering kiss, your lips soft but insistent against his. He melts into it instantly, groaning as your fingers tighten around him, lining him up with your dripping entrance.

And then, slowly, you sink down. Neteyam grits his teeth, his whole body tensing as you take him inch by inch, your warm, tight walls stretching around him once more. A strangled moan escapes your lips as your head falls forward, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

You’re still so sensitive—still raw from his love earlier—but you don’t stop. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you push past the lingering ache, determined to take all of him. You bite your lower lip, your brows furrowing as you adjust, as you stretch wide to accommodate his size.

Neteyam curses under his breath, his fingers flexing against your waist as he watches you, utterly transfixed. The sight of you—your face flushed, your lips parted, your body trembling as you take him so deeply—nearly undoes him.

"Ma’tanhi..." he breathes, voice rough with restraint, his ears pressing flat against his head. "You are—"

"Perfect," you whisper, finishing his sentence with a small, breathless smile. And then, you rock your hips.

Neteyam lets out a strangled whimper as your hips roll over him, the slow, torturous drag of your tight heat around him making his head spin. His grip on your waist tightens, blunt nails pressing into your soft skin as if trying to ground himself, to hold back the instinct to thrust up into you.

His golden eyes flicker toward the door for just a second, concern flashing across his face.

You notice. A small, knowing smile tugs at your lips as you lean in, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. Your movements don’t stop—your hips continue their slow, teasing grind against him, the delicious friction sending shivers down both of your spines. "Every room is soundproof," you whisper, your breath warm against his lips.

Neteyam groans, his whole body shuddering at your words. His restraint is already hanging by a thread, and the knowledge that no one will hear—that he can finally let go, fully and completely—makes something inside him snap. His hips twitch up involuntarily, sinking deeper into you. You moan—loudly.

The sound echoes in the small room, unfiltered, raw, and it sends a sharp wave of heat through both of you. Your eyes widen as a deep flush spreads across your cheeks. "Oh, fuck—"

Neteyam exhales sharply through his nose, his ears twitching, his expression darkening with pure need. His hands slide up your back, gripping you tighter, keeping you close as he leans in, his voice a low, rough murmur against your ear. "Again," he growls. And then, he thrusts up into you.

Your whole body trembles as you take every inch of him, your moans turning into desperate, broken cries with each deep, punishing thrust. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, your nails dragging across his blue skin as pleasure crashes through you in relentless waves.

"F-Fuck—Neteyam—"

He groans at the way you say his name, his ears flicking back, his golden eyes blown wide with hunger as he watches you fall apart above him.

"That’s it, yawne," he murmurs, his voice low and wrecked. "Take it. Take all of me."

His hands grip your hips tighter, guiding your movements, making sure you feel every inch of him as he fills you completely. Your body is so soft, so pliant in his hands, like you were made for him. And fuck, the way you squeeze around him—he swears he might lose his mind.

Your thighs burn from the effort of moving, but you don’t stop. You can’t. Not when he’s pressing into every perfect spot inside you, dragging pleasure from you so intense it borders on unbearable.

"You feel so good, ma’syulang," he groans, his head tilting back, his grip on you tightening. "So perfect around me—"

Your whole body jolts as he angles his hips just right, and you choke on a gasp, your hands flying to his braids for something—anything—to hold onto. "Oh, fuck—!"

Neteyam smirks, the sight of you writhing, completely at his mercy, sending a deep, primal satisfaction through him. "Right there?" he teases, rolling his hips again, hitting that spot with devastating precision.

Your breath shudders, your fingers tangling in his braids as you try to ground yourself, try to hold back the release building too fast in your core. "Neteyam—too much—" you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to slow down, to edge yourself, to drag this out— But you can’t.

"Don’t fight it," he growls, his voice thick with need. "Let go for me, yawntu."

"I—I can’t—"

"You can," he insists, thrusting up into you harder, deeper, keeping you exactly where he wants you. "Come for me."

The coil inside you snaps. A sharp, broken cry tears from your lips as pleasure crashes over you, your whole body convulsing, your nails digging into his shoulders as you shatter completely.

"That’s my girl," Neteyam groans, feeling you tighten around him, your walls pulsing in the aftershocks. "So fucking beautiful when you come."

He doesn’t stop. He keeps fucking into you, chasing his own release, his movements growing rougher, more desperate as he uses your soft, trembling body to push himself over the edge.

"You can give me one more, syulang," he pants, his breath hot against your neck. "One more—just for me—"

"Nete—I—!"

But you can’t fight it. He’s too deep, too perfect, pressing into every spot that makes you fall apart, and before you can stop it— Your whole body seizes as another orgasm rips through you, white-hot and overwhelming.

"Fuck—yes," Neteyam groans, his hips stuttering as he finally lets go. He buries himself as deep as he can, pressing your hips down against him as he fills you, his release spilling inside you, hot and thick.

The sensation pushes you over the edge one last time, your body clenching around him, milking him for everything he has. Neteyam lets out a deep, shuddering moan, his grip on you unyielding as he presses his forehead to your shoulder, breathing hard. His tail curls tightly behind him, his whole body still trembling from the force of it.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room is your ragged breaths, your body still wrapped around him, completely spent.

Then— A breathless laugh tumbles from your lips as you slump forward against him, pressing your forehead to his.

"You—" you gasp, still trying to catch your breath.

Neteyam chuckles, still trying to steady himself. "You’re the one who climbed into my lap, yawne."

You roll your eyes, your fingers lazily tracing over his damp skin. "You were brooding. I had to fix that."

Neteyam hums, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips. "And you did," he murmurs, his voice softer now, full of something deep, something endless.

You smile against his lips, nuzzling your nose against his. "Good."

Neteyam leans back against the edge of your bed, his broad shoulders resting against the frame, his arms still wrapped securely around you. You’re draped over him, completely boneless, your cheek pressed against the warm skin of his chest. He’s still buried deep inside you, not moving, but still throbbing with each slow beat of his heart. The heat between you is sticky, your bodies tangled together in the aftermath of pleasure.

You murmur something against his skin, but it’s too soft for him to catch.

Neteyam hums, running a hand lazily down your spine. "What was that, yawntu?"

You exhale, nuzzling against him, too content to move. "I said…I feel so blessed."

He stills for a second, his arms tightening around you slightly before he lets out a deep, satisfied chuckle. "As you should, my love."

You roll your eyes, but the lazy smile on your lips betrays you. "I meant blessed to have you, skxawng."

"Mmm." He nuzzles his nose against your hair, inhaling your scent, still thick with sweat and sex. "I think I am the blessed one."

You hum softly, your fingers tracing idle patterns over his chest. "Then we are both lucky."

Neteyam grins, tilting his head down just enough to press a kiss to your temple. "Maybe. But you seem more exhausted than I am, yawne."

You let out a breathy laugh, tilting your head up to look at him. "I think you broke me."

Neteyam smirks, his fingers sliding down to cup your ass, pulling you just a little closer against him, pressing himself even deeper inside you. "After only one round?" His voice is pure sin, deep and teasing. "Tsk, tsk. And here I thought my little human could keep up with me."

You groan, burying your face against his chest. "Fuck off, Neteyam."

"No, no." He grins, his thumb rubbing slow circles over the curve of your hip. "You started this, syulang. Now I’m just wondering… how many more rounds would it take to get me to your level of exhaustion?"

You flush hard, your fingers tightening against his skin. "You’re insatiable."

"Only for you, ma yawntu," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your hairline. "Maybe I should test your limits."

Just to prove his point, he rolls his hips ever so slightly, not enough to be deep, but just enough to feel you clench around him. "Fuck—" You gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

Neteyam groans at the feeling, his golden eyes darkening as he watches your reaction. "Oh?" he purrs, his smirk growing. "You liked that?"

You swallow hard, trying to keep your body from reacting, but it betrays you. You shift slightly, and the movement sends another pulse of pleasure through you, making you clamp down around him again. Neteyam hisses between his teeth. "Mmm, syulang…" His grip on you tightens, his voice thick with amusement. "You keep doing that, and I’m not going to let you rest."

"Then stop talking dirty to me," you mumble against his chest.

He chuckles, his tail flicking lazily behind him. "Oh, but I love seeing you react like this." His large hands slide down your back, kneading your soft skin. "So sensitive, so responsive. All mine."

You groan in frustration, lifting your head just enough to glare at him. "You’re the worst."

Neteyam just smirks, his golden eyes glinting mischievously. "And yet, you’re still sitting on me."

Your face burns. "I hate you."

"No, you don’t." He grins, rolling his hips again, drawing another sharp gasp from your lips. "You love me."

You squeeze your eyes shut, your nails raking lightly against his shoulders as another shiver runs through you. "Fuck—"

"Want me to prove it to you again, yawne?" His voice is pure temptation, his hands already shifting, ready to flip you onto your back.

And, Eywa help you…

Neteyam moves before you can even react. With effortless strength, he flips you onto your back, his massive frame hovering over you as your body melts into the soft blankets. Instinct takes over—you immediately try to wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

His ears flick at the movement, his golden eyes glinting with amusement. "So eager," he teases, his voice deep and husky as he settles between your thighs.

Your face burns, and you turn your head to the side, avoiding his gaze. But that only gives him the perfect opportunity to dip his head, his warm lips finding the sensitive pulse at your neck. His teeth graze your skin before he presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss there, reveling in the way your breath stutters.

"Where is my reckless scientist?" Neteyam murmurs against your neck, his breath hot, teasing. "The one who talks back, who teases me without fear?"

A shiver runs down your spine as he presses another kiss lower, his hips rolling forward in the same moment. The slow, deliberate slide of him inside you makes you gasp, your fingers tightening against his shoulders.

"Mmm, there she is," he purrs, nipping at your jaw before lifting his head to look at you properly. "I thought I lost her for a second."

You bite your lip, breathless, but a small, teasing smile tugs at your lips. "She’s here, but she’s a little… preoccupied right now."

Neteyam chuckles, a deep, warm sound that vibrates against your skin. "Good."

And then—he starts to move. His hips rock against yours in a slow, deliberate rhythm, savoring the way you stretch around him, the way your body welcomes him so perfectly. He grunts softly, feeling how impossibly tight you still are, and you arch against him, pressing your chest flush to his as a breathless chuckle slips past your lips. You –this little demon in human skin– was laughing.

