#otp: you held your breath

[timothyslucy]

IT'S DECEMBER 9TH YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS.

[whenyourlipstouchedmine]

Somewhere after the movie

There were many things Lydia got from her little trip back to Beacon Hills, but the most important of them all was a lesson. 

A lesson in holding on to the things and the people we love because it might be too late if we don’t. 

It was hard to be back, especially after the past year. To go back on those streets, the same places and with the same people she grew up with… well, almost. 

The most important person wasn’t there. 

She knew that she was to blame for that, that maybe he didn’t want to go knowing that she’ll be there. She also knew how hard he worked, so maybe he just got caught up with a case and couldn’t find the time to drive down.

Either way, Stiles wasn’t there. And it felt wrong. 

It felt wrong to be detectives without him, to tie a red string on a board and not have him fussing over it, tying it around his fingers anxiously as he tried to figure it out. 

But that was her fault, too. It was she who left, her who put a stop to what they had because she was scared. Scared of a nightmare that felt too real not to pay it any mind. And, after her record, she didn’t want to risk it. Not when it came to Stiles. She lost him so many times already. 

“Are you okay, Lyd?” Jackson asks. It’s been nice to have him around. The whole bringing-Allison-back thing was hard enough, she needed a support system if her usual one was gone. 

She’s glad at least that worked out, and maybe it was seeing Scott and her best friend get back together as if no time had passed, or maybe it was the fact that she had to catch Allison up with everything she missed the past fifteen years, and the memory lane wasn’t a fun ride to go down. 

“You don’t look surprised,” Lydia asked her best friend after she finished the re-cap of her story. 

“About Stiles? How could I?” Allison laughed. “Lyds, you kept denying it but I could see it from a mile away. Besides, I do remember that kiss. Even with everything that was going on, you two… you were meant to be.” 

The words still play in her head now as Jackson waves his hand in front of her. 

“Sorry, what were you saying?” Lydia asks, turning to face him. He just rolls his eyes in annoyance. He really became a totally different person after he left Beacon Hills, but Lydia thinks he likes it better like this, funnily enough. 

“You need to talk to him,” Jackson blurts out.

“Talk to who?” She frowns. 

“Oh, come on, you’re the smartest woman in the world, I’m pretty sure you can figure that one out.” 

“I—I can’t, Jackson. I can’t go back. I don’t even know if he still—“ 

“This is Stiles we’re talking about. The guy’s been in love since… what, eighth grade?”

“Third, actually—“ 

“Even better! Trust me, he’s not… he’s still in love with you. It would be stupid of him not to.” 

“I just don’t think it’s fair. After all, it was me who left without a warning,” she sighs. 

“Fine, then wait until the next supernatural crisis hits and we can all come back here and make it awkward like Malia and Scott! What the fuck happened between those two, anyway?” 

“Beats me…” Lydia says. 

“I’m just saying, I think you should call him. Or show up at his doorstep and tell him what happened. He’d do that for you.” 

And Jackson is right about that, Stiles would do that for her. He’d do anything for her. Once, after they moved to San Francisco, her bosses were being dicks and not giving her enough credit and he actually conducted an investigation that got them in trouble for neglecting their workers. 

“I’ll see what I do, but thanks for coming and… for everything else,” she hugs him. It’s time for him to catch his plane back to London. 

“Of course, but remember—“ 

“No word of this to Ethan. Got it,” she chuckles. “Have a safe flight!” 

“Call him!” Is the last thing he says before he closes the door and heads inside the airport. Lydia sighs and holds the steering wheel harder, thinking. 

When she closes her eyes, he sees the dream again, so clearly, so vividly, Stiles on the floor, glass shattered all around him, and the car on fire. He’s not breathing, and all Lydia can do is scream, but nobody hears her. 

She shakes her head and starts driving back to San Francisco. It’s gonna be a long ride, but she hopes that she’s made a decision by the end of it. 

(…) 

There are few things Lydia missed about using her powers again, but the random blackouts weren’t one of them. 

That’s the only possible reason she can think of as to why she’s parked her car in front of Stiles’ apartment. Or maybe it was just muscle memory. 

Or both. 

Call him. 

“Fuck it.” She says and she gets out of the car, trying to make herself look presentable as if Stiles hadn’t seen her at her worst. As if he hadn’t loved her even when she was locked up in an asylum, with her head drilled open. 

As she heads to the door, her heart starts to beat way too quickly for comfort. 

Maybe this is a horrible idea. Perhaps she should’ve called. What if he’s not home? What if he’s got someone over? She probably should’ve texted first to make sure he didn’t hate her. 

“Lydia?” 

She doesn’t even get to ring the doorbell. 

But, of course, he must’ve felt the red string of fate pulling as she got closer. 

“Hi,” her voice barely comes out, which is funny for a Banshee. “I—“ 

“Oh, my God,” he drops the bags he was carrying and walks to her to hug her so tightly she can barely breathe. “You’re okay, thank God.” 

She doesn’t know what to say, how to act. It takes her a few seconds to hug him back, too startled. But this is the place she belongs in: his arms. 

“Scott texted and… I didn’t know you’d be going back, too. Beacon Hills was—“ 

“It was Allison, of course, I went back,” Lydia says. “It was… weird being there without you, you know? We all missed you, I missed you.” 

“Did you?” He asks, and Lydia knows that he has every right to be defensive, but she doesn’t want him to be. 

“Of course, I did. I—“ she sighs. “Listen, can we talk? Upstairs, maybe? Or if you don’t want to, I can come back another day or we can meet up somewhere else that doesn’t feel so personal, or you can tell me to get the fuck out and—“ 

“I would never do that,” he says, and it hurts that Lydia knows. Even when she’s hurt him so many times, he still wouldn’t. “Let me—I was on my way to take out the trash, so let me do that and then you can come up, sure.” 

“Cool, yeah, sure, do you need any help with that?” She asks, pointing at the bags, but he shakes his head, smiling slightly. 

“Wouldn’t want you to stain those boots. They’re your favorite, aren’t they? Or maybe you got a new favorite pair now.”

“I don’t,” she says, maybe a bit too quickly. The fact that he remembers makes something warm burn inside her. The same fire that’s been burning for over fifteen years and didn’t die even when they were apart. 

She watches him go down the stairs to the bins down the street and come back with his checkered pajama bottoms and a plain white t-shirt that Lydia knows he loves to sleep in. 

It feels like nothing has changed except it has. Many things have changed. Dead people aren’t dead anymore and people who weren’t dead before, are. 

“Alright, let’s go?” He asks once he gets back to her, and she just shyly nods before she follows him inside. 

She knows the way to his apartment by heart, and could probably get there with her eyes closed if she wanted to, but she enjoys the sight of him. His hair is a bit longer, much like it was when they were in high school. 

She feels like she just jumped on a time machine and they’re back to the days when discovering dead bodies around their town was the norm. Well, he still kind of does, but he always said it wasn’t as fun without the rest of the pack. 

“Welcome. I’m sorry about the mess, I wasn’t really… expecting anyone,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his neck as he moves to the side to allow Lydia to walk in. 

The fact that it still looks exactly the same as the last time she was here gives her a bit of whiplash. Only the pictures of them two are gone, but Lydia doesn’t blame him for that. 

At least the ones of the whole pack are still there. 

“It’s okay, I’m used to your mess,” she smiles a bit, hoping it wasn’t too much for her to say. 

“Yeah, after hanging out in my teenage bedroom, I’d say you’re good,” he chuckles as well and closes the door behind her. 

It’s a bit awkward as they sit on the couch in silence, and Lydia is starting to second-guess coming here in the first place. 

“What did you want to talk about?” He eventually asks, and Lydia is surprised that she founds herself at a loss for words. That’s never happened before. 

“I… These few days have been very intense. Going back there, seeing all the people from our past… Allison coming back and losing Derek was very hard. It showed me the importance of not holding anything back because it might be too late.” She looks down at her hands as she starts fidgeting with her fingers nervously. She always does that. 

“Hey, Lyd? It’s alright,” he reaches over and holds her hand the same way he always did. The same way he used to unwrap the colored strings they used for their detective maps, the same way he did when he put a ring on her finger. A ring she left behind when she left. 

“Is it, though? Don’t you hate me even a little bit?” She asks, now turning to look at him. “Because, trust me, I do. I hate myself. I hate myself for leaving you like that, but I didn’t have a choice,” she says. “I— I’m sorry that I left like that, so suddenly and without explaining. I couldn’t—“ 

“Do you want to explain it now?” He asks, as gentle as usual, just as patient.

“I had a nightmare one night… we were driving somewhere and suddenly, it all turned black, there was a crack on the window, and you… you were on the floor, surrounded by glass and I couldn’t move. I couldn’t reach you, but you weren’t breathing.” She gulps. “And I know that I’ve had nightmares before, we both have, but—It kept happening, every night I dreamed the same thing until the point where I didn’t know if it was a dream or if it was a premonition.” 

“Well, I’m not dead, am I?” He asks. 

“You’re not, because I left. I was there in the dream, so I thought that… if I left, then—“ 

“You have to be kidding me,” he says, standing up. “Lydia Martin, you—“ 

“I couldn’t lose you, okay? Not like that! I—I couldn’t face you dying, Stiles. I’m sorry, I know it was selfish, but I just—I couldn’t be the reason why you died.” 

“So losing me anyway was the best idea you had? Why didn’t you tell me?!” 

“Because I was scared! I was terrified of triggering it, so I just—“ she sighs. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come. I had no business stirring up the past like that, you—you never deserved it.” She stands up and starts to head for the door. 

“Hey, hey, hold on, I never said that,” he reaches out to stop her, grabbing her arm. “I’m just saying… Lydia, I’ve been in love with you since the third grade. Even when you barely acknowledged my existence, I loved you. Did you really think that I stopped?”

“You should have,” Lydia says with a bitter laugh. 

“Yeah, well, I also should have stayed home that night that Scott got bitten, I should have studied more for my exams instead of going around the woods every night, and I should have made sure to keep my Jeep in top-tier condition so it wouldn’t keep breaking, I should have done many things, but we all know I never was too good at doing what I should, was I?” He says, a smile on his face. “So, tell me, Lydia, why did you actually come here? Just to tell me that? So that I could… find closure and move on?” 

“I came because I missed you. Because being back in Beacon Hills without you felt wrong and made me realize how much I wished that I’d stayed. How much I regretted letting that nightmare drive me away from the only thing that I’ve ever had. You—You’re the love of my life, Stiles. And every second I’ve spent without you has been torture.”

“I’d say we’ve both been tortured enough in the past, haven’t we?” And with a swift pull, Lydia finds herself colliding against his chest. “Let’s stop that,” he says before he presses their lips together. 

And even though she’s been back in Beacon Hills, this is her true Homecoming. She wraps her arms around Stiles’ neck and deepens the kiss, making up for all the time they lost. 

“I love you so much,” she whispers against his lips, feeling her own tears rolling down her face. 

“And I love you,” Stiles says back with a smile. “Next time you have a nightmare, tell me about it instead of taking off in the middle of the night, yeah?” 

“I’ll try. If I don’t, come find me.” 

“Alright, deal.” And he kisses her again, and again, and again, for all the times he couldn’t, for all the nights he wished she was still in her arms, for all the minutes of the day he’s spent thinking about her since he left. 

And, when they find their way back to bed, Stiles gets a box out of his bedside table and hands it to her. 

“You kept it?” Lydia’s eyes open wide when she sees the ring. 

“Always kept hoping you’d come back,” he admits, sliding the ring on her finger and kissing it after. “I’m glad I was right.” 

“I am, too.” 

And the world might still be a freaky place with werewolves, banshees, kitsunes, nogitsunes, dark druids, and people coming back from the dead, but in their little bubble, it’s just them. 

It’s always been just them. 

[fleur-bbyy]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ GET IT UP! s. gojo (0.9k)

is satoru’s call really more important than you?

warnings: oral (m receiving), suckin’ him off while he’s otp, pet names (like excessive pet names), slight throat fucking, nickname toru, MDNI!!!

a/n: eepy and whoreknee

“Can’t really do this right now, baby.” Satoru was never one to deny his own pleasure.

He’d already been reduced to shaky breaths by you just kissing your way down his body. Taking your time to find every bump and ridge in his skin and marking it with your mouth. Simultaneously fumbling with the button and zipper on his pants and practically gleaming when you saw his heavy cock spring free.

“Y’got the sweetest fuckin’ lips, angel, but we really can’t right now.” His voice wasn’t as firm this time. It was breathier, unstable.

You were a second away from taking his cock into your mouth when the incessant buzz of his phone began to vibrate the desk above your head.

“‘M sorry, baby, told you I had to take it.” He caressed your face before gently patting your head. “Just give me a minute, babe, and I’m all yours. I promise.” You still rolled your eyes as he pressed the ‘answer’ button and held the device to his ear, not annoyed at him, but whoever was on the other line.

“Please?” You mouthed, gesturing with your eyes down to his cock and back up to him. A pitiful, pleading look painted on your face. Satoru pouted back down at you and shook his head, whispering a small “I’m sorry.” before bringing his attention back to his cell phone.

That short minute quickly turns to five agonizing minutes of having to listen to talks of curses and you already felt yourself growing bored. Resting your head on his lap from where you’re perched on the floor in front of him, trying to find something to keep you entertained. Your fingers quickly grow tired of tracing shapes on Satoru’s thigh. In an act of rebellion, your eyes dart up to his to make sure he’s still engrossed in the phone call and you experimentally run a finger over the sensitive vein on the underside of his cock. Smirking when he shoots you a warning glare and mutters a quick “mhm” to whoever’s on the other end.

