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sylusjinwoon · 4 months ago

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{ 203 }

attention seeker.

alternate title: the five times he purposely got injured to get your attention.

sylus x (non.mc)healthcare.worker!fem.reader

notes: healthcare worker can be any profession of your choosing in the medical field like nursing, physician, pharmacist, physical therapist, etc.

{ i know you’re faking it, but that’s okay. }

ever since sylus knew of your occupation as a healthcare worker, the man stopped healing himself using his abilities, always wanting you to take care of his injuries and wounds.

he didn’t care how his wounds could heal with just a mere snap of his fingertips. all he wanted was to feel your soft touch; to bask in the way you would always dote on him as your fingertips would lightly trace at his cuts and bruises.

“what's this? aren't you the almighty leader of onychinus who can't be killed? why would you ever need my services?" he recalls you asking him in a giggle, earning a growl of your name from him as he gave you paper thin excuses.

"i have been feeling more exhausted than usual, and am unable to bring forth such abilities. so... are you going to heal me or not?" his haughty reply would always earn him a playful roll of your eyes at him, yet you were never one to deny him of his needs (a fact that he was all too willing to take advantage of.)

currently, he was busy examining his supply of weapons, and his hands itched with a sudden desire to run his fingers through your hair while bringing your pliant form into his embrace. frustrated at how distracted he was feeling, sylus pushes himself away from his desk all while taking deliberate strides toward your shared bedroom.

he arrives at the master bedroom within a few minutes, letting a huff in response as he pushes aside the doors, revealing your sleeping form settled comfortably atop the king-sized bed. sylus freezes in his steps, wishing to take a moment to admire you. crimson eyes trail down your body with adoration shining within his gaze, taking note of how vulnerable you looked as his silk sheets were tangled up within the length of your legs.

after spending a few moments simply watching you, sylus steps closer to you, sitting down on the edge of the bed as he reaches out a hand to brush back your hair. while burning your image into his very memories, he couldn't help but reminisce about the times he had given himself an injury or experienced pain, just so he could begin to heal with your gentle touch...

{ ... }

sylus had purposely put himself in the middle of a bar fight the moment the bastard had managed to give him a black eye in response to his intervention. he was around the area, wishing to check on the businesses he owned when he stepped foot into the bar.

immediately, he knew something was amiss when he caught sight of a drunkard messing with one of the female bartenders, the scent of vodka reeking from the bastard's very veins when sylus stepped closer to him. he merely placed a hand on that drunkard's shoulder when the bastard swung at him, managing to land his fist against sylus's eye.

red hot anger was felt coursing through his veins as he grabbed the vodka drenched man by the collar of his torn shirt, forcing him to land head first against the onyx counter. when he hears the satisfying crunch of bones breaking against the marble counter, a sense of satisfaction fills him-

but sylus wanted more-

he was bloodthirsty, and he felt the way his left eyelid seemed to pulse from the sudden impact of the asshole's punch-

yet what ultimately stops him was the sight of your smiling face, and how you would have been so disappointed in him for ruthlessly killing for no good reason.

with a scoff, sylus shoves the drunkard away from the counter before dragging his body out of his bar, tossing him outside and into the pouring rain. "you're lucky i felt generous enough to spare your life. leave this place and never come back, unless you really have a death wish."

sylus was uncertain if the man had even heard him when he started to puke profusely, earning another grunt of disgust from onychinus's leader as he looked away from the vomiting man.

turning away from the mess, sylus goes to check on the bartender, and once he was certain she was unharmed, he leaves the bar through the back exit and rides his motorcycle, with the intention of returning home to his shared penthouse-

of returning home to you.

filled with motivation thanks to the thought of you, sylus purposely speeds through the rain, dodging traffic as he rode between several vehicles with you as his sole purpose. after racing through the city, he finally arrives back home, parking his bike in its usual spot before making his trek back to toward the penthouse settled at the top floor.

the moment he unlocks the door, he was greeted by your smiling face, with your arms already outstretched to welcome him. however, when you notice the purple and black bruise beginning to blossom against his left eye was when your demeanor completely changes.

"oh my god, what happened to you, sylus?!"

"hm? what do you mean?" he was frowning, but here you were, chattering around him like a worried, mother hen.

"your eye...! your left eye has the worst bruise on it!" you tell him with a hiss, taking him into your shared bedroom before settling him on one of the couches. he was ready to protest, the words ready to spill from his parted lips when you suddenly disappeared into the bathroom, pulling out a first aid kit before rejoining him on the couch.

with your eyes filled with love and concern for him, he allows you to gently dab at his bruised eye with a cold handkerchief, biting back a grin as you worked on treating his bruise.

he never used his powers to heal that night, for he found a much deeper comfort in having you care for him instead.

{ ... }

the day he had broken his arm was completely and utterly accidental on his part. he was simply working out, not paying any attention when the weights on the shelf slid down and just happened to land on his arm.

upon feeling such an impact on his arm, he let out a string of curses, but refused to readjust his arm and heal himself. when he steps out of his personal gym and greets you, he purposely lays the extent of his pain on thick.

"sweetie... i'm afraid an accident happened... could you help me? i believe my left arm is broken."

you were in the midst of reading a book when he returned back home to you, already seeing the worry in your gaze as you stood up from your seat. "sy, what happened?"

he lets out a hiss when you gingerly touch at his arm, hiding back a grin before admitting to you. "i think a fifty pound weight fell off from the shelf and landed on my arm when i tried to catch it. the pain... it's too much to bear. i can hardly focus."

that was when your doting nature reappeared, helping him into bed with the same determination shining in your eyes as you put some ice on his arm while offering him some medicine to aid with easing the pain.

you spend the next hour or so scolding him, telling him to be more careful as you help with keeping his arm in place, already making plans to set up an appointment at the clinic for him as sylus couldn't help but simply smile in response.

never before had another human being shown so much compassion and concern for him-

and he loved every minute of it.

{ ... }

the bruises on his back and abdomen caused by luke and kieran's training was also a mess that sylus had purposely brought upon himself.

knowing that his kids henchmen were all too eager to train and show off their newly acquired skills at ambushing him, sylus allows the twins to treat him like their own personal punching bag, knowing that their blows were hardly painful-

but it was enough to cause a series of bruises appear all across his body, causing your gentle hands to remain glued to him, doing everything that you could to help him heal.

after spending two hours with the twins, sylus dismisses them the moment he hears you coming home from work. knowing that you were currently undressing in the bedroom, ready to destress after a hard day at work.

with a half smirk donning his features, he enters the bedroom dressed in his gym clothes. calling out your name, he catches your attention, watching as you turn around and face him.

"hello, my grumpy crow." he grumbles at your nickname for him, but welcomes you in his arms with little hesitation. you lean up to press a kiss against his lips, allowing him to deepen it for a brief moment before pulling away from him.

you meet his gaze, arms already coming up to wrap around his neck when you saw several purple and black marks on his chest.

"sylus, what happened to you?!" you let out a gasp, taking a step back as you saw several bruises blossoming against his pale skin. he simply hums, feigning innocence as he looked down at his chest. "oh, luke and kieran's punches were so light that i barely felt them. i guess they're getting stronger now if they're able to bruise me like this."

a look of suspicion crosses your lovely features, but instead of questioning him, you let out a sigh before taking his hand and leading him into your shared bathroom.

with his luxurious, porcelain tub in sight, you turn on the faucet, allowing the hot water to fill before focusing your attention on sylus. he meets your gaze, expression filled with a calm confidence. he watches as you step closer to him, hands running up the fabric of his tank top before sliding it off his body. you do the same with his shorts and boxers, leaving him completely bare for you.

"wow, you've stripped me of all my clothes and have yet to pounce on me, that's quite an achievement, kitten." you roll your eyes at his teasing words, pushing him into the tub as he lands inside of it with an audible splash!

his eyes darken with desire for you, hands running through his now soaked strands of hair. he sits back up against the tub while watching you with hungry eyes as you shed the rest of your clothes. once you remained just as bare for him, you join him, settling yourself on his lap while gently massaging and soothing the bruises seen across his body.

unfortunately for you, your innocent touches simply served as a means for sylus to unleash the entirety of his desires on you, making love to you as he stopped caring about the sheer amount of water that lands against the marble flooring of the bathroom in response to sylus's passionate movements... simply basking in your cries of pleasure.

{ ... }

the day he had gotten sick with a fever was something that was truly accidental on his part.

it was a stressful time for him, with news of a traitor lingering within onychinus taking over his time as he sought out the mole. sylus had spent countless nights looming over his men, his eyes never leaving their sights before he came into contact with a man who's thoughts were filled to the brim with greed.

upon realizing that the bastard had been leaking important information to a rival, sylus takes it upon himself to get rid of the problem permanently, refusing to give the man a second chance (even as he begged for his life.)

yet by the end of it all, a strange exhaustion was felt coursing through his veins. his steps were uneven and heavy when he manages to return back to the penthouse, panting while thinking of you (always thinking of you).

the moment he comes home and sees you in the kitchen, the scent of your cooking filling his nostrils, he thought he would be excited to see you; to bask in your cooking as he was finally able to relax after such an arduous event.

but all he felt was an impending nausea, leaving him trembling and coughing as he struggled to get on the couch. hearing his struggles, you shut off the stove and cease cooking, coming closer to him.

"sylus!"

you settle yourself in front of him, taking note of the haziness seen within his gaze. normally, his eyes shone a bright red and ruby hue, so filled with life-

yet now, they became hazy and dull, losing the light it once had due to his mental exhaustion.

sylus was unable to respond to you, letting out a deep sigh when he feels the palm of your hand touch at his skin. you gasp, feeling just how hot his skin was beneath your touch. "you're burning up...!"

still in a haze, sylus was dimly aware of the way you helped him stand up, practically dragging his body towards the bedroom as his fevered body was pressed up against you. he didn't know when or how it happened, but you had placed his body in bed while peeling off his clothes, leaving his expensive suit in a pile in the corner of the room.

the man was about to respond to you, telling you how his suit was worth what a businessman makes in a year, but was unable to do so. he was going in and out of consciousness, dimly aware of you saying "i'll be right back..." before disappearing from his view completely.

sylus's hands itched with the urge to grip at your wrists-

to prevent you from leaving him so soon when all he wanted was for you to stay by his side and hold him; to comfort him when he was in such desperate need of you.

without you here, the man found it difficult to close his eyes and fall asleep, your absence making him feel even grumpier as he sat up from his spot in bed. losing track of time, he was ready to stomp out of the room (using all of his remaining strength if he had to) just to get to you and force you to come back with him.

but his anger soon disappears the moment you enter the room with a tray in hand. he tilts his head at you, seeing what looked like a steaming bowl of soup with a tall glass of ice water and some tylenol. setting the tray on the nightstand, you click your tongue and hold the bowl in your hand.

"what am i going to do with you?"

sylus chuckles in response to your question, "what are you going to do with me? well, you're going to take care of me, of course."

you let out a soft laugh before dipping the spoon in the broth, gently blowing on it before feeding it to him. you bask in the way he allows you to feed him, showing you a vulnerability that you had never seen before. once he finishes eating the soup, you offer him two tablets and watch as he drains it with the glass of water. only when you place the emptied glass on the tray did he make his move.

with your hands free of all bowls and utensils, sylus wraps his arms around your body, crushing your form close to his chest before laying back in bed with you. a series of giggles was heard coming from your parted lips, and sylus found that he had enough strength to bask in such a sweet sound.

he continues holding you, allowing your gaze to meet with his, you gently brush back his hair with a smile, smoothing back the lines seen against his forehead before gently telling him, "go to sleep... you need it."

sylus lets out a huff of your name, taking a hold of your hand before biting down against the side of it. "only you have the power to tell me what to do and how to live my life. remember that."

returning your form closer to his embrace, sylus holds you to his chest before slowly falling into a peaceful slumber, feeling all of his stress melt away the moment your warmth begins to surround him.

{ ... }

it was just a simple cut on his cheek-

but the way he kept pouting glaring at you made it seemed like he was in an excruciating amount of pain.

sylus was mad at you, remaining settled on the couch while refusing to look at you.

"if my blood drips on the couch, then it's your fault for not healing me."

you couldn't help but roll your eyes even further upon hearing his theatrics. "sylus, you and i both know that you can survive a simple gunshot wound to the chest. this cut is nothing in comparison, my love."

a plethora of grumpy sounds were heard coming from him, his arms now settled across his chest as a bitter scowl paints his expression. "and i told you i don't like abusing my powers. so are you going to help this heal or not?"

bullshit.

if that's the case, how on earth did you heal before i came into your life?

you wanted to call him out on his lie, you really did-

but seeing the soft (almost puppy dog look) in his eyes makes you stop. as you sift through your memories and think back to all the times you had helped sylus 'heal,' you had a sudden epiphany.

perhaps it wasn't the fact that you could help him heal him, but rather...

he liked the fact that you worried and constantly doted over him, since caring for him was an integral part of your love language.

with a wistful smile, you head back into your shared bedroom, taking out your first aid kit before returning to sylus. you sit directly beside him, gently taking a hold of his chin, revealing the thin cut on his defined cheek to you. with a q-tip in hand, you apply some of the antibacterial ointment on it before gently covering the slender line of blood with it. once it was completely covered, you choose a rather colorful band-aid decorated with blue penguins, settling it directly over the cut.

"there, better?" you set off the first aid kit to the side, ready to leave when sylus grips at your wrist.

"not quite, darling. you missed a step." his eyes were shining with mischief now, pointing directly at his 'injured cheek' now covered with a bandaid. "you know what to do."

letting out a feigned sound of annoyance, you lean in closer, pressing a kiss directly over where you had placed the bandaid as you felt him smiling against your lips. before you could move away from him, sylus ends up tackling your body against the couch, littering your face with obnoxious kisses as he elicits the sounds of joyous laughter from you.

{ ... }

by the end of his reveries, he was left smiling, heart filled with love for you as he slowly joins you in bed.

making sure that his movements were slow and steady, he manages to get into bed without disturbing you, taking you into his arms with a grin on his face.

sylus takes a minute to admire you once more, brushing back your hair while relishing in your natural beauty. "i can never get enough of you..." he admits in a hoarse tone, wondering just how lucky he was to be able to say that you were his; that you belonged to him alone.

filled with adoration for you, sylus allows himself to close his eyes, visibly relaxing in bed as he places your body on top of his chest. you stir for the briefest of moments, but end up smiling in your sleep, somehow knowing that you would always be loved and protected by him...

a.n. - lmao my current major / career goals has to deal with the medical field, so this was a very self-indulgent story for me to write (⺣◡⺣)♡

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #jin woon x reader #jin woon x you #sylus x you #lads x reader #lnds x reader #l&ds x reader #.stories

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prodbymaui · 1 month ago

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Fraying Hearstrings

we were so beautiful, we were so tragic

The saying goes that time heals all wounds, yet with every tick of the clock, it feels like the cuts in your heart become shallower while the pain only burrows deeper.

“That was so embarrassing. Why would you do that?” Jaehyun's voice slices through the tension in the room, sharp and unforgiving, as he tosses his things onto the sofa, hastily following after you. His hair is disheveled, the stress showing in the wrinkles of his crumpled dress shirt.

“Embarrassing? Really, Jaehyun?" you snap, turning to face him. Your finger jabs into his chest before his hand grips your wrist with a force that’s all too unfamiliar. You flinch, momentarily stunned by the person in front of you—your husband, or at least, the man who used to be.

“Yes! You were embarrassing,” he seethes, shoving your arm away. “Throwing a tantrum like some kid who didn’t get their way? In front of my colleagues, my boss—God! Do you ever think before pulling stunts like that?”

He scoffs, letting his gaze rake over your tear-streaked face with a disdain that cuts deeper than any words.

“Or were you too busy trying to prove you were ‘right’ with your baseless accusations?”

A bitter laugh escapes you, disbelief spreading across your features. You cross your arms, trying to shield yourself from the hurt threatening to spill out. "Baseless? Are you kidding me, Jaehyun? I saw you, with another woman, sitting on your lap!"

"Keep your voice down. The kids are asleep!"

You scoff, voice trembling with both rage and heartbreak. "Now you care about the kids? After everything, you suddenly care about them? Is it because you're scared they'll realize their parents' marriage is a farce, that it’s not as perfect as we pretend it is? Or is it because you’re scared they’ll figure out their father’s a lying, cheating bastard?”

You stand there, the air thick with tension, your heart pounding as Jaehyun’s expression shifts from anger to something almost unreadable. For a moment, it seems like he might say something—apologize, perhaps, or at least try to explain himself. But instead, he just runs a hand through his hair, frustration etched into his features.

“Look, can we just—” he starts, but the words die on his lips when you shake your head, the gravity of the situation pulling you further from him.

“No,” you reply, your voice steadier than you feel. “You don’t get to just brush this off. I can’t believe you’d think I’d let it slide after what I saw.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but you hold up your hand, cutting him off. “I deserve better than this, Jaehyun. Better than to be treated like a fool. You’ve made your choice.”

His eyes flash with something that looks like guilt, and for a brief moment, it feels like you’re peering into the depths of his soul. But then he masks it with defiance. “You’re overreacting. You don’t know the whole story!”

“Then tell me!” you challenge, desperation creeping into your voice. “What could possibly justify you sitting with another woman like that?”

He falters, his bravado slipping as he grapples with his own defense. “It wasn’t what you think. She was just—”

“Just what?” You interject, your voice rising with frustration. “Just a friend? Just work-related? I’m done with the excuses!”

Jaehyun’s shoulders tense, his anger flaring again. “You think you can just accuse me and then walk away? This is ridiculous!”

“Ridiculous? You’re the one who was caught! You’re the one who made a fool out of me!”

The room crackles with tension, each word throwing more fuel on the fire. “Maybe you should have thought about that before you made such a scene!” He shoots back, his voice rising.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t so careless!” You yell, frustration boiling over. “You’ve turned this marriage into a joke, and I’m sick of it!”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to be here fighting with you? Maybe we’re just better off apart!”

The words hang in the air, sharp and stinging. You freeze, your heart racing at the sudden clarity in his statement.

“Are you serious right now?” You demand, disbelief etched on your face.

“Yeah, I am!” He snaps back, anger and hurt twisting his features. “Maybe we’re just tired of trying to fix something that’s already broken!”

A bitter silence follows, the realization settling in like a heavy weight. You look at him, eyes blazing, and for the first time, you see how worn down he truly is.

“Fine,” you say, voice trembling with emotion. “If that’s how you feel, then maybe we should just stop fighting it.”

“Maybe we should,” He replies, his voice cold and distant.

With that, the air between you shifts, the warmth of your connection replaced by a chilling reality. You turn away, tears threatening to spill as you grapple with the decision that has emerged from the chaos. This fight may have revealed the truth you both have been too afraid to confront: it’s time to let go.

#nct 127 #nct #jeong jaehyun #jeong yunho #jung jaehyun #jung yoonoh #jung yuno #jeong yuno #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct angst #nct fanfiction #jaehyun angst #jaehyun smut

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cherrrydragon · 3 months ago

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➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: BACK TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING

← back to chapter list

SUMMARY ↳ Not everybody takes time to appreciate the holidays, it seems. Damian’s brow furrows as he inspects your arm. “You were…” “Awesome?” “Reckless.” pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: nada wc: 3.2k

totally forgot to mention this last chapter, but this fic now has an official playlist!

It takes some convincing from Damian and Jon for them to let you go back to work. Jon says you shouldn’t be back so soon after getting shot. You tell him that your body is fine and ready to go, and also remind him that one of the first things you did when you were better was spar with the whole damn Batfamily. He looks properly sheepish after being chastised.

Damian says that you don’t need the job anymore, since you live with his family now. You tease him, asking if you technically classify as his sugar baby. He scoffs, turning away. It gets him off your case.

Sam damn near jumps over the counter to get to you when they see you walk in. “[Name]!”

At Sam’s shout, Carrie and Garrett pop their heads out from the back. Carrie’s face lights up, smile lines showing as she rushes over to join you and Sam’s hug. Garrett lets one of his rare smiles show, patting your head.

“You shouldn’t be back so soon,” frowns Carrie, pulling back.

You would lift up your shirt to show that you were fine, but she’s right, you shouldn’t be back so soon. A bullet wound on a normal person wouldn’t be completely healed just yet, but, you know, super healing. You’ve been left with a very faint scar. Jon spent his time tracing it, eyes hard and lidded. It gave you goosebumps when his fingers would pass over it.

You wave them off, laughing softly at their concern. "I'm fine, guys, really. It's good to be back."

Sam eyes you skeptically, arms crossed. "You better take it easy, though. We can handle things here."

Carrie nods in agreement, though she's smiling. "Just don't overdo it. We were worried sick about you."

Garrett gives you a nod of approval, his expression serious yet supportive. "Glad to see you're up and about, [Name]. Take care of yourself."

You promise them you will, appreciating their concern and warmth. Sam ushers you behind the counter, immediately putting you to (light) work, much to your amusement.

"So, spill," Sam insists, leaning in conspiratorially. "What happened?”

“What do you mean?” you ask as you organize some sugar packets.

“Dude, Robin and Superboy literally hauled your ass out of here.”

“They just took me to the hospital, Sam,” you sigh. “I got shot, it was pretty urgent.” Shoving a pastry in Sam's mouth, you push past them to ready the coffee makers. “In other news, I moved in with my future rich spouse.” It’s a way to distract them from questioning too much.

Predictably, Sam chokes on the bun. “What!? Hold on, back up a minute, when did you start dating somebody?”

“It was a joke, we’re just friends,” you chuckle. “He’s a huge worrywart and refused to let me go back to my apartment. Could barely walk out of the front door this morning. Said I didn’t even need this job anymore, basically said he’d take care of me.” He didn’t really, but whatever. “Isn’t he sweet?”

“So you’re telling me he basically said you can be the rich trophy partner? Why the hell are you here then?” Sam deadpans.

You match their expression. “Wow. Nice to know I was missed.”