"What’s so funny?" he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours, his golden eyes burning into yours as he keeps up his slow, devastating thrusts.

"You, my mighty warrior," you whisper, breathless. "All gruff and strong now… Where was this confidence before, hmm?"

A smirk curls on Neteyam’s lips. "What do you mean?"

You mock a pout, your fingers trailing up to tangle in his thick braids. "Where is my aloof Neteyam? The one who got all flustered when I touched his tail for the first time?"

Neteyam stills for just a fraction of a second—before a slow, wicked grin spreads across his lips.

"Oh, syulang," he purrs, his voice dropping into something dangerously low. "That Neteyam is gone." He growls playfully, his tail flicking behind him. Instead—he picks up the pace. Your teasing dies in your throat, replaced by a sharp gasp as his hips snap forward, driving into you harder, deeper. The new angle has you seeing stars, your legs tightening around him as you gasp his name.

"Ah—Neteyam—"

He grins against your cheek, pressing kisses along your jaw as he keeps up his relentless rhythm. "What was that?" he teases, his voice thick with pleasure.

You can’t answer. You can’t even think. Your body tightens around him, the pleasure hitting you too fast, too hard. "Oh, fuck—" you whimper, your nails digging into his back as your release slams into you, sending waves of ecstasy crashing through your veins.

"That’s it, yawne," Neteyam groans, feeling you tremble beneath him. "Come for me."

You do. You fall apart completely, clinging to him as pleasure wracks your body, leaving you panting and gasping against his chest. But Neteyam doesn’t stop—he’s chasing his own release now, and the way your walls flutter around him only pushes him closer to the edge.

"Fuck—so tight," he grits out, his movements growing more erratic, more desperate.

It should be too much. You should be too sensitive.

But the way he fucks you through it, the way he holds you so close, the way he fills you so completely— It’s too good. And before you can stop it, another orgasm tears through you. "Neteyam—" You barely manage to choke out his name before your body convulses again, pleasure crashing over you for the third time tonight.

"Eywa—" Neteyam curses, his entire body tensing as your walls squeeze around him. "Fuck, yawne—" He groans, burying his face against your shoulder as his hips stutter, and then—he spills inside you, his release warm and thick as he groans your name like a prayer. His arms shake as he holds himself above you, his breath hot and ragged against your skin, his heart hammering against yours.

For a long moment, neither of you move. The only sound in the room is your heavy breathing, your bodies still tangled together, still trembling from the intensity of it all.

Neteyam finally lifts his head, his golden eyes locking onto yours, still hazy with pleasure but filled with something deeper—something warm, something unspoken. He smirks, still panting as he braces himself on his elbows above you. "Three times, yawne?" he muses, brushing a strand of damp hair from your face. "I think that’s a new record."

You groan, covering your face with your hands. "Oh shut up."

He chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. Neteyam’s smirk softens into something unbearably tender, and he leans down, kissing you slow and deep, as if sealing the words between you.

Neteyam lets out a slow, steadying breath as he finally pulls out of you, his muscles still tense from the aftershocks of pleasure. His golden eyes flicker down, watching as his seed slowly drips from your thoroughly used core, and something primal stirs inside him at the sight. But instead of acting on it, he shakes his head with a soft chuckle, leaning back to search for the discarded towel.

He spots it a few feet away, abandoned where you threw it at the start of your heated night. With a satisfied sigh, he reaches for it and gently begins to clean you up, making sure his movements are slow and careful, not wanting to overstimulate your already trembling form.

You giggle softly, your body still humming with pleasure, and you stretch lazily beneath him, grinning like an idiot. "It was so good," you sigh, voice hazy with exhaustion and bliss.

Neteyam smirks, shaking his head as he wipes away the last traces of your joined pleasure. "Of course it was," he murmurs, his tone teasing but full of warmth. "I always take care of you, don’t I, ma’yawne?"

You hum in agreement, then reach up, your fingers curling around the back of his neck as you tug him down toward you. "Kiss me," you whisper, your breath ghosting over his lips, eyes half-lidded and pleading.

Neteyam doesn’t hesitate. His lips find yours in an instant, the kiss deep and slow, full of something tender. He takes his time, savoring the moment, feeling the way your body relaxes further beneath him as you melt into his touch.

When he finally pulls away, he shifts beside you, lying down next to you on the nest of blankets and pillows you made together. You sigh contentedly, your hand reaching out, searching blindly for something on the floor next to you. Neteyam watches with a raised brow as you grab his mask, pulling it closer before pressing it into his hand. "You should breathe in it," you mumble sleepily, your eyes fluttering closed as you push the device toward him.

Neteyam hesitates for a second before taking it, his fingers curling around it as his ears flick at your quiet words. "I always worry about you when you don’t wear it here in the outpost," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

His chest tightens at that—at the way you always think about him, always care for him, even when you’re barely awake. He presses a soft kiss to your temple before lifting the mask to his face, breathing in the filtered air. "I know, syulang," he murmurs, his voice full of something deep and unspoken. "I’ll be fine."

But as he watches you drift off beside him, your small hand still resting against his chest, he realizes—being here, with you, breathing the same air, lying tangled in your warmth—this is the only place he ever wants to be.

Neteyam holds you close, his arms wrapped securely around your smaller frame, his long fingers tracing idle patterns along your bare back. The warmth of your body against his soothes something deep inside him, and without realizing it, a soft, contented purr vibrates through his chest.

You fit so perfectly against him—so small, so fragile, yet strong in ways that never ceased to amaze him. He breathes you in, his nose brushing the top of your head, his tail lazily curling and uncurling as the lingering tension in his body slowly fades.

He thinks you’ve already fallen asleep. But then—

"What happened today, Neteyam?" Your quiet whisper breaks the silence, soft and hesitant, but it still sends a ripple through him. His fingers pause against your back for just a second before resuming their slow caresses. "Why were you so tense?"

You don’t press him, don’t demand an answer—just ask, and wait, giving him the space to speak when he’s ready.

Neteyam exhales slowly, his eyes staring at the ceiling of your small room, his mind drifting back to the conversation with his father, to the weight of expectations, to the frustration that had been simmering in his chest all day.

He swallows hard. "It’s nothing," he murmurs, though even he doesn’t believe the words.

Your fingers, which had been resting lightly on his chest, move—tracing up, pressing gently against his jaw, tilting his face down just enough for him to see the way you’re watching him, even in the dim light.

"Neteyam," you whisper, "don’t do that. Not with me."

Something in him cracks.

Neteyam stares at you, his golden eyes searching your face, his jaw tight as if he’s still debating whether to let the words escape or swallow them down like he always does.

"You are not alone anymore," you whisper, your voice soft but firm, your thumb brushing gently over his cheekbone. "You don’t have to carry everything alone. Tell me, please."

His throat bobs, and for a moment, you think he might shut you out again. But then—he exhales sharply, closing his eyes, as if something inside him finally gives way. "My father…" His voice is rough, strained. "He asked where I was last night. He saw that I was… happy. And still, the only thing he could do was scold me."

Your brows furrow, and you stay silent, letting him continue.

"He told me I should be better," Neteyam says bitterly, his jaw clenching. "That I should always be better." His ears flatten slightly, and his fingers twitch against the blankets. "I have spent my entire life doing everything he asked. I have never disobeyed him, never given him a reason to doubt me. I protected my siblings, even when it meant taking the blame for things they did. I have done everything he wanted—" His voice cracks for a second, but he swallows it down. "And yet, the one time I want something for myself… suddenly, I am the worst son."

Your chest tightens.

"Neteyam…" you whisper, reaching for him, but he shakes his head.

"It’s never enough," he breathes, his voice raw, exposed. "I will never be enough." The pain in his voice, the frustration—the deep, aching wound that has clearly festered for years—it nearly breaks you.

"That’s not true," you say, firm but gentle. "You are already enough, Neteyam. You always have been."

His ears twitch, but he doesn’t respond.

You take a breath, carefully choosing your words. "When I was in the village with the other scientists, I always heard about you." You reach out, threading your fingers through his braids, grounding him. "The other Na’vi speak of you with such admiration. They see you, Neteyam. They see how hard you work, how strong and kind you are. They respect you, they look up to you. You are everything they could hope for in a future leader"

Neteyam blinks, his eyes searching yours, like he wants to believe you but doesn’t know how.

"And your father?" you continue, brushing his hair back from his face. "I know he loves you."

Neteyam scoffs, but it’s weak, half-hearted.

"He does," you insist. "I know it might not feel that way, and maybe he doesn’t always show it the way he should. But you are his firstborn. His son. And I promise you, Neteyam, he loves you."

His breath shudders slightly, his face unreadable. You don’t push him to answer. Instead, you reach for him, gently pulling him closer. And after a moment, he lets you.

His massive body shifts as he wiggles down, pressing his head against your chest, his arms circling your waist, holding onto you. From an outside perspective, it must look ridiculous—the strong and powerful Na’vi, curled up against someone half his size, clinging to you like a lost child. But to you, it is the most natural thing in the world.

You cradle him close, your fingers slipping into his hair, massaging the base of his skull as you feel the weight of his body against yours. He exhales slowly, his breath warm against your skin, his tension finally beginning to ease.

You press a soft kiss to the top of his head, whispering, "You are doing a good job, my love. You always have."

Neteyam doesn’t respond, but you feel it—the way his arms tighten around you, the way his breathing steadies, the way his entire body melts against yours. And when you continue running your fingers through his braids, still holding him close, you hear it again—his soft, contented purr vibrating against your chest.

I guess I just wanted to write a fluff smut part before the pain

¯\_( ◉ 3 ◉ )_/¯

Part 20: (Soon)

[low-budget-korra]

Why Anora and Mikey Madison Oscar's can mean a dark time in Hollywood

First of all, Anora is a fun movie but that's it. A fun movie that only works because of the cast and their chemistry and charisma. But let's talk about the elephant In the room: Anora didn't used intimacy coordinator.

A movie that has a love of sex scenes, didn't have these professionals to guarantee the actor's safety. "But it was the cast choice" it shouldn't be a choice to begin with. Imagine if an actor dismisses the make up artists because they think without them they will do a better job? This would never happen. And Sean Baker, as the director and experienced professional should be the one who advocates for this, he should be the one to say to the cast "I'm sorry guys, but we need to have those professionals to guarantee y'all safety and guarantee the scenes are well choreographed" but he didn't bc his pretentious ass could never.