The warning doing nothing but spur you on to continue. With a coy smile, you begin to take him into your mouth. Relishing in the feeling of him twitch inside you when you begin to run your tongue over his tip. Not taking him in all the way to tease him even more. He sinks down further into his chair and a light sheen of sweat begins to make his forehead shine, causing a few strands of his soft, white hair to dampen and stick. He was too focused on trying to control his breathing and not let any incriminating sounds slip out to notice his hair hanging begin in his eyes. You almost laugh when you hear the man on the other end of the phone ask your boyfriend if he’s feeling alright.

“Yeah, y-yeah. Just… can I put’cha on hold for a sec.” You can’t see him mute the call, but you know he does by the way he lets his moans spill from his pink lips. Letting one of his hands fall to your head and push himself deeper into your throat. You allow him to shallowly thrust his hips up into you, throwing his head back before speaking again.

“Gotta lot of nerve, sweetheart,” He stops again, biting his lip to hold back a whine, “call’s important. Y’know that.” You pull yourself off of him and he groans at the loss of warmth.

“I just wanna have fun with you, ‘Toru.” He audibly groans at the nickname. The sound going straight to your aching core. He knows that you know what that name does to him. You replace your mouth with your hand and begin to gently pump up and down his length. Running your thumb over his flushed, leaking tip and using his pre as extra lube. Your eyes dart back and forth between his cock and his growing-pink face.

You can tell he’s debating something by the way his nose scrunches and his eyebrows furrow. He looks back to his phone to see how long he’s had the man on hold before looking back to you and softening his face.

“Okay, okay. Wha’dya need from me, baby? Tell ‘Toru what’cha need.” You smile victoriously, removing your hand to slip his cock back into your mouth once more. Bobbing your head up and down a few more times to give him a taste of what he could have if he focused all of his attention on you. Pulling off to give his length one more slow, tantalizing lick from base to tip.

“Hang up and you can have whatever you want from me.” Your voice was smooth, music to his ears. He plasters a cocky smirk on his face before bringing the phone back up to his ear.

“Hey… something just came up. Gonna have to get back to you at a better time.” He doesn’t even wait for the man to respond before ending the call. Lazily dropping his phone to his desk before turning his attention back to you.

“Now, I believe you owe me one, sweetness.”

[hhnguyen]

life of a traitor

I’m really sorry if this one seemed a bit messy, because I was trying to convey the feelings from multiple POV’s at the same time instead of just one. ps. i will drown in the Lo’ak x Tsireya ship. My OTP for life. 

♢ Pairing: Dad!Jake Sully x Oldest daughter!Reader, Lo’ak x Tsireya, Dad!Jake Sully x Lo’ak

♢ Word count: 4k 

♢ Genre: angst, family comfort - Warnings: cursing, Jake being a bad dad for once but we still love him 

⌲ Description: “You have shamed this family.” Words hurt and they sting. Yet you make sure your dad gets to feel that very pain in the wake of Lo’ak’s return. 

M A S T E R L I S T

“The Sully boy has been found!”

“The oldest is with him! They’re both back!”

You were holding your breath, you realized, as the village got closer. The lit-up lanterns that seemed like mere specks of stars in the night from a distance not long ago now seemingly looming over you with intimidation for what was to come. Both of you were perched on the backs of the Metkayina warrior's mounts that had spotted the two swimming back into the reefs after sending the tulkun off. 

And with Atanzaw flying above your heads, shining in the dark with his bioluminescent marks, it was an easy spotting as an uproar had started. 

Your brother reached the dock first, thanking the one who helped as you followed up shortly after doing the same. 

As if as one, both yours and Lo’ak’s gaze locked onto Ao’nung standing at the very front beside his parents. He was silent, though you didn’t know if that was due to the aftermath of his scolding or guilt for nearly killing your brother.

For his sake, it better had been the latter. 

You merely stood back as Lo’ak was ready to pounce on the boy himself until your dad quickly intervened with raised hands of peace, and you could not stop the disappointed roll of your eyes. 

“Hey…” Jake was trying to make eye contact with him, but sensing how his youngest son was too busy death glaring at the Olo’eyktan’s heir it was a futile try. “Let’s have a look at you.”

“He’s fine, he’s fine. Just a few scratches,” your dad declared, obviously nervous and trying to appear calm. 

“Define fine,” you muttered, not bothering to be too discreet and catching both the eyes of Tonowari and Jake. 

Your mother was next, as she threw herself down on the lower ledge and grabbed Lo’ak by his shoulders, nails probably digging in uncomfortably for a short moment. There was clear distress for her child on her face, but also the aggravation of him getting into trouble again. A very familiar combination when it came to your baby brother, admittedly. 

You still made sure to be closer to him as you stepped up, shoulders just barely brushing your dad’s arm in passing and hovering a mere few inches behind. A silent shield to be used if needed. 

“I pray for the strength that I will not rip the eyeballs out of my youngest son!” She growled with a frustrated grab at his face - Lo’ak did nothing but lean away, face stone cold in all the chaos. 

His indifference was worrying you as you reached out to subtly hook your little pinky around his own. An action that only the two of you and Kiri could do with your extra fingers. His body didn’t reveal anything besides the slight twitch at the touch, but he didn’t pull away, and you took it as a good sign. 

For now. 

“No. My son knows better than to take him outside of the reef,” Tonowari pushed Ao’nung down to his knees by the back of his neck, a sight that gave you immense satisfaction as your lips curled up into a small smirk. “The blame is his.”

Your father was trying his best to de-escalate the situation, you knew that. And although you had a lot to say, things were going smoothly at this point, so they were held back. 

“Okay, let’s go,” Jake accepted it, urging Lo’ak to get a move on and you started to follow until the next words made you freeze in shock. 

“No. This is not Ao’nung’s fault. This was my idea.”

What the fuck was he doing?

Stupid, stupid boy!

Your heart was starting to pump, the disbelief at that flat-out lie from Lo’ak not making it any better. And you made sure to voice it. 

“Lo’ak!” Your hiss was hardly low in volume, or gentle in its approach. It was a harsh, aggressive sound that made several people look as you grabbed your youngest brother’s arm and pulled him to you. “What do you think you’re doing?!” 

You were pretty sure your nails were digging into his skin much more painfully than your mom’s did. 

But as the idiot that he was, he wrenched away from you and continued on as if you hadn’t spoken. “Ao’nung tried to talk me out of it. Really.”

Lie, lie, lies!

The word thundered in your head as you pinched your eyes shut with a rigid sigh. Your parents had so clearly lost their patience as your dad went up first, your mom grabbing Lo’ak either in anger or confusion. “Lo’ak!”

You weren’t sure of anything, to be honest. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally finished. 

“Come on,” Jake’s voice was sternly laced with exhaustion as you both followed him.  “I got this one.”

How many times hadn’t you heard that sentence? 

There was a tense moment of silence as your family walked away, but Tuk was absent you noticed. Which was a good thing in itself, supposedly. She didn’t need to see this ugly side of your family so young - there were certain moments for learning, whereas others would just create minimal trauma. Just like now. 

“Dad, you told me to make friends with these kids, that was what I was trying to do-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” 

You cautiously straightened up at the apparent held-back anger and glanced at your mom, hoping she might help to diffuse the situation. But her glare was still firmly settled on Lo’ak, as you licked your lips anxiously. 

This situation was not reached its peak yet, the comprehension of the current mood washing over you. 

“Dad…”

“You brought shame to this family.”

It felt like the air had been sucked out of your lungs and stones beings violently shoved in their stead, eyes widening at the horrible words your dad…no, Jake Sully just blatantly said to your brother. 

Because this was not the dad that you knew. 

How could he? 

Saying such words when Lo’ak was already struggling with himself. 

Couldn’t they see that? 

It was so clear, your confusion nearly befuddled you enough, but not quite.

Because your anger was there. Simmering, boiling - ready to erupt at any moment - because this wasn’t fair.

Your baby brother was being so strong. 

Oh, how his expression squeezed your heart almost painfully. The way his shoulders just only drooped before straightening back up and fists clenching as his cold mask slipped back over the hurt that had been there only for a single second. 

“Can I go now?”

Don’t go. Please, don’t go. 

“Any more trouble I’ll tie a knot in your tail, you read me?”

Stop.

“Yes sir.”

Just fucking stop.  

With a flick of his eyes, your dad dismissed Lo’ak like he was one of his soldiers, and as you tried to reach out for him, your baby brother ignored you with a visible lean away. 

An action that hurt you more than you realized until now. 

“Where were you?” Your mom spoke for the first time, turning to Neteyam. 

Someone that had nothing to do with this whole fiasco. 

“Yeah, what happened to keep an eye on your brother?” 

You spoke before he could. “Where were you?”

Both of your parents turned to look, identical frowns on their faces as they stared you down at your tone. But you would not budge at their intimidation. 

“Excuse me?”

“How could you?” 

“Y/N this is not the time for one of your tirades again.”

The disbelieving laugh that you let out was so out of character that even Kiri’s eyes widened warily. 

Your sister was someone who often silently observed those around you. And she knew that at this point there was no going back. You were clearly losing it. 

“Y/N…” Your mom noticed the same, sensing the seams of your sensibility started to fray at the edges as you and Jake were locked in a stare-down. 

You grinned widely, all teeth on show as your arms spread to the side. “You know what? Thank you for suggesting that dad! I would love to actually!”

Tirades were your favorite part time after all. 

His eyes narrowed dangerously, a finger hovering in the air as Jake hissed in a breath before muttering out harshly - his eyes flickering to the curious audience gathering at your volume. “Watch yourself, young lady.” 

“Why?” Your reply was all but spat out. “Are you embarrassed? Ashamed perhaps?”

“Y/N, you do not speak to your father like that!” Your mom’s voice snapped up, gaze hard with a hint of surprise which you assumed was due to your attitude. 

Admittedly a side that you had never shown before. Or at least managed to hold back in tense moments. 

“Why the hell not?!” your words were met by the gasps of Kiri and Neteyam at the audacity, but they were easily ignored as you whirled to look at your father. 

He had his lips peeled back in a mid-snarl, his animalistic side coming out to warn you of the hierarchy in this family.

“You always speak to us like that! Whenever your emotions are too much to handle and you lash out at us. You say it’s our fault all disguised under your excuse of being a worried parent!”

“Lo’ak is fourteen, dad!” Making sure you had his attention you stepped closer. “Four-teen. He’s fourteen and already thinks he’s a fucking failure - and do you wanna know why that is?” there was no pause in your words as you threw them at his face. “Because of you.”

“You do not get to talk to me this way, Y/N,” Jake was clenching his jaw to the point he was sure his teeth would shatter. “I am your father-”

“-what father tells their child they’re ashamed of them?” You offered him a bitter smile. “The one I know sure as hell doesn’t.”

“Your brother made his choice. These are the consequences that follow-” your dad was having a hard time holding back with the way his voice raised mid-sentence before forcefully stopping himself and releasing a breath. “-that follow along with his actions. I am trying to teach him a lesson.”

“Did you ask him?”

“What?”

“Did. You. Ask. Him?”

Jake sighed in frustration, his hands coming up to grasp at empty air. “What are you talking about?” 

“Did you even bother to ask your son whose fault this really was?” you weren’t interested in hearing his answer. “Do you even know your son? Because I do, and do you wanna know why again? Because I damn well pay attention!”

The laugh coming out of your dad made chills appear on your skin, but you were already far too deep in to turn back. Things were already fucked up, then why not cross the line a little more. 

“Okay then, you little smartass. Are you telling me I don’t care about my own kid?”

He thought he had you there.

 “Caring and knowing are two very different things.” This time you were the one who had him. Shutting down his own retort. 

“You say you love us. You say you care for us. But also that we worry you, and that we disappoint you. Fine - that’s fine dad. But you don’t get to say that we have shamed you.”

For once during this entire duration, you hesitated. 

Your next words were waiting on the tip of your tongue, heavy and loaded - something you didn’t want to say, but a part of you needed to let them out. To let your dad, or even Jake Sully, the former marine soldier hear them to his face from someone close to him.

To feel the same stabbing pain that Lo’ak most certainly did earlier. 

Your aggressive protectiveness came victorious. 

So you let them loose. 

“You don’t get to say that; because we’re not the ones who betrayed an entire race to be where we are.”

Jake stumbled back in shock as if those very words had shot him right in the chest and he couldn’t stop them. Stop the truth that they were covered in. 

It was like a pin dropped in the heavy silence that followed between the loose circle your family stood in. Your mother for the first time in her life since giving birth to you hissed in protectiveness over her mate - at her own daughter - your brother sprung to your side and twisted you away with a snarl of your name, in warning, not scolding. Whereas Kiri remained still, eerie gaze never leaving you.

However, you weren’t done. 

“Hurts doesn’t it?” your voice croaked as Jake’s eyes slowly raised to meet yours. “Words.”

You left without saying anything else.

+

Warm. Gentle. Comforting and so loving.

Tsireya’s hold on his hands was always a welcoming feeling. 

Her touch seemed to ground him more than he sometimes realized. A feeling that was unfamiliar to him mostly, and one that always reminded him of you. 

But right now, with the two of them sitting on a boulder on the edge of a patchy space of grass and gazing out into the star covered night together, it was a touch that calmed the stabbing hurt from earlier and made the night all more bearable. 

Lo’ak had no idea how many hours that passed since the chaos that had ensued after returning with you. His hearing basically stopped working after his dad’s true feelings had slapped him in the face with their words - that stung more than an actual slap would have. 

He would have rather taken that slap. 

“Are you okay?” Tsireya’s voice was soft and light, so sweet in its tone that he couldn’t even stop the small smile on his face after the tumultuous day. 

“I will be,” he admitted honestly. He would always be somewhat okay after a few days, that was the truth. 

The real question was if he would ever heal from it. That one he wasn’t so sure about. 

Lo’ak might not have been mistreated or even abused by his family. A minimum that was expected for a happy life. Because in a certain perspective, he was fortunate in the life that he did have. 

Two caring, protective parents. 