Sam rolls their eyes. “You’re impossible. Who’s the guy anyway?”

“Damian Wayne.”

Sam blinks. Once. Twice. “Can you repeat that? I could’ve sworn you said Damian Wayne. Son of Bruce Wayne. Heir to Wayne Enterprises.”

You huff, placing a hand on your hip as their brain fumbles. “Dude, you bagged the big one. Holy shit, I didn’t know you could pull like that.”

“I told you, we’re just friends.”

“I thought he was, like, stuck up, or something. Cold ice prince type.”

You feel the need to defend Damian’s honor, even if Sam has no true ire towards him. “He’s nice. A good friend. He’s just… awkward.”

Sam takes time to look at you, a brow raised. You hope they're not doing that thing when they just look at you and know all of your secrets. Eventually they hum, dropping it.

“...You think you can ask his dad to pay my tuition–”

Tonight marks your first official patrol with the Batfamily. You're already suited up, crouched on the ledge of a rooftop with Damian. His cape billows in the wind. The city below is alive with lights and sounds, a symphony of Gotham’s nighttime pulse. You adjust your stance, feeling the adrenaline start to course through your veins. Damian is focused, his eyes scanning the streets for any sign of trouble.

"Keep your eyes sharp," Damian says, his voice a low murmur. "Gotham's quiet tonight, but that can change in an instant."

You nod, your own senses heightened, every sound amplified in the quiet of the rooftop. The tension in the air is palpable, a reminder of the city's ever-present dangers.

Damian glances at you, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "You ready for this?"

“Been ready, are you?” you challenge with a smile.

Suddenly, a voice speaks into your ear. It's Barbara. "We've got a situation near downtown. Reports of a robbery in progress."

Damian tenses, his eyes narrowing. "Let's move."

You both leap from the rooftop, descending into the city's shadows. The thrill of the chase ignites your senses as you navigate the rooftops with practiced ease. Damian is a blur of motion beside you, his movements precise and controlled.

Your arm muscles tense and release with every web swing. You take time to twirl and flip around Damian in an elegant dance as he swings with his grappling hook. The two of you move around each other in synchronized harmony.

As you near the location of the robbery, you spot the scene from above. A group of masked men are trying to break into a high-end jewelry store. The glass is shattered, and the alarm is blaring. Damian signals for you to flank them from opposite sides.

You land silently behind a dumpster, observing the thieves as they hurriedly shove jewelry into bags. Damian moves in from the other side, his presence a shadow in the night. You wait for his signal, your muscles coiled like springs.

With a sharp nod from Damian, you spring into action. You leap out, webbing one of the thugs to the ground before he even realizes what’s happening. Damian disarms another with a swift kick, his movements fluid and efficient.

The remaining thieves scramble, but they're no match for the two of you. You dart between them, your webbing and acrobatics keeping them off balance. Damian is a blur of motion, his strikes precise and powerful. Within moments, the robbers are subdued, webbed up and disarmed.

Damian steps back, catching his breath. "Nice work," he says, his tone grudgingly approving.

"Were you practicing those moves to impress me?” you ask cheekily.

“Why, were you watching me?”

“I just can’t take my eyes off of you,” you sigh dramatically.”

“Stop flirting, losers,” Stephanie teases on the comms.

Just as you're about to talk back, a low rumble echoes through the alley. The ground shakes slightly, and you exchange a wary glance with Damian. A nearby manhole cover bursts open, and a hulking figure emerges from the sewers. It's Killer Croc, his massive form towering over you both. What the hell.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Croc growls, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent.

You throw up your hands. “Come on man, I wanted an easy night.”

Croc advances with heavy footsteps, his massive claws glinting in the dim light. Guess he’s not in the mood for chit-chat. Croc chuckles, the sound sending a chill down your spine. "Think you can stop me, little bats?" His voice reverberates through the space, filling the space with menace.

“I am not a bat,” you mutter. “Only in spirit I guess." Killer Croc has a similar demeanor to that of Rhino, at least in terms of size. You’ve dealt with more than enough of them to be well equipped to deal with this situation.

You exchange a quick nod with Damian, silently communicating your plan. "Let's do this," he says, his voice low but determined.

Without hesitation, you both spring into action. Damian charges forward, engaging Croc head-on with a series of lightning-fast strikes and evasive maneuvers. Meanwhile, you use your agility and webs to dart around Croc, aiming to distract and disorient him.

Croc swings a massive fist, aiming for Damian, who narrowly dodges and counters with a precise kick to the knee. You take advantage of the opening, firing webbing at Croc's arms, aiming to restrict his movements. The webs hold momentarily before Croc tears through them with brute force. Boo.

"Keep him distracted!" Damian calls out, his voice cutting through the chaos.

You nod, focusing on keeping Croc off balance while Damian assesses the situation. With each move, you gauge Croc's reactions, looking for vulnerabilities to exploit. His strength is immense, and you start to hope this won’t take long. You’d like to get a decent rest tonight.

Damian maneuvers around Croc, striking with calculated precision. His training and experience shine through as he lands blows with pinpoint accuracy, each one aimed at weakening Croc's defenses. You watch in awe, both of Damian's skill and the sheer determination in his eyes.

As the fight wears on, Croc becomes more aggressive, his attacks growing wilder and more unpredictable. You dart in and out, using the environment to your advantage, hoping to find an opening. It's a dangerous dance, the alley echoing with the sounds of combat and the occasional growl from Croc.

Croc is getting overwhelmed, which means he’ll get desperate. His eyes keep darting to the window. He’s gonna try to escape, shit.

He shoves Damian to the side with his arm. For a split second, you want to make sure he’s alright, but you know he is. Trust that he is. You seize an opportunity to leap onto Croc's back as he charges out of the alley and onto the street. The sudden movement sends pedestrians scattering, and cars screech to a halt to avoid the monstrous figure rampaging through the city. You wrap his shoulders, providing you some extra distance from him as he tries to reach for you. He bucks and twists as he runs, trying to shake you off.

Croc flips up cars as he runs. Your claws dig into his shoulders as you steer him out of people's way the best you can, while simultaneously trying not to get thrown off. People scream and flee as cars swerve to avoid the chaos. With each passing moment, your muscles strain under the weight and movement of the monstrous villain.

“Should you be on vacation or something? It’s the holidays! Take a day off, Christ,” you grumble.

Croc chuckles dangerously. “Hang on tight, not-bat.”

It’s your only warning (aside from your senses screaming at you to get out of the way. Too bad you can’t) as Croc makes a superhuman leap, crashing straight through a window of Gotham Mall. Your suit protects you from the glass as it crashes down around you. Shoppers scream and scatter as the massive creature barrels through the aisles, sending displays and merchandise flying.

“Do you have any non-destructive hobbies?” you huff, dodging his grabby hands. Croc cuts a corner narrowly, slamming you slightly into a wall.

“Swimming. In the sewers.”

“Well, of course, where else?” Oh shit, there’s a baby in the way! You throw a web from each wrist, pulling yourself over to the stroller. You pick it up and narrowly move it out of Killer Croc’s way, putting it down next to the mother and quickly webbing yourself back onto Croc.

“Thank you!” the mother cries.

“You’re welcome!” is all you can say before your web pulls you back onto Croc. You curl your hand into a tight fist and hit him right in his head as you return. Croc staggers from the force of your punch, shaking his head as he attempts to regain his bearings. His momentum slows, giving you a moment to catch your breath.

“Spinnerette, report,” Bruce asserts in your ear.

“Uh, Killer Croc’s rampaging in Gotham Mall. Trying to minimize the damage,” you breathe, dodging another swipe from Croc.

The noise of glass shattering and displays being knocked over is deafening. You hear Damian's voice cut through the chaos over the comms, “I’m en route. Hang tight.”

You cling tighter to Croc, using your agility to stay out of his reach as he wreaks havoc through the mall. “Yeah, hanging tight is kind of the plan,” you mutter, half to yourself.

You web his face, causing him to growl in frustration. Croc has a thick hide as protection, so your fangs won’t be able to pierce him. Your venom is useless here, which sucks because it would’ve been really nice to have in this situation.

Okay, you’re on the third floor of the mall, since the bastard jumped real high. How can you trap him? His advantage is his strength, so you need to restrain him so that he can’t use it. The whirring of a grappling hook catches your attention. Looking behind you, you see Damian swinging over to you, surprisingly gaining speed.

You spray a web towards him, catching him by the chest. Damian grips it as you pull him towards you. He lands with ease on top of Croc’s back. Croc's roar of frustration reverberates through the mall as Damian joins you.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you quip.

"Thought you could use a hand," Damian replies, his eyes never leaving Croc.

You grab his hands and wrap them around the makeshift web reins you had attached to Croc. “She–” you tap the ring you gifted him you know is under his glove, “–will tell you what to do. Don’t let him hurt anybody.”

Damian tries to catch your hand as you swing away, but you’re too quick for him. You gain speed, swinging ahead and away from Croc. “Tell me where a big glass window I can crash through is, K.”

“Take a left here.”

You swerve to the left. You can hear the commotion behind you as Croc thrashes and roars, but you focus on finding an exit point.

“Straight ahead.”

There. A large window overlooking the city. You see other buildings sparking with lights. Bracing yourself, you send yourself hurling into it. The glass shatters as you crash through it, arms out in front of you to protect yourself. Screams of people fade away behind you as you fall into the air. You’re lucky, there’s an intersection below you.

You swing onto a nearby lightpost. “I need the biggest and stickiest web you got, K.” You launch off and aim your hands in the middle of the intersection.

“Certainly, but it won’t be big enough for Killer Croc,” she says as a good and proper spider web slinks out and attaches to nearby light posts and buildings. The spiral pattern doesn’t extend to the radius of the web. “You’ll need to spin the rest of the web yourself.”

Bouncing off the center of the web, you start spinning the web across the intersection. The web begins to take shape, forming a large, intricate net that spans the entire intersection. Civilians look up in awe at your work.

“Spinner!”

You look over as you hop across the web to see Nightwing grappling over. “Get the civvies out of here!”

He pauses, then nods. He swings down, quickly directing people away from the intersection to safety. He enforces power into his words, arms gesturing for them to go.

“Robin and Killer Croc are approaching.”

Using the web as momentum, you launch yourself and spray a web onto the ledge from which you jumped off. Climbing up, you stare down the large hallway of the mall. Croc is running straight towards you. He hasn’t thrown Damian off yet, so that’s good.

“Come on! I’m right here!”

“What are you doing–” hisses Damian in the comms.

Killer Croc growls, charging at you. His steps are thundering, echoing in the mall.

You brace yourself, waiting for the right moment. Croc lunges forward with a roar, his massive form barreling towards you. You time your move perfectly, leaping to the side just as Croc lunges out of the window space. You grip Damian’s cape, tugging him off of Croc as he begins to fall. The web bounces up and down as he lands in the center, trapped.

You pat Damian’s shoulder before jumping off the ledge after him. More webs spray from your wrist as you restrain Crocs arms to the web. You ignore his curses and yells as you struggles against your trap. It’s no use, the web holds firm.

“Holy cow,” whistles Dick, walking over. He reaches out to poke the web, but you snatch his hand away.

“Do that and we’d have to amputate you. It’s really sticky,” you frown solemnly. You’re joking of course.

Dick pulls his hand away, holding both of them up and a surrender gesture. “Okay, okay, I won't touch it,” Dick says with a grin, clearly amused. He looks around at the chaos in the mall, where people are cautiously peeking out from hiding places or rushing to leave.

“You know, you’ve certainly made a mess,” he comments, gesturing to the shattered glass and displaced merchandise around you.

“Actually, I think I’ve done worse.”

“Guess you’re fitting right in,” Dick remarks, his tone light but approving.

“Have I earned my rite of passage?” you smirk.

“Maybe if you can survive a month without causing a city-wide panic,” he teases, flashing you a grin.

Damian lands gracefully behind you, his cape billowing dramatically behind him. He surveys the scene with a critical eye, his expression serious and focused. You can tell he eyes Croc’s trapped form before he hurries over to you.

You hear the sirens of Gotham’s police force wail closer. “Always late to the party, it seems,” you hum, pursing your lips. You groan and flex your shoulder, still tingling from your little wall slam earlier.

“I’ll take it from here,” Dick reassures as the cop cars come to a stop near the scene. “You crazy kids go.”

Damian seems to have no qualms about that, since he grabs your hand and tugs you away. You let him drag you around, swinging with him as he grapples away. You swing through the night with Damian, adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

Coming to a stop on a rooftop, Damian’s hand runs down your arm, squeezing gently. “Are you hurt?” he asks gently.

“A little bruised, but I’ll be okay.” Your arm tingles under his touch. You chalk it off as pain.

Damian’s brow furrows as he inspects your arm. “You were…”

“Awesome?”

“Reckless.”

You catch his hand in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I knew what I was doing, birdie.” He sighs, a mixture of relief and frustration evident in his voice. “I know, I know,” you reply softly, bringing his hand to your lips and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “But I’m here, and I’m fine.”

He meets your gaze, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You handled yourself well back there.” The moment lingers between you, the adrenaline of the night’s events slowly fading into a quiet calm. Damian’s thumb strokes over your hand, a silent gesture of reassurance and gratitude.

Damian holds your hand tight as he guides you home.

The next day, Spinnerette is trending.

notes: short chapter because its really just a filler but next one is gonna pop off i PROMISe

also, i hope i captured killer croc correctly? have literally never watched or read anything with him in it so im SO sorry if he is nothing like how he is supposed to be

also i straight up yoinked this scene from Spider-Man: Miles Morales, just replaced rhino with croc.

#damian wayne x reader #dc x reader #jon kent x reader #robin x reader #superboy x reader

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themourningfox · 4 months ago

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His Hated Human | Koba x F!Reader

I don't have any excuses for this. It's been bouncing around in my head for DAYS after reading so many Koba imagines, headcanons, and one-shots. I've got to get it out of my system. MINORS DNI Pairing: Koba x F!Reader Warnings: Toxic relationship, perceived one-sided affection, NSFW, 18+, possessiveness, jealousy, and all the fun things that go with that. This is NOT a love match. This is a hate match.

Summary: Koba relishes the fact he can make a human bend to his will. It feeds a part of his mind that wants to heal from his past.

Koba hated humans. Everyone knew it, including the woman who found herself in his nest every night. It wasn't the healthy relationship she had always dreamed of. A white knight rescuing her from her woes, selflessly loving her and holding her close, doting upon her every minute, long conversations that dragged through the night.

The Bonobo was anything but a white knight.

A part of her hated him, too, and she wondered if that was why she kept coming back. The knowledge there was no shared love. Only a connection that could get them through these uncertain times. A comfort, having someone to go to, someone to take their tensions out on.

It was a game. A horrible, lovely, addicting game.

She was pulled back to the beginning, the very beginning, when the tension had begun to raise its ugly, bubbled head.

"Would you...mate?" Rocket asked, dipping his head as he motioned to her with a long-fingered hand. "With...ape?"

The question should have brought heat to her cheeks. Such a bold question at that. But she had long grown accustomed to their questions, their curiosities, and their bluntness. Apes didn't share the same ideology around such...sensitive matters.

A small frown pulled her eyebrows together. Would she? She had never thought about it. Sure, there were some apes that she might consider...attractive by human standards. It was a weird part of her mind, and she wondered if it was because she'd been isolated from the rest of humanity for so long. At one point or another, her biological clock would start ticking, and the urge to create a family would grow. Many apes would make wonderful fathers, had seen it first hand, in fact. Luka, Maurice, Rocket, and Caesar would all be captivating mates.

Then why did her eyes drift to an odd-matched set of eyes, one hazed over and milky white.

She turned back to Rocket and shrugged. "I don't see why not. It could be...fun. For both parties."

The ape chuffed at that, lips forming an "O" as he nodded. "Think it would be...good. For you."

"To mate?" A sly smile curled her lips as she leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Are you offering, Rocket?"

If an ape could blush, she was sure he would. He snorted and waved her off. "No!"

Chuckling, she playfully elbowed him. Out of all the apes, Rocket was one of her favorites. They had closely bonded over the months she had spent among them.

A sharp, low growl caught her attention. Whipping her head around, it took her a moment to spot where it had come from.

Koba.

He glared at her. Lips pulled back over large, blunt canines in a snarl. Shoving his food away, he got to his feet and lumbered off, grumbling under his breath. Insults, no doubt.

Shaking her head, she turned back to Rocket with a large grin, hoping to poke more fun at him for even suggesting she mate with someone.

It wouldn't be until weeks had passed that Caesar sent her out to forage with the other female apes. They were given an escort of Luka and Koba, and Caesar gave stiff orders not to let anyone out of their sight. It truly was her intent to stay within Luka's eyesight, but when the berry-picking grew thin, she followed the bushes, sticking close to their weave as they wound down hills and around trees.

When she looked up, basket full, her eyes widened. Where was everyone? Surely they weren't far...and hopefully, they hadn't left her. Which way did she even come from? Crap.

"Luka?" she called out, cupping her hands around her mouth.

A bird scattered to the wind to her left.

The forest remained silent.

Her heart squeezed. Taking her basket with her, she scurried up the hill, keeping low to the ground. There were so many bears and other dangerous animals out here. How could she have been so stupid? It wasn't their fault she had gotten separated.

"Luka!" She yelled again, eyes flitting from section to section.

"Stupid...human." The words were low and deep, scorn dripping from the voice like beads of venom.

She was torn between relief and fear. Relief that she wasn't alone, that someone from the colony was here. Fear, because she knew that voice and hated its owner.

Turning slowly on the balls of her feet, she kept her eyes on his feet. "Koba."

He scoffed, dropping down on all fours as he took slow, measured steps in her direction.

"Where...uh, where are the others?" she asked, tucking her chin to her chest, eyes dropping to the forest floor.

"Gone...back." He spat the last word out like soggy toast. "Took too long."

Her dry tongue dragged across her lips. Swallowing, she forced a weak smile onto her face. "Then we should get going."

Spinning around, she took in a deep breath, preparing to march up the hill. God. Of all apes to be alone with!

A strong hand with a crushing grip snatched her wrist.

Her heart dropped.

"Going...so fast?" He sounded amused. The smug bastard.

Fear crept up her spine, leaving a tingling trail in its wake. "K-Koba. We should get back." He was going to kill her. He was going to kill her and leave her body for the scavengers. She was going to di--

Fur tickled the backs of her arms as he dragged her backward. A hard, broad chest pressed into her back. Hot, steamy air brushed against the nape of her neck.

He was going to bite her neck! Go for the throat and dispatch her. Tears beaded in her eyes. Let it be fast. Please, please, please.

"Why...look....at Koba?" He huffed against her ear. His thick fingers tightened around her wrist until it ached and she swore the bones were rubbing against each other.

"What?" She breathed, rapidly blinking.

"When Rocket asked about...mate. Why look...at Koba?" he hissed, jerking her roughly back against him until his chin rested on her shoulder. "Do you think...Koba...would mate with human?"

Her eyes widened. Oh my god. "No! No, Koba! I-I didn't mean anything by it-"

"Good." He shoved her forward, dropping down to all fours again.

Panic settled in her chest as she stumbled, barely catching herself before all the berries were lost to the forest floor. Spinning around, she placed a hand to her chest, trying to settle her flying heart.

Cold eyes bore holes into her skull. He scoffed, lips curling into a sneer. "Stupid human." Padding away from her, he began the climb up the hill. "Keep up."

After that, Koba went with every foraging party. If she was to go out alone, Koba went with. At meal times, he sat across from her and two apes down.

Always.

She couldn't shake him nor the feel of his fur against her skin, how his breath had felt against her neck. The moment in the forest had rocked her to the core. Why did he assume she wanted to...? With him? She knew he hated humans. He knew she knew that! Her mind couldn't find the logic in it. Maybe there was no logic to be found.

Luckily, though, there was plenty to distract her. Since her conversation with Rocket, she had been surrounded by male apes all vying for her attention. From Blue Eyes to Luka to others she didn't know as well. There was something exotic, she assumed, about claiming a human as a mate.

Tonight was no different.

The ape next to her was trying so many different things to win her affection. From a simply crafted necklace to human items he had found on an outing, he lavished her in attention and praise.

She giggled and laughed, allowing him to continue under the watchful eye of Caesar...and one other.

She couldn't help it. He was like a magnet. Her eyes constantly found a reason to look in his direction, to seek out his approval and attention. It was like there was a little parasite in her, yearning for the approval of the ape she knew would never give it to her. She blamed it on unresolved daddy issues.

For all it was worth, Koba never looked away from her. He watched, more like glared while watching the male ape try to win her over. That one milky eye twitching every so often. His lips curled back when the male would touch her for longer than necessary.

This had been going on for days. It became a game to her. Seeing how far she could take it before Koba stormed off from the table. Tonight, though, Koba didn't leave. He stayed the whole time, gaze locked onto her with such intensity she felt like she was on fire.

When the meal ended, she bid the friendly ape good night, and then began her trek to her own nest. The forest was quiet apart from the insects chirping. She smiled up at the trees, breathing in the cool night air that forever smelled of fresh pine. Maybe she would accept the ape's offer, allow herself to be taken care of by--

She was being watched.

She didn't know how she knew, but she could feel it in the middle of her back. A deep knowing, maybe some long-lost primal instinct. Ever so slowly, she turned.

Koba stood in the middle of the path, shoulders back, head tilted down. His chest heaved with each breath, puffs of crystalized breath coming from his agape mouth.

She froze. "Koba?"

His lips curled back again and a low snarl rumbled from his chest. He dropped to all fours. Something itched the back of her mind. Run. She needed to run. This wasn't good. He had finally snapped.

The muscles in his arms and shoulders rolled beneath his fur with each movement.

"Koba, you're scaring me." She took a step back.

A menacing smile split his face.

Fear won. She ran. Bolting down the path, she stumbled and tripped over rocks and twigs. A scream bubbled in her throat. Heavy panting and the sound of feet pounding into the ground followed swiftly after her. She was going to die!