So, when the Oscar gives an award for this, what is the message it gives? That we should stop having those professionals in the productions, all the the name of the art and more authentic acting.

Now, y'all remember what was like the pre Me Too era, when we didn't have these professionals to look out for actors safety? Horror stories really. Emília Clarke finishing her sex scenes in Game of Thrones, and not having a fucking robe to cover herself. Emmy Rossum having a full on panic attack shooting a scene bc her vanity pad was nowhere to be seen and she had to be fully naked. The infamous and horrible rape that happened in Last Tango in Paris. I could go on and on, but I guess y'all get to understand why it's important to have an intimacy coordinator for nude and sex scenes.

And if this really happens, if productions start to dismiss them, following Sean Baker and his cast decision, it's gonna be dark times for the actors (especially the women). Shit that they will be obligated to do in order to work - especially the younger ones who are still making a name for themselves - and shit that will happen backstage that we will only hear about like 10+ years later.

No hate to Mikey, she is young and just starting her career. My hate is on Baker who should have been the experienced professional and made the right decision. And bc of the many unnecessary and raw shooted sex scenes(for the lack of a better word) , and some uncomfortable scenes for his main character in Anora, I get the feeling Baker exploited the shit out of Mikey's and she didn't even realize it

[taradactyls]

This is a really great example of how the reader's emotions affect our view of a character's actions.

We know from very early on that Henry isn't serious, and we have a pretty critical opinion of Maria and Julia, who he's toying with. It's just a mess of jealousy and selfishness and characters who aren't thinking empathetically of others or being very wise. We simply aren't sympathetically emotionally engaged with any of those characters or the situation.

Whereas the first time we encounter Sense and Sensibility it's natural to see Willoughby's intentions as generally coming from love, even when there are a few inconstancies raised. Because we don't know his history and we are more likely to sympathise and agree with kind and sensible Elinor and kind, if sometimes overly passionate, Marianne. When he abandons Marianne, and ignores her when they meet in London, discarding her for another, we hate him.

We don't know about his seduction of Eliza yet: only his falseness towards Marianne, how desperately he hurt her after encouraging her affections, and how little he seems to feel about it. That's all criticism which can apply to Henry Crawford - perhaps even moreso to Henry at this point, since as far as we know Willoughby isn't a repeat offender and we know Henry is. Both men deliberately inspired love in a woman they had no serious intentions towards and had done it before and would likely have done it again if the consequences of their lifestyles didn't catch up to them. The difference is in our (and Elinor's/Fanny's) sympathy towards the victims, our insight into the gentlemen's motivations from the beginning, and the focus of the narrative on the emotional fallout. If Maria had had the sensibilities of Marianne she might have fallen into the same level of grief, and if Marianne had the resentment of Maria she may've also made decisions based on spite. There is also something to be said, if we include Eliza into the mix, that only the woman with the sensible, caring, and emotionally and physically present support system was able to ultimately come out the other side of falling for these men without her future being irreparably ruined.

We do of course find out more about Willoughby that paints him even worse - seducing and abandoning a girl is horrific. But even before that the way readers view both Willoughby and Henry Crawford and their victims hugely differently is always surprising.

And then lets see how that also applies to how we view their seductions.

Eliza was younger and perhaps sheltered, and I do think that was objectively worse. But readers seem only too eager to forget that Maria was also expecting marriage, also deliberately misled as to the level of affection he felt for her, and in an emotionally vulnerable position and trying to escape an unhappy marriage (I wonder if anyone bothered explaining properly what her wifely duties towards Mr Rushworth - whom she neither liked nor respected, and who viewed her superficially - would entail, and then on top of that having power struggles with her MIL) literally the only way feasible.

Both women knew what they were doing would injure their families/caretakers and wasn't 'right' as such and were only too happy to accept the gentlemen's attentions, and they were both taken advantage of and deceived. They both suffered the consequences in a disproportionate amount to their male counterparts - not only in the narrative and likely the public perception of contemporary readers in an incredibly sexist society, but still so today. Even though I imagine so many readers hate victim-blaming, slut-shaming, and the like. The added cheating aspect can explain some of it, because Maria unarguably acted badly towards her husband, but somehow that criticism also seems to fall solely at Maria's feet and never Henry's, even though he also knew Rushworth, pretended to be friendly with him, and knew exactly what he was doing. It is absolutely a greater betrayal on Maria's end, but Henry is not an innocent and unknowing party in this, and does seem to view his own actions as akin to cheating on Fanny.

Maria is a great example of how someone doesn't need to be a perfect - or even that likeable - person to still be a victim of another; and how this general dislike of a victim (and I think disliking Maria is plenty justified) is often used to exonerate the actions of the person who preyed upon them.

We don't even know if Eliza Williams is that different from Maria Bertram, or Lydia Bennet, for that matter. She's a perfect victim because we never see her, and so the fandom has only sympathy for her and condemnation for Willoughby. But if we did see her, if we saw her being silly, selfish, vain, or any other number of dislikeable traits, would we have less sympathy for her situation? Would we think Willoughby less at fault?

Because we shouldn't. Willoughby's pursuit of self-indulgence without a care for her life being ruined is the same regardless of whether Eliza was as sweet as Georgiana Darcy or as silly and self-centred as Lydia Bennet at the time they they were persuaded to elope. And we should apply that to Henry Crawford, who, just like Willoughby, knew what he was doing, was happy to lie just as much in the pursuit of his enjoyment, held no qualms over manipulating women or breaking their hearts and (in Maria and Eliza's cases, respectively) ruining their life and reputation forever.

We shouldn't give Henry Crawford an easier time just because neither us as readers nor characters we like were deceived by him. He's cut from the same cloth as both John Willoughby and George Wickham when it comes to a general disregard of others and pursuit of their own gratification above all morals and empathy. And I truly believe that if his true nature was a plot twist, or his victims more sympathetic, readers wouldn't be so eager to forgive him.

In another note on Mansfield Park – the thing that bothers me most about Henry Crawford is that he is doing, repeatedly, exactly what Willoughby did to Marianne in Sense and Sensibility: charm them, get them to fall in love with him, give them all the social signals that he is about to propose marriage, and then drop them and act like they were reading too much into it. From the way he and Mary talk, he’s done this to dozens of women. Willoughby differs in that he ended up actually falling for Marianne, whereas Henry does not fall in love with his conquests (until he tries to play this trick on Fanny, who remains unconquered).

And we hate Willoughby for what he did to Marianne! Marianne’s experience with Willoughby came near to being life-ruining, she was so devastated by it.

Willoughby is worse in his seduction and abandonment of Eliza, Colonel Brandon’s ward, but not in any other respect.

And the excuse made for Henry Crawford seems to be the assumption/assertion that these offscreen women were all silly, shallow, and vain, and only their pride was hurt. But there’s no reason to actually believe this! It’s just placing the blame for Henry’s actions on the people that he’s mistreating and making miserable.

It frustrates me to see this written off as “flirting”. It’s much more than that! When he toys with Maria at Sotherton, he is telling her in clear symbolism that she should drop Rushworth for him and, if she does, he will marry her. He is lying. And saying of all the women he’s lied to, “They should have known better,” is not remotely an excuse.

[1800-fight-me]

Begin Again

Rick Grimes x Female!Reader

Rating: M (Mature- As always- MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Warnings: Angst, canon level violence, cursing, yearning

Word count: Almost 4k

Synopsis: You have feelings for Rick that you're convinced are unrequited and it's made you irritable with your group. But what if you were wrong?

Author’s note: This is set sometime after the jail but sometime before Alexandria, but I took liberties with the timeline as well. I hope you enjoy!

P.S. I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on! Comments and reblogs make my day! Main Masterlist

“I need five minutes away from you and your incessant talkin’,” you grumbled as you sheathed your hatchet and walked away from Eugene. 

Of course it was your luck you got paired with the rambling coward in the group’s efforts to clear out the building for a safe place to sleep for the night. 

“Wait! But I-” 

“Don’t wanna hear it,” you snapped as you walked away. You’d already cleared out your designated area and the others would finish soon, you weren’t leaving Eugene in any danger. You just needed some air. 

It wasn’t his fault you were so irritable. It was your own fault for developing unrequited feelings for the leader of your group and then getting your feelings hurt every time he showed zero interest towards you.

You walked out the back of the abandoned warehouse and sat on the steps right outside the door. You took deep breaths as you looked up at the stars. 

It was ridiculous and embarrassing, you knew that. There were far more important things to worry about, to get worked up over- like surviving each day. Killing walkers and any who threatened your group- that was essential, not your stupid crush. 

And Rick, he had so many responsibilities on him- two children (one of whom is a baby), the safety and wellbeing of the entire group (which had been particularly difficult lately), and constant pressure to make life or death decisions (you had admit, he was pretty good at that). You couldn’t, and shouldn’t expect him to notice you or care about your emotions beyond the others in the group. 

But, God - you wish he would. You wish he wanted to be around you. You wished he trusted your capabilities more. But no, he never wanted you right by his side in dangerous situations. That honor was always given to Daryl, or Glen, or Michonne. People he had more trust in. 

You’d been there since the beginning- since the quarry camp and you’d come a long way in terms of fighting, just like so many others. But it seemed like all Rick saw was the scared young woman he’d first met. 

He always grouped you with others in the group he also didn’t trust as much- like Eugene or Gabriel. It was infuriating. 

You also knew that Rick was a man of few words, but you couldn't help but notice that he had even less to say to you than others he was closer with. Despite the fact that you volunteered to help take care of Judith more than anyone else in the group. 

Your feelings for Rick- of affection, of love, of lust, were turning sour and rotten inside of you and twisting into something closer to jealousy and resentment. 

Getting worked up was pointless, Rick would never look at you the way you look at him you realized as you wiped the tears from your eyes and took deep breaths. 

But maybe a few extra minutes alone wouldn't hurt. 

You leaned against the handrail on the side of the stairs and tried to think about anything but Rick. The gorgeous curls of his grey streaked hair, his beard that looked way too good even when coated in blood, his intense blue eyes, the low timbre of his voice, his protectiveness for those he cares about…

You hadn’t even realized you drifted off to sleep until the sound of growling and snarling woke you. The hatchet was in your hand immediately as you jumped up and took a defensive stance. Four walkers were close, one of which nearly grabbed you, but you side stepped it and buried your hatchet in its forehead. 