Four loving siblings. 

A grandmother for Tsahik. 

And a home. Kind off. 

Then why didn’t he feel fortunate?

“You can always rely on me, you know that right?” 

Eywa. How beautiful her large eyes looked staring up at him from her place, where her head was previously leaned on his shoulder. 

They were sparkling, he swore. The aquamarine color of them stood out even more in the darkness surrounding them. The bioluminescent lights of nature surrounding them made her all the more ethereal in his gaze.

So large and so loving and caring in the way they always looked at him. 

And not for the first time, Lo’ak found his own gaze wavering - flickering down lower on her face and to her lips, which were adorably pulled down in a slightly concerned pout for him. 

They might be young, just fourteen-year-old kids still growing. But he wasn’t stupid or ignorant at his age. He was well versed in romantic feelings and commitment to your partners, and how to cherish each other if the right one ever did appear. 

And his dad made good on his promise to teach them all about teenage hormones and urges, and how to control them in a respectful manner. To know when it was too early to start exploring what he wanted or not. 

Lo’ak wanted to kiss her. He knew that. It wasn’t a secret. 

But it was too early. And in the aftermath of his falling out with his parents, it seemed too…raw. 

He didn’t want to use someone he was growing to care more for each day as a way of making himself feel better. 

And Tsireya deserved better, being the kindhearted person she was. And he wasn’t quite there to give it to her yet. 

But one day, he hoped he would be. 

“Thank you,” was all he managed to say in reply offering a small tug of his lips as she stared at him for a moment longer before turning away, the clear tell of redness on the tip of her ears as she realized their proximity for the first time. 

He didn’t see a reason to tease her about it, not wanting to break the serenity that they were currently in. It was somewhat possible to block everything that happened. 

He did say somewhat. 

The rustling of bushes becoming louder made both of them straighten up and turn back, only to see Jake coming closer in a slow yet determined stride. 

Lo’ak felt his heart starting to beat faster, a sudden change from the steady calm it had managed to find in the last couple of hours. 

The reality was catching up to him again at the appearance of his father. 

Tsireya turned to look at him with her concerned wide eyes again, he didn’t manage to answer her before his dad had reached them - but Lo’ak didn’t expect to notice the nervous fiddle of his hands as Jake stopped only a few feet away. 

“Hey kids-” his pause was out of character. “Do you mind if I speak to my son a bit, Tsireya?”

As if Lo’ak couldn’t fall for the girl more than he already did. Because instead of letting the presence of his father and Toruk Makto completely intimidate her, she turned to him first; Silently asking if he wanted her to leave. 

Jake seemed to be surprised himself, although pleasantly so. He has been so used to everyone outside of his family doing most things at his beck and call, both as a clan leader and war hero. He had clearly underestimated the relationship between the two young teens in front of him. 

Tsireya stood to leave quickly at the assuring nod of Lo’ak, before parting with a polite smile in Jake’s direction and going back to the village with one last look over her shoulder. 

There was a moment of complete stillness before Jake came and sat down on the space previously occupied next to Lo’ak. The boy didn’t even bother to acknowledge his father, simply staring out at the lapping water, shoulders hunched over. 

His two braids on the side of his face felt like the only shield to cover him as he let them hang, avoiding eye contact firmly. 

Jake let out a heavy sigh, having already expected the cold behavior of his youngest son. 

He didn’t blame him either. 

He had acted like a grade-A asshole, with the biggest A to exist in the universe. And towards his own child too. 

Jake Sully has never claimed parenthood to be easy in any way. It was a hard, taxing journey that he obviously was still trying to learn from. It was a road that never stopped no matter how old his kids got. He would always be a father, but he’s admittedly been a shit one as of late. 

And that wasn’t only according to you. 

Your words had hurt. Like a damn punch to his face. Or ten. 

That was true - Neytiri knew it too. And that made him think and regret. If those words stung him as they did, how much had he hurt his own kid by saying something he didn’t even mean?

Not really at least. 

Jake had been angry at the moment. Pissed off, to be honest. But it was also the overwhelming worry of his kid’s disappearance that made him act out. But it was no excuse for anything he had said.

You were still avoiding him. Well, ignoring is more like it. Which was even worse. Besides your siblings, you were actively shutting out the presence of both him and Neytiri despite their tries in the last few hours to speak. 

Kiri was the one to voice out your thoughts. “She won’t speak unless Lo’ak forgives you first.”

Was it strange that Jake was still proud of you? You owned the same pride he did as a young marine and his first moments on Pandora. 

An unyielding pride that often got him in trouble. 

But for you, it was a pride that protected your siblings even against your own parents. 

“You know, sometimes I think you deserve a better dad.”

Lo’ak didn’t reply, but the shift in his body assured Jake that he was paying attention. 

“I never wanted kids. Never even thought of having them until I met your mother. The world was already shitty enough as it was, so I didn’t see a point in bringing new life into it. And after my injury, that thought cemented.”

“Well, I’m sorry for ending up being your kid,” his low mutter was an inner thought not ever planning to see the light of day. Especially in front of the man himself. But he couldn’t stop himself. 

Jake let out a shuddering breath, finally realizing how deep this…trauma his youngest son was experiencing. And you had been right again; it was all his fault. 

“No, no Lo’ak,” moving closer, his son didn’t resist as he gently grabbed the back of his nape to push their foreheads together. 

Despite his bitter words, his body still relaxed at the comforting feeling. Because it was obvious - even after everything, he still loved his dad. Still craved the comforts of his protective touches, and his overpowering hugs that were rare but much needed whenever offered. 

“I’m sorry, son,” Jake whispered, eyes clenched shut and voice wavering with tears. “I have not been the father you needed since the war started, I know that now. I will try to improve, and I can’t promise I won’t fuck up further in the coming days, but I will never not love you.”

“Dad…”

Lo’ak wanted to cry. 

And in the protective embrace of his dad, he did. He let those long held tears flow loose, dripping down his cheeks and starting to obscure his vision as his breath started to heave at the force of it all. 

“What I said wasn’t true. I am proud of the man you’re starting to grow into, and you have never shamed this family. I am the one who should be ashamed, never you.” 

“I-I am sorry-”

“Stop saying sorry,” Jake demanded pulling his son closer. “Your sister was right. My burdens should not fall on your shoulders. You’re still young and deserve to be a child, not a soldier. So I am sorry.”

Pressing his lips against the crown on his youngest boy’s head, Jake only held him as his silent tears turned into soft sobs. All the pain and hurt that he had bottled up because of him, finally being lifted off his young shoulders that should have never been born them to begin with. 

“Will you ever forgive your old man of his faults?” His dad asked after several minutes he finished crying, his deep voice hoarse with nerves. 

Lo’ak had no idea how long his meltdown lasted, only letting out everything in the presence of his dad without restraint until he had no more tears left. It could have been five minutes or ten. Who knew at this point? 

“You’re my dad…” he had whispered in return. “I will always forgive you.”

There was a thankful smile on Jake’s face, wrinkles crinkling in the corners of his wet eyes. “Then you’re a far better person than I have ever been. Thank you.”

He swallowed, and for the first time in a while, his next words had never been more genuine than at this moment. 

“I love you, dad.”

There was a firm, warm squeeze around his body at hearing that. 

“God, I love you too, kiddo. So much you don’t even know.”

Maybe he’d been mistaken after all. 

Lo’ak doubted this would be the end of their turmoils because life came with them. It was just how it was; parents get angry at their kids, siblings get angry at each other and vice versa. 

It was expected, but at least from now on he would be assured of his parents’ love for him, and their presence would be constant and there whenever he would need them despite their own faults as people.

Updates will unfortunately be a bit slow moving forward. My 3rd semester has started and I’ve started to prepare for my MA thesis + 4 classes, so my days are packed 🥲

taglist:

@nao-cchi @eywas-heir @ssc7514 @spicycloudsalad @calums-betch @httpjiikook @ricecakeslove @fanboyluvr @iwaslikeblah   @the-wandering-pan-ace @avatarloversblog @eternallyvenus @enchantinggoateefox @arianapntn @heydemonsitsme @slyvixen1029​ @promiseofeywa @love13tter @directioner5life @bambisposts-blogs @melllinaa  @sugarmummystuff6 @lovekeeho @marit332 @hai-kbai @missroro @lola2004sworld @kage-yaa​

[redvexillum]

A/N: Listen, I heard the cries of my readers. So, here's some pure smut. Enjoy! Also, Kit, this one is dedicated to you - all your kinks wrapped up in fuzzy cuffs uwu. Save your lying protest for when I come back from my trip.

SUMMARY: Adam’s curiosity spiralled into obsession when he discovered Hell’s array of wicked toys and restraints. He’s been dying to share his sinful finds with you, but patience is a virtue—one he only half possesses. Your protests? Oh, those only make it sweeter as he binds you tight and indulges every sinful fantasy he’s been saving just for you.

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, foxdicker is OTP, sex toys, p♡ssy pumping, dild♡ in a, p in v, bondage, aphrodisiac, pure smut, reader is a fox sinner

The fuzzy cuffs encircling your wrists felt as though they were crafted from a Christmas wreath—soft, festive, and deceptively gentle against the raw edge of your predicament. They held you fast, tethered to the bedpost above, as your body arched against the relentless pull of gravity and desire. Tears streaked down your flushed cheeks, the sharp sting of them mirrored in the gasp that escaped your lips. Bare feet scrambled against the sheets for purchase, a futile effort thwarted by the cold, unyielding spacer bar forcing your thighs wide apart. 

“F-fuck you,” you rasped, voice trembling with defiance and need. Your head lolled back, surrendering momentarily to the sensations cascading through your body. The suction cup adhered tightly to your slick heat, a relentless device siphoning air and sending blood rushing to your swollen, hypersensitive folds. It was too much—too intense—as if every nerve ending in your core was alight, sparking with unbearable pleasure. 

Adam stood over you, a predator in his element, the cool glass dildo gleaming in his hand. He pressed the toy to the puckered ring of your ass, the contrast of its icy surface against your flushed skin stealing the air from your lungs. Slowly, agonizingly, he pushed it in, the stretch both unfamiliar and electrifying. Every thrust sent waves of sensation crashing through you, your body tightening and trembling in response. 

Your breath hitched as the suction on your lips and clit reached its crescendo. The tingling edge of numbness teetered dangerously close to pleasure so sharp it bordered on pain. You could feel it—your release coiling tighter in your core, threatening to burst free. 

Adam groaned low in his throat, his eyes fixed on you like a man possessed. His gaze roamed over your engorged folds, glistening and flushed, and his lips curled into a wicked grin. With a deliberate slowness, he detached the suction cup, and the sudden absence of pressure made you cry out. Your thighs instinctively fought to close, but the bar denied you even that reprieve, keeping you open and vulnerable. 

“Goddamn,” he muttered, his breath fanning over your sensitive skin, making you shudder violently. “Your cunt looks as juicy as that BLT sandwich I had the other day.” He chuckled darkly, the sound rolling over your quivering form. 

A broken whimper tore from your throat—a high-pitched, keening sound as unbearable sensitivity pulsed through you. Even the faintest touch of air over your trembling folds sent shockwaves straight to your core. Your ass clenched involuntarily around the unyielding glass, and you moaned as your inner walls fluttered, unsure if you were fighting or welcoming the intrusion. 

The pleasure was a tidal wave, dragging you under until the world dissolved into a high, tinny buzz. Your lungs fought for air, your vision blurred, and your lips parted in gasping cries. 

Every nerve seemed connected to the taut pull of the chain. Adam tugged, and the sharp bite of the clamps on your nipples sent a hot bolt of sensation shooting through your body. The exquisite mix of pain and pleasure ignited your senses, the ache blossoming and merging with the overwhelming pleasure surging through you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” The words tumbled from your lips, raw and desperate, as your body betrayed you. Muscles tightened, walls pulsing rhythmically around the toy, the overwhelming storm of sensation tearing through your composure. Tears spilled freely as your orgasm consumed you, a violent and primal release that ripped a scream from your throat, leaving it raw and sore in its wake. 

Every nerve, every thought, every sensation burned with the force of it. And in its aftermath, you were left trembling and undone, a storm that had spent itself in the most devastating way. 

But the pleasure didn’t end—not even close. Adam’s lips descended upon your trembling heat, his tongue and mouth moving with a torturous expertise. His lips nibbled delicately on your swollen folds, each movement sending electric jolts straight to your core. The groans rumbling from his throat vibrated through your clit, the sensation so intense it made you buck against him involuntarily. 

“Noooo,” you whined, the word drawn out and quivering, torn between protest and surrender. Your hips jittered, trying desperately to escape the overwhelming sensation or at least dull it, but Adam was relentless. His nose nudged against your engorged clit with maddening precision, while his tongue delved deep inside you, curling, stroking, coaxing more pleasure from your already shattered nerves. 

And then he added the glass dildo back into the equation. Its cool, firm length plunged in and out of you, the contrast between its smoothness and the wet heat of your body almost too much to bear. Pressure built to an impossible height before bursting forth in a warm, gushing wave that left you shaking. 

The sensation of release was paradoxically another source of pleasure—liquid heat flowing freely from you only intensified the pulsing throbs that wracked your body. Your jaw fell slack, a soft whimper escaping as drool trickled down your chin. Your chest heaved as your body twitched uncontrollably, shocks of pleasure radiating outward in every direction, leaving you limp and trembling yet achingly needy. 

“Oh, fuck, babe,” Adam muttered, his voice rough with lust. He knelt above you, his cock swollen and flushed an angry red, a black ring wrapped tightly at its base to hold back his release. It stood proud and thick, almost hypnotizing in its intensity. 

Your tongue flicked out instinctively, your mouth watering at the thought of wrapping your lips around him, taking him deep until you gagged on his size. The thought alone sent a new wave of need coursing through you, pooling hot and heavy in your core. 