"Cae--" Her cry was cut short.

A heavy body slammed into her. A hand found its way over her mouth, stifling her cry of help as they crashed to the forest floor out of sight. It was a flurry of arms and limbs, whimpers of pain and soft crying. Koba snarled and growled above her, a massive black form in the night as he fought her.

"Don't," she cried, fumbling over her words. "Pleasepleaseplease, Koba. I don't want to die!"

Strongs legs pinned hers to the forest floor. One of his hands grasped both her wrists and pinned them over her head. Hot breath poured over her face. The Bonobo laughed.

Tears rolled down her cheeks. She shut her eyes tightly, welcoming the end.

"Don't...want to kill." He brought his face close to hers, eyes glittering in the darkness. He breathed in deeply. His eyelids fluttered before he dipped his face close to her neck. His mouth rubbed over her skin, open, panting. "Fear...good. Smells...good."

She trembled beneath him, mind a whirlwind trying to process what the hell was happening. "You're...not going to kill me?"

"No." He paused. "Not yet. You let that...ape...get his scent...on you." Koba growled, and she could have sworn she felt teeth graze her neck. "Don't like it."

Silence reigned for a long time. Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke. It was just his heavy breathing filling the air, and her muffled sniffles. Eventually, he growled as if frustrated and let go of her. His warmth was immediately gone, replaced by the cool night air that felt even colder without his presence.

Cold eyes stared down at her, then he growled and stalked off into the night. What the hell had just happened?

BONUS:

He hated her. He hated that she was human, that she was weak, that she had been allowed to stay in the colony. How dare Caesar put such a...such a faulty creation within their ranks? How dare Caesar send him, Koba, to watch over the human female?

He was not some slave to just do whatever the human wanted.

What he hated more, though, was how she looked at him. Those soft, stupid eyes lingering on him as if seeking his approval, wanting him. And how dare she make him want be the only one she looked at? The only one she was allowed to look at?

Oh, he had wanted to tear that ape's face off when he laid a hand on her arm. Worse still, when he had managed to draw a laugh from her lips. He should have killed them both on the spot. He could smell the ape's scent all over her. It drove him mad. It made him want...want to sink his teeth into her neck. Pin her down, make her beg, draw out noises only for him to hear.

...no. He wanted to make her scream, so that the whole colony would know that she was his. He wanted to parade her, this human female, in front of the males. She was his and no one else's.

As Koba stalked away from the woman, leaving her to collect herself after their brief encounter, there was one thought that lingered on the forefront of his mind.

The one thing he hated most of all? How she made him feel out of control.

#pota #fanfic #planet of the apes #reader insert #no y/n #koba x reader #pota koba #koba pota #dawn of the planet of the apes #war for the planet of the apes #jealous koba #possessive koba

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g0rygutz · 1 year ago

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♱ ◞ oh my god. he fucking kidnapped you. ◟ ♱

☓﹒﹕charactersᶻ﹕→ rick prime & reader , rick sanchez c-137 x reader (mentioned)

☓﹒﹕small summeryᶻ﹕→ with me being a rick prime fictive. i feel the only good way to start is with a rick prime fic. rick prime fucking kidnaps the reader.

☓﹒﹕trigger warningsᶻ﹕→ kidnapping, drugging, mild violence

pressed up against the wall, you could hear loud footsteps from somewhere in the house. whoever was making them, it was on purpose. you had no clue who it was.. your eyes darted around, trying to come up with a plan.

spotting a wooden baseball bat laying on the floor a few feet away. you bolted towards it. wrapping your hands tightly around the handle, holding it close to yourself. practically ready to swing at the smallest noise.

the silhouette of someone began creeping down the hall. whoever it was, began to whistle. it almost sounded like.. rick? you had no clue why rick would be scaring you like this. so it couldn’t be him, right?

finally, they came around the corner. quickly swinging your bat directly at their stomach. putting as much force into it as you can. the sound of ribs practically shattering was loud. louder than you expected.

what you didn’t expect to hear next was laughter. deranged, maniacal laughter.

the person emerged fully from around the corner, somehow they seemed to be perfectly fine. standing up straight, no pain what so ever.

what you took note of next, sent shivers down your spine. he looked… similar to rick. slightly taller. very different clothes.. and much, much younger. he didn’t look over thirty.

a wide grin was on his face as he just stared down at you. grabbing the bat tightly and ripping it from your grip. tossing it off to the side and moving to grab at your arm.

you couldn’t stop him, you couldn’t tell him to let go. instead you were frozen. stuck staring right back at him.

“it’s so funny. i killed his wife to teach him a lesson. to show him nothing is forever, except for us, the infinite fucking rick. and the stupid fucker goes after you instead.”

you had… zero clue what the other was talking about. rick had mentioned his wife once or twice before and that she was.. well, gone. but never how.

given the fact he basically just admitted to killing rick’s wife, it was safe to assume that she was murdered.

was that going to be your fate? was he going to murder you to teach rick a lesson? is this really how your life was going to end?

the other seemed to notice the dread on your face.

“i don’t plan on killing you. yet. it seems just killing the people he cared about didn’t fucking work so.. we’ll try something different.”

grabbing you tightly by the forearm, he basically began to drag you towards the living room. watching closely as he pulled a small photo. it looked the be him and your rick, but younger. out of his pocket and haphazardly tossed it on the table.

turning his attention back to you, a grin on his face as he pulls something else from his pocket. shoving you down onto the couch, sitting down on you. practically straddling you.

before you could try and shove him off, he jammed a thumb into your mouth. prying it open. quickly shoving a pill in, closing your mouth, and holding it shut. using his other hand to pinch your nose shut.

“you can either swallow, or you’ll end up passing out. entirely your choice.”

attempting to struggle against him, moving your hands up to tug at his wrists… proved to be useless. he was stronger than you, much stronger.

right as the world started to spin, you finally swallowed.

at that, the rick let go of your nose and mouth. basically starting to pant like a dog, trying to catch your breath. two fingers were shoved inside your mouth.

biting down harshly on them, you could taste the blood. watching him quickly pull the fingers from your mouth, you glanced down at his hand only to tense. the wound was healing itself practically instantaneously.

the rick seemed to notice the look on your face, laughing softly as he moved himself off of you.

it was your chance to escape but.. your limbs felt so heavy. every part of your body felt heavy but— you didn’t feel tired. you had assumed he gave you some sort of sedative, but you weren’t tired.

“temporarily paralyzed. i don’t give a shit if your awake, i just don’t want you screaming your head off and trying to escape while i get you to your home. your new home.”

you wanted to protest, to keep fighting back. to keep trying to contact rick but… you couldn’t.

the rick leaned down, grabbing you with one arm and basically throwing you over his shoulder. you could hear the sound of a portal opening a few moments later along with a light green glow enveloping the room.

when you came out on the other side, the place reminded you of rick’s underground lab. a lot more high tech, the walls looked like they were metal.

you tried to force yourself to look around but nothing. you still couldn’t move. all you could do is wait as he carried you somewhere.

the sound of a buttons being pressed on a keypad caught your attention, then all of the sudden you were in some sort of glass box.

the rick set you down on what seemed to be a makeshift bed, propping you up then moving back. staring down at you.

“the paralytic should wear off in an hour or two, i have some other stuff to attend to until then but.. make yourself comfy. this will be your new home after all.”

he turned to walk back out the door before pausing.

“it’s rick prime, by the way. oh, how i can’t wait to see the look on wife guy’s face. heh.”

with that, he shut the door, leaving you inside the glass box. watching as he opened up another portal and stepped through. leaving you alone.

#rick prime #rick prime & reader #rick sanchez x reader #rick prime x reader #prime rick #rick c 137 #rick sanchez #rick c137 x reader

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makoodles · 2 years ago

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ミ tìyawn / ve’kì [nsfw]

🍓 pairing: tsu'tey x fem!human reader

🍓 word count: 12k

🍓 tags: nsfw, human/na'vi relationship, angst to fluff (kinda), jealousy, vaginal sex, tsu'tey is one seriously conflicted boy

masterlist

It’s no secret that Tsu’tey hates the Sky People.

They are demons, blind to the world around them and so utterly destructive in their natures. His planet, his home, has seen nothing but chaos and hardship ever since they have arrived.

They are small and weak, yet vicious and harmful in just about every way. He has not known true peace since their arrival.

The sky demons have no redeeming qualities. Or at least, almost no redeeming qualities.

“Fuck! Oh, god-”

“Be quiet.” Tsu’tey grunts, gripping the woven cushions that you’re bent over so hard that the skin goes taut and bloodless over his knuckles.

Honestly though, it seems as though this is your attempt at staying quiet – your eyes are squeezed shut tight and your little blunt teeth are digging into your lower lip hard. Your face is all screwed up, your breaths coming in little panting gasps as he ruts into you.

“Are you not embarrassed? So loud.” He mumbles, though his tone doesn’t match his words at all.

He really can’t manage to stir up the usual feelings of disgust he has for sky demons, not when he can see the way your little toes are curling everytime he fucks into you.

“Fuck off.” You say, but your voice is all weak and trembling.

The sound of it only intensifies that heat building in his lower belly. You’re so small underneath him, your pussy stretched to its limit and dripping all over the thick length of him. Despite the size difference, you’re taking it so easily.

It’s far from the first time that he’s had you like this, on your hands and knees beneath him as you take him so well, but he still gets such a thrill out of it. He enjoys your pathetic little noises, the whimpers and moans and mewls as you wiggle and squirm beneath him, trying to get him to hit just right.

You make a sort of little mewling noise, muffled by the floor as you turn your face into the woven reed flooring beneath you, and then he feels you tighten up like a damn vice around his cock, your cunt fluttering as you come again.

“Another one,” He notes, not bothering to hide his amusement. “Greedy.”

When he comes into you, it’s with a soft, satisfied little grunt. He has done this many times already, yet the pleasure always surprises him. He’s never felt anything as tight as you, so good that it borders on painful, and the element of illicitness only adds an additional little thrill to the whole thing.

You’re still making soft, muffled little sounds as his hips rock lazily, riding out the last tingling aftershocks of his own orgasm. He enjoys those little noises immensely, and he makes a rumbly sound of satisfaction as he plasters himself over the top of you and allows his weight to press you down into the floor entirely.

“Ow, fuck-” You mumble into the floor. “You’re fucking heavy, asshole, getoffme-”

“Quiet.” Tsu’tey mumbles, his eyes sliding shut as he attempts to enjoy the pleasant tingling feeling in his fingers and toes following his release. “You are always talking, mouth never closed.”

“You didn’t mind my mouth being open earlier.” You shoot back, attempting to throw a pitiful little glare over your shoulder.

He thinks of your mouth earlier, wide open and hot and wet as you worked your tongue over him, and smirks.

“Okay, seriously.” You grumble, a little louder this time. You reach around and shove irritably at his chest. “Get off, dickhead. Did you tear your stitches? I told you to be careful-”

Tsu’tey just grunts and rolls off you, landing on his back and stretching his spine out with a sigh. No sooner has he started to relax than you’ve sat up to peer closely at the healing wounds along his chest and stomach.

“Do not touch.” He snaps, baring his teeth at you when you prod at the ridiculous little sutures that you had insisted on threading into him weeks ago.

“You’ve been touching me for the last forty minutes.” You grumble, but you take your hands back all the same.

Tsu’tey doesn’t bother responding to that. He’s feeling pleasantly loose and relaxed, and he’s trying to enjoy that feeling for as long as possible before the weight of all his responsibilities come rushing back in.

Though you’re not touching him, he can feel your eyes on him as you examine his injuries, making sure none of them have torn open during your activities. Your concern pricks at his pride, and he grumbles lowly as you peer closer at him.

“You’re lucky you didn’t bust these,” You say.

“You would just redo them anyway.” He grunts without opening his eyes.

There’s a pause. Then you sigh.

“Yeah.” You murmur, so quiet he almost doesn’t hear. “I guess I would.”

This little… arrangement with you had started nearly two months ago. He can’t even fully remember how it had happened – you were some kind of healer, and had stayed around after the battle to help the wounded. Initially, he refused your help. He would have rather suffered the pain of his wounds than feel your little demon hands on him, but you had been practically forced upon him by Jakesully.

For the first week or so, it had been nothing but sniping back and forth with each other. At some point, his insults and your challenges had evolved into heated exchanges that ended up like this, with you on your hands and knees or on your back for him as you both search for pleasure out of each other's bodies.

After the great battle with the Sky People, most of them have been forced off the planet. The ones left are loyal to the Na’vi, or so Jakesully says. Tsu’tey is not convinced; they do not belong here, and he does not like them. Their presence aggravates him; he is still healing from the near-fatal wounds he had sustained during the battle, and he does not like having enemies around while he feels so vulnerable.

You are not an exception to this; your presence aggravates him in a way he does not know how to describe. He is not blind or ignorant enough to claim that you are not attractive, in your own demon sort of way, but that reluctant sort of attraction only infuriates him further. He thinks something may have broken inside him after his fall from the sky during the great battle, but he refuses to think too much about it.

It’s just a way of working out his frustration and you clearly enjoy these encounters. It’s not worth putting too much thought into.

Life slowly returns to normal after the majority of the Sky People leave. For weeks, the Omaticaya rebuild their home. The loss of Hometree was devastating, and the efforts to rebuild is both physically and emotionally taxing for the People.

Tsu’tey does his best to pull his weight when it comes to helping out with the construction of their new encampment, but it is made difficult by the fact that you follow him around like a pest.

“I said no heavy lifting-”

“Go away, demon.” Tsu’tey grumbles, irritated by your presence.

“Doctor’s orders.” You’ve tilted your chin up, as stubbornly obstinate as ever. “Put that down.”

“Go away.” Tsu’tey repeats, but this time he reaches out and shoves at your head. It’s not a particularly rough gesture (he doesn’t actually want to hurt you), but it’s just enough to push you off balance.

You stagger a little, but keep on following him. He doesn’t bother trying to hide his irritation – the basket he is carrying is full of building materials, but it is not particularly heavy. He resents the fact that a creature as pathetically fragile as yourself would question his strength.

And even more than that, he resents the fact that his wounds are admittedly paining him a little.

“I’m the one who’s gonna have to stitch you back up if you burst those-”

“I did not ask for your demon medicine.” Tsu’tey bares his fangs at you, growing genuinely aggravated. “I do not want it. Go and bother someone else.”

“But-”

Someone calls Tsu’tey’s name from further into the village, and he pulls his attention away from you to look towards the call. At his hip, you cross your arms and grumble as though you’re unhappy that his attention is not solely on you. You are a greedy thing, just like the rest of your people – always looking for more.

The one who has called him is Saeyla, and he has to suppress a sigh at the sight of her. She was his student once, and a talented one. She always did have much potential, but things have been very awkward between them since she had offered herself to him as a mate at the Tree of Souls. He had been harsh when he had rebuffed her, but perhaps not harsh enough if she is calling to him once more.

It is typical that she has appeared in his path while you are hovering at his hip. A Na’vi woman that he rejected, and a human woman that he frequently chooses to be intimate with. It sounds like a bad joke.

“Saeyla.” He greets, hoping that he does not sound as tired as he feels. “What do you want?”

Despite the fact that she had called out to him, Saeyla is not actually looking at him. Her eyes are fixed on you, her brow puckered in visible distaste. There is no way for Saeyla to know of the little illicit sexual relationship between you two, and yet Tsu’tey feels his shoulders tense. He does not like to think of how she would react if she were to find out.

“Go away.” Saeyla speaks, but it’s not directed at him. She bares her teeth and hisses at you, and Tsu’tey bristles despite himself.

You actually take a step back, no doubt cowed by the venom in Saeyla’s tone, but Tsu’tey grabs the back of your neck and holds you in place by his hip. The audacity of his old student irks him, and he narrows his eyes and lets his lip curl as he looks at her.

“You do not give orders.” He says sharply to Saeyla. “I have business with the demon.”

You’ve gone uncharacteristically silent by his side, and he just barely resists the urge to glance down at you. Where is all that annoying fire gone? Usually he can’t get you to shut up at all.

Saeyla is still glaring, but at least now she’s looking at Tsu’tey. “Why is she following you?”

He doesn’t have a good answer to that, so he just glares back at her. He dislikes her tone, and he is not used to being questioned.

“What do you want?” He repeats himself, an unmistakable edge creeping into his voice.

There’s a pause, and then Saeyla purses her lips and throws her hair over her shoulder. Her kuru is drawn over her chest, long and glossy – her movements are calculated to draw attention to it, in a move that is unmistakably flirtatious.

Tsu’tey’s ears flatten against his head at her boldness, uncertain what to make of this.

“I wish to speak to you.” She says, before cutting a glance towards you at his side. “Without the demon present.”

For a moment, Tsu’tey says nothing. He stands there, tail swishing uneasily, as he considers the situation. This is admittedly more uncomfortable than it should be. He had rejected Saeyla’s mating proposal harshly, and now he feels as though he has been cornered by her yet again.

Even worse, you stand at his side to remind him that he has apparently turned down the company of a fine, respectable Na’vi woman to rut with a human.

With a sigh he removes his hand from the back of your neck and instead pushes at your shoulder. “Go. Leave us.”

You pause, dithering a little, before relenting and stepping back. He does not glance down at you as you retreat, but rather keeps his eyes fixed on Saeyla, who is watching you as though she’s about to start hunting you.

Once you have retreated beyond earshot, Saeyla speaks up. “Ma’Tsu’tey. I was wondering if you have reconsidered my proposal.”

Once, Tsu’tey may have attempted to keep a neutral expression and to meet her bold requests with patience. But since the battle, since his injury, since he had started fucking you, he feels like a raw nerve, pulsing and peeled open and exposed. He feels as though he’s lost some of his control, some of the safe rigidity that had ruled his life up to now.

“I have not.” He says bluntly.

But just like always, Saeyla does not know when to stop pushing.

“I understand that you are not ready to take a mate.” She says, stepping closer to him even as he stands stiff and still. “But the battle is over, and the People are rebuilding. I am happy to be… if not a mate, then a lover-”

His eyes flare wide, surprised by her brazenness.

“Saeyla,” He bites out. “You overstep.”

“It is an offer.” She says simply, bowing her head in what would have been a gesture of deferment if not for the way she is stubbornly maintaining eye contact with him. “Just an offer.”

Tsu’tey’s upper lip lifts up in a snarl, baring his sharp upper teeth. “I do not enjoy repeating myself.”

As always, Saeyla is unapologetic. She keeps staring up at him in a way that she likely believes is seductive, but is really just uncomfortably intense.

“Consider it.” She entreats him, finally stepping back. “You are lonely, I know it. I wish to share the burden with you.”

His jaw clenches, his shoulders straightening and going rigid. He probably should consider her offer. She is a woman of the People, a warrior-hunter who has completed her iknimaya, and she is not unattractive. And yet, his entire being rejects the idea of taking her as a mate. It feels wrong in a way that he does not understand.

Without another word, Tsu’tey turns from her and marches away.

He feels restless and discomfited, his tail swishing low around his legs in annoyance as he storms back through the village. Some of the People call out greetings to him as he passes, but he is too preoccupied to reply.

“Tsu’tey,” Jakesully calls when he passes by him, “Brother, I thought you weren’t cleared for heavy lifting yet-”

“What?” Tsu’tey snaps, turning with a scowl.

Jakesully pauses, his eyebrows creeping up at Tsu’tey’s overly aggressive tone of voice. Chagrined, Tsu’tey takes a moment to breathe, forcing himself to calm down. He is being unreasonable.

“I thought our resident little nurse had ordered you not to be doing any heavy lifting.” Jakesully says slowly. “You’re bleeding a little there.”

Tsu’tey follows Jake’s pointing finger to his chest, and sees that one of the neat little stitches around one of his wounds has torn open a little bit.

“Ah,” Tsu’tey’s brow contorts in frustration. “She will be a pain about this.”

Jakesully reaches out and takes the large basket from him, still watching his face carefully. “Yeah, well, we’re lucky to have her. Most of the medical personnel went back to Earth.”

“All of the demons should have gone back.” Tsu’tey says, but he’s somewhat distracted. He’s basically just repeating old arguments, his attention preoccupied with the blood that’s trickling over his chest from where your careful stitches had torn at the skin.

Jakesully gives him a look of intense disapproval, but Tsu’tey does not quail beneath it. It is a disagreement that the two of them have had several times. Tsu’tey believes that Jake is blinded by his past as a tawtute, and that he is unfairly biased in their favour, and Jake believes that Tsu’tey is allowing his prejudice to blind him when it comes to forming alliances and friendships with the sky demons that remain here.

“What crawled up your ass today?” Jake demands, brow furrowed.

Tsu’tey nearly chokes. “I- what? Nothing is up my-”

“Why are you even grouchier than normal?” Jake interrupts his protests, still frowning. “I thought you were getting along better with her.”

“No.” Tsu’tey denies instantly, his ears pinning back defensively. “I do not like her.”

Jake’s eyes narrow, visibly unconvinced. “Right. Well, Jesus, if you’re so against having her help, go to one of the Omaticaya healers.”

It’s not an unreasonable suggestion, but Jakesully has no way of knowing that Tsu’tey goes to you for reasons other than simple medical help. There is no simple way of describing the strange sexual relationship he has with you now, not without admitting a level of vulnerability that he is uncomfortable with. His attraction to you is a shameful thing that he would prefer to indulge in without having to analyse at all.

He just grunts, brow furrowed, and doesn’t answer.

“Whatever.” Jakesully blows out a frustrated breath, clearly done with both Tsu’tey and the conversation. “Do what you want. But don’t be so damn hard on her, yeah?”

Tsu’tey just scowls at him, before turning on his heel and storming purposefully back into the village. Why is it that everyone thinks they know what he wants better than he himself does today?

Predictably, he finds you in the little outpost that has been built to house the demons that have chosen to stay close to the village.

He has to loop one of those horrible little masks around his neck when he ducks inside, taking the odd puff of air every five minutes or so as he lopes into the outpost. The ceilings are high, made to accommodate the demon avatar bodies that some of the scientists have, but he still feels claustrophobic in the confined space.