Its dead weight pitched forward, it was a man twice your size, and landed on top of you. 

“Shit!” you yelled as your head hit the concrete and your vision went momentarily fuzzy. You held tight to your hatchet and swung it with a groan as another walker launched itself and landed on top of the dead one on top of you. 

You heard a deep voice yell your name. 

“Here!” you gasped out as blood sprayed in your face as the second walker died- its dead weight crushed the air out of your lungs. Two more were reaching for you but they couldn’t quite reach you and you couldn’t quite reach them. 

You heard the disgusting sound of a blade slicing into the brains of the walkers before the bodies of the others were hauled off you. 

“Thanks.” 

You took gasping breaths as you sat up and your eyes met Rick’s blazing blue gaze. 

“Are you alright?” he asked- concern evident in his voice and in the tension of his body as he knelt beside you.

He placed his large hand on your shoulder and you looked up at him in surprise.

“Just peachy,” you replied, “not a bite or a scratch on me, I promise.” 

He hung his head in relief as he let out a deep breath and his fingers tightened slightly on your shoulder. 

“What the hell were you thinkin’ bein’ out here alone?” he hissed through gritted teeth. 

You sighed deeply. 

“I didn’t mean to doze off. You stuck me with Eugene again and I needed some alone time,” you grumbled. 

He let out a huff of what might’ve been a laugh as he placed a finger on your chin and tilted it upwards so you would meet his eyes again. 

“I thought you liked Eugene, you’re always laughin’ at him.” 

You blinked in surprise and your mouth opened slightly. 

“Like him? He’s an idiot… that’s why I laugh,” you said with your eyebrows furrowed. 

“Hm. Well I also pair you with him and Gabriel since you’re one of our best fighters and teachers and I was hopin’ they’d learn somethin’,” he hummed as he turned your face back and forth just to double check that you were unharmed. 

“Wait, what? That’s what you think of me?” you blurted out. 

He raised a brow at you and a small smile played on his lips. 

“Of course, what did ya think?” 

You shrugged and looked down as your face flushed with heat. “Thought you stuck me with ‘em cause you thought I was the same as them.” 

This time he did truly chuckle. 

“Wow. I thought you’d think better of my leadership. It wouldn’t make much sense to put the weakest links together, they’d die. Ya wanna put the strongest with the weakest so they learn to be stronger,” he explained while nodding his head. 

“Oh. Yeah. That does make more sense,” you muttered. 

He smirked at you and you swore your heart skipped a beat. 

“Promise me you won’t go sleepin’ outside on your own again and I’ll give you a break from Eugene,” Rick said fervently. 

“Deal,” you agreed all too quickly which caused a rough chuckle to slip past his lips again. 

“C’mon darlin’, let’s go back inside with the others- you can nap in there where it’s safer,” he encouraged as he stood and offered you his hand. 

Your heart fluttered at the affectionate nickname. You slid your hand into his much larger calloused hand and you had to actively stop your mind from wandering down a path of wondering how those hands would feel on the rest of your body. 

You followed him back into the warehouse and then into the big open room everyone had begun to make camp in. He placed a hand on your back as he led you to sit next to him. 

“You hungry?” he asked as he pulled granola bars out of a backpack and started to pass them out to everybody. 

“Yeah, thanks,” you mumbled and his fingers brushed against yours for far longer than necessary  as you took the snack that would count as everyone’s meal for the night from him. It was better than the group’s dinner last night of absolutely nothing. 

Today’s scavenging was more successful, thank God. Your group still needed to find a more permanent living situation, and this warehouse did not seem like the solution. But you weren’t in the habit of borrowing tomorrow’s worries. No, you were just glad you made it through another day alive and without losing anyone you cared about. 

Maggie handed Judith to Rick and he placed a kiss on her forehead before settling her on his lap. She giggled at you as you made silly faces at her. 

Your name was called in a very nervous voice and you looked over as Eugene approached you. 

“I would be remiss if-” 

“I’m sorry Eugene,” you cut him off. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I was an ass.” 

“While I do appreciate that, I also understand that I have a tendency to over-articulate in a way that can be grating on the nerves at times. So, I do apologize for becoming a pain in your rear end lately,” he said with a nod of his head that shook his ridiculous mullet. 

You let out a soft laugh. “It’s fine, dude. We’re good,” you reassured him. 

He nodded again then went back to his spot near Abraham and Rosita. 

You looked over and realized Rick was watching you with raised brows. 

“What?” you asked. 

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you be that nice before,” he said in a teasing tone and a playfulness in his light blue eyes. 

You opened your mouth to reply but he said, “To anyone but the kids at least.” 

“I’m plenty nice,” you snapped, “to everyone but you.” 

He laughed and you muttered, “Shut up” as you began to adjust your backpack so you could lay your head on it. 

You quickly turned your body away from him as you laid down so he couldn’t see the smile that adorned your lips. 

You woke the next morning after nearly a full night’s sleep, which was a miracle in the post-apocalyptic world you lived in, to a jacket with a woollen collar laid atop you. You weren’t quite as successful at hiding your smile this time. 

You yawned as you sat up and stretched and the jacket slid to your lap. It was clear you were one of the last to wake as most everyone was quietly moving around as they prepared for the day. 

“You’re up! Finally! Dad said I had to let you sleep, but Judith has been wanting you,” Carl said from across the room. 

You smiled, “I’ll take the little princess.” You reached your hands out and Carl crossed the room and placed Judith in your waiting arms. She giggled at your teasing as you spoke to her in a high voice and tickled her. 

You noticed the granola bar carefully left next to your backpack and your heart warmed before you tore into it and devoured it in a few bites. 

A few minutes later everyone seemed almost packed up and ready to go, you included. You’d gotten good at multitasking- holding and caring for Judith while taking care of other tasks (including sometimes killing walkers) had become a breeze for you. Rick came back inside the building as he holstered his gun and surveyed everyone’s progress. 

“Let’s move out in five. We’ve got a lotta ground to cover today,” he ordered and everyone either nodded or made sounds of agreement. 

He crossed the room as he came towards you and knelt down next to where you sat. He gently held Judith’s hand and the fondness in his gaze as he greeted her made your heart clench. As did the fact that he still had a soft look in his eyes when he looked up from where Judith sat in your arms and said, “Mornin’”. 

“Hey,” you replied with a small smile. “Thanks for letting me sleep in. I feel much less grumpy.” 

“Anythin’ for you, darlin’,” he said with a wink before he stood up and offered you his hand. You allowed him to help you stand and struggled to hide how flustered he made you, especially when he squeezed your hand before letting go. You handed him his jacket back, which he took and promptly put on.

“It’ll also help the overall morale of the group if you’re not snappin’ at everybody,” he teased. 

You scoffed and shoved your shoulder into his as you walked past him, but once again couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. You glared at Maggie when she wiggled her eyebrows at you which only caused her to laugh. 

The day continued on with your group once again hiking under the hot sun in an attempt to find more supplies and better shelter. The routine had become somewhat monotonous, but the constant life threatening situations made it feel a bit less so. 

Today, the group stumbled upon an abandoned superstore. Rick ordered everyone to split up in pairs to explore and scavenge. 

He asked Carl to stay outside with Judith and for Carol to protect them both. 

When he called your name, you expected as usual to be grouped with one of the less combat inclined of your traveling companions but couldn’t stop your expression of surprise as he said, “You’re with me. Alright everyone, be quick and quiet and grab anything that could be potentially useful. Let’s go.” 

The group split into their designated pairs and began to enter the store. Enough scouting had already been done that it seemed abandoned by walkers as well, but still it was always important to be cautious. 

You followed Rick as he made his way to the back of the store to explore your assigned area. Hatchets in hand, you both made your way through the aisles without speaking in order to ensure you didn’t draw any of the dead in case they were hidden out of sight. 

Finally, when everything seemed all clear Rick pulled off his backpack and you helped him to fill it with supplies. 

You quietly searched the shelves and shoved aside anything useless. You tossed a bottle of ibuprofen at Rick- which he caught and dropped in his pack before he turned to search the shelf across from you. 

Your gasp caused him to whip back around towards you with his hatchet raised. 

“Look what I found!” you said excitedly, still cautious enough to keep your voice low. 

Rick sighed deeply as he returned his hatchet to his belt and gave you an annoyed look as he glanced between your face and the unopened bag of mini chocolate donuts. They were most likely still good considering they’re chock full of preservatives. 

You didn’t even know how long it had been since you had chocolate and your mouth was already watering at the thought. 

“What?” you asked. “Y’don’t want any?”

He rolled his eyes and went back to searching for supplies. 

“Fine, suit yourself. I was willin’ to share with you, but I’m not sharin’ with anybody else,” you grumbled as you shoved the donuts into your own backpack. 

You heard him laugh softly and you smirked triumphantly. Your ability to dissuade the grumpiness and bring amusement to one another filled your heart with a light you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“We should check that back storage room in case there’s extra stuff back there that they never had the chance to put out on the floor,” you whispered after the two of you had cleared several aisles having only found a couple of necessities. 

“Good idea,” he replied and led the way. 

You followed his lead as you kept your hand on your hatchet. 

There didn’t seem to be any walkers in the back, but it was dark. You held a flashlight while Rick ripped open boxes. You looked around the dark room, searching for any kind of movement in the dark as a sinking feeling plagued you.

He looked back at you with a grin on his lips and a twinkle in his eye as he held up a protein bar. 

“I think you might be a genius, this whole box is full of ‘em,” he said as he gestured to the large cardboard box before him. 

Your eyes widened in a look of horror. His brow furrowed but before he could even open his mouth to ask, you threw a knife at him. 

It flew so close to his head that his curls rustled in the wind it created before it buried itself in the forehead of the walker whose teeth were inches away from Rick’s shoulder. 

A look of shock overtook his expression as he looked between you and the walker, but you weren’t done. You yanked out your hatchet and stalked past him and took out the two walkers who were rounding the corner and heading towards the two of you. 

Rick came up behind you with his hatchet in hand as well, but all seemed to be clear. 

You took heaving breaths to calm the adrenaline that ran through your body. 