The bed was a disastrous landscape, strewn with toys and tools from the upturned box of delights. When Adam had said he wanted to give you the best Christmas ever, you hadn’t imagined this—but now you couldn’t imagine wanting anything else. 

Your cunt clenched and trembled, empty and aching, desperate for more. You didn’t care what—his cock, his fingers, anything to stretch you and fill the unbearable void. When Adam finally positioned himself, his cock pressing against your flushed, puffy lips, the heat of him seared your oversensitive skin, and you almost screamed. 

He moved slowly, tortuously, grinding his hips so the head of his cock brushed against your throbbing clit. You sobbed, your voice raw with need. “Fuck, Adam, fuck!” 

“What’s that?” he teased, his voice dripping with amusement. “You want more, babe?” His cock pulled away just enough to leave you gasping, the loss of contact a cruel torment. 

“Please,” you whimpered, need and lust pouring from every fibre of your being. Your mind was a haze, filled with nothing but the craving for him—his cock, his touch, the feeling of being utterly consumed. You wanted to be filled, stretched, claimed, fucked until nothing else existed but the pleasure that threatened to devour you whole. 

A soft sound reached your ears, metallic and familiar, and your breath hitched. The tin. You knew that balm. It was infamous in Hell—a devilish aphrodisiac that lit every nerve on fire, leaving its users delirious with uncontrollable lust. Mortals might have succumbed to its overwhelming effects, but here, where death wasn’t an option, the torment was addicting.

The memory of the last time Adam had used it with you flashed in your mind. A full-day lost in a haze of insatiable hunger, his cock inside you again and again, each thrust a new layer of torment and bliss. The thought alone made your thighs quake, your cunt fluttering with anticipation. 

Adam smirked, his eyes alight with wicked intent. “Ready to really lose your mind, sweetheart?” 

You were beyond ready. You were already his, body and soul, trembling and waiting to be taken to the edge of sanity and beyond. 

Adam pulled out a ribbed string of anal beads, each segment reminiscent of garish Christmas ornaments with its festive, bulbous design. The sight alone made your body tense in anticipation. He took his time, meticulously coating each bead with a thick layer of the slippery cream. The deliberate, methodical strokes of his hands sent shivers coursing through you, every movement a tease of what was to come. 

Your ass clenched involuntarily around the glass dildo still buried deep within you, the sensation heightened by the sticky warmth of your arousal as it slid from you, dripping onto the sheets. The air in the room was thick with heat and the heady scent of sex, and your mind spun as Adam’s sharp grin cut through the haze. That wicked expression promised nothing but pure, unrelenting pleasure. 

Your body thrummed with excitement, vibrating under his gaze like a live wire. Your eyes darted to the array of toys scattered around you, each one a thrilling possibility. Your tail twitched with restless anticipation, and your cunt fluttered, aching for more as a low, needy whimper slipped from your lips. 

With a sudden, fluid motion, Adam pulled the glass dildo from your body, eliciting a decadent, wanton moan that spilled from your throat before you could stop it. The absence was brief, but no reprieve followed. Instead, he pressed the first bulb of the anal beads against your entrance, the cool, rounded shape sliding in with agonizing slowness. The lube-coated beads stretched you deliciously, each one pressing against you in ways that left your toes curling. 

“Ah—hah!” Your moans filled the room, unabashed and raw, as your back arched off the bed. A fine sheen of sweat broke across your skin, trickling down your temple as the fiery effects of the aphrodisiac cream ignited every nerve. Heat coursed through you, burning and buzzing like an electric current. 

“I s-swear to fuck,” you cried, your voice breaking as he pushed another bead into you, “just fuck me already!” 

Adam chuckled darkly, his voice laced with amusement and desire. “Well, since you asked so nicely...” With a firm push, he buried the remaining beads inside, the firm intrusion pressing deliciously against your walls. You felt the fullness of them, unrelenting and perfect. “Fuck, this is gonna feel incredible,” he growled, his cock twitching against the restraint of the ring at its base. 

Reaching for the tin of cream, Adam scooped a generous glob and smeared it along the length of his cock, groaning as the intense heat of it spread through him. His hips jerked involuntarily, thrusting into the air as he hissed, “Shit, this stuff is no joke.” 

His gaze dropped to your trembling form, tied and exposed before him, and the corners of his lips curled into a smug, predatory smile. With the excess cream on his fingers, he reached down and began rubbing your swollen clit in slow, deliberate circles. The touch was pure fire, every nerve under his fingers alive with blistering pleasure. 

Goosebumps erupted across your skin, and your tail stiffened as your body seized under his touch. Your lips quivered, trying and failing to form words, while your screams caught in your throat, leaving you gasping and shaking. The swirling, maddening motion of his fingers sent shockwaves through you, reducing you to a trembling mess of drool and slick arousal. You writhed, tugging futilely against the fuzzy cuffs binding you to the bedpost, but there was no escape from the overwhelming onslaught. 

Your body coiled tighter and tighter until, with a loud, broken sob, you unravelled completely. Pleasure tore through you like a storm, leaving you clenching hard around the thick beads still inside you. The sensation amplified the ecstasy, and you could feel every tremor, every pulse of your body around them. 

Your gaze dropped hazily to your cunt—red, puffy, and trembling as the aftershocks of your orgasm refused to fade. The aphrodisiac prolonged every sensation, forcing you to ride out wave after relentless wave of pleasure. You cried out again as a fresh gush of arousal sprayed from you, soaking the bed and Adam’s thighs. Each involuntary clench only heightened the sensation, locking you in an endless cycle of bliss. 

“Fucking hell,” Adam murmured, his voice filled with awe as he watched you fall apart before him. 

Your mind floated in a sea of hedonistic abandon, your body shuddering and twitching uncontrollably. The intensity blurred the edges of your consciousness, leaving you teetering on the brink of delirium, lost in the pleasure that consumed you entirely. 

Before you could even catch your breath, you felt it—the stretch you had been aching for, the fullness that sent a lance of pleasure straight through you. Adam’s cock plunged into your slick heat, the glide easy from your arousal but no less breathtaking. A guttural groan tore from his lips, his body trembling as he gasped, “Fuck, I’m gonna fucking nut just from this. Fuck!” His voice was raw, his teeth gritted as he fought for control. 

“Y-you idiot,” you choked out, your voice breaking between moans. “Y-you used too m-much!” But even as you scolded him, your hips shifted, rolling against his cock to draw him deeper. The burn of need overwhelmed you, your sharp canines flashing as you growled through your haze of lust. “Untie me, baby,” you demanded, voice low and dangerous, “and I’ll fuck you so good.” 

Your thoughts were a blur, consumed by the all-encompassing desire to be filled, to chase the high of unrelenting pleasure. Adam hesitated only for a moment, his hands fumbling as he released the cuffs binding your wrists and tore away the spacer bar locking your legs apart. 

It was his undoing. 

Instantly, you had him on his back, his startled gasp turning into a guttural moan as you straddled him, pressing him into the mattress. Your palms braced against his stomach as you began to ride him with wild abandon. Each thrust of your hips sent the beads nestled in your ass slapping against his balls, the sharp rhythm driving you both closer to the edge. 

Your thighs burned, the muscles screaming in protest, but you didn’t care. The pain only heightened the pleasure, and each bounce brought your sensitive pussy slamming down onto his cock, forcing it deeper. The chains weighing on your nipples swayed and slapped against your chest, their sting igniting sparks of ecstasy that shot straight to your core. 

Adam’s head fell back, his eyes squeezing shut as he moaned uncontrollably, his hands clutching the sheets beneath him. “Fuck, babe, I can’t—I’m gonna come if you don’t slow down!” His voice cracked, desperate, but you were relentless. 

One, two, three more thrusts, and his cock jerked inside you, the first hot spurt of his release sending you over the edge. “Oh, fuck yes!” you screamed, your walls clenching tightly around him, milking every drop of his climax as you rode out your own. The pleasure was explosive, blinding, and yet your hips refused to stop. 

Adam’s body writhed beneath you, his face contorted with overstimulation as his cock twitched, still buried inside your pulsating heat. His fingers dug into the sheets, his body trembling as he tried to endure the intensity. Even as his cock began to soften, you kept moving, pushing yourself deeper into the haze of pleasure. 

Finally, his cock slipped free, and a warm gush of his seed dripped from you, drenching his inner thighs before dripping on to the sheets. But you weren’t done. Your eyes darted to the array of toys scattered around you, landing on a thick, girthy dildo. Without hesitation, you grabbed it and shoved it into his hand. 

“Don’t stop,” you demanded, straddling his chest and bending forward, your ass presented to him. “Fuck me,” you ordered, your voice a growl as you wiggled your hips. 

Adam groaned but obeyed, gripping the toy tightly as he plunged it into your dripping cunt. Your back arched, a loud, unrestrained moan tearing from your throat as your tongue lolled out, saliva dripping from your lips. Leaning forward, you captured his spent cock in your mouth, licking and sucking him clean, your hunger for him insatiable. 

Time blurred, lost in the unrelenting haze of heat and pleasure. You couldn’t keep track of how many times he came or how many times you screamed his name. The room was filled with the sounds of your bodies colliding, moans, gasps, and the slick, filthy evidence of your shared debauchery. 

When it was over, you lay tangled together, your bodies covered in sweat, fluids, and the unmistakable marks of your animalistic passion. The sheets were soaked, the air heavy with the scent of sex, and yet neither of you moved, content to exist in the aftermath of your primal indulgence. 

When morning finally came, it hit you like a freight train. Your body ached in places you didn’t even know could ache, muscles seizing painfully as you groaned and rolled onto your side. Your head throbbed with the unmistakable weight of a pleasure-induced hangover.

Blinking groggily, your gaze shifted across the room to find Adam sprawled naked on the floor, limbs splayed haphazardly. His cock was still adorned with the cock ring from last night, and you choked on a surprised laugh when your eyes caught the sight of nipple clamps dangling from his chest. At some point, you’d clearly decided to get a little mischievous in your haze of passion. 

“Babe,” you croaked, your voice rough and raw from all the screaming. You winced at the sound, clearing your throat before continuing, “Maybe next time, we just go for a Christmas lunch down at that café?” 

Adam stirred, groaning as he rubbed at his temples. His eyes cracked open, bleary and bloodshot, and he let out a pitiful moan. “Fuck, I’m starving,” he muttered, his voice as ragged as yours, his lips quirking in the faintest grin. 

Despite the sheer chaos of the night before, warmth bloomed in your chest. Your body still buzzed, a delicious ache lingering from every pleasurable moment. For the first time, you truly allowed yourself to reflect—not just on what you’d done, but what it meant. Your eyes dropped to your wrists, where faint marks from the fuzzy cuffs remained, and you turned your hands over, studying them. Not once had you felt fear, not even a flicker of trepidation. 

It hit you then, with the clarity of a sunrise cutting through a foggy morning: you had willingly given Adam your trust. You’d handed over the reins, allowed him to lead you into something so intimate, so vulnerable. And he’d held that trust gently, never crossing the invisible boundaries you hadn’t needed to verbalize. 

Your chest tightened as you thought about your past. In Hell, intimacy was often just another commodity, a currency to buy power or survival. Friends you’d known had been trapped in the sex trade, their autonomy stripped, their bodies used as bargaining chips for shady deals. You’d grown up running, learning to stay two steps ahead, your sly instincts your only defence against a world eager to pull you under. Trust was a luxury you couldn’t afford—until now. 

You blinked, your lips quirking into a small, almost incredulous smile. Adam had somehow slipped past every wall, and you hadn’t even realized it. You didn’t think twice about letting him in. 

Adam groaned again, dragging himself up from the floor with the grace of a wounded animal. Half-asleep, he crawled onto the bed, collapsing beside you with a contented sigh. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. 

“Hey,” you protested weakly, though you couldn’t hide the fondness in your tone. “We should at least shower. We’re disgusting.” 

“Five more minutes,” he mumbled, burying his face in your hair, his voice thick with sleep. 

You rolled your eyes, but your smile lingered. Past you would��ve scoffed at the idea of letting anyone in this close, let alone into your bed and heart. She might’ve been disappointed or maybe even angry that you’d let yourself become vulnerable, weak. 

But as Adam’s steady breaths warmed the back of your neck, his presence grounding you in a way you hadn’t thought possible, you realized something. Maybe you didn’t need her approval. Maybe it was enough to live in this moment, to feel the heat of his body and the comfort of his arms. 

Closing your eyes, you let the thought drift away, the ache in your muscles fading into the background as sleep crept over you again. For now, you let yourself be at peace, safe in the embrace of someone who made you feel like trust wasn’t a gamble, but a gift worth giving.

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[writing-for-life]

Lupē

Finally, finally I manage a Calliope/Morpheus fic (the Sandman Rarepair Fest had to come along to kick me into gear). It’s just a short vignette, but I hope I did them justice because they will always be the OTP to me. The prompt is Hurt/Comfort.

You can read on Ao3 or here. And no matter where you read, your kudos, comments, shares and reblogs are so appreciated and help writers to get their stuff discovered 🖤

Lupē (616 words) by Writing-for-Life Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Calliope/Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Calliope/Dream of the Endless, Calliope & Dream of the Endless | Morpheus Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Reconciliation, Past Relationship(s), Rare Pairings, Canon Compliant, During Canon, Canon Related, Canon Rewrite Summary:

Calliope had wept for him so many times, and she felt the tight grip of grief resurfacing. She had mourned the laughter that would never echo through these halls again, the stories of his father he would never pass on to children of his own, the promise of a future shattered. […] And she was tired of mourning, of a grief that felt like it was hers alone to bear.

Lupē

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow upon the twisted spires of the castle. She had not returned here since that fateful day.

The Gatekeepers stood before her, eyes like onyx reflecting the aeons they had witnessed. Last time, they had been impassive, their voices cold as they denied her entry.