The outpost itself is quiet at this time of day – the sky demons keep busy, often attempting to offer help in the village or just wandering the forests with their stupid technology as they research.

He finds you in your usual workspace near the back, fiddling with one of the glowing pad things that the demons usually use. You don’t look up as he approaches, even though he’s sure that you hear him. You appear absorbed in your work, except when he gets close he can see that you’re just staring at the pad without actually doing anything.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, still not raising your head. “I thought you were busy.”

Tsu’tey hums, poking at one of the strange machines that line the little room you’ve been working in. All this demon technology makes him uneasy, and his ears stay pinned against the side of his head as he hovers behind you.

“These stitches have broken.” He says, reaching up to scratch at where some of the blood has begun to dry.

That finally makes you turn, though your expression is all crumpled up into a frown as you step forward to peer at his chest. Ridiculously, he feels a little guilty. You had told him to be careful so many times, after all, and now he has made more work for you. But then he pushes those little feelings of guilt down deep – he was not going to be a burden on the clan by not helping out when he should, no matter how much you begged him to be still and useless as he healed.

To his surprise, you don’t scold him. You just purse your lips and gesture to the small flat bed that you use for his medical check-ups, and he sits without complaint. He is familiar with this routine by now, but his tail curls uncomfortably as you remain silent – you haven’t even said I told you so.

You place your small hands on his chest as you lean in to inspect the wound that cuts across his left pectoral muscle, right where the stitches at the top of the cut have torn. Your expression makes it very clear that you are unhappy with what you see, and yet you still remain quiet.

Tsu’tey allows the silence to stretch as you wash your hands and gather your medical supplies, threading a small needle as you prepare to redo his suturing. Even when you actually begin to fix his stitches, the needle pricking at his skin uncomfortably, he waits for you to speak first.

It becomes clear very quickly that you’re content to do his stitches in silence. Unusual. You should have been scolding him by now, insulting him as you usually do. Then he would be able to insult you right back, and you would respond with a challenge, and then eventually the two of you would wind up in a sweating, moaning heap, as usual.

But you stay silent, your tiny hands gentle as you painstakingly work on his wounds.

Tsu’tey’s tail lashes, on edge. “You are quiet today.”

You just hum, without making any real effort to answer at all. It only makes his agitation worse. Why are you acting so strange?

When you finally finish up with his stitches, you step back and move to wash your hands, still not saying a thing. He watches you carefully, brow furrowed.

You’re wearing a small white top, but you seem to have gone without your usual breast covering – a bra, you’ve called it before. He hadn’t noticed earlier, but now that he’s looking at you he can see the way your nipples press against the thin cotton material. Despite the oddness in your demeanour, Tsu’tey can feel himself growing aroused.

Perhaps he’s been conditioned to expect pleasure from these little encounters with you, because he’s growing hard beneath his tewng. He reaches for you, his tail swishing slowly as his hand trails over your waist.

You finally look up at him, but you neatly sidestep his hand. Surprised, Tsu’tey’s ears twitch back and flatten. You’ve never avoided his touch before – if anything, you’ve always been deliciously eager for him.

“What did Saeyla want?” You ask, turning away from him to dispose of the used needle and bloody wipes.

He blinks. He’s a little taken aback by the question, so it doesn’t occur to him to lie.

“She wished to offer herself to me as a mate.” He says. “And when I denied her, she offered herself as a lover.”

A muscle in your jaw pulses, and you flick your hair back before throwing him a look over your shoulder. “And what did you say?”

He frowns. Your manner is confusing him. Are you angry at him for tearing the stitches? You have always told him that you would stitch him back up again, so he had not thought you would be mad.

He reaches out again, and again you step away. He scowls, frustrated.

“Am I not allowed to touch you?”

“What did you say to her? What was your answer?” You repeat, taking another step back as you squint at his face.

He blows out a breath, irritated. “It is not your business.”

“Not my business?” You repeat, sounding faintly disbelieving. “Not my business?”

Your eyebrows are raised and your eyes are narrowed, your mouth pressed into a firm line. Tsu’tey is not very good at reading the expressions of Sky People, but even he can tell that he’s treading a dangerous line here. You seem angry, though he can’t understand why.

“My mating prospects are a concern for the People, and the People alone.” Tsu’tey says, leaning forward to scowl at you. “It is not the business of tawtute.”

You scoff, folding your arms tight across your chest. “You seemed to enjoy making your mating prospects my business when you were fucking me after every damn check-up.”

“That was not mating.” Tsu’tey snaps. “That was…” He thinks of a phrase he has heard Jakesully use before, a human idiom that you will surely understand. “That was blowing off steam.”

You take a sharp breath. If you looked angry before, now you look furious.

“Blowing off steam?” You repeat, your voice trembling with righteous anger. “Are you fucking joking? I mean- I know that you don’t like humans, but I thought- I thought that you-”

Tsu’tey’s tail lashes, and he pushes himself up off the bed. He does not like this; you are unexpectedly angry, and he does not know what to do with the brunt of your frustration. He has argued with you before, small and petty disagreements as you snipe at each other, and it has always been resolved with you face-down and ass-up as he pounds his way into you. This argument feels different. He doubts there will be such a pleasurable end to this one.

“Do you even-” You start, your face all screwed up. “Do you even like me?”

What a loaded question. He doesn’t even know how to begin answering that – he just stares at you like a total skxawng, his brows furrowed and eyes flared wide in bewilderment. The two of you have never spoken about what it is you’re doing together, or about how either of you feel about it. If anything, Tsu’tey has been trying his damn hardest not to think about things.

“You-” He starts, floundering a little and trying to hide it. He hates appearing uncertain or vulnerable in any way. “You are… a good healer. And you are… attractive.”

You are more than attractive, really. You are so small and delicate, squishy and soft, and you heal rather than destroy like the rest of your kin. He likes that you are so concerned about him, that you care so much for his healing. Your weakness is also something that is distinctly… thrilling to him. He likes that he feels as though he can protect you, he likes that he feels so strong around you. When you’re not actively tending to his wounds, he’ll admit that his eyes trail after you more often than they should.

He doesn’t say any of that out loud. “But you are still a tawtute.”

“So it’s fine to fuck me, but nothing else, is that it?” You demand, glaring at him. “Jesus, why have you even been wasting your time with me?”

His ears pin back, confused. He had thought that you were both on the same wavelength when it came to where you stood with each other. It had never felt like a waste of time to him.

Tsu’tey hates the Sky People. Everyone knows that. You were the most bearable of all of them, and he will admit that you are enticing with the soft plushness of your body and your sweet little face, but you are still a sky demon. His attraction to you is a shame that he wrestles with constantly, only quieting when he is with you properly.

You’re breathing heavily, your chest heaving as you try to regulate yourself. “You know what? Fuck off. Go ahead and fuck Saeyla, or one of many other Na’vi women that are clearly into you. There’s no fucking reason for you to be wasting both of our time like this.”

When he doesn’t move, you bare your teeth and reach up to shove at his stomach as hard as you can. You are one of the weakest little creatures he’s ever come across, so there’s no chance of you actually managing to shift him – still though, he takes a step back as you shove at him again.

“Get out! Go away!”

Tsu’tey growls warningly, and grabs at your small hands with one of his before tugging your arms to the side so that you can’t shove at him anymore.

“Calm down.” He warns, frowning at you. “You are overreacting-”

“Oh, you asshole!” You yell, visibly furious. “Don’t tell me I’m overreacting! Just go – go find Saeyla and tell her that you accept, and don’t come around here anymore!”

Tsu’tey rumbles a growl, his lip curling at you. How do you have the audacity to tell him not to come around somewhere on his own planet when you are the interloper here?

“You do not tell me what to do-” He begins, but you’re not even listening to him.

“Go!” You shout, and this time he does as you say.

He beats a retreat out of the outpost, his tail lashing in agitation as he storms out. He doesn’t look back once, and you don’t follow after him.

For the next couple of days, Tsu’tey stews.

It is his nature to brood over things anyway, but even he can recognise that he’s particularly moody in the days following his disagreement with you. He skulks around the village and tries to help where he can, but Jakesully banishes him from the heavy-lifting. That means that Tsu’tey has even more time to sulk to himself, replaying the argument in his head and trying to figure out what the fuck had happened.

Strangely enough, he does not see you around the village at all. Not even a glimpse in the distance. It makes him uneasy.

Before the incident with Saeyla, you used to follow him around constantly, badgering him about being careful and minding his stitches. It had been irritating, but now that you’ve seemingly disappeared he finds himself hyper-conscious of your absence.

Eventually, he finds himself outside the demon outpost once more. He can’t quite believe that he’s here of his own free will, but he tells himself that it’s just because he needs his stitches checked. They look fine, but it’s better to just make sure.

But when he shoves his way inside, he’s unnerved to find that you aren’t here either. There are several tawtute around the outpost, and they look both startled and bewildered to see him here. He pays no attention to them, searching the place for any sign of you.

There’s another Sky Person in your usual work space, a male, and he looks absolutely terrified when Tsu’tey approaches.

“Oh,” The demon says, straightening up. “I- hello. Do you- you’re here for a check up?”

Tsu’tey’s lips peel back in a sneer, a harsh snarl rumbling in his chest. The tawtute shrinks back, horrified.

“Where is she?” He demands, looking around as though you might emerge from behind one of their strange machines at any moment.

The demon swallows thickly. At least he doesn’t insult Tsu’tey by pretending that he does not know who he’s talking about.

“Um… she’s not around right now.” His voice is trembling slightly, but he still gets his point across. “She said that if you came in about those stitches, that, um… well, she said to tell you that you should go to a Na’vi healer.”

Tsu’tey’s nostrils flare, and the tawtute flinches. “I want to speak to her.”

The man just shrugs, all jerky and stiff. “She’s not here, man. Sorry.”

It takes days before Tsu’tey sees you again.

He is starting to grow genuinely frustrated with your absence, and in some sense worried too, though he didn’t want to admit it. So when you finally reappear, Tsu’tey is honestly relieved.

That sense of relief doesn’t last for very long, because the next time he sees you, you aren’t alone.

Tsu’tey knows that you are a healer, of course. He knows that you must surely attend to other people. But ever since he was injured in the great battle, the only person that he’s seen you focus on is him.

Maybe that’s why it’s such a shock to finally catch sight of you tucked away in a corner of the village with your head bent over the arm of Artuk, a recently blooded male of the Omaticaya. He was a student of Tsu’tey himself, and only completed his iknimaya trials a few weeks ago.

As a young hunter, he is free to choose a mate for himself. It is utterly galling to see the way that his tail coils so close to your thigh as you inspect the cut on his arm, gently cleaning it of blood.

Artuk’s ears rotate forward as you speak to him, his eyes half-lidded as he listens closely to whatever it is that you’re saying. He looks too interested, and Tsu’tey feels his own ears pin back defensively at the sight before him.

Perhaps he is reading too much into this. You are a healer. You are healing. Artuk is probably not looking at you in that way at all – surely Tsu’tey is the only one with that specific illness that makes him feel attracted to the sky demons that tried to destroy his home. Or at least, one particular sky demon.

Still though, he ends up hovering nearby and trying to look busy as he steals glances over to where you’re standing next to Artuk. The young hunter’s arm has been carefully bandaged up by your gentle hands, but Tsu’tey notices that you’re still holding onto his arm anyway.

When you laugh at something he says, Tsu’tey’s ears flick even lower. Art’uk has never been particularly funny, so what are you laughing at?

Artuk starts to grin, looking disgustingly pleased with himself. Then, to Tsu’tey’s horror, he starts to shuffle closer to you.

And you just stand there, not making any move to edge away. If anything, you look flattered by the attention. As Tsu’tey watches, your smile turns faintly shy and you reach up to tuck some of your hair behind your ear.

You look so pretty from here, even if you are too small and weak and odd-looking. The fact that your smile is directed at Artuk is disgraceful, and it causes Tsu’tey’s teeth to gnash.

The last straw comes when Artuk’s tail moves low and begins to coil around your ankle. There is no mistaking what a move like that means, and Tsu’tey grimaces in pure shock. Art’uk is flirting with you. His intentions are unmistakable.

What the fuck? Artuk setting his sights on a sky demon is one thing, but setting his sights on you? That is something that Tsu’tey could never have predicted.

He’s moving before he even realises it. There is no plan, he’s not even thinking, and before he knows it he ends up standing in front of you and Artuk with a scowl so forceful that it’s nearly giving him a headache.

Artuk startles, his eyes blowing wide as he attempts to sit up straight. “Ma’Tsutey! I did not see you!”

Tsu’tey just glowers. The youngling is hardly even a man yet, and yet his tail is still coiled around your ankle in some pathetic attempt at asserting ownership. Where did he get the audacity? And you! You were letting him!

“What happened?” Tsu’tey asks, and his voice comes out rough with irritation. He nods pointedly towards Artuk, where his arm has been so carefully wrapped by your skilled hands.

“Oh,” Artuk’s ears twitch, a sign of embarrassment. “An accident with construction. A beam slipped and cut me.”

“A foolish mistake.” Tsu’tey snaps disdainfully.

You speak up for the first time, but you don’t look at Tsu’tey at all. Your gaze is still focused on Artuk’s arm, despite the fact that it’s already been wrapped.

“Accidents happen.” You say, before sending Artuk a sympathetic little smile. “Does it still hurt?”

“A little.” He says, and Tsu’tey snorts in contempt.

What kind of warrior snivels over such a small injury?

“Oh,” You coo sympathetically, and stroke a thumb just beneath his bandages. “Poor thing. Well, it’s clean now, so you shouldn’t be at risk of infection-”

Artuk is nodding, but Tsu’tey knows that he isn’t really listening. He’s too busy staring at your face, his eyes lingering around your strange little blunt teeth and your odd nose. Tsu’tey understands the appeal – he has studied your foreign features enough to be rather intimately familiar with them – but he finds himself resentful of Artuk’s interest. Innocent fascination would be one thing, but he can see by Artuk’s body language that his interest in you is not innocent.

“Thank you for your help.” Artuk says so earnestly that it sets Tsu’tey’s teeth on edge. “You have very gentle hands.”

Tsu’tey rolls his eyes violently, but you seem flattered by that little comment. You look down, all flustered, and smile up at Artuk from beneath your eyelashes. It’s a look that would have had Tsu’tey’s kuru tingling and his cock stiffening, if only it had been directed at him and not Artuk.

“Alright,” Tsu’tey finally says, his voice much louder than entirely necessary. “Go away, Artuk. I must speak with the tawtute.”

Your head snaps around, and you glower at him so intensely that it almost physically burns. Tsu’tey doesn’t care – it doesn’t matter that you’re glaring at him so long as he has your attention on him and not Artuk.

“I can’t imagine what you think we have to talk about.” You say sharply, sticking your nose up at him.

You’re such a prissy little thing. He has no idea why he likes it so much – he doesn’t think he’s ever enjoyed that in a woman before.

“I think we have lots to talk about, little thing.” He rumbles, and watches the way your lips purse.

He is not blind. He sees the way your eyes dart over the muscles of his chest and down over his waist and hips, before quickly darting away towards safer territory. Unfortunately, it seems as though you’ve decided that safer territory means towards Artuk.

Tsu’tey bristles, frustrated that your attention keeps straying. He’s never had an issue keeping your attention before. If anything, he’s always found it difficult to escape your fussing. That he is being denied your attention now is making his skin itch.

“I’ll check on this later, alright?” You say, smiling at Artuk once more before straightening your little tank top and stepping back.

Tsu’tey relaxes slightly as space grows between the two of you, though he keeps darting his gaze between you and the young hunter. Artuk’s tail coyly slips away from your ankle, though it drags painstakingly slowly across your skin as it does so. Tsu’tey just barely manages to resist the urge to grab it and tear it away from you entirely.

“Yes. Thank you again.” Artuk says, his ears lowering in supplication. “Will you have dinner in the village this evening? I will see you then?”

“I’m not sure yet.” You say, a little awkwardly. “We’ll see.”

Artuk takes that in stride, and he gives you one last smile before leaving you alone with Tsu’tey. He doesn’t even spare Tsu’tey a glance as he walks away, and Tsu’tey is struck by his boldness once more. He certainly hasn’t always been this confident; Tsu’tey remembers him as a weedy youngling who cried from frustration when he found himself unable to hit the target during training.

Now that it is just you and Tsu’tey, it seems as though you’re absolutely determined to ignore him. You drop your attention to the little medical kit that you carry around everywhere, packing away the disinfectant and the bandages that you’ve been using.

“What was that?” Tsu’tey demands, ducking his head down towards you so that he can speak to you with an illusion of privacy. “You say you will check on that small scratch of Artuk’s, and yet you have not looked at my stitches for many days now.”

“You’ve told me hundreds of times by now that you think human medicine isn’t worth shit and that you don’t want it anywhere near you-”

“You have never listened to me before.” Tsu’tey snaps back, aggravated. “Why are you listening now?”

“Tsu’tey, go away.” You grit out without looking at him. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“So you would speak to Artuk instead?” He asks, frowning as he shuffles closer.

You turn and scowl up at him once more, and Tsu’tey feels something within him ease at having your attention on him again.

“Artuk actually wants to speak to me.” You say sharply. “Unlike you. Why are you here?”

“I am here because I do want to speak to you.” He points out in frustration. “You have been avoiding me.”

“Yes, obviously.” You sling your little pack of supplies over your shoulder, clearly preparing to leave. “I can’t imagine why that would bother you. You have made your opinion on me perfectly clear-”

“Well, I obviously have not made it clear if you are avoiding me.” He reaches to stop you from leaving, but stops short of actually touching you. “Stop. I wish to talk.”

“Fine.” Your small hands are clenched into fists. “Talk then. Tell me exactly what you think of me.”

For a moment, Tsu’tey just stands there. You’re watching him expectantly, your hands on your hips, and your brows are drawn together challengingly. It’s almost comical to see a small thing like you act so defiantly, but Tsu’tey feels warmth curl in his belly at the sight. It’s sweet.

“Come back to my kelku.” He blurts. It’s not quite what he had meant to say, but the words are already out and he can’t take them back.

You scoff. “No. Jesus, all you do is think with your fucking dick-”

“Not for that.” He says hastily, ears lowering. “Just for talking.”

You're still scowling, your arms coming up to cross defensively over your chest. You don’t appear too convinced by him, but he is not willing to give up just yet.

“Let us go to the tawtute outpost instead, then.” He offers. “Just to talk. That is all.”

Slowly, so slowly, you start to relent. Your shoulders lower and your arms drop, but you keep scowling.

When Tsu’tey sees you start to give in, he seizes on it. “Ten minutes. Just ten minutes.”

He’s pleading like a moron, his dignity lying in tatters around his feet. It’s a little mortifying to have to beg a demon just for the chance to plead his case, but he stands firm anyway – he may as well commit fully, after all.

You sigh, and reach up to rub at the back of your neck. You look tired, and he feels guilt creeping into his stomach.

“Ten minutes.” You say firmly, before turning on your heel and marching away.

Tsu’tey wastes no time in following you. Usually, it is him leading the way with you following along at his heels, so for him to be following behind you like this is a novelty. He finds his eyes glued to your back as he walks after you, careful to take smaller steps so that he can stay behind you.

He lets his gaze travel down your back and over the curve of your waist and the swell of your hips. It’s not often that he gets a chance to look like this – he’s usually trying too hard to pretend that he’s not aware of you at all. Now, he allows himself to appreciate the view as your steps cause your hips to sway.

The two of you have just reached the edge of the village when there’s a call of Tsu’tey’s name.

He’s fully prepared to ignore it, but then you pause from where you’re marching ahead of him and turn your head to look back in the direction of the village.

It is Saeyla again, he knows without even looking. He sighs as he follows your lead in pausing and looking towards her.

Saeyla has taken a step towards the two of you, her eyes narrowed and resentful as her gaze falls on you.

“Go away, Saeyla,” Tsu’tey calls, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I do not have time today.”

He places his hand just in between your shoulderblades and pushes, just hard enough to get you walking again. You half-stagger, glancing from Tsu’tey to Saeyla and then back again, before lurching forward.

“Are you not going to talk to-” You sound a little sour and Tsu’tey has no doubt that you’re planning some snappy little comment, but he has no intention of letting you finish.

“No,” He interrupts, still pushing you on. “I am not going to talk to her, vrrtep.”

That seems to mollify you, and you keep taking your somewhat clumsy steps into the forest, leading the way through the trees towards the outpost. Your journey together is quiet – you are still stubbornly avoiding talking to him, and he is reluctant to push his luck by attempting to draw you into conversation.

It is a relief when the shoddy eyesore of a building looms up from the forest, and Tsu’tey speeds up without conscious thought. You let out a soft sound of complaint, but allow him to guide you into moving faster all the same.

When he follows you into the outpost building, he finds that it is far busier than the last time he was here. The sight of all the sky demons chatting and laughing and working irritates him, and he glares as he straightens up, his shoulders drawing back.

“Get out!” He delivers the order in the same harsh tone he usually uses when he is training the young hunters, and he finds it gratifying when he’s met with a frantic burst of movement.

“You are so goddamn rude.” You grit out, clearly irritated with him, but you just push further into the outpost as the other humans begin to file out.

He doesn’t particularly care for manners when it comes to interacting with tawtute, but you had looked at him so reproachfully that he hesitates to snap at them again. He just follows you towards the little medical bay you work from, looming over the scientists and glowering at them to get them moving out of the building a little quicker.

You lead him into the small medical room and as the doors whoosh shut behind him, you lean against one of the work counters and cross your arms as you watch him. Your regard is weighty for such a small creature, and he finds himself puffing up his chest and rolling his shoulders under your gaze.

“Go on then.” You say, eyes narrowing. “Explain.”

There’s a challenging bite to your voice that has his tail curling. He is getting excited, and he hopes that you don’t notice. He imagines that you will only get angrier at him, but he can’t help it – there’s something about the jagged edges of your anger that is impossibly enticing.