You both holstered your weapons, including yanking the knife out of the walker’s forehead and wiping it clean, and Rick's hand encircled your wrist as he pulled you to turn to face him. 

His eyes were still wide with surprise. 

“Thanks.” 

You shrugged. “Don’t mention it.” 

“No, I’m gonna. You just saved my ass,” he said fervently as he stepped closer to you. 

It was like he’d just had this realization that you always supported him, always helped him, always had his back.

“Isn’t that what we do for each other? We’ve got each other's backs. That’s why our group works,” you replied. 

He nodded but continued to look at you with such intensity that it made you take a step backwards and your back bumped into the wall behind you. 

“Do you look at Daryl like this when he saves your ass?” 

He shook his head and in a low gravelly tone said, “No.” 

He looked ready to devour you as he took another step closer. Your breath caught in your throat. 

“Rick?”

“Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath. 

He practically lunged forward, one hand landed on the wall next to your head and the other spanned the side of your face to the back of your neck as he tilted your head up. His body pressed against yours, effectively trapping you between his heat and the wall. 

Before you could even breathe, his lips were on yours. The brush of his beard was harsh against your skin as his lips firmly pressed against yours.

Your hands reached up to grip the curls at the base of his head, threading your fingers through the surprisingly soft hair. He took that as encouragement and deepened the kiss. 

With a groan his lips pried yours open and his tongue pillaged your mouth with an intensity that left you whimpering. The heat of him, the taste of him, the fierceness of him was overwhelming and you kissed him back with all the passion he gave you. 

It could’ve gone on for minutes, or maybe hours, you didn’t know but you never wanted it to end. You were ready to give him everything he wanted and more, but the sound of footsteps behind Rick had him yanking back from you. He whipped around, his gun already raised and cocked as he held a hand behind him to protect you and keep you safe behind his back. 

Your lips still tingled from his affection, and as you peered around his shoulder you huffed in annoyance. 

“S-sorry. I was elected to determine the whereabouts of both of you but as I have observed with my own two eyes, your safety is not currently in question. Therefore, I will take my leave, but you should know should this rendezvous continue on that the whole group is ready to move on out and is waiting on your approval and presence to do so. Yours truly will take leave now and report to the others that the waiting will continue for a little while longer,” Eugene rambled. 

Rick sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he lowered his weapon. He still didn’t move an inch so you continued to be stuck between him and the wall. It honestly wasn’t a bad place to be, you weren’t complaining. 

“Jesus, Eugene, it’s fine, just tell everyone to come help us carry these supplies,” Rick ordered. 

“Yes sir,” Eugene replied quickly and turned around and left just as quickly. 

You laughed quietly and Rick turned back around- still not giving you an inch of space- and placed both hands on the wall on either side of your head and leaned down so his face was incredibly close to yours. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he murmured before he kissed you again. This kiss was slow, gentle, and full of warmth. The kind of kiss that might’ve been your first kiss if you weren’t living in a time of death and desperation for survival. 

His lips lingered on yours long enough that you worried others would stumble upon the two of you again. You weren’t keen on having an audience, particularly not Eugene- you’d heard a rumor that he was into voyeurism of his friends which you certainly didn’t want to have anything to do with. 

“Then what took you so long?” you asked in a teasing voice as Rick’s lips finally separated from yours and he took a step back as he ran a hand though his grey streaked curls. 

“Well at first I thought you had a thing for Eugene, not me,” he replied. 

You rolled your eyes. “Thought you were smart,” you muttered. 

He grabbed your shirt and yanked you into his body. “Don’t be a smartass,” he reprimanded, but his lips found yours again in a brief kiss that negated all the harshness in his tone. 

“I worried, I worried about too many things. But yesterday almost losin’ you and today with you saving me… I realized all those worries were ridiculous when none of us are guaranteed tomorrow. I couldn’t even think about losing you, especially not without you knowin’ how I feel about you,” he said with such fervency. 

His confession left you breathless. 

“I- I worried too much too. Worried that you’d never feel the same way I did. Worried that if I ever told you I’d lose you,” you said, your voice so quiet it was practically a whisper. 

All of the reasons you’d both withheld yourselves seemed frivolous now as light filtered through the murky window on the other side of the room and bathed Rick in the brightness of new opportunity and fresh start. A chance for new love despite the horrors of the world. 

So you kissed him once more, this kiss but a brief touch of lips, a taste of something more that was to come, a sweetness only utter devotion could bring. 

All too soon, he stepped back far enough that as many in your group came through the swinging doors it would not appear that anything had changed between the two of you. 

To everyone else, finding the stock of food in the back of that abandoned grocery store was the only life altering thing that had occurred. But when you met Rick’s ocean blue eyes you realized you could drown in the affection you found in his gaze. 

All the former awkwardness and miscommunication between the two of you was completely forgotten as you smiled at him and he smiled back- eyes crinkling- and the whole world felt anew with possibility. 

[starlightshadowsworld]

As a member of the Kunichuu nation, I ask you : do you think they often have fight ? Kunikida have a hard time showing that somoene he care about them and instead scold them/get angry when they take unreasonable risk. And Chuuya is exactly the type to take unreasonable risk, attack a large group all by himself or using corruption even when Dazai is declared dead (like in Dead Apple).

Beyond some disagreements in the beginning as they figure things out, I really don’t see them fighting over it.

Corruption is not something that is used often. It is always a risk and a calculated one at that. Chuuya knows exactly what he could be sacrificing every time he uses it.

But if it means saving others he will do whatever it takes.

That’s something that I don’t see Kunikida ever trying to talk him out of doing.

For as hard as it may be to watch Chuuya get hurt, Kunikida absolutely understands that level of dedication and determination.

Because he’s exactly the same as him in that regard. Taking really high risks in situations to protect other people at his own detriment.

Because those are the principles that Kunikida abides by to live his life.

To them with the lives they lead, the organisations that they’ve pledged their lives too and the people that they are.

Those risks are never considered unreasonable.

Also the people that Kunikida scolds for being reckless are typically those that he outranks. Dazai is his partner yes but Kunikida is technically his superior, as he is to Kyouka and Atsushi.

He doesn’t have that kind of standing with Chuuya and they’d both be operating under their respective leaders orders.

Kunikida wouldn’t give him shit for following Mori’s words like Chuuya wouldn’t give him shit for following Fukuzawa.

Not to mention the trust that they’d have in each other to make these difficult decisions and see them through.

I see the conflict being less them fighting over the other being self sacrificial. And more about them both grasping with the idea of being taken care of in the aftermath.

Of making the choice that had to be made and being able to recover from that with someone you don’t have too be strong around.

And just the fear and worry that comes with being the one who was unscathed. And doing what they can to help their partner when they’re hurt and vulnerable.

Especially when things don’t go well. When for all the planning, all the power they hold that they fail and the people they swore to protect get hurt.

They’re both so high up in their organisations that they wouldn’t allow anyone to see them fall apart like that. And realising that they can with each other.

I personally find that a lot more interesting and enjoyable to explore with them then have them both fighting over who’s more reckless.

[revvethasmythh]

An idle thought, really, but I think it's interesting to see fandom latch on the metaphorical interpretation of things like Laudna's relationship with Delilah as a metaphor for addiction or Imogen's psychic powers as a metaphor for either chronic pain or queerness, but there's much less attachment to or discussion of the characters who explicitly, canonically dealt with exactly those things. By which I mean Scanlan's substance abuse, Veth's alcoholism, and even Ashton's chronic pain (which feels like it was discussed much more before it was confirmed canon, and seems to be brought up mostly just as ship fodder these days). I suppose one could argue the devotion to the metaphorical interpretations lies in the fact that it's an interpretation of canon as opposed to being explicitly so, meaning there's more wiggle room to project a personal interpretation onto it. Explicit canon is more concrete, less malleable to the individual viewer. Still, if we're going to talk about addiction now in a metaphorical sense via Laudna, it leads me to wonder if we will see further discussion of the characters who explicitly dealt with addiction (Veth and Scanlan), as opposed to Laudna's purported allegorical version of it

[kurokoros]

I want to meet the duffer brothers so badly specifically so that I can ask them why the hell season three is like that. was it netflix making decisions behind the scenes? did they genuinely think changing the tone, flanderizing the characters, and making up the most batshit insane plotlines were good ideas? were they desperately trying to get the show canceled so they could work on other projects, but it backfired on them so badly that they were given two more seasons and a multi-million dollar contract that was too good to turn away?

[byanyan]

ㅤborn on june 30th at 3:40 am to eunji byun, a woman who never had any intention of raising a child, byan was taken home by their adoptive parents, hye-jin yoon and dae-seong lee, a couple who had never been able to have a child of their own and had eagerly awaited their arrival. given the name yeong-hwan lee, they were treated exactly as if they were the couple's biological son and learned to refer to the two as eomma and appa (mom and dad).

this was the only period in their life where byan had a very "normal" childhood. and it was good! they were a happy, outgoing kid from the start, always curious and full of energy. they felt loved. they were loved. they don't remember it, but they were even taken to korea to meet their parents' extended family when they were two.

things were good, and it seemed like they were only going to get better when hye-jin unexpectedly discovered that she was pregnant.

byan's sister, hwa-young, was born on september 9th, when they were four years old. given her name because hye-jin was fond of the idea of her children having similar names, even byan was excited by this, and by the concept of having a baby sister. things remained exciting for the first few weeks, but as time passed and the newness of having a baby in the house began to wear off, things started to get... complicated. neither parent had particularly high paying jobs, and hye-jin couldn't afford to take much of a maternity leave. she worked from home, but between work, household chores, and hwa-young, neither she nor dae-seong had much time left over for byan, let alone for themselves. needless to say, it was a stressful time, and with money and energy running thin, byan beginning to act out a couple months in due to a lack in the attention they were used to having didn't exactly help matters.

only a few months before their fifth birthday, byan was placed into the care of a foster family. it wasn't an easy decision for either of their parents to make, but they had never planned for two children and no longer believed that they could properly support or give them both the life they deserved. the decision was made thinking that it would give byan the opportunity for something better, and that if things ever turned around for the family, they could eventually be brought back.