But tonight, something had changed: They recognised her.

"Calliope," the wyvern’s voice echoed through the mist. "You seek the Lord of Dreams."

She nodded, and her throat felt so tight she could barely swallow. "I come to speak to him."

Calliope's fingers trembled. She remembered the bitter words they had exchanged—the accusations, the tears. Later, Oneiros had been unyielding, her attempts to speak to him ignored. She was not even sure what would have happened had he acted differently then; the thought of bringing forth an apology entered her mind and was as quickly dismissed. She felt her hands ball into fists, bitterness resurfacing.

No, this is not the time.

The guardians exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. "Why are you here, muse?" the hippogriff asked.

She hesitated. "Our son's absence binds us, even in sorrow."

There was no more talk, no further interrogation. The gates just creaked open.

Calliope stepped across the threshold, and her footsteps echoed on the stairs and the marble corridors. With every step, her heart picked up pace until it was racing so fast she could hardly catch a breath.

The door was as she remembered—unchanged, the wood dark and polished, etched with symbols whose meaning she understood and yet didn’t.

Just like him.

But that wasn’t true. He had been changed when last they met. Familiar yet different, faint echoes of what once she loved—and hated.

Calliope pushed the door open, and the air itself seemed to hold its breath. For a moment, she wondered what she had expected to find. How she had expected him to greet her. And then she knew that this was exactly it:

His back turned on her, no sign of movement, frozen in space.

She crossed the room, her breath catching in her throat, unable to speak.

She didn’t have to.

"Calliope," he whispered, still not turning. There was a rawness to his voice, even in that whisper, that caught her unaware.

She reached for him, without any hesitation, and while it surprised her, it felt right. As her hand touched his shoulder, he flinched subtly, but he didn't pull away.

When he finally turned, his eyes held galaxies, and their shared history was etched on his face—the pain, the longing—it was all there, laid bare.

And it was hard not to see Orpheus in him. Hard not to remember how he had told him stories, his voice like a melody spun from darkness and light, stardust and moonbeams, while the boy’s laughter would echo through the halls of the castle, and his cries for more brought a moment of happiness to everyone who heard it.

And then it was gone.

Calliope had wept for him so many times, and she felt the tight grip of grief resurfacing. She had mourned the laughter that would never echo through these halls again, the stories of his father he would never pass on to children of his own, the promise of a future shattered.

She had sung dirges and sought solace in memories, but they only deepened the pain.

And she was tired of mourning, of a grief that felt like it was hers alone to bear.

In that moment, his eyes searched hers. “You came.” And perhaps, they were seeking answers and forgiveness.

“You called.”

And perhaps, they were also holding the faint glimmer of hope…

[tessa-liam]

Smoke and Mirrors

11 –The Lantern Festival

Book: The Royal Romance Finale AU

Series Premise: Hidden in the shadows, poised to challenge the status quo are enemies of the state. The loyalties and honesty of family and friends will be tested. ‘Keep your friends close, your enemies closer’.

Smoke and Mirrors Masterlist

Main Pairing: Liam Rys x F!MC Riley Brooks-Rys, OTP ‘LiRi’

2nd Pairings: Leo Rys x Amalas, Drake Walker x F!OC Delaney Leigh, Olivia Nevrakis x M!OC Alex Cossoy

*Most characters belong to Pixelberry Studios

*Not Beta’d, please excuse all errors

Rating: M🔞*Series Warnings:  NSFW material, sexual innuendo, adult language/swearing/drinking/gun violence. Not recommended for anyone under 18 years of age.

Category: Alternate Universe/on-going series/angst/fluff

Words: 2476

Smoke and Mirrors

The Lantern Festival - 11

Chapter Summary: The Cordonian Royal Family join in the celebrations for the annual Valtorian Lantern Festival.

Music Inspiration: Feels Like Home, Diana Krall, Bryan Adams

A/N1: My submission for @choicesflashfics Week #61, Prompt 1, "You're my favorite."➡️"Favorite what?"➡️"Everything." and Week #60, Prompt 1, “I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

Valtorian Estate, Cordonia

King Liam leisurely descended the opulent grand staircase after carrying his sleeping daughter to her room; Princess Eleanor was exhausted from the day’s events and fell asleep watching the countless number of lanterns floating gently carrying the hopes and dreams of the people into the night sky. He paused at the foot of the staircase and looked up to see Riley, starting to step down to follow him.

Inside his soul, he felt complete. He has everything that he had always wanted and dreamed of. Three beautiful, healthy children, a prosperous and peaceful kingdom, and the woman of his dreams by his side. His radiant queen.

Smiling, Riley called down, “wait for me, your Majesty.” Riley had just finished breast feeding their son, Stefan, and when he fell sound asleep along with his brother, William, she softly closed their nursery door to join Liam as they prepared to go outside the estate to give the closing remarks to the awaiting press.

The annual Lantern Festival had another successful run in Valtoria, being a much-loved festive favorite in Cordonia. The closing ceremonies to conclude the celebrations now awaited the King and Queen.

Liam chuckled as he held out his hand to her and when she took it, he gently pulled her into his embrace, kissing her cheek, his voice husky, but gentle as he replied,

"I would never leave without my Queen."

"Ah, yes, but you can't go anywhere without saying goodbye to those you love." Riley coyly responded.

"You're my favorite." Liam snickered.

"Favorite what?" Riley saucily replied.

He raised a brow and smirked. My "everything."

Smiling, Liam challenged, "who says?"

"This one." Riley giggled as she pressed a kiss to his jaw.

"Mmmm." Liam hummed, wrapping his arms around her, his hands sliding down to her bottom.

"Liam!"

"You know we can't do that here," she whispered, though her lips trailed kisses down his neck.

"It wouldn't be the first time..." He murmured back, his breath tickling her ear.

"I'm sure there are reporters watching the estate now, waiting for you."

Liam let out a small growl and reluctantly released his wife. She laughed, knowing full well how much Liam hated having his alone time with her cut short.

She took his hand in hers, and he laced their fingers together as they exited the estate and headed towards the podium and the awaiting press.

"Good evening. Thank you, all, for coming. Tonight was a great success, thanks to all of your efforts and that of our staff. We're honored to have you with us to celebrate a tradition that spans generations and is the highlight of Valtorian tradition. It warms my heart to see so many people come out and show their support. So, thank you all. And now, if you'll excuse me, I will see you next year. Enjoy the rest of the festival and please be safe on your journeys home. Have a good night."

The crowd clapped and cheered, and then started to disperse. Riley waved as she walked off the podium with Liam by her side.

"That was nice." Riley grinned.

"What was, love?"

"The way you spoke to the reporters. It was a little different from what you would normally say."

"Was it now?" Liam questioned.

Riley nodded and smiled knowingly.

"Maybe because I am just trying to get through this as soon as possible. So, I can have some quality alone time with my beautiful wife." He replied, his hand slipping onto the small of her back and moving downward, squeezing her bottom gently.

Riley gasped and bit her lip.

"Behave, my king. We're not alone yet."

"I can't wait."

After saying their goodbyes to the remaining lingering nobles, they hurried back inside the estate and up to their bedroom, where Liam immediately began removing his jacket and tie.

Riley giggled and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Eager, aren't we, Liam?"

He turned, his shirt partially unbuttoned, revealing his toned chest, and stared at her with such heat in his eyes.

"Only for you, my Queen. Now come over here, so I can kiss you properly."

She stood and stepped over to him. As soon as she was within arm's reach, Liam grabbed her waist and pulled her into him. He captured her mouth with his, and their tongues danced as they kissed deeply. Liam's hand quickly unzipped her gown, with his fingers brushing her warm skin. Riley moaned and pulled away, smiling.

"You're so beautiful." he said softly, his hand caressing her face, his thumb grazing her cheek.

She blushed and turned her head, kissing his palm.

"You're charming, my King."

"I love when you call me that."

"Then you shall always hear it, my King."

"I'll never get tired of it."

"Nor will I." Riley softly responded.

“I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

"Let's continue this in the bath, shall we?" Liam wrapped his arm around her waist.

"Absolutely."

Riley grinned as they both stripped their formal wear and then walked hand in hand into the bathroom, which had a huge bathtub that was more like a hot tub. Liam set the water to the right temperature and added some soothing bath salts. As the water filled, they kissed and touched each other. Liam's fingers skimmed her back, and he pulled her closer, his erection pressed against her stomach. Riley reached between them, wrapped her hand around his engorged member and stroked him, his moans vibrating her lips as he continued to kiss her.

They parted for air, and Liam lifted Riley, placing her on the counter. He slid his hands down her thighs and pulled her knees apart. When his fingers found her center, he grinned and began circling her clit, teasing her.

"Oh god..." She moaned, her legs spreading, granting him better access.

"You're so wet, Riley..."

"And it's all for you, my King.

Liam, I need you …" she breathed in and closed her eyes. “Please …"

"Fuck... I cannot wait any longer..."

"Then don't."

Liam grabbed her ass and lifted her into the tub. The water was the perfect temperature, and the soothing jets relaxed her muscles. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and Liam positioned himself, pushing inside her, making her gasp and throw her head back.

"God, Riley..."

He started a steady pace, and his fingers found her clit again, circling her bud in time with his thrusts.

"Liam... Oh my god..."

"That's it, my Queen. Moan for me. Tell me how good I feel inside you."

"So... good. Fuck, Liam!" She screamed.

Her fingers raked his shoulders, and her walls clenched around him, her orgasm hitting her. He groaned and sped up, his thrusts harder and deeper.

"Liam... Yes..."

"Riley..."

Liam captured her mouth in a kiss, his tongue slipping between her lips. Riley moaned and pulled him closer, her nails digging into his skin.

When his orgasm came, he groaned and buried his face in the crook of her neck. They held each other until their breathing returned to normal.

Liam withdrew and moved back, settling against the edge of the tub.

"That was amazing," Riley said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It always is." He winked.

Riley rolled her eyes. "Cheeky."

Liam laughed, and she joined in.

After washing and drying off, Riley put on her silky pajamas and slipped into bed, Liam joining her. She snuggled close, resting her head on his chest, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, and his fingers caressed her skin.

"I have an idea.... now that our boys are here...". Liam paused as Riley propped up beside him to look into his eyes.

"I want to start a new Christmas tradition."

"What's that?"

"I'd like us to spend the week before Christmas at the Royal Blackspine Mountain Lodge, just the five of us. The boys will be old enough to enjoy the snow and sledding, and I know Ellie loves it there. What do you say?"

"I think that's a great idea. It would be nice for us to have some family time without any interruptions. But what about Leo and our friends?"

"They are more than welcome to join us. They are our extended family, and I would love to have them with us."

"You know, that sounds wonderful, Liam. I'm glad you suggested it. Maybe we could have the staff prepare a feast and a Christmas party for everyone. I will talk to Maxwell about it. You know how he is with the party planning."

Liam chuckled and leaned over, kissing her temple. "Yes, he does love his parties."

"That he does."

They laughed and then lay in silence for a few minutes.

"We should get some sleep. The twins will be awake before we know it." Riley yawned.

"Did you see their eyes when Ellie let go of the lantern off the balcony?"

"It was the sweetest thing. She loves her brothers so much. I'm glad she doesn't resent them for stealing our attention."

"Ellie is the sweetest child. She is always putting others first and is so compassionate and loving. She's a great big sister."

"She's growing up so fast." Liam sighed.

"Yes, she is. Soon she'll be a teenager, then a young woman."

"Oh, no, don't remind me." Liam shook his head, chuckling.

"She'll always be our little girl, no matter how old she gets."

"I hope you're right." Liam tittered.

"I'm always right."

"I wouldn't go that far." Liam guffawed.

Riley gasped, feigning offence, and poked his ribs.

"I'm joking, love. Of course, you are right. And you're always sexy."

"And you're always cheeky."

"But you love me."

"With all my heart, always."

Liam pressed a tender kiss to her lips. "I love you too."

"Goodnight, my king."               

"Goodnight, my queen."

***

The next morning, Riley was awakened by her cell phone ringing.

Maxwell is calling in response to the party planning text for the Christmas party that Liam had sent the night before.

She answered the phone. "Good morning, Max."

"Little blosom! My favorite Queen. How are you, my friend? It's so nice to hear from you. How's life at Valtoria treating you?" maxwell rambled.

"Life is great. Liam and I are looking forward to spending Christmas at the Lodge this year. It'll be our first Christmas with the twins, and we wanted to make it special. That's why we reached out to you. We're thinking of having a big party and inviting all our friends. Would you like to plan the event?"

Maxwell didn't hesitate with his response. "Oh, oh, absolutely!, Riley. I'm all over this. Can you give me some more deets!?, like what you're looking for and how many guests? We need to make this the biggest and best party of the season."

" I knew you were the right person to ask," Riley snickered.

"That's what we were hoping for. Here's what I have in mind...."

After Riley ended the call, Liam reached over, wrapping his arm around her waist pulling her back to his chest. "Who were you talking to?" He whispered, his lips grazing her ear.

"Just Maxwell, he's excited to help plan the Christmas party."

The sound of the twins crying sounded on the monitor.

"And that's my cue to feed the twins."

Liam sat up and stretched. "I'll come with you. Ellie is probably awake, too. I'll make us some breakfast while you get the boys ready. Sound good?"

"That sounds wonderful, my love."

They climbed out of bed, and Riley threw on her robe and slippers while Liam got dressed. Then, they headed out the door and down the hallway towards the nursery, where their children were waiting.

***

After heating the griddle for pancakes, Liam took a sip of his coffee.

Suddenly, the calmness of the moment was disrupted by a subtle vibration against Liam’s thigh. Reaching for his phone, it was lit up with a call from Leo. His brows furrowed in concern, immediately answering the call.

“Leo? What’s up?” Liam’s voice held a sense of urgency, worried that something unexpected had occurred in the Capital.