“I told Saeyla no,” Tsu’tey says, and watches you very carefully for your reaction. “I told her no about mating, and I told her no about taking her as a lover. Just as I have told her before.”

Your expression wobbles, but you manage to keep up the veneer of calm aloofness remarkably well. “Am I supposed to care about this?”

Tsu’tey steps towards you, and is pleased when you don’t step away from him. He ducks his head, just slightly, so that he’s closer to eye-level with you.

“Yes,” He murmurs. “I think you do care.”

Your jaw clenches, and he realises that you’re beginning to get defensive. He tilts his head in supplication, attempting to appear non-confrontational – he will need to be careful or you will grow too angry to listen to him.

“I do like you,” He says. “You asked me before. The answer is yes, I do like you.”

You sigh, then reach up to rub at your face in frustration. It is rare that he gets access to your face like this; your face always appears so impossibly distant to him, all locked behind the awful plastic bubble of your mask, and he watches with ill-disguised interest as you press your fingers into your eyelids.

“Are you only telling me this because I was talking to Artuk?” You demand, your eyes squeezing shut in frustration.

Tsu’tey shifts on his feet. He feels as though it would probably be unwise to answer that question, but he wants to be truthful with you.

“I have been thinking these few days.” He says, frowning. “But I did not like seeing him with you. He should not make advances on you like that.”

You laugh, but you most certainly do not sound amused.

“Why not?” You demand, stepping towards him. “He doesn’t mind that I’m human.”

Tsu’tey’s ears twitch, his mouth pursing. “Is today the first time he spoke with you?”

You scoff again, turning your face away from him. At first he thinks that you are so frustrated with him that you can hardly bear to look him in the eye, but then he sees that your mouth is pursed and your eyes are shifty – you are embarrassed.

“No.” You say, clearing your throat. “It isn’t.”

Tsu’tey inhales sharply. This does not please him at all.

“He’s friendly,” Your arms tighten across your chest defensively. “And he treats me like a person rather than a demon.” After that jab you pause, but then keep going as though the confession just spills out of you. “He… he’s hurt himself a couple of times over the last few weeks. He brings me fruit when he comes to get fixed up.”

That is a revelation that leaves Tsu’tey reeling. There is no reason that Artuk could not find a Na’vi healer in the clan to fix him up – and why was a hunter who had completed his iknimaya and was recognised as a man in the eyes of the People getting injured so often, anyway? And bringing you fruit? That, in conjunction with how his tail had curled so boldly around your little ankles, was undoubtedly a mating display.

And this has been going on for weeks? Tsu’tey has been fucking you for months, at least two, which means that surely Artuk has smelled his scent on you. That means that he has chosen to challenge Tsu’tey’s claim to you anyway, a fact that has Tsu’tey bristling. Not that his claim is obvious, admittedly. He should have noticed, should have done something about this.

To realise that his old student has been seeking you out like this is utterly galling. He feels a little ill at the thought of you accepting Artuk’s offering of fruit, of you smiling at him as you patch up his wounds, of you allowing Artuk to touch you.

Tsu’tey steps forward without thinking, reaching for your waist. This time, you don’t back away from him. His stomach leaps a little bit in mingled excitement and relief, and he lowers himself to his knees as both his hands cup you by the waist. It chafes at his dignity a little, to kneel before a sky demon like this, but when your eyes settle on his face he feels something in him ease.

Your eyes dart down to his hands, so large where they wrap around your torso, before darting quickly back up to his face.

“You only have ten minutes.” You remind him, raising your chin. “And you haven’t done much talking.”

Bossy, he thinks, amused despite himself. He has never been very good at talking, but he’s determined to do the best he can.

“I do not like Artuk talking to you.” He says, his fingers curling into the soft material of your clothes. “I do not like him bringing you fruit. I do not like that he is attempting to offer himself to you as a mate-”

“Oh, that isn’t what he’s doing.” You roll your eyes, but Tsu’tey ignores you.

If Artuk was brave enough to be so damn unapologetic about his desire for you, then Tsu’tey should be too. It might be shameful to desire a tawtute, but it would be even more shameful to have the tawtute he desired stolen away by another.

“I enjoy your softness, I like your small hands, I like that you care so much about the wellbeing of other people,” He starts, his tail lashing. “I like that you are small and bold. I like it when you get angry. I like the noises you make when you open up around my cock-”

You let out a noise of pure mortification, your hands jumping up to grab at his wrists where he’s holding you.

“Oh, stop!” You hiss, clearly flustered. “Where is this coming from? I thought we were just blowing off steam. If you want a lover, go to Saeyla-”

Tsu’tey cuts you off with a frustrated snarl, his fingers tightening around your little hips.

“You are angry at me for something that I have not done.” He points out, clicking his tongue. “I have rejected Saeyla, I have rejected Txisma, I have rejected Ninat. Can you not see? You are the only one I have had.”

Your forehead is all wrinkled as you frown. You seem confused, and he can’t blame you – his feelings have been confusing him, too.

“Do you-” He starts to ask, insecurity rising up in his throat like bile and gripping him tight. “Do you like me?”

“Ugh!” You throw your hands up, narrowly avoiding knocking him upside the head. “You’re so stupid! “

His ears pin back and his lips press tight together, but he does not argue. He is still waiting for you to answer the question, and it seems as though you’re just working yourself up.

“Of course I fucking like you!” You snap. Tsu’tey doesn’t even have time to feel pleased about that before you continue. “Do you have any idea how humiliating all this has been? I didn’t even really care that you were being a total asshole the whole time we were hooking up because at least you were noticing me. I understood why you called me a demon, I understood why you talked all that shit about humans. I still do undertand! We’ve been awful! But I thought that maybe you were getting over it, since you were coming to find me damn near every day just to fuck. I thought that maybe you might like me-”

“I do like you.” Tsu’tey says quickly, but you actually hiss at him.

“Shut up!” You snap. “I’m not finished!”

You have no fangs, so you should be utterly unintimidating, but he finds his ears flattening as he sits back on his knees, falling silent. It probably shouldn’t be attractive, seeing you like this. He attempts to stifle his reaction the best that he can in the hopes that you won’t notice the way he is shifting.

“You’re rude, and grumpy, and sometimes talking to you is like trying to talk to a brick wall!” You continue, your little face all contorted in frustration. “You think you know best, even when you don’t, and you won’t listen to my goddamned medical advice even when it will fucking help you! And I’ve had to redo those stupid stitches of yours at least a dozen times-!”

Tsu’tey’s own brows are furrowed now. Are you confessing that you like him, or are you just going to list out all of his faults?

“And yeah, I like you anyway.” You sigh, rubbing at your face. “God knows why. Maybe it’s your nice face, or stupid sexy body.”

Ah. A compliment. Tsu’tey tosses his braids back and smiles smugly. So you do like him. Excellent.

“I am sorry that I upset you.” Tsu’tey says, his voice low in the intimate quiet of the room. “I have been… confused. But I know that I want you.”

“Like, actually want me?” You ask, one of your eyebrows cocked in challenge. “Or do you mean you just want to fuck me?”

“No, I mean-” Tsu’tey takes a breath, confused but determined. “Fully. I want you fully.”

Your expression falters, and you bite your lip hard in an effort to conceal your feelings. “Oh yeah? Even if I’m just a human? Are you willing to defend your choice to the rest of the clan?”

“Yes.” He breathes. “I… I think so.”

Your face collapses into a scowl, and he realises almost immediately that he has made a mistake.

“Well,” You say; your tone is so faux-sweet that it’s almost sickening. “Why don’t you just come back when you're certain, then?”

You reach down and knock his hands off your waist, then turn from him and begin to march towards the door. The sight of you trying to leave sends his stomach plummeting to his feet. Has he lost his chance? Is his ten minutes up? Panicked, he lunges forward and grabs at your little hands.

“Wait.”

He is still on his knees, which makes it difficult to shuffle after you, but he still manages to lightly tug you back to him. You yelp, reaching up to plant your hands against his chest in an effort to keep your balance.

“I want you,” He says urgently. “I am certain.”

You pause, your breathing coming heavier as you stare at him. He can see the whites of your eyes as you watch him in what looks like disbelief.

“What if you want to take a mate later?” You demand, eyes narrowing. “What if you decide that I’m not enough, or that you want a Na’vi mate-”

“You are it.” He interrupts, hoping that his tone conveys just how earnest he is being about this. “Demon or not, I… it is you that I want. Just you.”

He’s not expecting you to lurch towards him, your little hands reaching up to grab at his face. When you press your soft little lips to his in a kiss, his hands find purchase on your hips and he uses his grip there to haul you closer.

"Sweet little demon," He breathes against your mouth, "Please, just- let me-"

"Yes," You gasp into the kiss as you reach up to tangle your hands in his hair, desperate to make the kiss last. "Yes, alright-"

When Tsu’tey’s hands slip down your back and over the curve of your ass, it sends a visceral jolt up your spine. He lets out a soft grunt, and squeezes at the pliable flesh there as you kiss him fiercely. He doesn't know how you’re able to do this, to make every small contact feel so unbelievably good. He swears that even your chastest touches make his head swim.

The hand that he had on your ass slips around to your front, where he plucks at the waistband of your stupid leg coverings.

“Remove.” He groans out, his voice rough and gritty with arousal.

You do as he says eagerly, pawing at the button closure before shoving your pants roughly down over your thighs. You are so sweet and insistent, and you keep kissing him with unrelenting heat as you push your trousers off. He unclasps his own tewng and tosses it aside before his hands return to your body.

His hands roam over the soft material of your top, landing just over your squishy breasts. You are not wearing a bra again today, and he delights in the feeling of them in his palms through your top. You are so much smaller than him that your breasts fit neatly in his hand, and he marvels at the sight.

“Fuck,” You whimper as his thumb brushes over one of your firmed up nipples. “Oh, fuck, please.”

His fingers curl into the fabric covering your tits, and he tugs at it lightly. “Remove.”

You start to wrestle your way out of your top, and Tsu’tey feels a little thrill at how easily you are obeying him right now. As soon as your top is removed and your breasts are bare, his hands coast down over your ass. His hands squeeze lightly over the squidge there, and then he uses his grip on you to haul you up into his arms.

You squeal a little in surprise, before you dissolve into laughter as he holds you against his chest and nuzzles into the base of your throat. Tsu’tey breaks out into a wild grin at your reaction, unrestrained and thrilled – your laughter is an unspeakable relief after being on the receiving end of your ire for so long.

You’ve barely stopped kissing him once, your little hands cupping his face and keeping him firmly in place as you nip at his mouth. The wet heat of your tongue against his has his head spinning as though he had drunk too much of the fermented nectar the clan makes for celebrations.

When one of his hands slips into the flimsy cotton of your panties, he takes a sharp breath when his fingers find the slick heat between your legs. Oh, you’re so wet, all sticky and slippery as the pads of his fingers ghost over your swollen little clit.

You moan, your hips jerking, and Tsu’tey grins into the kiss, sharp teeth bared. It seems as though you want him as badly as he wants you.

His fingers press into at the same moment as he ducks his head down and bites at your throat, and you wheeze as your back arches. Your hips are chasing his hand, rutting up and trying to get him where you want him. It’s cute, and he suckles at your neck as you shiver against him.

“Tsu’tey,” You breathe, your hands winding into his hair. “Tsu’tey, please-”

He is almost unbearably hard, but he can’t bring himself to tear his hands away from you in order to take care of himself. He just grunts, and allows his thumb to roll over your clit as you gasp a tremulous little breath.

"Tsu’tey," You complain, beginning to writhe around his hand. "Will you- can you just-"

When he just chuckles at your tone you huff and reach down, grabbing a hold of the hand he’s got between your thighs and rutting your wet pussy against his fingers.

“Yes,” You breathe, your eyelids fluttering dazedly as your head tilts back. “Like that.”

Tsu’tey watches with an open mouth as you grind against his hand, sucking his fingers in deeper as you rut your clit up against his thumb. Heat flares through his nerve endings at the sight alone, and he ducks his head down and laves his tongue over one of your breasts.

You cry out, pressing closer, and he takes the hint to keep going. He suckles at your firm nipple, enjoying the way that your breath stutters as you absolutely soak the hand between your legs.

“Fuck!” You sob, but then you bite your lip hard to stifle any more sounds as he rolls his thumb insistently over your clit.

Tsu’tey breaks away from your chest, his mouth leaving a string of drool connected to the breast he had been sucking at. He frowns at the sight of you biting your lip to stay quiet.

“Let me hear you.” He says, and the gravel in his voice surprises even him.

“No,” You grumble, though you’re breathless. “You always say I’m too loud. Mouth never closed, remember?”

Damn. He curses his past self for sabotaging him like this.

“I was a skxawng. You must not listen to me.” He murmurs, kissing your breast before licking over your nipple. “I like it. Let me hear.”

The next time his thumb rolls over your clit, you let out a soft, breathless moan. The sound hits him like a punch to the gut and goes straight to his cock.

He feels a little bit feral as he takes a hold of your hips and lifts you, walking quickly to the large medical cot in the corner of the room.

The medical bed was built to withstand the weight of avatar bodies, yet when Tsu’tey lands heavily on it with you in his arms it judders unsteadily beneath him. You let out a small noise of concern, grabbing at his biceps for stability as he clambers atop you, settling between your legs and looping your thighs around his waist.

His fingers return to your cunt instantly, and his chest rumbles in a satisfied purr when your little cunt swallows them inside with ease. Your hips buck up to meet his thrusting fingers, it seems without conscious thought on your part. You’re absolutely soaking, and your pussy makes obscene, wet noises with every plunge and retreat of his fingers as you pant.

Your obvious pleasure and the feel, sound and smell of your sex ratchets up Tsu’tey’s own excitement. He finds himself rock hard just thinking about how good it’s going to feel to have your soft, slick body envelop his cock, and he moans against your breast.

“Okay,” You breathe, spreading your thighs further as he settles into the cradle between your leg. “Come on, fuck me.”

You’re such a pushy little thing. It’s taking every ounce of strength in him not to flip you onto your stomach and just pound you senseless, but he’s trying to prove himself to you here. He will make you feel good, but he will do it carefully.

“Yes, little thing,” He breathes, his cock hard and unyielding as it rubs against the folds of your sex. “Alright.”

He grips the base of his cock, grunting with the effort it takes to hold himself back. He pushes his hips forward, the tip of his cock dragging against you as he grinds lazily in between your thighs.

When he does finally begin to push in, he does it painfully slowly. Your brow puckers, your lower lip sucked in between your teeth as you inhale sharply and whine. He watches your reactions with avid interest, his eyes tracing over your face as he pushes into you. He thinks you look beautiful like this. You are soft and strange and small, but your features please him just as your bossy little attitude does.

“Relax, vrrtep,” He murmurs, nosing at your sweat-slick temple. “Or I will not fit.”

“Just- do it-” You’re trying to hump your hips onto his cock like a damn little brat, and it nearly makes him laugh out loud.

He knows you can take it – he’s had you before when you were less prepared, and he’s not sure why it feels so different this time.

He eases his pelvis back, and then pushes forward all at once until he’s halfway inside. You shriek, clawing at his strong shoulders, and he stills for a moment to let you adjust.

You whine, breathy and wanting, as Tsu’tey lowers his chest so that he’s pressed tight against you with your breasts all squished up against him. Like this, he can feel the frantic flutters of your heartbeat against him, and his own heart thumping rhythmically as if to mellow yours out. He purrs, chest rumbling soothingly as he slides deeper.

Your eyes are squeezed shut as you gasp, and Tsu’tey’s purring takes on an edge.

“I want you to look at me when I claim you.” He says, his lips dragging over the base of your throat.

“Stupid,” You gasp, your nails biting into his back. “As if it could be anyone else.”

"I want you to watch," He clarifies, nipping at your collarbone. "After this, your cunt will know no other than me."

“Jesus fuck-”

He hunches over you until you’re engulfed beneath him – you’re so tiny, and he’s never felt like such a mighty warrior as he does right now, with you safe and caged in by his own body.

With a grunt, he begins to rut into you properly. You fit around him like a vice, so tight that it feels as though you’re trying to actually squeeze his cock right off. The wet heat of you steals his breath away, and he moans senselessly into your throat. He feels lightheaded with pleasure, and clutches mindlessly at the soft flesh of your ass.

You scrabble at his chest, and he blinks in bewilderment as you grab at the breathing mask looped around his neck and bring it to his mouth. He takes a deep breath and some of that lightheadedness fades, but he still feels positively dizzy.

He looks down, and feels his brain practically blank at the sight of your pussy stretched taut around his cock, swollen and shining wet as he fucks into the hot cradle between your legs. You take him so well, entirely at his mercy as he lifts your ass up so that he can push into you at an angle, your legs locking tight around his narrow hips.

You reach up and fist his braids in your hand, and he snarls like a beast. Has this always felt so good? Or does his body recognise that his mind has finally opened up, accepting you as a potential mate?

His strokes steadily became long and powerful, angled just the way that you usually like. You reach above your head and clasp the steel bars of the medical bed to hold yourself steady, and Tsu’tey’s eyes drop eagerly to your chest as your breasts bounce.

“Lovely,” He mutters drunkenly, bowing his head to suck a bruise into the top of your breast. “Yuey, ma’tawtute.”

The noises that you’re making have his head spinning. How could he have ever shushed you? He was a bigger fool than he can even fully comprehend.

He grips your ass and pulls you up closer, your thighs squeezing tight around his hips. You whine, then choke, then go silent as he strokes into you as fiercely as he dares without hurting you.

“Do not go quiet on me now, mate.” He croons, one hand pawing between your legs in search of the swollen bead of your clit. “Let me hear you.”

He isn’t going to last long in the agonisingly tight heat of you, but it’s so terribly important that you come first. It is a matter of pride, of dignity, of his honour as a man – he needs you to know that it is a priority for him to please you.

“Oh, fuck.” You practically wail it, the word all drawn out and slightly slurred as your head tosses back. “Keep- keep touching me like that, please!”

Tsu’tey does as you ask, his fingers rolling insistently against your clit, so soft and swollen from your arousal. Your back arches and your cunt clamps down on him, and he damn near blacks out from the sheer overload of sensation.

“Oh, yes,” You pant, eyes wide and mouth open. “Tsu’tey, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna-”

“Yes,” He says eagerly, a purr ripping through his chest. “Yes, let me see your pleasure. Give it to me.”

It seems to wash over you like a wave, your eyes rolling back as your head tips against the bed, your fingers scrabbling across his back. Your walls tighten around his cock in pulsing waves, and you let out a soft keening that sounds like a garbled version of his name.

You’re a mess, all sweaty hair and glowing skin and limp limbs as your orgasm rocks through you. You look beautiful, and Tsu’tey doesn’t allow himself to blink the entire time you’re coming.

Your climax marks the end of Tsu’tey’s control, and he lets himself go. His head drops to your shoulder and then he’s running on pure instinct and biting. His teeth are sharp and pierce your soft skin easily, without the need for any real force. He drives into you, breathing heavily, grunting as he thrusts harder and faster, letting the world fall away until he’s aware of nothing else but the singular sensation of fucking you, of knowing you’re his, of keeping you safe, only you, his and his alone.

With that thought, he comes suddenly – harder and faster than he’d intended – and the shock of it ripples down his spine like an electric current, sparking in his blood and seeping into his veins. He moans around your shoulder as he spends himself inside of you, feeling his release fill you and overflow, dripping out of the tight space already stuffed so full.

For a long moment, the only sound in your little cramped office is the sound of the two of you panting for breath. It doesn’t occur to Tsu’tey to breathe from the mask again until you start fumbling for it, but he releases your shoulder from his mouth and takes a deep inhale when you press it to his face. His tail waves lazily at the gesture – you’re such a caring little thing.

Just like all of the previous sexual dalliances between the two of you, Tsu’tey goes entirely boneless after his orgasm. He doesn’t even bother to pull out of you, just enjoying the feeling of intimacy as he goes lax over you, ensuring that his body weight is rolled slightly to the side so that he doesn’t crush you.

“Okay?” He manages to ask, still feeling a little as though his brain has been liquefied.

You pant out a breathless laugh. “Oh yeah. I’m so okay.”

Tsu’tey hums as he nuzzles your jaw, the side of your neck. When you raise your hand and run them through the braids at his scalp, his eyes flutter shut instantly. Your small fingers scratch lightly at his scalp, and he lets out a purr so loud it nearly shocks him. How could Saeyla have ever thought she could compare with this? It feels so right, and he curls himself around you with another quiet purr thrumming in his chest.

You let out a soft noise, and Tsu’tey raises his head so that he can look at the bite mark he’s left on your shoulder. It’s bleeding lightly and sluggishly, and he runs a thumb lazily over the indentation of his teeth, smearing some of the blood over your skin. The sight of his mark on you, his claim on you, has his spent cock pulsing tiredly inside of you.

“Are you hurt, small one?” He wonders. He can’t quite drum up any guilt over marking you this way, but that doesn’t mean that he wants you to feel pain.

You just scoff, your head tilted back towards the ceiling as you breathe. “It stings, but it’s fine. You’re a real asshole, you know that? What the fuck was that? You’ve never bitten me before!”

“Of course not,” Tsu’tey mumbles, laving his tongue over his own teeth marks on your shoulder. “I have not claimed you properly before. It was important to fix that.”

You exhale at that, a breathy little laugh. “Oh, claiming, huh? Why didn’t you tell me? Next time, I’ll give you a big nasty bite too.”

Tsu’tey’s tail curls, his ears twitching in excitement. Do you mean that? You wish to claim him too, in the way of his People? How would it feel to sport your mark on him, made by your blunt little teeth? He would wear it with pride, he thinks. He can imagine your smug little face at the sight of Saeyla noticing, and he barely stifles a quiet snigger in your hair.

“Next time, tìyawn.” He promises you, hardly able to contain his own excitement at the idea.