ㅤ—of course, that never happened.

contact was kept for a while, but when it seemed to only make things harder on byan, and subsequently harder on all of them, the decision to cut contact completely and all at once was made. the thought process was that if byan stopped waiting and hoping for the day that they'd get to come home, maybe they would eventually allow themself to settle with another family. at least they were probably young enough that they wouldn't remember all that much from their first four years, right? surely they would move on, and eventually be happier for it.

the last thing byan remembers hearing from eomma and appa didn't even come directly from them. it came through their foster mother, who tried to make it sound exciting that their last name had been changed from lee to byun.

[fansids]

Welp, I've finished the season 4 special...

Anyway-

[kendev]

first post..

[elleldoe]

I don't mind at all! I love a good discussion and you made some really good points 💛​

Absolutely, a fic doesn't have to meet all those criteria to be enjoyable, obviously nuance is important here, everyone has preferences, but imo the beauty of fanfiction lies in the creative freedom that comes with it, compared to, for example, traditional publishing that has to follow strict rules. I can't for the life of me remember what the fic was called or who the author was, but I remember reading a oneshot years ago that was part of a writing challenge that didn't allow spell-check or rewriting, so it was riddled with typos, etc. Now, was it good by traditional standards? No. Was it a brilliant piece of art that made my day? Yes!

Tags and summary are the two main factors in my decision-making process. Usually the tags leave me with only a handful of works anyway, or I don't even get as far as narrowing it down because there's only a handful to begin with. Here it might be worth noting that both the things I write, and the things I actively seek out to read, are niche (fandom and/or themes). I have reread my own work countless times simply because I filtered and lo and behold I'm in the only one in the tags (or close to). The other thing would be recommendations, as you've mentioned, people with similar tastes actively recommending works, or passive recommendations by means of bookmarks, reading other works by the same writer, etc.

I definitely see your point on how additionally filtering by kudos/bookmarks/etc., helps when there are lots of works to chose from, tho.

Overall, the idea that things need to be popular to be good, or, on the flipside, that things have to be a certain level of good simply because they reach a certain level of popularity, isn't new, but I feel like there has been an increase in that mentality in fandom spaces over the last years.

This might be a controversial take, but as much as I love Ao3 and consider it superior to other fanfiction sites out there, there is one thing that FFnet did better. Public vs. private stats. I love how the hit count isn't public, only comments, favs, and follows are. And, I love kudos on Ao3, but imo they shouldn't be public either.

[gallusrostromegalus]

I was raised agnostic and tend to remain ambiguous on theological matters.

-but my house has a porch on the second story that affords me a terrific view of my neighborhood and the Colorado Front Range and I was partaking of some peace before the 4th Of July Finger-Loss Festivities begin, and I have had a

~*Spiritual Experience*~

I just watched my neighbor try to unload an actual wooden pallet that had to have been forklifted into the back of his insecurity pickup worth of fireworks.

Except that he does not have a forklift in his garage.

He does have so much sports memorabilia and cardboard boxes of unsold MLM Merchandise and patriotically themed camping gear and posters of women in bikinis and flags of suspect political organizations in his garage that there is only BARELY enough space for the fireworks and certainly none for his truck.

So he had to unload the individual boxes of recreational explosives from the back of his truck and stack them in the minimal space he had cleared by hand. This is a tedious and time-consuming process as this neighbor has purchased a wide variety of recreational and locally illegal explosives instead of many of just a few types, so the individual boxes are rather small.

He begins, and this is crucial to what happens next, by cutting apart the industrial-grade saran wrap his explosives dealer had so carefully wrapped his merchandise in, and discarded it unsecured on his lawn.

Where Outdoor Conditions sometimes happen.

His process for unloading the fireworks is to 1. Climb up through the gate into the bed of his pickup truck (a feat made unusually difficult due to the slope of his driveway, and this man's fascinating decision to wear the world's Siffest and least Flexible Denim Overalls. 2. Once in the pickup bed, he selects ONE (1) box from the pile He is apparently from a niche religious institution that doesn't believe in stacking things. 3. Carries it awkwardly around the palette that barely fits in the truck bed 4. His wife yells "Be careful!" when he nearly falls out of the pickup. 5. He Yells "SHADDUP!" back at her. 6. The Large German Shepherd barks from inside the house. 7. He yells "SHADDUP!" back at her too. 8. He sets the (1) box down on the gate 9. Slowly and awkwardly climbs out of the pickup bed 10. picks the box back up, and carries it into the garage.

Question: Aren't you going to help this poor man? Answer: Absolutely Not.

There's four military veterans, MANY dogs, and several people with dementia in this neighborhood, all of whom are terrified by this chicanery every year and many neighbors have repeatedly asked him to maybe do the fireworks somewhere else. (This is the Eighth Year Running he's held a major demolition event in his driveway, and for those of you who can do math, you may be able to guess the precipitating incident to this little ritual) Additionally, I live in Colorado, a state marginally less prone to spontaneous and catastrophic conflagrations than a rotting grain silo, but only marginally. Our recreational explosives laws are written accordingly.

I am in fact calling the Non Emergency line to report Fireworks violations, and reading off the brand labels to someone named Dorothy, who is gleefully totaling up a SPECTACULAR fine for my oblivious neighbor.

However, while I'm on the phone with Dorothy, I notice the wind begin to pick up. and by "Notice" I mean "The Industrial Saran Wrap he left on his Lawn earlier is suddenly swept up about 100 feet into the air by an updraft intense enough to make my ears pop" And by "Pick Up" I mean "I look up to see the sky has turned a fun and exciting shade of glass green, and the bottoms of the clouds are bumpy and rounded, and the overall effect is not unlike looking up through the bottom of the cup at God's Matcha Boba Tea."

For those of you who do not live in places with Inclement Weather, these conditions mean "You have about 30 seconds before a Major Meteorological Event Occurs."

I move under the eaves. "Hang on Dorothy." I say, nose filling with Petrichor. "The show is about to be cancelled." "Oh, that doesn't matter!" Dorothy cheerfully informs me. "It's illegal for him just to possess those, no matter if he actually gets to set them off or not." "Terrific, because he's gotten maybe five boxes out of a hundred inside."

Sometimes, the weather gods are Merciful and give you a verbal warning, typically in the kind of thunderclap that makes your ears ring.

The Gods were not merciful today.

It's not often that I am in the time, place, correct angle or in a properly observational frame of mind to see this, But I got to see it today. Huh. I thought. I've never seen a cloud just DIVE for the ground before. Oh. I realized as it got closer. That's RAIN.

Sometimes, a thunderstorm will form in such a way that the rain that would normally be distributed over an area of say, five to tent square miles, is instead concentrated into an area of say, my neighborhood exactly.

So today, I was granted the rare privilege of being able to actually see the literal wall of water descend from On High and DIRECTLY onto my porch, my street, and my neighbor's truck, and his pile of unwrapped fireworks.

The sheer impact force of the downpour immediately scatters the teetering pile of fireworks boxes in the back of the truck, like the wrath of God striking down the tower of Babel. Boxes tumble, then are washed out of the bed of the truck by the deluge. Smaller Boxes are carried down the road in a little line by the stream forming in the gutter, like little impotent explosive ducklings.

My neighbor was definitely yelling something, but I could not hear what over the DEAFENING noise several million gallons of water makes upon high-speed contact with the earth's surface, but there was a lot of arm-waving and faces turning red as he went looking for the saran wrap that had probably blown to Nebraska by now, while his wife started disassembling the complex three-dimensional puzzle of interlocking material goods in search of a tarp. They do not have a tarp. They have one of those wretched Thin Blue Line flags though, and my neighbor jogs out in a futile effort to cover what's left in the truck.

Which is when the hail begins.

"HELLO?" Yelled Dorothy. "HI!" I shouted. "WE'RE HAVING SOME WEATHER!" "OH GOOD!" she shouts back. "WE NEED THE MOISTURE!"

I watch for a minute longer, but the loss was immediate and catastrophic- the hail is the size of marbles and dense and cares not for your pitiful cardboard and cellophane, ripping the boxes asunder and punching holes in the few things covered in plastic. The colors on the Thin Blue Line Flag are seeping all over the remains of that it was supposed to protect in a particularly apt visual metaphor. Not even the few boxes that made it into the garage are spared, as the German Shepherd escapes from indoors, and in an attempt to assist her humans, jumps directly into the small stack of not-yet-ruined boxes, scattering them into the driveway and deluge. She even picks one up so her humans will chase her around the yard, before dropping it in the gutter to be swept away.

So. I was raised Agnostic -but even I can recognize when God slaps someone upside the head and shouts "NO!" at them.

---

(If you laughed, please consider supporting my Ko-fi or preordering my book of Strange Stories on Patreon)

[mrsriddlenott]

~Teach Me, Please~

Bsf!JJ Maybank x Innocent!Reader

Warnings: oral(m&f receiving), bit of a handjob, praise kink, spit kink, innocent reader but she’s lowkey in control, reader kinda gets bullied in the beginning but not directly. Not proofread.

{masterlist} • {PART TWO)

————

“She’s like their little sister,” you heard the kook girl you didn’t recognize laugh as she spoke about you, “She follows them around like a groupie, JJ most of all. It’s like she doesn’t know what to do with what she has, I would be flirting non-stop if I was with him as much as she is. JJ is absolutely delicious.”

“I think they’ll always be just friends,” her equally annoying friend giggles, the pair clearly not noticing you behind them or simply not caring, “I mean look at how innocent she is, I doubt she would know how to please him if she had the chance. She has literally never had a boyfriend, she probably has never given head in her life and JJ gets around a lot he has plenty of better options. Hell he probably doesn’t pay enough attention to even notice her raging crush on him anyway. You should definitely go for it tonight, I’ve heard he’s good.”

You huffed, stomping off back towards the couch you had left JJ on. What annoyed you the most wasn’t the shit talking, you knew people talked, especially kooks who somehow had nothing better to do. What hurt was the accuracy. Despite being the same age as your fellow pogues, and knowing JJ and JB since the third grade, you were still very much innocent. Especially when compared to your ragtag group of friends.

You knew they didn’t mind, they all loved you no matter what. Kie helped you as much as she could but it was pointless, you just didn’t know how to be as laid back as them. You had fun and loved to party as much as they did, but you still preferred a nice night in with a movie. And while part of you used to worry you held them back, they made sure you knew you could always come to them. So when you saw JJ wave you back over with a questioning look in his eyes you knew you could ask him to help you with anything.