Thanks for reading 🤗⚘️🫶

📌All fics & edits: @ao719 @txemrn @queenmiarys @sfb123 @twinkleallnight @alj4890 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @harleybeaumont @busywoman @karahalloway @kingliam2019 @imjusthereforliam @lovingchoices14 @kyra75 @tinkie1973 @emkay512 @malblk21 @kristinamae093 @charlotteg234

📌TRR/TRH/TRF Liam & Riley: @irisk12 @walkerdrakewalker @thesvnsins @jared2612

📌Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @choicesflashfics

[surfinminho]

Kinktober day 9- Age gap w/ Felix

⤷ warnings: fem!reader, dom!Felix, unprotected sex, oral(m), cumming in mouth, sex while otp(?)

⤷ word count: 1,38k

⤷Taglist : @greysweaters-blog @hannie-bees @ashydoinwhat @chansbabygirlsstuff @hiddlestandom @stanskzsstuff @mal-lunar-28 @leeracha @linos-kitten @bonateukna @ihrtlix

⤷ permanent taglist: @iadorethemskz

*please dm me if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.*

(Reader is 22 Felix is 34)

this was wrong, you knew it but you couldn't help it. He was the CEO of some big company and you were simply a secretary.its not ideal for you to date the "big guy" of the company. If anyone found out you were at high risk to lose your job.

It was almost like a ritual, every year the company would have something like a party to celebrate all the achievements and new workers for that year. You were supposed to start working the next day yet still being invited to go. What's the harm in going?  The email you got said your boss is 'Mr.Lee'. You've heard not alot of people get to even see him let alone work alongside him. You were estatic to say the least.

When you get to the place, it was packed. You maneuver your way through the abundance of people towards a seat in the corner, you weren't much of a talkative or outgoing person so sitting in the corner on your phone was perfect for you.

Towards the end of the night, you find yourself in the hallway pressed up against the wall, felix kissing you like he's never kissed anyone before.

When you walked into a hallway, getting lost. Maybe it was because you had one to many drinks to have or maybe you just need some dick. You turned the corner to see a man, couldn't be older than 35 leaning against the wall legs crossed and his phone in his hand. When you look closer you realize it's the CEO, lee Felix. Besides the meeting you had with him a few weeks ago, you never really met him or officially "met".

He looks up from his phone when he heard footsteps. "Ah, __! Nice to see you again." He held out his hand to meet yours, keeping a firm grip on your palms.

"How do you like this so far?" He puts away his phone walking towards you.

"Oh! It's great, though I'm not one to, put myself out there you know?" You laugh at him before trying to get to your destination.

As soon as you take a step his hand stops you "I want to properly talk to you, like a conversation." he smiles, lighting dragging you back towards the wall he was leaning on.

You guys ended up talking for God knows how long. Talking about any random thing that comes to mind.

You come to find out that he's a really sweet person. Talking about his other friends who work in different departments, and stuff he does for his sister's. He was such a gentleman.

"You're such a pretty girl __, did you know?"

"I am?" You cock an eyebrow, confused at the sudden statement.

"Prettiest girl I've ever seen" he leans in, head tucked into your neck. With every breath he takes you feel the hairs on you back rise. You try and ease away from the situation, but with no where to move hence your back against wall. You find him gorgeous, obviously. He looks like a fucking angel in all the photos you see, nonetheless when his front is pressed up against yours.

"This dress is gorgeous on you, where'd you get it?" His voice drops an octive, rubbing you sides.

"Oh, it's a gift! I almost feel bad since it's a really expensive brand." It was a gift, so you didn't lie. From your friend you happens to model. They received a dress but it was the wrong size, leading them to give the dress to you.

"Really now? What brand baby" he cups your ass over the dress.

"Louis Vuitton" you look around to see if anybody is near or passing by.

"Let me buy you every dress in this color."

The statement caught you odd guard. Buy you stuff? Your friend never told you what the price of the dress was, in the hopes that you wouldn't return it. But you found it anyway, the price shocking you. 1 million dollars. You wouldn't have taken it if you knew. So having him say that he wants to buy you more?

"No, there's no need really!" You laugh trying to avoid to conversation.

"But I want to. C'mon let me spoil you."

__________________________________________

You found yourself inbetween his legs making out with him. You didn't want to let him buy you things, but you couldn't help but stay with him. Not because of his money, but because of his personality. He was a sweet soul, always being a gentleman. You like to think him giving you stuff is just a extra.

"let me please you" he whispers inbetween kisses, slipping down your straps of your tank top.

"I- we have work in like 30 minutes, w-we can't?"

"We shouldn't." He corrected "but I want to. Please baby? I'll call out sick for both of us" you wanted to, but you felt guilty for keeping him from his job.

"Okay."

He starts pulling down your pants, keeping your panties on.

He traces his thumb over the wet patch forming on your panties.

"Such a naughty girl. Getting this wet because of what? Some kissing? Pathetic."

He goes back to kissing your neck, going downwards until he reaches your breasts.

Your breath hitches,  waiting for him to do something.

He doesn't pull the loose fitted clothing off, instead sucking on whatever was available.

He pulls down his pants with one hand, other hand hold you still.

He pulls his pants and boxers down just enough to free his cock.

He nudges the tip on your clit trying to make you moan.

"I'm gonna give you the phone. Call and say you wont be available to come into work today."

You looked at him like you were seeing double. "You're joking?" You try to get him to laugh or even let out a little giggle but you get nothing.

"Do I look like I'm joking? Call them now." He's rubbing tip slowly along your folds.

"Im waiting I dont have all day."

You dial the number waiting for the person on the other end answers. As soon as they pick up Felix thrusts all the way into you.

He leans forward, elbows balancing up.

"Put it on speaker"

You remove the phone from your ear and put it on speaker, resting it on your side.

"H-Hello, yes good morning"

The other person on the line seems to be too happy for their own good.

"Good morning! How are you today" you can tell there is a smile lacing their face.

As soon as you begin to speak, his thrusts begin to quicken in pace. Hips barely meeting your thighs.

"A-ah yes about that, I am not feeling w-well today so I won't be able to make it fuck" he brings his hands to start rubbing figure 8s on your clit

"Sorry, what was that last part?"

"N-nothing!"

"Hm, okay. Well hope you feel better. Have a nice d-."

You didn't even wait for them to finish their statement, hanging up the phone immediately.

"Maybe kitten needs a reward. Did so good following directions right?"

"Y-yes please." you whine, trying to get him to move faster.

He flips you over, grabbing your hips before he starts to pound into you.

"S-such a tight fucking pussy. Only for me right?"

You nod Into the bedsheets unable to say anything.

"Words kitten"

'y- a-ah shit" he reaches over to your breasts, pinching your nipples.

"Baby, you're cumming, how can I move when you're clenching down on me like that" he grabs your hips pushing them off of his cock.

"Wanna cum in your mouth"

He proceeds to manhandle your body to get you in a kneeling position.

"Open." You stick your tongue out, waiting for him to feed you his cock.

He slides only the tip in when he starts jerking it off.

"Such a good girl hm? Making me use your holes like these"

You looked up at him and started to gently suckle on the tip.

"s-shit gonna cum in your mouth. You want it right."

You tried to nod your head but he shoves his cock down your throat.

"Then fucking take it"

[soulofamy]

13 w/ ashrah & syzoth for the soft otp writing prompts... i think it could be interesting regardless of whose birthday it is

Soft OTP prompt

13- Write about your ship celebrating one of the members birthdays. 

Ashrah began to stir at the feeling of soft lips pressing kisses to her jaw. She slowly grew aware of the gentle light of the sun pouring in through the window of Syzoth's palace chamber and washing over her face. From behind her, strong arms held her close. This was Ashrah's favorite way to wake up. She gave a content hum before murmuring a sleepy, "Good morning, Syzoth."

His kisses began to trail down her neck. "Good morning, sserali*," he murmured into her skin. Ashrah positioned her arms over his as his kisses continued over her shoulder. "Happy birthday."

Ashrah's eyes fluttered open and she turned onto her back to look up at Syzoth with curiosity. His jade eyes met her gaze for a brief moment before he lowered himself down to capture her lips in a tender, lingering kiss. "Is that today?" she thought out loud before lifting her head up to peck his lips once more. "Thank you, dearest."

"You forgot your own birthday?" Syzoth asked, more amused than anything. He laid back down onto the bed, an invitation for Ashrah to shift closer to him and lay her head on his chest. His arm once again encircled her and held her close. "And here I thought that all warmbloods were excited to celebrate their birthdays."

Ashrah let out a small breath from her nose. "We never had such traditions in the Netherrealm. I wouldn't know the first thing about how to celebrate it," she said with a dismissive shrug of her shoulder.

"Is this your first one outside the Netherrealm then?" he inquired.

Her eyebrows knit somewhat. "Yes, I suppose it is."

"I see," was all he said before falling silent. The concept of celebrating birthdays sounded trivial to Ashrah. A small part of her grew curious, however, learning that it was a common practice for humans to partake in. If only out of curiosity, she was compelled to experience it, even if it was only just this year.

Syzoth shifted from under her and moved to sit up on the edge of the bed. "Get dressed, we have a long day ahead of us," he said as he reached for his tunic.

Ashrah sat up and looked at the back of his head with confusion. "Forgive me...did we have plans today?" Ashrah regretted that she could not recall having discussed any sort of plans.

"Of course," he said as he glanced back at her. "Just because you didn't make plans for your birthday doesn't mean I didn't," he said with an amused hiss.

Ashrah's heart fluttered in her chest. From the sound of it, Zaterrans didn't celebrate birthdays either. Yet, Syzoth went out of his way to plan a day in honor of her's. What had she done to deserve such a thoughtful lover?

They spent every moment of the day with each other. Syzoth had somehow managed to convince Mileena to allow them to use a royal carriage for transportation that day. The two spent much of their morning in Sun Do, browsing around through shops with various clothing, food, and trinkets. Syzoth had insisted on allowing him to pay for anything she took interest in.

Their afternoon was spent under the flowering tree in the Edenian meadow Syzoth had brought her to. They enjoyed a picnic and laying together in the grass, with only the clouds as witnesses. Against the tree sat a long, wrapped package that Syzoth told her she could open before they left. Ashrah found her gaze drifting back to it every so often as she tried to imagine what could be inside of it.

It finally came time for Syzoth to present it to her. She gingerly loosened the twine that held the wrapping in place and unfurled the wrapping from around the contents of the package. Her eyebrows raised and her eyes slightly widened at the sight of the wooden sheath she now held in her hand. It was smooth, dark honey color, and embellished with what Ashrah could only surmise was gold. Her name was carved into the side of it, alongside intricate, elegant patterns on either side.

"Syzoth," she said, her breath having been taken away.

Syzoth looked between the sheath and her face. "Do...you like it...?" he asked with caution in his voice.

"Like it?" Ashrah looked up at him with an excited smile before shifting closer to him. She laid the sheath down gently on their blanket before pressing a kiss to his cheek, then wrapping her arms around him. "It's absolutely perfect. Thank you. Though it could never compare to the gift of having you by my side everyday."

Syzoth returned her hug. "There is nowhere I would rather be."

*a zaterran term of endearment translating to "my soul"

[timothyslucy]

i just know lydia’s been annoying stiles with wild uncharted waters since they first saw the new little mermaid together.

[mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea]

Reeeeecs! 😭

18. 😭 A fic that ripped your heart out (but it hurt so good)

There are more than one, so I will list them:

Falling Into You by @scottxlogan (Emma/Tony)

One Step Closer by scottxlogan (Tony/Steve)

The First Time: WinterIron Year of the OTP 2023 Series by scottxlogan (Tony/Bucky - this whole thing wrecked my heart but then sealed it back together by the end, but holy shit was I in tears several times)

Every Breath That I Held For You by @kleenexwoman (Steve/Peggy - unfortunately - but that's the point of this fic. Post-Endgame, Steve back in time, dealing with missing Tony, and Peggy is...horrible, as she is. This is a WIP with two more chapters to go, but it's heart-rending and rage-making, esp if you're not Peggy-friendly like me.)

Home Again by scottxlogan (Bucky/Tony - another wild and intense ride that leaves you a bit shattered a few times before the end)

The End by scottxlogan (Scott/Logan but also the unfortunate poly ship involving Jean, and this does not have a happy ending, which is rare for scottxlogan, so it's pretty heartbreaking.)

End of the Line by scottxlogan (Bucky/Tony; Huge accomplishment by the author, and like Home Again and The First Time, it's an intense ride with many tear-jerker moments and holding the breath and screaming and crying and then fights for its happy ending.)

Picture Perfect by @mcfiddlestan (Loki/Tony; This whole series is amazing, and ultimately it ends happy - but there are a lot moments when it's not, and then it's a 20 Kleenex fic.)

Home by @amidnight--dreary (Loki/Tony; lots of hurt with comfort and lots of tears shed for poor Loki.)

Take my jacket, it’s cold outside. by mcfiddlestan (Tony/Bucky - just...just GUH.)

Fix You by ZappyTiel. (Loki/Tony - WIP with so many heartbreaking moments and currently at so much heartbreak while we wait for this fabulous writer to have the time and spoons to finish this amazing fic up! No pressure, though, because life happens.)

Thanks for the asks! (I hope that's not too man fic recs! LOL)

Fic Recs Ask Meme.

[autumnslance]

Year of the OTP - June 2023 - Confession

(Time to yeet out a scene I've sat on too long. Altered dialogue from late Shadowbringers 5.0, in Amaurot at the last quest. 1035 words. References a few other previous writings.)

“Well, this has put everyone in a solemn mood, hasn't it? Honestly, we're not even sure this will be the end of it. But I suppose we should speak our minds when we have the opportunity. You taught me that much in Amh Araeng.”