You just yawn, blissfully unaware of the way that his thoughts are racing, and turn your face into his chest. “I feel like I want to sleep for a hundred years.”

Tsu’tey chuckles, his hands drifting low over your back. His fingers pet absently over the base of your spine, fascinated by the lack of tail there.

“You must sleep later, vrrtep.” He murmurs, before nipping lightly at your other shoulder that doesn’t have his bite. “Come. Let us go and get food.”

That catches your attention, and you squint up at him through disbelieving eyes.

“Now?”

“Yes.” Tsu’tey says simply, his tail lashing. “Artuk is waiting to see you there.”

He nuzzles into his mating bite on your shoulder, and feels you sigh under him. There is no possibility of you misunderstanding what he means, what he wants Artuk to see.

“You’re such an asshole.” You say yet again, but this time Tsu’tey’s ears twitch at the unmistakable fondness in your voice. “A possessive asshole, apparently.”

He doesn’t bother trying to deny that. He is a possessive man, and always has been. There are very few things in life that he has to call his own, and he is fiercely protective of them. Now, that stretches to include you.

It’s no secret that Tsu’tey hates the Sky People. But he’s willing to admit that you just might be an exception to that.

#tsu'tey #tsu'tey x reader #tsu'tey fic #avatar way of water #avatar x reader #avatar 2 #na'vi x reader #na'vi x human #terato #alien x human #avatar 2009 #awow

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shatterinseconds · 13 days ago

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“You’re a mess, darling.” Lance smiles up at him, a big toothy smile that Keith has always loved to see especially when directed towards him, even if he refuses to show it.

“That should be my line to you.” Keith chuckles through the worry lodged inside his throat. The little light that spills into the cave does a good job of disguising the terrible state Lance is currently in. Keith sits on his heels beside Lance laying flat on the rocky ground. He works quietly to staunch the bleeding on Lance’s right side.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Lance winces when Keith presses too hard. “Nah, you’d never use pet names, and I–I always look flawless.”

Keith hums his response, rifling through their emergency pack for medical supplies. He peels off the sterile packaging and slaps the thick bandage over the ugly wound. It’s not his best work but Lance is stable for now.

“Keith, I need to tell—”

“Hey, you’re going to be okay.” Keith snaps his head up, immediately interrupting Lance’s train of thought and doesn’t feel bad about it. To soothe him, he brushes the hair plastered to Lance’s forehead. Blood crusts parts of his hair from a head wound from earlier in the battle, but the main problem is the nasty stab wound from a jagged pipe the Galra soldier improvised with when Lance had shot the Galra’s blaster hand and Keith was too far to stop it all from happening. “It’s not a fatal injury. The team’s arriving soon.”

Those two facts are the only things that have stopped Keith’s mind from running into a free fall of worry and anxiety. The injury will leave a scar but Lance will be alive to bear it, and in the end, that is the most important part.

Lance nods, a little more clear headed though his eyes squeeze closed when he shifts his body. “No, I know,” he replies, starting to become breathless though his pulse has not weakened. “I still… I still need to say it.”

“What if I don’t want you to say it now? What if I’d rather hear you say it once you’re all healed and healthy and able to annoy the shit out of me?”

“Why’re you so certain you know what I’m going to say?” Lance turns his head to properly glare at Keith. Irritation pinches his mouth. “I could be confessing that my favorite color has been orange this entire time. I’ve been fooling you all.”

Keith shakes his head as he allows his hand to fall from Lance’s warm forehead and traces down to his jawline, wiping off some of the dirt sticking to his sweaty skin. “‘Cause I know you and I know myself, and I’ve a feeling our secrets are not so different from one another’s.”

“Someone’s feeling confident,” Lance scoffs when he turns away to stare more at the cave ceiling. A smirk slides onto his face and Keith, probably with the help of latent Galra genes, is able to see that as clear as day. “Maybe I shouldn’t say it at all if you already know.”

“Mm, don’t be stubborn.” He checks Lance’s pulse for the nth time; his fingers linger against his neck, pleased by the sure sign of life.

“That’s your best quality not mine,” Lance mutters and Keith snorts before trying to appease him. He is injured after all. Keith should probably stop trying to have so much fun at his expense. But it's also the only way he’s going to get through this with his sanity intact and not think about Lance injured and future injuries that might not be so survivable. Keith leans over him to make sure Lance doesn’t miss a single thing he’s about to say.

“If you promise not to forget this moment, you can tell me the minute you step out of the healing pod, alright?”

Suddenly, Lance sits up, biting his lower lip against a yelp of pain, and Keith tries to push him back to the ground, but Lance shoves off his help. He glares at Keith, dark eyes shining in the dark, as he says, “I never forget anything when it comes to you.”

That admission stuns Keith for a moment, immediately recalling another similar situation of injury and confessions, and he starts to grin, one of the sardonic variety. “Good, I’m glad we’ve discovered what a big liar you are.”

Lance still has the strength to roll his eyes. “I’m gonna say it and you better be ready, Mullet. There’ll be no take backs. All honest truth.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

#klance #voltron #vld #voltron legendary defender #klance fic #keith x lance #my writing #happy bday keith!!!!!!!!

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addicted-to-dc · 1 month ago

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Jekyll/Hyde Part 2 - Taskforce 141 x Reader

Tags for those who encouraged me to write this. Thank you!!! @greeniegreengreen @aeilani @poetslastdeath

Link to Part 1

Content Warnings: Typical CoD violence, ptsd, reader is going to be unhinged (even more so in the next chapters).

The computer does all the work for you nowadays. Honestly, you expected this to be your time to think things over. ‘Meditate’ as Laswell calls it. Rumination sits better on your tongue. How in the world can you ruminate in conditions like these? The overhead lights are buzzing, a high-pitched constant ringing that’s giving you a migraine. It feels like an ice pick was shoved through your eye socket, the cold metal turning warm as it disturbs thousands of nerves.

The seclusion you needed has fucking left the building, leaving you alone with a team of walking dead men. Laswell didn’t tell them why you had so many deaths. One would assume that the common denominator (i.e. YOU) are the reason why families mourn their loved ones. With every step you take you can hear the jingle of all those tags, so many souls gone because you couldn’t stop digging for the truth.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to drag yourself out of your exhaustion. Your efforts only reward you with a sharp pain in your skull. Checking the time, you internally groan. Less than an hour until your dogs are here. Fuck, you miss them.

There’s a flick of a lighter, the scent of leather and wood assaulting your nose. Then tobacco invades your senses. “What’s on your mind?”

Captain Price, the man who started it all. He’s a survivor. He might stand a chance at what’s coming next. It’s been a while since you’ve interacted with a man this intense. He’s a smart one. The cigar erases the mustiness of the room. Smells like home. You can feel your body relax, albeit slightly. Maybe you just need a smoke.

“The only family I have left,” you reply, yanking out your cigarettes. Your only photo lies folded in the nearly empty pack. You flick it to Price, your aim true as it rolls to the edge of the table. “Three dogs. Sir, Bear, and Ruse.”

Ghost shifts slightly in his chair, dark eyes on the photo as soon as Price uncrumples it. “Cerberus?”

You can see recognition flash in Price’s eyes. In all of theirs. At least they don’t try to hide it. Sunshine leans forward, his eyes reevaluating you. “You’re The Huntress.”

It’s not a question. He knows. They all do. Price hands the photo to Mr. Mohawk. You shake your head, “I haven’t been called that in a long time.”

“Fuckin’ unstoppable is what you should be called,” Mr. Mohawk chuckles, looking up from the photo. “I’ve seen yer work. Thorough, precise, efficient, and batshit crazy.”

“They say you’re a sniper hunter,” Ghost states, eyes blazing with intrigue. “That true?”

You nod, your index finger running over the scar on your chin. Mr. Mohawk’s bright ass blue eyes bore into your own. “Why the name change?”

Your muscles tense, feeling the weight of hundreds of hands pulling you down, down, down… Broken nails tear at your flesh, opening old wounds that never fully healed right. The screams ring in your ears, curses that taint your very soul to this day. “A story for another day.”

“Is this your original taskforce?” Price asks, pulling your attention away from his sergeant.

“Yes, it is,” you reply, lighting up your last cigarette. “Picked every single one of them myself. Two Polish battering rams, Maryna and Urszula Kowalski. They were always at each other’s throats, but they were the devil and angel on my shoulder.”

You take a long drag. They were the first ones to die.

The frequent migraines and metal plate in your skull are because of them, cracking your skull open before you could even walk off the transport. Their deaths were too quick, but watching the Semtex burst in the sisters’ faces was cathartic. Liars always fail to earn mercy from you. Traitorous ones at least. You exhale, releasing the tension. They don’t deserve to weigh down your conscience.

“August Lindemann, a German tech genius. Spoiled us with all the newest gadgets on the field.” You chuckle, dark eyes meeting Price’s. “I always said they’d make us lose our edge.”

For all the brains he had, they didn’t look so special splattered across the wall. You fought through the entire base to get to him. Cowering like the leach he was until he was the only one left. It didn’t even take cutting off his precious fingers to find out who organized all of this: General Sheperd. You know this leads deeper into the abyss, merely scratching the surface of this conspiracy.

“The last one is American; best shot I’ve ever seen and an even better medic. Dane Reid was a serious man, but he always kept everyone together.”

His ring lies against your chest, right next to yours. You scratch your right ear, digging your nails into what’s left of your upper cartilage. He was the best shot, but your dogs were loyal to no one except you. Even your husband. Using yourself as a decoy was risky, but Sir, Bear, and Ruse tearing him apart made the sacrifice worth it. And the bullet you put into his heart? Even more so.

You can’t wait to see them again.

“You and the dogs are the only ones left?” Sunshine asks, gently taking the photo from Price. “How did Laswell find you?”

“Wandering the Russian forest with stolen data,” you reply, picking at your broken nail. “She found me and the dogs months later.”

“An’ yer team?” Mr. Mohawk questions. “Wha’ about them?”

“I killed them all,” you answer, putting out the cig. You’ll save it for later, death usually ruins the taste. “They tried to sabotage the op. I only got one name when all of it was said and done, and you want to know who it was?”

You scan over every single one of them. The truth always hurts to tell, but you need them to live. You can’t lose anymore, not when Laswell holds these men to the highest regard. What did she say to them? Oh, yes, you need a team to survive with you. There’s too much death permeating the air. The smell of burnt flesh burns your nose.

“General Herschel Sheperd,” you snarl, the rage of Hyde breaking past Jekyll’s walls. “Laswell says you’re looking for him, and I want my pound of flesh.”

You’re sure they can see the insanity in your eyes, the ferality that consumed you in the forests of Russia and nestled its way into your very soul. Split into two beings, one desperate for peace and the other salivating for revenge. You’re not a Captain anymore. You’re nothing. Just a revenant walking amongst the living until your duty is fulfilled. Peace was never an option for you in life, only in death. You accepted that the day you lost your team, your only family. One gaze bears the most weight.

Your eyes catch Ghost’s. Dark eyes penetrate your soul, reading the scripture of your heart. Loyalty broken, trusted allies and friends betraying old bonds. Killing them. Broken, a living being inhabited by the scraps of its own psyche. Two peas in a fucked-up pod. Your phone vibrates on the table, one singular message popping up on your screen: They’re here.

“Thank fuck,” you mumble, pocketing your phone. “They’re here.” You’re itching to leave, to run to the last semblance of family you have.

Clearly, you’re too easy to read. Price stands, the others following suit. “Let’s go meet them then.”

Sunshine barely has the door open when you slip through, quickly maneuvering through the shitty corporate layout of the building until you reach the side lot. You can see them. Tears threaten to cloud your vision as you see Sir chase Ruse around the grass. Bear lays in the shade. Laswell notices your approach, giving you a small nod. You whistle loudly, their playtime immediately put on halt. It takes a second for the noise to bounce around their brains, immediately whining once it finally clicked. Sir, the eldest German Sheperd, is the first one to make it to you, whining and jumping in your arms. His love is always overwhelming, but it’s welcome.

Sir manages to hold onto your shoulders, forcing you to catch him to regain your balance. Only for Ruse, the younger Shepherd, to knock you to the ground. It startles a laugh out of you, a smile following soon after. God, it’s been too long since you’ve seen them. Bear in all her glory runs up and sits at your feet. Your smart girl. A Rottweiler mix, probably shepherd, but her fur pattern always draws you in. You coo, using whatever body part you can to pet all three of them. “Yeah, I missed you, too.”

You sneak them treats, whispering sweet nothings to each of them as you try to make up for lost time. Six months away from them has been torture. Then again, you thought you’d never see them again. Every op feels like the last.

“Forgive them, it’s been half a year since we’ve seen each other,” you turn to the group, sputtering when Ruse licks into your mouth. “CERBERUS!”

They fall in line perfectly, ears perked and waiting for orders. A hand pops into view, and you take it. Sunshine pulls you up, chuckling at the slobber left behind. He tilts his head, eyes catching something on your chest.

Frowning, you look down. Your rings are exposed. Tearing off the necklace, you shove it into your pocket. You’re allowed to have your secrets.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

#taskforce 141 x reader #141 x reader #jekyll/hyde #cod fanfic #cod x reader #I really wish writing is as fun as I remember it.#How in the world did I post this much shit in high school?#I know the answer #but i digress #enjoy #my brain is talking shit but I'm posting this anyway.

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clemkruckinnie · 1 year ago

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only you- opla!nami x reader

a/n-not requested! just a lil smth for my fav tangerine 💕💕 also luffy says lesbian rights

“Luffy, i’m telling you it’s not-“

“Talk to her!”He encourages you, shoving you forward. “It’s just Nami.”

He misses the incredulous look you give him, and before you can make a break for it, Nami’s looking up at you.

“Can I join you?”You manage to find your voice again. Nami nods, moving her hand from next to her so you can sit. The two of you enjoy the silence for a moment, watching your crewmates, your friends, and everything feels perfect.

Everything except the tension between you two, that is.

It had been so obvious that even Luffy had asked you what was going on. He was met with a snort from Zoro, a glare from you, and the conversation had ended there. That is, until he’d found you alone during the celebration of the victory against Arlong, put 2 and 2 together, and forced you to face what was between you and Nami.

There’s no way out this time, though. Not with you and Nami so close, and alone for the first time since she’d left.

“I missed you.” Aside from your question moments before, it’s the first thing you’ve said to her in private since your reunion.

“I missed you, too.” It’s a start.

“Your tattoo’s healing already.” You point out. You’d always wanted one of your own, having been too scared of needles to go for it. Your hand is hovering before you can even ask if you can touch it.

“Can I?”

Nami shrugs, “You’ve touched it before.” You remember when you’d bandaged her wound up, the act feeling vulnerable, tense, almost raw.

Your fingers ghost over the blue ink, tracing the shape she’d chosen to cover the last trace of Arlong’s grip on her.

“Beautiful.”You whisper.

“It’s simple.”

“Not just the tattoo.”

You don’t realize the words have left your mouth until Nami looks at you, through you, and you feel yourself freeze in place.

“I-“ You pause. You can’t say you’re sorry for what you said. You’re not, and never would be, not anymore.

“Why did you forgive me so fast?” Nami’s voice is uncharacteristically soft as she asks you.

“Everyone did, it wasn’t your fault.”

“You’re different.”

Nami’s bluntness almost takes you by surprise, but at this point you know her too well to be swayed by it. Her eyes give it away—she’s scared.

You bite your lip, your mouth wanting to move faster than your brain. It’s always been a flaw of yours, and you’re trying so hard to fight it off, so hard to turn what you’re about to say into something cohesive, but it’s too late.

“I can’t be mad at you. I can’t. Not when I felt the way I did the first time you looked at me, not when I felt like someone had taken a piece of my soul after Luffy told me you’d-“

You can’t tell if the memory hurts you or Nami more.

“The way I feel with you, I haven’t felt it with anyone else.” You explain. “And I think you feel it, too.”

Nami looks anywhere but your eyes for a moment, but finally looks back up again, big blue eyes gazing into your (e/c) ones.

“I do.” Nami admits. “That’s why I stayed away. You scared me.”

“I scared you?” You laugh softly. Nami nudges your shoulder, making you laugh again, louder.

“Yes! Yes, you did.” Nami continues. “You made me feel something new. I thought i’d taught myself not to feel strong emotions, but you made me-“ Nami trails off. “Not nervous. Natural. I looked at you and it was like we weren’t supposed to be apart.”

Your heart flutters at her words, smiling as the heat flushes through your face.

“I think that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” You admit, looking down at your hands.

Nami reaches over, taking your hands into hers, admiring them. She’d watched you fight like hell with these hands, and use the same ones to tenderly bandage her arm. Tough and strong, but tender and soft—just like you. Without thinking, she holds one up. Then, she presses a soft kiss onto your knuckles.

Your breath hitches as you realize the meaning behind the action.

Nami looks back up at you with that same vulnerability in her eyes. You can’t bear it any longer, leaning in softly, kissing her so delicately it’s almost like you hadn’t in the first place.

You ignore your crewmates’ cheers as the two of you smile, pulling away, foreheads still together.

You two will have a long journey together, but the One Piece has nothing on the orange-haired treasure across from you.

#i’m a little rusty but i love her #one piece #one piece live adaptation #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #nami #nami x reader

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yourfatherlucifer · 8 months ago

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MDNI - PSYCHO/YANDERE!San

Male!reader

Idol!Au

This one is a doozy, there’s gore, there’s blood, there’s violence, there’s smut (consensual but slightly cnc in a way) so beware. Also toxic relationship

BIG SHOUTOUT TO @minheeskitten for the torture ideas 😩😩 @potatomountain for being my #1 supporter ily

1/2 out of two drabbles till my official hiatus. I went overboard with 1.1k words..

“No, no, thank you, Wooyoung.” You had smiled at the Oreo hair colored male, “But I really appreciate this.”

Wooyoung had made you a plate of food because you felt famished.

San didn't like how Wooyoung's gaze lingered on you, his hand placed on top of yours for a second longer than he liked.

As you were about to place the fork in your mouth, San had come up to you and slapped it out of your hand, "What the actual fuck, Sannie?" You turned to glare at him.

He growled and grabbed you by the wrist, practically dragging you out of the dorm and to his, knowing no one would be home.

San shoved you into the dorm and slammed the door shut, "Fucking strip and get in the bedroom. I'll be there in a moment." His eyes were clouded in pure bloodlust.

You quickly ran to his room, stripping of everything and throwing yourself onto the bed with a very stiff and awakened cock. Meanwhile San was in the kitchen sanitizing his favorite knife and grabbing duct tape from a cabinet.

When San made his way into his room, not bothering with locking the door, he had a sinister smile on his face.

"Hey baby." San approached you, throwing his shirt across the room and ripping his belt off of his pants, wrapping it around his left fist, "I don't care how good Wooyoung or any of my members treat you, you're MINE." His uncovered palm slapped across your cheek, the skin reddening immediately.

You whimpered as your cock jumped at his action, "Sa-"

"Shut up, bad boy's don't speak unless I say so." He ripped off a piece of duct tape and pressed it against your lips, shutting you up for this steamy session.

The knife in his hand glimmered in the light, the blade slightly frightening you.

"You deserve this punishment, I don't care if you ask me to stop. I have told you and shown you repeatedly, that you are mine. I can't punish them but I can hurt you." He twirled the knife around his fingers.

The switchblade had been used on you multiple times before, the scars on your thighs very much said so. But you didn't mind, yes you hated the pain, but you loved San, he was an amazing person when he wasn't like this. Yet you continued to let him take his anger out on you.

Dating an idol who was seen as very protective and romantic was tough, knowing he was definitely protective, just not in the way people thought. He was violent behind the scenes, but only when someone messed with you. Even his members don't know how he truly is. He does love you though.

San's belt wrapped fist curled around your weeping cock and smirked, "Unfortunately, I won't be giving what you want or need. I'm going to be using you." He removed his hand and dragged his blade against old and healed wounds, reopening them.

You whimpered from the pain, eyes squeezing shut and unable to tell him how you feel. All you could do was take it.

The pain was over as quickly as it started, as he walked away to his drawers and pulled out a rope, "I can't have you squirming, you're gonna mess me up and make me stab you." He tutted with a smirk.

Tears were slowly streaming down your cheeks from the blood forming on your reopened wound.

"Awe, baby, don't cry, you did this to yourself." Once the rope was tied around your torso with your arms around your back, the knife was on your skin again, creating more pebblets of blood in their wake.

Precum was dripping down San's cock rapidly. He was extremely turned on by the pain in your eyes, by the tears running freely down your cheeks.

San so badly wanted to dig the knife into the plush of your thighs and drag it down, spilling blood everywhere but he knew he couldn't. He couldn't risk ruining his career and going to jail, or even risk killing or immobilizing you.

He pressed his lips to your bleeding wounds.

San’s lips were covered in your blood, he was grinning like a madman while you laid on the bed. The rope burning your skin. Tears lining your cheeks and spilling out of your tear ducts.

San cooed, “Awe, is my baby in pain?” He leaned up to your duct taped covered lips and smashed his lips against them, smearing the blood against the tape while you whimpered in pain.

He even slowly pushed his cock inside your hole, "Stop squeezing me or I'll bust a nut already." He growled.

He flipped your body already and pushed your head into the mattress. Your blood from your thighs was getting all over the sheets and creating a mess. The pressure on your wounds was so painful you just couldn't stop crying. Your own cock was being neglected, you couldn't even think about your own pleasure while San was using your body for his own benefit.

His hips jackhammered into yours, the blade digging into your side but not pushing into the flesh, only enough to draw some blood.

The duct tape was slowly coming off your mouth from the slobber and tears.

Your cries were emerging and San didn't care, he wanted to hear you but didn't bother to remove the tape earlier.

"Yeah thats it, cry for me."

He used you like the cocksleeve that you are.

The wound from your side was bleeding rapidly and you couldn't help but scream out when San pushed his finger into the wound, blood flowing around his finger.

That's when his door was kicked in and footsteps rushed into the room, shoving San off of you.