And your crush on him had totally and absolutely nothing to do with that decision.

“Will you teach me how to give a blowjob?” You blurt out, dropping onto the couch infront of JJ’s outstretched arm as though everything was normal. He gagged on the gulp of beer he’d just taken before looking to you with wide eyes, trying to decipher if he heard you properly.

“What’d you jus’ say?” His voice was breathless as he wiped his face of spilt beer, your eyes tracing the droplets that escaped down his neck.

“I want you to teach me how to give good head.” You stated, stretching the words to make your intentions clear. You watched JJ’s eyes bounce between your eyes and lips, the gears in his brain working overtime to decide if you were joking or not.

“Like- uh.” JJ starts, his voice strained while he needlessly wipes his mouth again, spreading his legs on the coach and making room for himself and letting his knee touch yours, “Like on what though.” He arches his eyebrow to look at you, not wanting to be presumptuous but wanting nothing more than to help you directly.

JJ would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about you like that a million times. He wanted you, he just never admitted it out loud because he thought you deserved better. He messed around and acted out while you and John B cleaned up after him but over the years he started to notice a distinct difference in his feelings for Jonh B compared to those he had for you. However, he decided long ago he wouldn’t act on any of them unless you did first, he couldn’t risk ruining you because you were just so good.

“On you Jay, come on don’t make me feel weird about it.” The whining tone of your voice makes JJ bite his lip, unsure if this was ethical. JB would surely frown upon this and Kie would probably kill him for corrupting you. But he was having a hard time fighting the urge now as you looked up to him with pleading eyes.

“Well I don’t wanna take advantage of you or anything, y’know?” He stutters over his words slightly as he fumbles to find anything to say, making you giggle in that way he loves so much. You had never once seen JJ flustered or worried about a girl asking to suck him off and you honestly couldn’t believe it was you who got that honor.

“But I asked you to show me JJ, I want you to teach me.” You beg him, turning your body on the couch to face him fully, placing a hand on his exposed bicep.

And his resolve snapped.

He tossed his half full beer can aside as he stood, not caring where it landed. His hand took your own hand, gently but assertively pulling you up with him. He held onto you tightly, not wanting to lose you while weaving through the crowd in the Chateau making the way to the bedroom he made his. You caught sight of the first kook girl in passing, noticing the way she tried to catch JJ’s eyes only to be ignored. Her face contorted in surprise and disgust while you laughed softly before JJ was yanking you into his room and locking the door behind you both.

“C’mere,” JJ instructed, waving two fingers towards him. When you turn to him he’s facing away from you, grabbing a pillow from the top of his bed and tossing it on the floor at his feet. The bed creeks from his weight flopping onto it, manspreading while watching your slightly shocked and confused face, unable to hide his smile. “Come on, y’wanna learn or not.”

Your legs carry you to him, anxiously messing with the hem of your dress now that you can make out the bulge in his shorts. “Are you sure you want to do this?” His voice draws your gaze back to his and you can see the excitement whirling behind his blue eyes dropping you to your knees carefully, leaning into the comfort of his pillow.

“Thanks for the pillow,” You whisper, locking eyes with him from between his legs, “I didn’t know guys did that, I’ve never seen it in the porn I watch.”

“You watch porn?! Oh my god this keeps gettin’ better.” JJ groans with a smile, knocking his head back and letting you watch his adam’s apple bob, “I’ve never done it before, I just didn’t want you to bruise your knees.”

“Good to know I’m special.” You laugh awkwardly, wiggling with excited and nervous energy where you leant before him. He released an airy laugh above you, looking down at you again, his pupils dilated.

“You have no idea,” JJ’s voice was breathless and his words caught in his throat slightly, “Do you wanna get started on our lesson Princess?” JJ asked teasingly, running his fingers down your warm cheek, stopping to lift your head up by your chin. You nodded, shell shocked as you stare up at him unable to force your mouth to form words.

“I need you to tell me,” He whispered, leaning forward slowly until his lips ghost against yours, “If I’m going to finally corrupt you I need you to ask Cupcake.” Your eyes fluttered shut, taking in his scent as your heart rapped against your ribcage.

“I want you Jay….T-to teach me, please.” Your eyes flick open just in time to catch a wicked grin spread across his face before your cheeks were cupped in his warm palms, tugging your lips into his in a heated kiss. Your sighs mingle together, finally exploring what you both silently desired for so long. His tongue danced across your bottom lip asking for entrance as you gasped letting his tongue fight yours, forcing a moan from you that vibrated against his lips. He pulled away slowly, spit connecting you for a second before you’re licking your lips subconsciously. JJ observes your furrowed eyebrows and the redness flooding over your skin as your eyes stay closed in obvious pleasure.

“Still with me Gorgeous?” JJ asks, tapping your cheeks lightly, smiling excitedly as he watches you look up at him. His painfully hard erection rubbed against the zipper of his shorts as he adjusts his hips. Leaning back and resting his weight on his forearms, his crotch looming in front of you, your wide eyes telling him you have no clue how to start this. “Put your hands on my knees,” He instructs, shivering under your touch when you listen immediately, your cool hands resting against his steadily warming skin, “Good girl, now I want you to slowly move them up, like you’re not sure you want to take my pants off yet, tease me y’know?”

Your breath hitches at his praise, and he notices. You whimper as you try and follow his instructions drifting your hands across his broad thighs and letting your fingers tease under the fabric of his shorts, “You like being my good girl don’t you?” He asks, his voice teasing only slightly, his breathy voice making your thighs clench, rubbing them together desperate for friction.

“Yes, I do,” His eyes immediately catch onto the movement of your thighs, biting his lip while he watches you wiggle in front of him. He twitches in his shorts at the thought of you getting off to his pleasure, moaning loudly when he takes your hand in his pressing your palm directly into his bulge. Using his larger hand to move yours to perfectly cup around him and uses your palm moving it against his shaft as he swallows, desperately trying to collect himself.

“K-keep doing that until you’re ready,” He sighs, letting you continue at your own pace, moving his hand up to your hair to fix it, not wanting it to fall into your face as he watched your features for signs of distress, “When you want to unbuckle my belt and-“ He gasps cutting off his sentence when your fingers immediately jump to hastily undo his belt. Your shaking hands struggle for a few awkward seconds before you’re tugging his shorts down his thighs exposing his black boxers. JJ lifts his hips to let you discard his shorts fully, tossing them aside as you stare into his eyes triumphantly, “Good girl.”

Your wide smile as your hands tease their way back up his naked thighs just as he taught you has him reeling, practically shaking with excitement. “You like being praised, don’t you Mama?” He asks, tugging his lip between his teeth when your fingers find his cock again. He tugs your hand upward, moaning when he presses your hand into his tip, stopping your movements entirely until you respond.

“Yes Jay.” You whine, your tone impatient as you wiggle your hand under his, making him release a breathy moan laced with a laugh as he releases your hand, letting it continue it’s excited exploration of him. Your free hand started to sneak it’s way up his body, making him jolt forward as your cold hand found it’s way into his shirt.

“Who do you wanna learn this for?” JJ blurts out, not entirely wanting to hear the answer as he tugs his shirt over his head impatiently. Closing his eyes as your nails dig their way back down his chest, part of him wondering how you knew he’d like that.

“Myself.” JJ feels the smile grow back on his face, relief flooding his body as he opens his eyes, locking onto your wide gaze looking up to him expectantly. You want his instructions, and he wants to draw this out.

“So there’s no one in that precious mind of yours right now?” He asks, letting his eyes fall down your face, gazing at your wet lips before eyeing your cleavage and wiggling hips. Trying to suppress that part of him that wants you to stay here like this forever.

“Well,” You giggle, palming him through his boxers just over his tip, loving the way his head falls back with a moan when you apply more pressure, “Right now I have you on my mind Jay.”

“Fuck, you have no idea what that does to me,” He smiles towards the ceiling, imagining all the times he came in his hand to this exact scenario, “I thought you were too good for me, why’d ya ask me?”

“Some girls at the party were talking about me, calling me your groupie and saying I wouldn’t know what to do with you if you ever gave me the chance, and I really wanted a chance.” You sigh, drifting your hand down his toned abs to tease the elastic of his underwear, letting it snap against his skin as your excited eyes find his again.

“Oh Princess,” he cooed caressing your cheek, “You have always had the chance. You were the first girl I ever imagined doing this for me.” His eyes went wide when he realized what he had said, almost backtracking before you interrupted him to speak.

“Good, because I can’t imagine anyone else teaching me, I trust you, I want it to be you.” You state simply, locking your eyes in his gaze and taking not of the hitch in his breath. In a spurt of confidence you’re tugging his boxers down his thighs, eyeing his thick, throbbing cock as it bounces free, eyes meeting his again in a beg, “Tell me what to do Jay.”

“First give the tip a kiss Baby,” You do as your told, touching your lips against his hot, red tip as it leaks precum onto your lips, “Mmm, fuck now get your tongue nice and wet and lick up the middle, when it feels right slide my tip against your tongue n’suck on it like those Cherry suckers you’re always begin’ me for.”

You laugh, suddenly feeling more and more confident as you watch him come undone above you. “Is that what you want Jay? Or are you goin’ easy on me?”

“If you think you can take me in one go do it Princess, but don’t think I’m pressuring you,” He sighed, watching your tongue wet the side of his pulsing cock, “I want you to go at the pace you’re comfortable with.”

You smile up at him as you separate from him, letting spit coat your tongue before moving to lick up the prominent vein popping out of the other side of his cock. He groans above you, subconsciously moving his hips closer to your mouth in uncontrollable excitement. As your lips caress against his red, leaking tip you slowly let spit drip from your lips onto him, watching as it drips down him and pools in the bit of trimmed hair at his base. His eyes pop from his head when you bring your hand up to spread your saliva over him, pumping your hand slowly and twisting it like you’d seen in videos. You watched his furrowed eyebrows, buying yourself time to work up enough spit in your mouth to take him fully. His lips tug into his teeth as his hips stutter upward into your hand.

“Where did you learn to do that?” JJ gasps, stuttering and twitching in your wet hand.