Thancred took a breath. The air was still and damp. The letters were a weight in his coat, but there was no time, no opportunity for her to read them; he had squandered every chance. “So forgive me this moment of sentiment, Aeryn. By dragging me into this sorry mess, you've given me the chance to think and act as I should have…”

Say it. Tell her.

“...For Ryne's sake.”

True, but not the only truth to be said, bloody fool.

He swallowed. “Words cannot express how much this has changed my life, or how grateful I am for your support…”

He glanced at Ryne, so lost in her own thoughts she didn’t even look up to frown at nor encourage him. He sighed, reaching out and taking Aeryn’s hands in his. Aeryn looked at him, head tilting in her usual quizzical manner.

Gods, she looked brittle. Her white-streaked black hair looked like straw, her skin splotched with pale discoloration and seeming nearly translucent. Her eyes were perhaps the worst; he had always been fascinated by the changeable nature of her gray eyes, how they so expressed her moods even more than her frequent blushing. Now they were nearly colorless—yet still hers, her intellect and compassion still present.

I don’t have the right to say it. To add that pressure when she’s already close to cracking…

“Thancred?” Her voice was still her own, clear and strong.

He could not let those lessons go to waste. There may not be another chance, much as he prayed there would be. “That’s not all I wished to say,” he said quietly. The thick hush of the ghost city around them almost swallowed the words.

“Mayhap your bardic skills have grown rusty,” she teased gently with a strained smile.

He chuckled. “Indeed; I haven’t had much need to be a charmer—not when I would rather be guarding your back, and standing at your side, for as long as you will allow me.” He reached up to carefully cup her cheek, thumb brushing across her skin, wishing he could wipe that dreadful light away. Her eyes widened, darkening with emotion until they almost looked normal again. He smiled. 

“After everything, after all of this, I want—I need you to know, Aeryn, that I am in love with you.”

She sucked in a sharp breath and went very still.

His pulse pounded in his ears, but he’d said it, by the gods.

“I know my timing could be better,” he said acerbically. “And I haven’t forgotten my promise.” The damnable promise she had asked the day before, as they had left the Ondo to journey across the sea floor. “If anything, it makes it more important that you know—that whatever you need, whatever you ask, I can do naught else.” He paused, seeing the mists gathering in her too-bright eyes. “Our circumstances are wretched, so you needn’t worry about saying aught in return, just—”

“But I love you too,” she blurted, then blinked in the way she did when she surprised herself.

Thancred froze, afraid for a moment that he held her too tight, staring at her, the hammering of his heart loud enough to call attention from the shades around them. He was vaguely aware of Ryne now watching.

“I...am in love with you,” Aeryn repeated, with a little sobbing laugh. “I think I have been for awhile, but I didn’t know how to say it. When to,” she shook her head. “Perhaps you weren’t the only one who needed to learn something in Amh Araeng.”

His heart crinkled. Somewhere up the street Alisaie called back to them, though he couldn’t make out the words. He lifted Aeryn’s hand, brushing his lips over the backs of her fingers. “No promises,” he reminded her. “But we should talk later.”

Please let there be a later.

She made another half-sob, half-laugh sound, and nodded. “We should,” she repeated, voice shaking only a little.

“Meanwhile, even if words fail, I shall express my gratitude and love through action,” Thancred said. “No matter where you decide to go, I will be there, guarding your back.”

Or protecting Ryne and the others from you—as you asked. Gods, please don’t let it come to that.

Aeryn let out a long, shaky breath, and smiled. “That means…everything.”

He looked over at Ryne, who gave him a wan smile. “Now, I think Ryne needs a word. I’ll mollify Alisaie and Y’shtola’s tempers until you two catch up.”

Thancred hated stepping away, but he did, their fingers reluctantly slipping apart as he walked down the street while Aeryn turned to Ryne.

He’d said it. By the Twelve he had said it, and wondrously, Aeryn had said it in return. Would that he had been able to say it sooner—between everything with Minfilia and Ryne, his own base cowardice, and now, now Aeryn was—

It didn’t matter, he told himself. What mattered was that they had said it. That they knew. Their timing was shite, but the knowledge could not be lost now. Not between them.

“Everything all right?” Alisaie asked as he caught up to the others.

“Fine,” Thancred replied, a bit hoarse. He caught Urianger’s gaze, his raised eyebrow. Thancred smiled and gave a brief nod; his expression must have given away more than he thought, as Urianger visibly relaxed and grinned back. Y’shtola caught it too, brows drawing down together even as the ends of her mouth twitched upward. Had there been time, he would be receiving an earful, he was certain. “We each had our piece to say to our friend—though from Ryne’s expression, perhaps she needs to hear a few herself.”

The twins were peering at him now, stances their own but the gaze the same. They never realized when they did that. Thancred tried very hard to be nonchalant, to pretend all was normal, that his heart was not skipping and singing and screaming and sobbing all at once.

—

(I keep trying to write the parts around this but in the end...this specific little bit of Thancred's POV is it. Well, there's maybe a bit of Ardbert teasing Aeryn as a bro should, but that part's on Ao3.)

[musingsofvenus]

Inspired by the first prompt from a height difference OTP prompts list and made for the lovely @the-most-pathetic-edge-marquis! I was originally going to make this a kind-of follow up to To All the Monsters I Loved Before, but it didn't fit the bill. This is some sort of Twilight AU-- a short & cheesy moment that exists outside of canon. 💞

Jacob rushes to the front door after he hears the doorbell ring. As soon as he swings open the door, he’s greeted with a DVD case held inches from his face. 

“Tada!” Bella exclaims, grinning ear to ear. Her cheeks and ears are bright red from the cold air.

Sunday afternoons were reserved for their weekly movie night session.  

Every week they switch between who gets to pick the next movie to watch. Their typical choices of movies quickly devolved from Bella’s favorite Jane Austen adoptions and Jacob’s classic spaghetti westerns to the most outrageous B-movie horror flicks they could find.

This week is Bella’s week, and she chose a movie called ‘Suburban Sasquatch.’ From the DVD’s cover art alone, Jacob was sure he wouldn’t be able to make it through the first five minutes without hysterically laughing at the poor production quality.

Jacob plucks the DVD from her hands. “Well hello to you too, Bells.”

Bella snickers, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Hello, hello,” she says belatedly. She rests her chin on his chest. For a few seconds, Jacob is flustered into silence by the cute gesture. And Bella, watching him closely, wiggles her eyebrows like she knows. Because of course she knows. 

“Your ears are turning red,” she sings.

Jacob covers his traitorous ears and averts his eyes. “They are not!”

Bella falls into a fit of giggles that makes Jacob grin. “Are you gonna let me in before I freeze to death?”

Jacob clears his throat. “You have to pay the toll to enter,” he intones.

Bella releases him to shoulder off her tote bag. She holds it open to reveal several soda cans and an assorted variety of popcorn and cookies. “I come bearing snacks.”

Jacob squints at the contents of her bag. “That’s not enough to cover the toll, Bells. I do accept bribes, though,” he says, tapping his lips with his pointer finger.

“You don’t have to play this game to get me to kiss you, you know? I like kissing you.”

“And I like messing with you.”

“Jacob, come on! It’s really cold,” Bella whines. “I don’t have werewolf powers to keep me warm, unlike some people!”

Jacob opens his arms and sweeps Bella off her feet. “Personal space heater, at your service.”

“Jake! Put me down!”

“How am I supposed to kiss you from all the way down there?”

An indignant blush colors Bella’s cheeks. “Maybe you’re just too high up!”

“If you say so. Now about that bribe-”

He barely gets the question out before Bella leans in to kiss him. It starts off a bit forceful on Bella’s end because of her lingering frustration before she starts to relax. The kiss was just turning soft and sweet before Bella’s hand tangles in his hair, no doubt in an attempt to pull him closer. 

Jacob obliges her wordless demand until her fingers brush against the back of his neck. He abruptly pulls away from the kiss with a yelp.

“Your hands are like ice, Bella,” he complains, setting her back down on her feet.

Bella rolls her eyes. “I wonder why, you jerk!” She crosses her arms with a scowl. “You’re lucky that I love you,” she grumbles under her breath.

“What did you say?” He teases, poking her side. “I couldn’t hear you from way up here.” 

Bella huffs, looking up at him while a blush spreads across her cheeks. “I said, I love you, you giant idiot.”

Jacob pretends to contemplate her words, nodding to himself. “Yep, I think that just about covers the toll.”

“You’re not saying it back?” Bella pouts, poking her lip out and everything.

“Oh, come on, Bells,” Jacob chuckles, grabbing her icy hands and peppering them with kisses to get rid of the cold. He pulls her into the house. “I love you, too. You know that.”

[seanfalco]

Hi! You asked for requests and I’m going to request a nanthan x reader with prompt 53 “I just want to be swept off my feet…is that so bad? I’m fed up of being alone.” If that’s ok please?

Nathan Young x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k Tags/Warnings: none Prompt: I decided to participate in @/yearoftheotpevent‘s Year of the OTP (except using reader inserts).  For February’s prompt I chose ‘Valentine's Day’, even though it's a little late;;; a/n: I had this prompt in my askbox for a while;; I hope you still enjoy it!

“So, how’s thing’s goin’ wif you and Nathan?” Kelly asked, nudging you with her elbow as you held up the Valentine’s Day event poster for her to pin to the bulletin board in the Community Centre lobby.

Her question caught you off guard and you nearly dropped the curling paper before you shrugged.  “It’s good,” you answered, trying to think of something better to say.  You could practically read your friend’s thoughts from the skeptical look on her face.

“I mean, he’s fun, and I like snogging him,” you elaborated quickly, trying to keep your own thoughts to yourself, though Kelly heard them anyway.

“But–?” she interjected and you winced, finally letting out a sigh.

“But… he’s not exactly th’romantic type,” you admitted reluctantly.

“I coulda told yeh that,” Kelly pointed out, and you couldn’t help but sigh.

“I mean, yeah… though sometimes he’s really sweet… in between bein’ an arse.”

Kelly snorted, ambling toward the next bulletin board down the hall.  “I don’t even wanna ask what you’re doin’ for Valentine’s day.” You groaned, kicking the toe of your sneaker against the scuffed tile beneath your feet.  “I just wanna be swept off my feet for once, is that so bad?” you huffed, hanging the next poster.  “He doesn’t even hafta buy me anythin’.  I just wish he’d put a little effort in, that’s all…”

Unbeknownst to you or Kelly, Nathan had overheard your conversation from the mezzanine, your voices carrying in the empty halls.  Chewing his lip, he took your words to heart and began planning the most sickeningly sweet romantic evening he could think of, not wanting to let you down.

By the time Valentine’s day had arrived, you made your way to the Community Centre to meet Nathan for your date, not expecting much.  Opening the door he’d left unlocked for you, you were in the midst of mentally preparing yourself for disappointment when the lights suddenly flickered on and you were met with the sigh of hundreds of paper hearts hanging from the ceiling.

“What th–?” you breathed, gaping at the unexpected decor when Nathan’s voice echoed down from the balcony above you.

“Happy Valentine’s, y/n!”

“Nathan?” you called, pulling back some of the streamers and suspended hearts to look up at him, leaning against the balcony railing in an outfit you’d never seen him wear before.

“Yes?” he replied, raising a thick eyebrow at you and grinning bemusedly.

“Did you do all this?”

“Course!” he exclaimed, shrugging like it was nothing.

“All by yourself?” you asked skeptically.

It was certainly exceptional, but it had to have been a lot of work, especially for one person, and you knew how lazy Nathan could be.

“What, y’don’t think I could’ve done this?” Nathan exclaimed, clapping his hand over his heart in faux offense as he descended the stairs to join you.

“Well…” you trailed off, still doubtful, but not wanting to hurt his feelings.

“Well, I might’ve taken ‘em from th’daycare room and made Barry help me hang ‘em,” he admitted, quickly dodging your lighthearted smack at his shoulder.

“You stole kids’ crafts?” you exclaimed, trying to fight back an amused chuckle.  Also, if you had to guess, Simon did the brunt of the work, but still, you were touched.

“They weren’t usin’ ‘em!” Nathan cried.  “Plus, I thought it’d be romantic and shit,” he added, taking your hand.  “C’mon, there’s more!” he exclaimed, pulling you toward the stairs to the roof.

Nathan burst out onto the rooftop and spread his arms wide.  Candles flickered in a haphazard circle around what looked to be a small eclectic picnic laid out on the weathered coffee table across from the threadbare sofa where you and the others often snuck off to after and sometimes even during your community service hours.

“So, what d’yeh think?” Nathan asked hesitantly, his gaze darting between you and his little surprise.

“This is…” your words melted on your tongue as your boyfriend pulled you toward the moth eaten couch and the bottle of cheap champagne sitting between two mismatched glasses from the Community Centre’s kitchen.

“Shit, hold on,” he mumbled, hastily reaching into his pocket to grab his ipod and plug it into the little speaker on the table.  The next thing you knew Endless Love was playing softly.

“There!  Pretty impressive, huh?  Romantic as fuck, yeah?”  Nathan supplied, grinning nervously, still waiting for your approval.

“It’s lovely,” you finally murmured, lowering yourself to the seat.

Nathan’s grin grew and he scrambled to sit down next to you, grabbing the bottle of champagne and wrenching at the cork.  “Help yourself to some cheese and fruit,” he said, gritting his teeth as he struggled to open the booze.  “Watch out for bits of mold though,” he warned and you grimaced, dropping the strawberry you’d picked up.

“Uh, Nathan, this is very sweet and all, but where’d you get this stuff?” you asked.

As soon as Nathan opened his mouth to answer, the cork shot out of the bottle followed by an eruption of bubbles splattering all over the crotch of his jeans.

“Shit!” he yelped, jumping to his feet, but it was already too late, his pants were soaked, making it look like he’d just pissed himself.  “Jay-sus,” he huffed in annoyance, letting out a defeated sigh as he collapsed back into his seat.  