You couldn't see who it was but heard the fist colliding with his jaw.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Choi San!"

You flipped your tied body around and saw Jongho on top of San, punching him repeatedly.

"Jongho, stop!" You managed to yell out despite the pain, San was just grinning with a bleeding mouth.

You whimpered as you scooted to the edge of the bed.

Jongho glanced at your naked and abused body, "Why? He's hurting you! I could hear your screams. Wooyoung told me how he has been acting weird. I wanted to see why and heard you." He glared down at his older friend and member.

San rose a brow, "He's my boyfriend, I can do whatever I want with him, frankly, its none of your guys business."

He pushed Jongho away from him and walked over to you, untying the rope, and grabbing his knife. He grinned with an idea and dragged the knife under your nipple, "See? He takes it like a good boy."

Jongho scoffed, "You're disgusting." He left the room in a very sour mood and bruised fists.

You held your bleeding chest and looked at the floor, "Are..we gonna continue?"

San nodded and pushed you back onto the bed, "Yes, I never got to finish anyway."

#ateez x reader #ateez smut #san smut #choi san smut

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eras-mus · 10 months ago

Note

If requests are open, deuce in the second year with platonically a first year male who greatly admires the deliquent version of him. When deuce was still young he accidentally helped a younger boy who was being bullied, which made this boy have a huge admiration for deuce, which made him become a delinquent but lighter than deuce, some time passes and deuce He's in his second year and I've found the boy in NCR again and he still admires him a lot.

†My Savior†

×Platonic Deuce x Male Reader

×Reader is a first year (dorm is not mentioned)

×Deuce is a second year

Y/n didn't think much about his last. He wanted to forget most of it, he found it embarrassing, weak, pathetic.

He had grown up in a horrible neighborhood in a bad city and he was just a helpless mouse, practically waiting for someone to attack.

He would prefer to not remember that.

Though, he often thought about one day.

He remembered everything in such detail, from the way the rain soaked through his uniform to the pain he felt when he was shoved to the ground.

It was cold and wet that day, clouds mocked him as he ran from a group of boys a year above him, not worrying about puddles as water splashed all around him.

After was could've been 5 minutes or 2 hours he finally slipped in mud running off of the grass and onto the hard concrete.

The blood on his freshly scraped hands was quickly wiped away by heavy rain. Although his whole body was in a burning pain all that he could think about was the approaching danger.

As he heard footsteps slow down he finally accepted his fate.

The predator had trapped its prey and had planned on finishing him slowly so he could feel evey agonizing bite.

"Not so brave now, are ya?"

The voice echoed with a oh-so familiar ringing in his ears as a fist slammed into his face.

Y/n sobbed as the stranger began to brutally bash his head into the concrete while the strangers friends just watched.

He couldn't make out what happened next but all of the sudden the attacks seized and yelling could be heard.

Y/n forced himself up to see what was going on but he would've never guessed what he saw.

A blue haired boy, one he had never seemed but wore the same uniform as him, absolutely beating the strangers face in with his bare hands.

As he looked around he noticed that a group of other teens were brawling and ganging up on the attackers group.

Y/n sat there in absolute disbelief as the blue haired boy finished up with his victim who had been long out cold. Soon he was approached by said boy and was able to soak in his feature, his torn, messy uniform, blue eyes that matches his hair, and a symbol he couldn't make out on his face.

"Hey are you okay?"

His voice fades in and out.

"Can you answer me?"

All of the pain caught up to the prey as the adrenaline wore off.

"Someone call an ambulance!"

That was all so long ago and Y/n's skin showed it.

Past wounds had healed forming scares, eye bags had begun to disappear, and eyes almost seemed warmer.

In the years following the incident, he had started fighting back and started protecting his underclassmen.

Though he never saw his savior again he did learn that his name was Deuce Spade after asking around.

Deuce Spade.

That name never left him.

He might've been dead if it wasn't for Deuces actions.

And Y/n didn't go a day without wanting to thank him.

Y/n was accepted into Night Raven College with no problems.

His grades were good, he was physically strong, and showed great promise in magic.

The world was at the top of his fingers, no one knew who he used to be in this new place.

It was about halfway through the year and he walked the halls with pride, proudly wearing his uniform as he made his way to the locker rooms.

There was morning Spell-Drive practice today, a sport Y/n had taken interest in since starting, he was looking forward to improving his skills. Once he had changed into his gym uniform and began to stretch.

The practice match went well, Y/n scored quite a few points for his team, which seemed to aggravate the other team but he brushed it off.

After the practice was over Y/n changed back into his uniform and began to head to class.

That is until a group of students stopped him in the hall.

"You must think your so much better than us, score'in all of this damn points!" One spat as he circled Y/n.

"Having the coach complement you so much must be going to your head." One whispered, shoving the seemingly helpless boy.

Soon a certain trio was able to hear shouting from down the hall.

Yuu being Yuu quickly ran to see what was disturbing the peace and Ace and Deuce followed suit.

"I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU THINK YOU ARE BUT TO US YOUR JUST A LITTLE BITCH!" A blonde haired guy from the group had grabbed Y/n by the collar and was now screaming in his face.

Just when Deuce was about to step in Y/n took a swing to the guys face, as the rest of the students stared, shocked, Y/n took the opportunity to jab a green eyed person who was standing to close for comfort.

In a few moments Y/n had rendered the group defenseless, leaving the second years in shock.

As he took in his surroundings, collecting anything he had dropped, he noticed a familiar head of blue hair.

His draw dropped and his eyes widened as he felt like he was going to melt at any given moment.

"Is it just me or did the guy we just watched destroy like four guys turn into a deer in headlights when he saw Deuce" Ace whispered to the Ramshackle perfect.

"Are you Deuce Spade!?" Y/n asked a little to loudly for his preference.

"Ye-yeah..?" Deuce asked jumping back as the unknown guy ran up and hugged him.

Quickly catching himself in his actions, Y/n stepped back with tears in the corners of his eyes.

"S-sorry you probably don't remember me, do you?" Deuce shook his head.

"I'm Y/n L/n and I you saved my life."

"HUH???" The three shared a shocked reaction as Y/n began to explain.

"I guess I was just out looking for a fight that day and afterwards noticed him..." Deuce admitted as the three walked away. "I never thought he would remember that."

"Well Deuce-y, looks like you got a little fanboy!" Ace teased.

"At least you changed one life, more than most can say." Yuu rationalized.

"Yeah that's true..." Deuce took one last look over his shoulder to glance at the boy. "Looks like he only saw my good parts from then."

#twst x reader #twst scenarios #twst x male reader #twisted wonderland #deuce spade #grim twst #twst #deuce spade x reader #ace trappola #twst grim #Deuce x male reader

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strawb3rrystar · 3 months ago

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Oh my god, don't tell me I forgot to send it in :(

Or if I did it twice, ignore this....buttt...here me out

Striker x Popstar! Fallen Angel! Reader

(I'm using they since any pronouns work, I hc angels as born/created as hermaphrodites and able to shapeshift at will anyway :3)

So like...reader...is a fallen angel that exploits their status and power instead of hiding it like Vaggie (They were greedy and thought heaven was boring, they ran to Hell) And like they get super famous and Striker gets a hit put on them by a rival and he fails (obvi lol) but instead of killing him they offer him a job as their bodyguard.

Basically two assholes who deserve each others (eventually hatefucking mayhaps)

(meaning: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEE)

*ahem* gracias thank u very much

I LOVE HIM SO MUCH IM SORRY

Southern protection.

Pairing: Striker x GN! Popstar! Fallen Angel! Reader

Summary: You turn a cowboy assassin into your bodyguard, and maybe something more.

Warnings: Reader grows tits, but most anatomy isn't described, unprotected sex, hatefucking, he shoves his fingers down your throat, using saliva as lube, not proofread because I'm too tired

Word count: 1.5k

✰Masterlist

Striker squints his eyes at the bright flashing lights in the concert hall. He was never one for parties, they were always too loud and crowded for his taste. But, this was just a part of the job this time. He was hired to kill you, the most famous popstar in all of Hell. Some theorize that you only got your fame because you were in cahoots with Lucifer. But, your talent simply came naturally and unwavering. Well, a lot of other Sinners and Hellborn who were trying to make it in the pop scene, weren't very pleased by this. Which is why one of your rivals, who asked to stay anonymous so their fans don't find out, hired Striker.

Now, he is scouting out of sight of the audience. As Striker would put it, he had to get out the expensive bullets for you. Of course there wasn't a guarantee that the bullets would kill you. Sure, he knew they would kill any demon royalty he wanted to, but you were an angel. The circumstances were different. But Striker was willing to take the gamble for the sake of getting paid. So he lines up his shot, which would be a perfect head shot if you didn't turn at the exact same time. The bullet going clear through your wing.

Everyone in the audience started to freak out at the sound of the gunshot. While your backup dancers surrounded you, asking you a slew of questions that went in one ear and out the other. But you were focused on one thing, and one thing alone. A man that so skillfully was making his grand escape after trying to assassinate you. The security, who didn't get paid enough to deal with this bullshit, went after him. And you decided on a whim that you were going to too.

You outstretch your wings, pushing the dancers away from you, immediately following after the trail of security without much thought. The pursuit leads you outside the concert hall through the back door. There the security had the mysterious assassin cornered. Now, Striker was never one to flee with his tail between his legs, but he really felt like doing so with your gaze on him. Once the security notice you there, they try to escort you back inside. But you dismiss them, telling them to go back inside. Because certainly you can handle one little Imp on your own.

"You tried to assassinate me." You start, smoothing down the sheer outfit you wore onstage. The wound in your wing bled, gold liquid stained the creme feathers. It didn't hurt in the slightest, and would heal within the week. It was just going to be annoying to have everyone gawking at you, and constantly pestering you with senseless questions until this all blew over. Striker stands tall, trying to appear intimidating. But nothing could be more intimidating than coming face-to-face with an angel.

"I did." He simply replies, fixing the hat on his head as it had nearly blown away from how fast he was running. You raise an eyebrow, narrowing your eyes a little. "Who hired you?" Striker started to feel nervous, but he played it off with a lighthearted chuckle. "They asked to remain anonymous. Besides, I'm already goin' to get into heaps of shit for not killin' ya. Don't need to add more by givin' away their name." He explains, and he made a fair point too. You couldn't imagine anyone who would want you dead being thrilled that you're still alive.

"Hm, well.. what if I hire you as my personal bodyguard?" Striker was left speechless at your statement. Why would you want to hire someone who just tried to kill you? "And why would I agree to that?" He asks, his eyebrow twitching with curiosity. "I doubt you get paid well if you're so awful at killing people." Striker scoffs, his jaw clenching with distaste. "Depends on the target, sugar. A prissy pop star like you goes for thousands." You hum in response, slowly nodding your head. "I'll pay you double, or triple. Whatever you prefer."

Striker clicks his tongue, shaking his head a little "And why would you trust me?" You laugh, as if it was the most absurd question you ever heard. "Well, if you kill me, at least I know it'll be because of your handsome face. Plus, you have good aim." Striker blinks a few times, stunned by your comment before replying. "I was aiming for your skull. If anything, I have the opposite." You step closer to him and he steps back "That's my point. You can stun then kill." He sighs, shaking his head "I wouldn't make a good bodyguard." You roll your eyes and turn your back to him. "Well I'm not taking no for an answer."

And, with some mild persuasion, he agreed to be your bodyguard. Striker actually turned out to be a good one too, with impeccable aim when he wasn't distracted by your beauty. But there was this.. tension between you two. An unspoken attraction on both ends that everyone around seemed to notice but you. But alas, you couldn't sleep with an employee, and Striker couldn't fuck his employer. Or could he?

Well, that's how you got yourself into this situation. Striker's tongue down your throat after coming home from some fancy Overlord's party. He was being so careful of your wings as well, not wanting to disrupt them. But you simply land onto your bed, right on your wings, pulling him with you. You continue to makeout until he pulls your shirt off. He smirks a little at how flat your chest is, making a snide comment. "Is the reason why you're so bitchy because your tits never came in?" You scoff in response, used to his rude comments and remarks, but decided to make him look stupid. With a snap of your fingers, your chest morphs to be more full and busty. Striker gawks in shock, his eyes wide.

"I'm bitchy because I want to be." You huff as he squeezes your new-formed breasts, pinching your nipples. "Fucking.. dick." A hiss leaves your lips as he kisses your neck. Striker pulls away, looking down at you "Oh, I'll show you dick, sweetheart." You knew exactly what he meant by that. His hands move down to undo his belt as you pull the hat from his head tossing it aside. You take a good look at his cock once he gets his clothes off, your mouth watering at the size. He grins as you stroke his ego, the look on your face was one that was going to be permanently burned in his brain.

Striker makes quick work of your bottoms, his hands grasping at your thighs. He pulls them apart, slotting himself in between. "So how does your body work anyways?" He questions, looking into your eyes. "Well, angels can shapeshift and change how their body looks at any time. So, technically, I have both-" Your explanation was cut off by Striker shoving two fingers into your mouth. "Cool. I don't actually care though. Jus' needed you to open your mouth." He grins cockily, his sharp gold tooth poking out. You couldn't protest, so you slide your tongue over his digits, getting them wet. When he was satisfied, he pulls them out, bringing his drool covered fingers to his cock.

After he lubes up his dick with your saliva, he lines it up with your entrance. "You ready, sugar?" His voice was buttery smooth, it made your brain feel fuzzy. When you nod your head he starts thrusting himself in. Now, you weren't a virgin by any means, but it was still a stretch. Once he bottomed out, his hands find your hips, grabbing onto them. His thrusts are slow at first, but quickly start to pick up the pace. You can't help but moan, your walls squeezing around him.

You closed your eyes for half a second before opening them again when Striker shoves your fingers back in your mouth. You groan, getting the feeling to bite on his fingers until you rip the flesh off the bone. But your thoughts were quickly cut off when he finds that special spot inside you, the one that had you seeing stars. Striker takes notice of this and chuckles "Oh, look what I found," he coos.

Striker continues to pound into you, his thrusts getting more desperate and feral. A clear sign that he was getting close. Your eyes roll back as he shoves his fingers a little down your throat. You had to admit, this was some of the best sex you had in your life. Of course you wouldn't say that out loud to spare yourself from the embarrassment. Plus, you'd just be feeding the cowboy's ego even more. Right now, you were on the edge of an orgasm, and Striker could tell. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth again, wanting to hear you moan. "Go on, come for me, baby."

Just that simple order had your eyes rolling back. Your walls fluttering and clenching around his length. Striker fucks you through your high, them pulls out, jerking off his cock until he cums of your stomach. He flops down beside you, the both of you completely out of breath from the intense fucking that just ensued. After a few long silent minutes, Striker turns to look at you.

"So, what does this make us?"

"How the fuck should I know?" Was your response.

Star's notes -> I swear this was not on anon when it was first in my inbox. Hmmm 🤔

(Thank you, sweet anon, for requesting!) (Requests are open!)

Taglist -> @saints-wrapped-in-plastic @sweetadonisbutbetter @little-miss-chaoss @sunr1s3-strab3rr1 @naathanuwu

@f4gg0t-4-0b3y-m3 @sketchpawz @elmolovesw33d @facelessfionna @shae-mermaid

@tuihiatus | Join the taglist

#☆strawb3rrystar answers requests #helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #striker helluva #striker helluva boss #striker x reader #striker smut #striker #striker hb #helluva boss x you #helluva boss x y/n

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sparrowrye · 2 months ago

Text

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, Act 3 part 19

Synopsis: Alastor disappeared for 8 years, leaving you confused, crushed, and angry. You spent those years building up your new self and protecting the haven from dangers left and right. What will happen when he returns to the new changes? Will he return anytime soon? Could you even go back to the way things were?

Previous Part

Part 19: the intermission

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Alastor will you please sit still?"

"I am trying." Alastor's claws punctured the wood of the chair. "You should be resting."

We've been over this. "You need to be at your very best if you want me to rest." My magic seeped through my fingers and into his chest. He snarled and contorted his body in an effort to get away. His hands were trying desperately to keep him in place.

Adam had brought an army of Angels to attack the city while I gave birth. He was the diversion while John snuck around the back to kill me, my daughters, and inevitably Alastor. According to my soulmate, his injury came from an Angelic guitar. Fortunately for us, Lucifer had jumped into the battle at the last minute.

So many Demons in Hell had died to Angelic steal and I had a personal experience with the true power of Angelic magic. To see the wound on Alastor's chest and see him still standing and walking around was magic in itself. Sure, he might've lost the battle and put a huge dent in his ego, but he was a Demon who took Angelic steel to the chest and lived. My soulmate was still surprising me. (idea of this passage comes from @state-of-franklin).

"Alastor..." I said softly, removing my hand from his bare chest. He took a moment to catch his breath before meeting my eyes. He knew exactly what I was going to say next. "Please. I need to restrain you."

"I can handle it," he hissed.

"I know you can. You still will but...it's taking longer and making it more complicated for me when you move like that." I took my knee off the chair from where I was resting it and trailed my hand down his arm. His fingers flinched when I reached his wrist. "Please? It will only be for a short while."

Alastor looked away. His ears were pinned back and his lips curled in an upset snarl. His thoughts were racing past my mind but I was catching snippets. I sent some of my own words of affirmation, hoping to get those in the loop of his never-ending spiral.

"Very well," he spoke through gritted teeth.

I gently pulled his chin up and placed a sweet, soft kiss on his lips. My hand moved further along his jaw to help pull him a little tighter into the kiss. I breathed slowly, letting my breath from my nose fan the top part of his lip. I felt the muscles in his neck relax from the temporary pause of pain. I broke the kiss briefly to realign our lips, feeling him hum with satisfaction on the second one. I took the opportunity to ease into his mind, spreading my mind and magic throughout his own. He could sense it, I know, but the preoccupation of our kiss was helping me slip further into his mind with ease.

Once completely in his mind, I pulled away and met his eyes. His shoulders were stiff but still and his feet were rooted to the floor. The only thing I still allowed him control over were his hands and head. I felt his nerves lessen at the prospect of still having control over some parts of his body. I even heard a whispered Thank you that he tried to shove down.

I threaded my legs through the arms of the chair, my sore muscles making their complaints, and sat in his lap. One of his eyebrows quirked up as he leaned his head away. I felt him bracing his mind. With one hand on his arm, the other came over the deep cut on his chest. The corners had been healed already but the brunt of the wound was still open and dripping his dark blood. The smell was enticing. Fortunately I had eaten meat earlier that morning to help ease the cravings until Alastor was well again.

"Three...two--" I started the process. His howls of pain were trapped in the invisible bubble I had put around us so he wouldn't wake our daughters. His shadow mimicked his feelings on the wall behind him. Alcine was beside him, her own shadowy hands grabbing at him. I could feel Alastor's magic clawing its way to the surface to protect its host and he was losing the battle to keep it down. I felt the magic like a punch to the stomach. I had to stop healing to focus on keeping it subdued. There was so much more I didn't know about Alastor's magic.

The momentary relief of pain helped him shove that part of his magic back down. Sweat stained his red collar and made his hair stick to his cheeks. His chest heaved and bled with every breath he took. Parts of his sleeves were also sticking to his skin. His claws were unchanged but the wood underneath was suffering. Memories of this side of him were resurfacing.

My dear. Later. Please finish this. His words brought me back to my task, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I kept my eyes glued to the injury and readied myself for another attempt. We did this twice more before the wound finally closed and left nothing but a white lined scar across his torso.

I released my hold on his mind and held his face with both hands. His mouth was slightly open as he tried to catch his breath for the umpteenth time. He unstuck his claws from the wood and relaxed into the chair. When he was ready, he lifted his head to look me in the eyes. My thumbs rubbed the skin underneath his smile.

Thank you, he said. He cracked his head sideways and it felt like electricity buzzing through him.

Of course, Al. I put my hands on the armrests to lift myself off but Alastor's arms trapped me to his newly healed chest. I laughed as our cheeks accidentally hit from the momentum. He didn't let up, choosing instead to keep me as close as possible and press a hard, but loving, kiss to the side of my head. I tried wiggling my way out of his grasp but he refused to let go. My tail wrapped around his leg and my claws pushed on his arms.

"Come on Al," I said through my laughter, "you need to shower now."

"I despise showers," he answered.

"Even if I take one with you?" I offered. His arms instantly let go and I straightened up. I held his chin with both hands and rubbed my nose against his, earning a surprised look from him. "How about a bath instead before our daughters wake up?"

His smile turned sweet, eyelids closing halfway, then he whisked us off upstairs with his shadows. I encased us in another bubble, reveling in the use of easy magic again, and started to undress as he filled the tub. He leaned against the counter and watched me intently as I undid his belt and ran my hands up his bare sides. He revealed his smile as my hands passed the scar and rested on his shoulders.

Your touch is like a drug.

Good. I went up on my toes and met him for a kiss. I finished undressing him and let him step into the bath first. He helped me in for the second time that day and positioned me between his legs so I could lean against him. The warm water soothed my aching muscles and I could feel the work it was doing on his muscles, too. The feeling of his skin against mine, of his heartbeat matching mine, and of his arms holding me in place brought the upmost possible peace I had felt in years.

I'm proud of you.

I swallowed the urge to cry and nuzzled my face against his neck. We stayed in our bubble of peace for an hour. He let me doze off for awhile more until a short nightmare made me jump awake. He attempted to soothe my mind with his magic and held onto one of my shoulders. I dropped my head back and took a deep breath.

"Where's John?" I asked.

"The assassin?"

"Yes."

He hesitated. "In the basement."

"I want to talk to him."

"No," he said definitively.

"What?" I leaned away so I could look him in the eyes.

"I said no."

I felt frustration building in my chest. Always trying to tell me what to do. "I have every right to, Al."

"You need more time to rest," he countered.

"Whoever sent him will know their plan didn't work. Their assassin didn't return and Adam is dead. We need to hear what John knows if there's something else coming for us."

"There's always something after us, my dear. This time is no different."

"This time it could be all of Heaven after us."