“Porn.” Your sickly sweet voice has him moaning and tugging at your hair, forcing you’re eyes up to his.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” He states before slamming his lips into yours, moving you back by your hair wrapped around his fist. You gape up at him wide mouthed, your hand speeding up when his eyes bounce between your open, drooling mouth and your blown out eyes as though asking for permission. You nod your head to him, not sure what he wanted to do but okay with it nonetheless. His free hand jumped to your chin, tugging your mouth open wider before leaning down and spitting directly onto your tongue. Rolling your eyes into the back of your head as you moan you shiver in front of him at the feeling of his spit mixing with yours, unknowingly helping you in your previous goal.

JJ chuckles at your reaction, moaning slightly when your hand speeds up again. You savior the feeling of his spit in your mouth for a second, your eyes latching onto his as you smile wickedly. JJ only takes a second’s pause before his eyed widen watching your mouth dip lower, his fingers subconsciously tightening in your hair, moving his other to grip the bed and ground himself. Breath fills your lungs from your nose, prepping yourself before teasing his tip with your tongue for only a second before you slowly slide him into your mouth. His hips jolt forward subconsciously, shuddering breathlessly when your eyes meet his over your lashes again. JJ curses under his breath, watching you take almost every inch of him in one go, sliding your head down his shaft, resting your hand at his base when you can’t fit anymore.

JJ moans loudly when you swallow around him, jerking his hips into you desperately trying to control himself, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you cut him off quickly, shoving your head as far down as you can go, feeling his tip twitching in the back of your throat as you gag around him. You pop your head up, dragging your tongue against the underside of his shaft, moaning at his taste and sending vibrations through him. You suckle on his tip, preparing yourself as you gasp for breath around him. You start to bob your head up and down him, swirling your tongue as you go dropping low enough to feel his pubes tickle your cheeks, his hands moving to the back of your head to tug your hair into his fingers.

“You’re a natural,” JJ sighs, “Feel like imma cum already Gorgeous, fuck.” Gazing up at him you watch his eyes try and stay open, try to maintain eye contact until they flutter shut when the tip of your tongue grazes his ballsack unintentionally. JJ subconsciously pushes your head down, pulling a moan from you as he groans into his bitten lip, hooded eyes watching you intently now as he tugs you off of him with a pop. His hand stays in your hair, his eyes watching the way your spit dribbles down your chin, mixing with your lipstick and contrasting the black mascara running down you cheeks.

“I want you to try something, but only if you’re comfortable okay?” You nod to him desperately, ignoring the fact that your hair’s probably a mess in his hand, “Flatten out your tongue f’me,” His voice was demanding but soft still, a side of him you had never seen before beginning to come forward, “Yea, good girl just like that,” He says as he watches you stick your tongue out for him, spit dripping down the middle and directly onto is erect cock, “Now lean down and suck on my balls Sweetheart.” Your eyes went wide watching how he bobbed infront of your face. “If you don’t want to that-“

A shiver runs down his spine and directly into his rock hard cock when your warm tongue drags against his heavy sack before you suck one into your mouth, his hand tugs into your hair harder instinctively as he shudders. His shaft twitches against your face, your tongue swirlly against his salty flesh, tugging off him with a pop. You look up to him, makeup dyed spit dripping off your chin and down your chest, “Like that?”

“Yes yes just like that,” He gasps, desperation laced in his tone, immediately making you drop your head back. Sucking his other tight ball into your mouth, swirling your tongue while he shakes you slowly move your hand that was supporting your weight on his knee under your dress, circling your clothed clit with two fingers. Moaning around him as your eyes flutter shut feeling the wet patch seeping through your underwear.

“Open your eyes and look at me,” JJ growls when he catches your hands movement, his hand caress your face gently contrasting his hard tone. Despite wanting to listen your eyes stay shut as you speed up your fingers movement, “Thought you said you liked being a good girl, now listen to me.”

Letting your eyes flicker open you feel your cheeks heating up even more when you catch his gaze. His blue eyes only egg you on further, your fingers speeding up subconsciously while he stares at you with a smile. Breathing through your nose you continue your mouths exploration of him, popping your mouth off of his flesh only to immediately suck his tip into your mouth again. JJ’s hand tugs your hair into a ponytail as you bob your mouth on him, his tip hitting your throat each time making you gag and moan on him. The vibrations of your noises make his hips jolt uncontrollably, his body and dick twitching together as your spit pools on his groin and slips down his thighs.

He releases a loud needy groan when you force your mouth off him, his hand falling from your hair and clutching the blanket below him, mumbling incoherently while trying to ask why you stopped. He whines loudly gasping and gripping the bed so hard his knuckles turn white when you drag your wet tongue from the middle of his ballsack directly to his tip. Moaning when he twitched against your face, sucking him into your mouth while you eye his adam’s apple bobbing. Sensing he was close you stop your fingers with a whine around him, moving in order to move your hands to support yourself on his knees as you suck your cheeks in. You drag your mouth down his shaft and JJ whimpers, shoving his hand into your hair and tugging as he cums down your throat, filling your mouth as you moan.

“Fuck I’m so sorry, I didn’t have time to warn you, do you need’ta spit?” He asks, trying to ignore the tingle running down his spine at the sight of his cum dribbling past your lips.

“It’s okay,” You state simply licking your lips clean, the sweet tone in your voice not changing despite the more than inappropriate circumstances, “Your cum tastes so good Jay, look I swallowed it already.” You stick your tongue out to him, showing what little residue remains as he groans above you again.

“If you need anymore lessons, you can always, and i mean always, come to Papa Jay.” His breathless voice makes you laugh as you hop up to sit next to him on the bed.

“Do you wanna take my virginity too.” The burst of confidence making him cum gave you almost wears off at the look of shock that grows onto JJ’s face.

“Damn Mama, you are so fucking bold tonight, you have no clue how many times I have imagined you asking me that.” He smiles at you, his large ring clad hand gripping your thigh as it sits beside him, “Wanna tell me how long you have been fantasizing about your best friend poppin’ your cherry?”

“Forever.”

“Mmmhmm, that’s what I wanted to hear.” JJ groans, pulling your thighs apart and shoving you backwards letting your dress ride up. He rolls over you, settling over you where you lay on his bed, framing your face with his arms. “I think it’s your turn right now though don’t you?” Shivers run down your spine at his tone, subconsciously trying to rub your thighs together earning a teasing laugh from JJ. You brace yourself on his waste, tugging him closer to you as his lips crash into yours, tongues immediately starting to fight for dominance only for him to win with a groan.

“We should save your first time until there’s not a dozen people right outside the door.” Lowering his voice to a whisper as he lightly digs his hips into you, “And I think we need to have a conversation before we….move forward.” Letting his lips graze your neck as he keeps going he smiles at your gasps of appreciation, “But don’t think I don’t really, really want to right now.”

JJ’s teeth tug at the spaghetti strap string of your dress as he crawls lower down your body, letting it snap back against your skin with a sigh, “You’re so fucking gorgeous, so perfect I can’t even look at you sometimes.” The warm feeling of his tongue against your collar bone has you bucking against him desperately, hissing when his teeth nip at the exposed flesh of your breast.

“I love when you wear this dress,” JJ moans against your skin, his head falling low enough to push his face into your chest for a few seconds, wiggling it around dramatically, making you laugh before be continues his decent, “I don’t wanna take it off.” He groans, biting at your flesh through the fabric.

“Then don’t.” You say breathlessly, smiling down to him as you tangle your fingers into his hair. He smiles back to you, quickly pushing himself down the bed the rest of the way so he was face to face with your exposed thighs. With a quick flick of his wrists he flips the hem of your dress up, exposing your damp matching underwear.

“You matched your underwear to your outfit? That’s so cute.” JJ groans, dipping his head to bite at the flesh of your thigh as his hands slowly work their way up your thighs. He pulls back, watching intently as he slips his fingers past the lace hem of your underwear, tugging them down as you lift your hips to help. You watch him as he tosses your underwear behind him, his eyes meeting yours for a second seeking consent as he shoves your thighs further apart, putting you completely on display for him. JJ licks his lips as he eyes you, moving his hands slowly under and around your thighs resting them on his shoulders before shoving your hips down with his large palms. He groans loudly as he bites into the flesh of your thigh beside him, slowly licking his way to your center and leaving a wet trail behind.

His hands hold your hips down hard as they jolt upward with your moan and laughs into you happily. Eyeing the way your head falls back, your chest rising and fallen he quickly speeds up his tongues pursuit of your clit. Watching you as one hand hangs above your head and the other plays with his hair, JJ can’t think of anything that looks better.

“Oh my god,” You yell, the feeling of his tongue flattening against you, slowly licking back and forth over your clit before quickly sucking it into his mouth. You scream a moan at the sensation, tugging at JJ’s hair aggressively not caring if anyone outside the door can hear your pleasure. “Do that again Jay.” JJ’s lips pop off of you into a smile, his lips glistening with your release before he drops his head back into you. Flicking his tongue aggressively against you as he licks up your slit, groaning at the feeling of your nails against his scalp when he sucks your clit into his mouth again. JJ can feel himself growing hard against the blanket at your taste, your shaking legs egging him on as your release quickly approaches.

The feeling of JJ’s tongue prodding at your entrance as you clench on nothing has the tightening feeling in your abdomen worsening, making you whine and wiggle your hips subconsciously. The grip of JJ’s hands on your hip tightens, his nails digging into your flesh as he grinds himself into the mattress at your excitement. He plunges his tongue into you, collecting your juices on his tongue with a desperate groan, his eyes flickering shut as he moves to flick his tongue against your puffy clit again. JJ pulls back quickly making you whine and tug at his hair, trying to shove him back into you and forcing a wicked laugh from him as he spits directly onto you and dives back in. You shudder when he starts to lap against you wildly, your hips jolting and your back arching, your hands tugs on his hair harder as you cum, the almost painful band in your abdomen breaking in a euphoric release. Moaning so loudly you know for sure anyone close enough to the door could hear but you didn’t care as you came undone on your best friend’s tongue, breath shaking as your body twitches.

JJ’s tongue slows, pushing himself up to get a better look at your post orgasm face, your eyes unfocused and your mouth open in gasping breaths. He slowly crawls up your body, smiling in your face and you smile back at him the best your can, he groans at the sight of your sweaty cheeks, your hair sticking to your forehead as he smash his lips into you. The taste of yourself lingers on his tongue as you both moan into each other.

——————

I might wanna do a part 2 of this for their first time, would anyone be interested in that?

PART TWO: Another Lesson?