“Guess that’s what I get for tryin’ so hard,” he muttered in frustration, setting the half empty bottle back down and shaking the alcohol from his hand.

“Did you really do all this for me?” you asked, turning toward him.

“Well… yeah,” he replied, as if it was obvious.  “I might’ve overheard what y’said t’Kelly th’other day and I wanted t’make today special for yeh, sweep yeh off your feet like y’wanted,” he explained.  “I’m no good with th’feelin’s and th’romance and shit, y’know, all that mushy stuff,” he muttered, looking down at his hands.

Letting out a soft huff of affection, you leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek, taking him off guard.  “I dunno about all that,” you murmured as he turned to gape at you.  “I think it was sweet of you to put the effort in,” you said with a shrug, your gaze lingering on his lips.  “I think you’re pretty romantic in your own way.”

Nathan’s mouth stretched into a lopsided grin, straddling the line between cheeky and sincere.  “I can still sweep yeh off your feet if y’want,” he said, grabbing the bottle of champagne round the neck and bringing it to his lips before offering you a swig which you gratefully took.

“Oh yeah?  And how y’gunna do that?” you asked, biting your lip coyly.

“Like this,” he replied, pulling you into his lap and wrapping his arms around you, his lips descending on yours before you could reply, and you kissed him back, matching his exuberance with your own.

Your heart pounding in your chest, the alcohol on his tongue went straight to your head, making the world spin, or maybe it was just Nathan’s fervent kisses.  Either way, everything else fell away and all you could think about was how much you loved him.

@super-unpredictable98 @salvador-daley @elliethesuperfruitlover @firstpersonnarrator

[e-wills-afterhours]

Heeey. I have a request, Hiccup having phantom pains and Astrid taking care of him? Thanks!

A/N: Sure thing, Nonny. I think I wrote this very oneshot years ago, but I cannot find it, for the life of me. Might as well do an updated version!

And who doesn't love a little Hiccstrid tenderness, amirite?

Our beloved OTP is 17 here. I also seem to be writing a lot of Hiccstrid from the 5-year gap between HTTYD 1 and 2 lately minus RTTE...

Aaaaaand, I'm kind of okay with that right now. I hope you are too.

Rating: T (all of my work pretty much is unless I rate it otherwise)

Just One of Many Things

-------

If Astrid was asked to list all of the things she appreciated about Hiccup Horrendous Haddock, it would be long. Perhaps, equal in length to all of the things that aggravated her about him. Some qualities even held spots in both categories. His stubbornness, for example, could be quite the asset when he was in the right; but just as much a headache when he got stuck on some new harebrained idea.

She loved him, regardless.

Growing up amid dragon raids, she did not understand the old adage "opposites attract." It seemed counterintuitive. What held two people together who could not see eye-to-eye on anything? In those days, there was no one more unsuited for each other's company than she and Hiccup.

But then the fog of war lifted, and she finally saw him for who he was. She came to realize that they had more in common than she dared to imagine. They wanted the same things, from the world and each other; albeit their approaches were drastically different. Therein lied their beautiful counterbalance. Everything she needed was within his capacity to give.

He was patient and kind, slow to anger, and remarkably intelligent--almost frighteningly so. Generous with his resources and abilities, she seldom had to ask him for anything he hadn't already thought to provide. He was the calm to her storm.

But true to form, some of his other admirable qualities irked her as much as they endeared him to her--and in that moment, his fierce independence was the bane of her existence. He had a pesky habit of refusing to ask for help, even if he needed it.

The more she pressed him for the truth, the more he denied the extent of the problem.

"Just because you can suffer in silence, doesn't mean you have to," she huffed, arms folded. "You're not winning any prizes."

"I'm fine," he insisted, through gritted teeth as he limped toward the hearth, all but dragging his prosthetic along.

His gait was always the slightest bit uneven, ever since the Red Death took his left leg. One needed a keen eye to notice it; he had adapted so quickly. It made his exaggerated lurches all the more pronounced and worrisome as he braced himself against the mantle.

"You're in pain," she said, frowning deeply.

"It's just a little burning," he replied with a feeble smile, the faintest edge in his voice.

Astrid could make out the beads of sweat glistening on his brow and upper lip from across the room. The crackling fire illuminated them clearly.

"Hiccup, there's nothing there to burn," she retorted, pointing to his metal appendage.

He let out a dry laugh. "Really? I hadn't noticed."

Astrid clicked her tongue. Unlike him, she was prone to impatience. She strode across the room and grabbed him by the shoulders. With a sweep of a well-placed boot to the ankle, she kicked his good and steady leg out from underneath him. Looping one arm beneath his, she guided his fall and avoided further injury as he crumpled to the floor.

"Frigg og Eir!" Astrid, he hissed when he landed. "You don't have to kick my leg out from underneath me! I only have just the one!"

She crouched down in front of him, her expression flat. "At least your sense of humor's still intact."

"Are you going to be kicking that out from me next?" he asked, indignant.

She sighed and sat back on her knees. Her face softened when she considered his labored breathing and clenched fists. His mouth was a tight, thin line as he tried to force the pain down where she wouldn't see. But the suffering was plain in his eyes.

"Please, let me help you," she murmured, placing a hand on his knee. "I want to do this. Just...tell me how."

He paused for a beat, then said, "You really don't have to--"

"Hiccup...," and his name was a soft plea on her lips; one he never could resist.

A drop of sweat trickled down from his temple. He stared at her. There was obvious tension in his neck and shoulders. His left leg jutted out stiffly in front of him while he leaned back. It was as if he thought distance from his metal leg my improve things.

He finally relented with a shuddering exhale.

"Okay." He sat up a little straighter and repeated with more conviction, "Okay."

Astrid gently unfastened his prosthetic and set it aside. Not too long ago, he would have never allowed such a thing--to spare her from his indignity, or some such nonsense. But she never cared, and he had come to accept that. A quarter or more of the adults on Berk had some sort of fake extremity: battle scares of a bygone era. Nothing about Hiccup could ever repulse her. After all, she had grown up alongside Snotlout and the twins; and nothing was sacred anymore.

"When was the last time this happened?" she asked as she rolled his pantleg up over his knee.

"Months ago," he replied, teeth clenched. He breathed through the pain, nostrils flaring. "I don't remember. It's been that long."

"What now?" she asked, holding what remained of his lower leg in her hands.

He betrayed himself with a small whimper, then gestured vaguely at the kitchen. "There's a cloth or a rag. Boiled water on the pot on the table. Should just be warm now."

Astrid filled in the blanks, which wasn't difficult. She got up at once to fetch the rag and took it over to the pot of water that had more than likely been boiled for tea, or some other herbal concoction. With caution, she tested the temperature of the water with the knuckle of her pinky finger. Deciding it was no longer scalding, as Hiccup had said, she dunked the rag in. The excess water, she wrung back into the pot.

"Do I lay it on, or do I wrap it?" she asked, returning to where her boyfriend sat on the floor.

"Wrap it," he replied. Then, with a weak grin, he added, "Please."

Astrid nodded and wrapped the warm rag around the stump of his leg with great care, covering as much of the residual calf muscle as possible. She gave his leg the tenderest squeeze.

He let out a groan, head falling back as he supported his weight on his hands.

"No good?" Astrid asked in alarm. "Is it too hot?"

"It hurts, but it's perfect."

She wrinkled her nose. "What?"

"Do...that again," he said, making a kneading motion in the air with his hands.

"Massage?"

"Yes. But it sounds better when you say it."

She rolled her eyes playfully. "You're such a dork. I mean, truly-- the smartest dumbass I've ever known."

He flashed her a genuine smile then laid all the way back on the floor. She settled in a crossed-legged position and massaged the length of his lower leg, up to the knee, over the warm rag.

They stayed in comfortable silence apart from the occasional pop and hiss from the fire. Hiccup, lying down with his eyes closed, and Astrid, tending to the stump in her lap. It was peaceful and uniquely intimate. She'd keep at it all night to take his pain away, if he only asked, but she knew he never would. So, she did what she could for him in that late hour, running her thumbs to the bend of his knee with steady pressure. Followed by long, kneading strokes back down to the end of his limb, where thick ribbons of scar tissue and mangled remnants of flesh all came together, long stitched off. She wondered how much of her touch he could still feel. He had never told her.

She wondered vaguely if her parents were expecting her home. Time was of little consequence whenever they were alone together. The minutes either crawled or flew by; it didn't really matter either way. All Astrid cared about was easing some of the burden he carried. To help, to do something for him, was all she ever wanted.

Hiccup's breathing eventually evened out. His skin was no longer adorned with sweat, and all the tension had left his body. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was asleep.

"Hiccup?" she asked, cutting through silence, and it was almost jarring.

"Hm?" he replied, opening his eyes to meet her gaze.

"Does the pain always feel the same? Like your leg's on fire, I mean."

He thought for a moment, staring at the ceiling, then answered, "Yes. It happens far less often now than it did in the beginning. But the feeling is always the same. Maybe slightly less intense, but I can't recall."

Astrid shook her head. To imagine a sudden and unexpected sensation of one's own flesh burning was horrific.

"Well, that's awful," she muttered.

He shrugged. "Gobber told me this 'phantom pain' happens more often in the first few years. I might get to a point where it doesn't happen anymore. Or it could happen randomly and infrequently for the rest of my life. Who knows."

"I just...hate that it has to be you."

A silence fell over them again, much heavier than the last. He studied her all the while, his eyes appearing impossibly warmer in the firelight.

He sat up slowly. "I'm alright now. You can stop." When she shot him a skeptical look, he insisted, "Honestly, it's passed. These episodes don't last forever."

She sighed and handed him his metal leg, which he took after rolling his pantleg back down. The speed and finesse with which he reattached was always interesting--but what was more remarkable was that he never complained. Not once, that she had ever heard. Yet, he had brought peace to their island, and he saved the people that had chided him for years--but no one else lost limbs in that fight. Just one boy and his dragon, against an ancient monster, risking everything to stop the cycle of fire and death that plagued their people for centuries. The exchange seemed one-sided; that he should still experience echos of pain from that day, was a terrible injustice in her eyes.

"Do you ever regret it?" she asked.

He glanced up, brow furrowed, as if the question itself was confusing.

"The Red Death is gone. The dragons are free. Berk is safer for our people and our dragons. You're safer." He took her hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. With the utmost assuredness, he answered, "No. I don't regret it. Not for a moment."

She closed her eyes and leaned forward until their foreheads touched.

"You're unbelievable, Hiccup Haddock," she said. "Completely unbelievable."

"I thought that's what you love about me."

"Just one of many things," she murmured against his lips, and he smiled.

[songbookff]

Ooh for the touch prompts, how about #49 for Picard/Crusher:

holding onto the other’s shoulders for support

My loves. Thank you for sending this one. One of my first true OTPs.

"Keep still!"

"I am staying still!"

"Well I can't do this if you are moving!"

"I'm not moving!"

The ship lurched again and Jean Luc had to steady himself, one hand against the wall, the other firmly gripping the calf of Beverly's leg. He heard her grumble above him and he rolled his eyes instead of responding.

Her heels were digging into his shoulders as she stood perched, reaching up into the vent above, trying desperately to reset the electrical circuit so they could get out of this corridor.

How this happened to the Captain and the Chief Medical Officer of the ship, he still didn't know. No comms and they were losing life support by the minute. He knew that Will had the rest of the ship under control. Right now he was more concerned about getting himself and Beverly out alive.

So far, it seemed their plan was working. It was quickly established that Beverly wasn't going to be able to hold Jean Luc's weight, so he had been walking her through the circuit from memory. And either it had been too many years since he had taken electrical engineering or Beverly was terrible at taking direction.

Probably a bit of both...

The ship rocked again and this time Jean Luc couldn't keep his footing. He lurched backwards, trying to catch Beverly as she fell. They crashed into the wall, trying to remain upright. He heard Beverly cry out in pain as she landed.

Then the power went out completely. Darkness greeted him, unable to make out her face. But he held onto her waist and could feel the tension in her body.

"Beverly?"

"I think I broke my ankle," she groaned. She squirmed around where he had her pinned to the wall so they were facing each other, if they could see. Beverly gripped his shoulders, painfully digging in her fingertips where her feet had been just moments before.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I believe we have bigger problems to worry about." If the power was out, so was life support. They had minutes left, if that. He felt her lean her forehead slowly towards his and let out a gentle sigh once they touched.

"Always so negative," she jested, sliding one of hands across the back of his shoulders and then removing her head from his, jumped around to his side in the dark. He did his best to wrap his arm around her supportively. "Get us to the door, Captain."

They awkwardly moved to the door and he heard her blindly feel around for the door panel.

"Beverly," he murmured. Time was running out. There was no way to get the door open now.

"Any last words?" she asked.

"I don't think I could come up with the proper way to tell you how much I love you." Acting on impulse alone, he turned his head to press a kiss into the softness of her hair, still unable to see anything.

"Do you know what I love most?" she asked. He wasn't sure he wanted to use up his last breath talking with her. He would rather kiss her as his last action in the galaxy. He made a non-committal noise as her arm started to slip off his shoulders. "That I am still able to surprise you."

The door between pending death and the remainder of the ship slid open and the bright shining light of the Enterprise burst through. Klaxons blared and he could hear the shouting of the crew. He glanced over and Beverly was smirking at him.

"You reset the circuit."

"Yes, but I had to bypass the life support. That's why we lost power."

"Beverly!"

"You really thought we were going to die," she teased, but he bumped her hip playfully and she clung to him, wincing as she accidentally put weight on her ankle. Served her right.

"I will say this, Doctor, if I was going to spend my last moments with someone, I was happy to spend it with you."

"Flatterer." She placed a kiss to his cheek. "Now, Captain, let's go save your ship."