"No."

A moment of silence. "I know how to get to the basement."

He opened a single eye to look at me. "I know how to keep you out."

"Please, Al?" I made my voice more sweet.

He huffed out a sigh. "I have a broadcast today, my dear. Perhaps tomorrow."

"Fine." I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. A minute later, little cries rang from the bedroom.

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

"I guess the Dragon Demon is all talk, ain't she?" John sneered as he dragged himself to a sitting position.

There were no exits or entries and the only objects in the room were old furniture pieces I hadn't used for the house. John was sitting against the wall with a poorly bandaged knee and arm. Althea felt he deserved a natural healing process without magic and I couldn't agree more. Vilcin's soul was still with me, an ever constant reminder of what he had done.

"So is Vox's great champion," I returned. "You couldn't kill a woman giving birth and her three nursemaids. Here I was thinking I made it easy for you."

He scoffed.

"Why didn't you use magic?" I demanded first. Alastor was occupied with his broadcast. I had taken one of his watches to keep time. Thanks to the twins, I had about twenty minutes left.

"What do you mean?"

"You're an Angel," I clarified. "You don't fight with magic in the rings and you didn't use any when you came after me. Was your magic taken away?"

He scoffed again. "You can't just take someone's magic away. That's not how that works."

I shrugged. "An old enemy of mine would beg to disagree." I took a step closer. "So why not use your magic?"

"What was your mother's name?"

"Excuse me?" I bristled.

"I said, what was your mother's name?" He slowed his words down dramatically.

"What does she have to do with anything?"

"Just answer the question. What was her--agh!" John's words were silenced when my footclaw pressed between his shoulder and his collarbone.

"Why. Do you. Not. Use. Magic?" I tried again. The smell of his blood made my mouth water.

"Sweetheart," he coughed, "how many times are you going to ask me before you realize I'm not telling you anything? Pain is something I'm used to."

"I'm appealing to your alter ego." I bent as far as I could without causing pain to myself. "The one that's more sensible. The one you struggle to control."

John barked a laugh. "For someone so powerful and in control, you reallydon't know anything. Especially how interrogations work."

"My style is different."

"It's not a style. You've never interrogated someone before. I can see it." He shifted his sitting position and I had to remove my foot to keep my balance. "You've killed and threatened people, sure, but you've never interrogated anyone like this."

"That's why I'm here," Alastor said from behind. John and I both stiffened at his sudden appearance. I told you to wait.

You're supposed to be upstairs still.

I know you, he said. And I know you wouldn't listen to me and come down here when I was occupied.

I wanted to talk to him. I stepped away, John's blood spotting the floor from my claws. He had gone unusually silent as his eyes drilled into Alastor's skull.

I wish you had waited for me, Alastor said as he moved to stand in front of me. "I will take it from here."

"Why?" I stepped back so I could meet his eyes more easily. I was surprised he wasn't as angry as I had expected him to be with me.

"You have just given life to the two most beautiful girls and need more time to rest." He pushed away a fake strand of hair as an excuse to touch me. "Revel in the life you have just given."

My resolve is gone, I realized. I was tired and no longer felt the urge to fight him on everything.

Indeed, he agreed too quickly, but from exhaustion. Please, go relax. You may watch through my eyes if you wish.

That last part sealed the deal. I had completely forgotten we could watch through each other's eyes. With our minds linked, I could even encourage Alastor to ask specific questions. He heard my thoughts and placed a kiss on my forehead. His shadows were slow as they licked my skin and brought me back to our bedroom. The girls were still asleep so I laid on the bed to watch the interrogation unfold.

"You are quite a foolish man," Alastor said over his shoulder. "She was providing you a...mostly pain-free way out." He turned on his heels and met John's eyes. "I am not so understanding."

"I have been dealt a lot worse," John answered. Alastor was far too experienced to tell when someone was faking confidence.

"Rings fights are nothing compared to what I can do. Here, allow me to demonstrate."

John shifted. He braced his whole body for whatever he was going to receive, but Alastor wasn't going to get his hands dirty. He reached for the man's soul, finding it split in two—how interesting—and pulled. John screamed as his soul was slowly torn from his body. The black abyss of Alastor's owned souls hung wide open before him. They cried and scrambled for the new soul so full of energy.

Alastor pulled him further. His legs were the only thing left keeping him attached to his body. The other souls tore at his arms. It felt like he was losing all control of his mind. He had no thoughts. All he could hear and think was: feast. feast. feast.

His was slingshot back into his baody, head hitting the wall behind him. He blinked the hungry souls away and finally focused on the red tips of Alastor's boots. He couldn't slow his breathing. His hands moved up and down his arms, not quite sure that they were actually still attached. That's when he noticed his hands and attire. He wasn't John anymore.

"I must say, I've never seen a soul split in two like that," Alastor's radio voice pierced his eardrums. "Now, whom am I speaking to this time?"

"M-my name...my name...it's Judah."

"I hear you're a Fallen Angel, Judah. Is this true?"

Judah nodded. His disheveled, white and gray uniform suddenly felt very uncomfortable. So did all the bandages under his sleeves.

"Tell me, how did you know my soulmate was half Angel?"

"I...we...shut up!" John's voice cut through and Judah threw his head to the side. "Weak. Keep your mouth shut."

"You know..." Alastor knelt dangerously close to Judah. "My soulmate's blood tastes sweet but she's only part Angel. I can only imagine what a full Angel's blood must taste like." His thumb found the wound from my footclaw and pressed. Judah screamed and grabbed his wrist only for it to disappear in a puff of smoke. Alastor stood in his original place, cane neatly behind his back. His other hand came up to his lips where he licked the gold liquid off his claw. His eyes widened and his grin was so wide his black gums showed. "Sweeter than I thought." For good measure, his eyes turned black to show his radio dials.

"All of Heaven knows!" Judah cried. He pressed a hand to his shoulder. "Everyone knows about her. They weren't supposed to but...they were supposed to forget. I...forgot. And I didn't...I served my sentence but they needed her gone for good."

"Why? How is she a threat to Heaven?"

"Shut up!" John flickered back and closed his own hand around his throat. "Useless. Pathetic. I am the reason we are alive. Now let me do my job."

Split his soul, Alastor. I said through our connection. Not all the way but just enough. John needs to stop taking over.

I was surprised when Alastor listened. He pulled the soul halfway out of its body and tore along the divide that was already there. He let Judah fall back but held John halfway between the body and Alastor's deprived souls.

"What are you--what are you doing to me?" Judah brought his legs closer to himself and wrapped his arms around them. It looked like he was shivering.

"Just answer the question." Alastor heaved a sigh. "Why does Heaven see her as a threat?"

"W-well...just her nature."

There was a long pause. "I'm not going to ask for every little detail. Keep talking until I tell you to stop." He pulled John closer and the man's fear was like sweet wine. It seemed to spur Judah on.

"She's uh...she's half Angel, half Demon. Well, to be specific, she's half Fallen Angel. Most of us die within days of Falling. She and I are the exceptions. We both survived the rings somehow."

"What's the difference between a Fallen Angel and a normal one?"

"Nothing really. Your soul is tarnished and you lose some of your magic."

"So why is my soulmate a threat if she's the child of a lesser Angel?" Alastor prompted again.

"Because she's half Demon. She's the combination of two strong beings."

Alastor walked up to his huddled form and jammed the bottom of his cane into the wound on his shoulder. Judah yelled and squirmed under the perfectly applied pressure. "You are dancing around my question and I do not appreciate it."

"I'm telling everything I know, I promise!" John cried.

"Why was Heaven after her and our children?"

"You've all been on their radar!"

"Yes, I'm aware of my presence on their minds. But why her? Why the children? Why--" he leaned into his cane to apply more pressure, "were you tasked with killing my daughters?"

"They're tainting a bloodline!" Judah tried desperately to pull his cane off his shoulder. "Demons have always been messing with things since they first came to the surface."

"Why does Heaven care?"

"Don't you know religion? Part of Heaven dictates what happens on the surface. They've been hidden for centuries then Demons can suddenly walk the earth and society collapses. Demons have the power to ruin Creation and eventually Heaven."

Things were starting to slide in place.

"Keep talking." Alastor let up a fraction.

"There's nothing much else. Please. They don't...Heaven has been angry about Demons and Humans mixing since the very beginning. Then a Demon and Angel mix? That can't happen. So they cast me out, sentenced my family to the rings, and tried to erase my memories. That's why...that's when John started talking."

Both Alastor and I had gone very still. Had we misheard?

"Your family..." Alastor said quietly, "you're...is she your daughter?"

Judah looked like his best kept secret had just been spilled--which it had. He covered his hand with his mouth and looked down at his feet. Alastor removed his cane and took a moment to himself.

Seems you're the first of your kind, he said to me.

That's not...he's not...he can't be my father.

Fallen Angels sent to the rings to die. You survive. They aid Blackwater, they meddle to remove me for eight years, try to destroy the city, then send someone while you're giving birth to kill our children before they're born.

That's not...that's not...I don't understand.

My dear, we've been watched since the very beginning, Alastor concluded.

I blinked back to the room and walked to the crib where our daughters were still sleeping. The world felt like it was on a slant. Their breathing was loud in my ears, their heartbeat as strong as mine, and their soul lightly attached to mine. For years, I had been fighting Heaven. All those battles, all those spies, Adam's involvement, all those hordes of Humans and Demons determined to end the Hazbin Haven.

It was all Heaven.

"How can you be sure she's your daughter? You are nothing alike." Alastor's voice echoed in the back of my mind. I sat down with my back to the crib and looked through his eyes again.

"She has a birthmark. It looks like a wing, right? I saw it on her hip in the cave."

Alastor's smile quirked uncomfortably but he kept his composure. "You were going to murder your own daughter?"

There was a long moment of silence.

"I...I wasn't...I can't..." He let out a sigh. "John...he took over after my first fight. He...he's the reason I'm alive. So...when you let something--someone--control you for a long time, you don't know how to take back that control. I wasn't...I couldn't do anything."

"You don't have control over your own soul?" Alastor tilted his head up in disgust.

Judah's eyes narrowed for the first time. "Your try having Heaven erase your memories. Things get...confusing."

"Confusing enough to murder your own daughter?"

"I tried!" Judah yelled, catching both of us off guard. "I tried so hard to fight it. I tried...every possible way to take it all back but I...I couldn't. The urge...the voices...the cravings...all of it. How can you think past anything when all you hear is to fight, fight, kill, blood, kill. You can't...it's too much." He covered his face with his good hand.

My dear? Alastor prompted. He felt my understanding but there were more complicated emotions underneath it.

He killed Vilcin. He almost killed our daughters. I don't... Cries pulled me back to my own mind. I immediately stood and ran my dulled claws along my firstborn's arms. Her tiny, pointed hands clasped onto my finger as she continued to wail, waking her sister. I grabbed the material from the chair and wrapped it around my body the way I had been shown.

Vivian had asked a mother, who had twins of her own, if she would help me. Annabelle, or Belle for short, was a Demon who had joined us within the first few years of the Haven's existence. She had been in charge of the livestock and had frequently worked with Vilcin, our first gardener and chef.

Belle was a very down-to-earth person and had a surprisingly large amount of similarities with me. We both felt a connection to the earth and shared a tough, but kind, personality. Her pony tail and father's hat were her trademark, making her easily distinguishable when she worked in the field. She didn't show her Demon side very much, but she believed it made her the most approachable person on that side of the city. Anyone who did long, manual labor usually found their way on her front porch.

Belle married another Demon and had two sets of twins, two girls then a girl and a boy. So we spent yesterday talking about all the tips and tricks she had learned from raising twins. She showed me how to wrap the cloth around my body so I could hold a baby in front and on my back.

But I was still trying to get the hang of it. I abandoned the cloth and picked up the firstborn. I used magic to remove my shirt as her fingers and mouth found what they were looking for. I didn't know how to pick up the second one without hurting her. She looked so tiny and fragile in the crib.

"Allow me," Alastor said in my ear. He dulled his claws as he reached for the tiny being. She nearly fit in his palms alone. I sat on the window sill with my back against the wall and let him place her in my other free arm. He pressed his forehead to mine. "Are you alright?"

"I don't know." I looked between the two girls. We had yet to pick their names.

Alastor sat across from me and ran his hand up and down my leg. He had removed his coat so he sat in his red long sleeve. He looked really handsome all of sudden; especially when he cocked his head to the side. I loved the way his ears moved.

"You feel conflicted," he observed aloud.

I let out a dry chuckle. "Why wouldn't I be? My own father killed my friend and nearly killed my children. He almost killed me. But...there's obviously something wrong with him."

"You pity him?"

"I didn't know Heaven could erase memories but I guess that shouldn't be surprising. But...I don't know." Tiny hands gripped at my skin, eyelids shut and foreheads wrinkled from concentration and effort. "All my books have been some grand reunion with a long lost parent but I...I guess I shouldn't have hoped for that."

"You're disappointed," Alastor finally realized.

"From the day I was born, I was destined to be abnormal. I wanted to live a normal life. But I was never going to have one."

"My dear," Alastor moved closer and touched his palm to my cheek, "there is no normal. Not anymore. With every passing century, the 'normal' changes. In this century, I don't see enough of the same thing to consider anything normal. That's just the nature of life."

I stifled a laugh. "Didn't take you to be the philosophical kind."

"I will be whatever you need me to be." He placed a kiss on my forehead. I reached into his mind and found a bundle of nervousness unrelated to me. He pushed me out and rubbed my knee reassuringly. "Allow me to fret about it, love."

"That doesn't work anymore," I said. "I need to know what's going on." There's more.

We will always be on someone's agenda. I'm attempting to find ways to keep us safe.

"So can we please talk about it?" I held his gaze. "We don't talk. We don't strategize. We don't do anything like that. We're a team, aren't we?"

"Of course, my love. But I...I am here to protect you and our daughters. I want all your attention to be on caring for them, not stressing over something else. Let me handle that."

I pressed my lips together and looked out the window. The only sound came from the girls' sucking. I could feel their heartbeats trying to sync with mine. "Everyone has tried to separate us. Adam took me while Blackwater went after you. You were gone for eight years and everyone came after the city. Adam distracted you while--John? Judah?--tried to kill us." I looked down at the girls again.

Alastor was silent.

"Everyone has always tried to separate us. Because they're afraid of us working together." I met his eyes again, shocked by the seriousness in which he was listening, and said, "For once I want to work together. People are scared of us together for a reason. I want to find out why. I want to discover more. I want to be with you."

Alastor stared at me for several heartbeats. He had opened his mind again but I remained where I was on the surface. I waited for him to form coherent thoughts and actually voice them.

"This will require some leniency," he finally said. "From both of us." His emphasis was for me and I knew he was referring to the little things between us.

"I'm willing to work on it."

His eyes softened and he moved closer to hold my hand in his palm. "Then we will. For us and for our daughters."

"For our daughters," I agreed, closing my eyes and leaning my head further into his hand.

Soon, we would need to fight Heaven.

But for now, I was going to enjoy this peace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

Get ready, because "the final stand" comes out tomorrow!

Also, the new OC Belle comes from @az—zy who sent their OC to me a long time ago. It got lost in my messages and I didn’t see it until now. I hope this makes up for it! <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine @martinys-world @thesimpybitch @papas-ghoulette @masochist-downfall @feral-fox-crypt

#demi demon #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #soulmate au #soulmates #reqs open

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tortillamastersblog · 2 months ago

Text

ʚ Butterflies | Octavia Blake ɞ

Pairing: Octavia Blake x reader

Warnings: mentions of injuries, blood and violence

Summary: What if you’re the one who finds Octavia, not Lincoln?

________________________________________________

One month ago. . .

“You’ll be okay,” I whisper as I place the young woman down on my bed. “I promise. You’ll be okay.”

I quickly get a fire started to chase away the chill before getting to work on cleaning the blood off her temple.

It looks to be a superficial cut but to prevent infection I put some antibacterial ointment on it before moving on to her leg where the fabric of her pants is stained red and torn.

I carefully cut off the leg of her pants to reveal the cut, cringing when I discover that it’s worse than I originally thought.

Knowing the risk of infection is pretty high, I sigh and think of a way to disinfect the wound. I could use some of the ointment, but the wound is very deep and the safer option would be to just cauterize it.

It’s extremely painful— I should know, I’ve done it to myself many times— and I don’t want to hurt the young woman any more than I have to, but it is the best way to prevent infection, so I take one of my daggers and shove the blade into the fires in the hearth.

It won’t hurt much if she’s still unconscious by the time I do it, but as luck would have it, she begins stirring just as the blade begins glowing.

Her eyelids flutter and she groans. I watch her come to and smile sheepishly when her eyes land on me.

She flinches and scrambles to get away from me and its only when I lift my hand to my chin that I realize I still have my mask covering the lower part of my face.

“No, g-get away from me,” she pleads, wincing when her leg gets caught in one of the furs on the bed.

I quickly pull the mask from my face and lift my hands in a placating way.

“It’s okay. . .” I assure her, my English coming out a little rusty since I haven’t used it in a long time. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She freezes and shrinks back against the wall, but stops trying to make a run for it. “You speak English?”

I nod. “A little.”

She watches me closely and moves her hand to touch the injury on her temple, the fear of me doing something to harm her still obvious in her eyes.

When her fingers come in contact with the ointment I put on the cut, she pulls her hand back in surprise.

“Where am I?” she asks, some of the earlier wariness leaving her face.

“I found you after you took a pretty bad fall, so I took you back here.” I attempt another smile and delight in the fact that it causes some of the tension in her shoulders to disappear now that she can actually see it.

“And where exactly is here?” she asks. “I- I have to get back to my brother. He’s going to be so worried and — Oh my God, I need to—“

“Hey, wait.” I move closer to the bed but refrain from touching her. “I’ll take you back to your people. I promise, but it’s dark outside now and your leg is in pretty bad shape.“

As if the reminder makes the pain return, she winces and grabs her leg.

“This is my home,” I say. “And I know a thing or two about healing, so if you let me, I’ll treat your wound, but I have to warn you that it’s going to hurt.” I tilt my head in the direction of the hearth where the blade of my dagger is now glowing a faint orange.

The girl swallows thickly and lets her eyes dart between me and her leg. Then, she nods timidly and says, “Do it.”

“Okay.” I grab the knife and approach her slowly. “Like I said, this is going to hurt. A lot, but it’s better than infection or bleeding out.”

She nods again and moves over so I can sit on the bed next to her. Her eyes are fixed on the dagger and her throat bobs again.

“Hey, look at me,” I say, trying to sound reassuring. “This is going to be over in no time. I promise. You can grab my arm and squeeze if you have to.”

“O-Okay. . .”

I place a hand on her leg to make sure she doesn’t pull away before looking at her for consent once again.

She dips her chin and squeezes her eyes shut, making her long dark hair fall over her shoulder and around her face.

I clench my teeth and take a deep breath, hating myself for having to hurt her like this. There’s no other way though, I know that, so I bring the blade down onto her wound.

Almost instantly, she cries out in pain and thrashes around, trying to get out of my grip.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I pant, making sure I get every inch of the wound as she grips my arm.

I’m sure the grip is going to leave bruises, but it’s nothing compared to the amount of pain I’m inflicting on her.

As soon as I’m done, I toss the dagger aside and grab a clean rag, pressing it onto her wound.

“There, it’s done. You’re done. It’s over.” I put a hand over her hand on my bicep and squeeze gently.

She shudders and breathes heavily. “Fuck. That hurt like a bitch.”

I chuckle softly and keep pressure on her leg as she slowly opens her eyes. She takes in every detail of my face with a blank expression and I can’t help but feel a little self conscious.

When her eyes drop lower and land on the scar on my neck that disappears beneath my shirt, I squirm and turn so she can’t see it anymore.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

A bead of sweat rolls down the side of her face and I fight the unexplainable urge to wipe it away. “I think so, yes. . . I’m tired and I have a headache, but otherwise I’m okay.”

“Good.” I don’t know what else to say and the silence that falls over us is slightly uncomfortable.

It doesn’t stay silent for long though clears the brunette clears her throat softly and says, “I’m Octavia by the way. Octavia Blake.”

“Octavia,” I echo. “That’s a beautiful name.”

She blushes at the compliment and smiles for the first time. “I guess. . . What’s your name?” She tucks her hair behind her ear and drops her hands into her lap.

Scar.

The name almost slips from my lips. It’s what everyone used to call me, but it’s not my name. I hate it, and I’ve hated it ever since it became a thing, but no one ever called me anything else after it stuck.

“Y/N,” I whisper. I haven’t said my own name in so long, it almost sounds foreign.

“Y/N?” She tilts her head. “No last name?”

I shake my head. “We don’t really have those down here, but I guess, technically, my full name is Y/N kom Trikru.”

Octavia perks up at that and leans forward with curiosity glinting in her eyes. “What does that mean?”

“My clan’s name is Trikru. It’s Trigedasleng, our language, and I guess you could say it’s Tree People in English. So, if you translate it word for word my name is Y/N of the Tree People.”

I don’t know why I’m telling her all of this, but the way she’s looking at me makes me want to spill all my secrets.

It’s ridiculous, I know, but since I saw her in the woods a couple of weeks ago, admiring butterflies, I couldn’t help but want to get to know her.

And now, call it fate or coincidence, I have the chance to talk to her, get to know her, and I’m not going to pass up on that opportunity.

“So, what would my name be? In Triga- Triged— Oh whatever. You know what I mean.”

My lips twitch and I scoot back on the bed until I’m leaning against the wall. “Trigedasleng.”

Octavia waves me off and makes herself comfortable next to me.

“Well, I guess it would be Octavia kom Skaikru,” I explain. “Octavia of the Sky People.”

“Octavia kom Skaikru,” she says under her breath before looking up and smiling softly. “I like how that sounds.”

“Yeah?” I raise an eyebrow which makes her avert her eyes with a faint blush on her cheeks.

“Yeah.”

It’s quite for a moment, but then Octavia’s stomach growls and I perk up, asking her if she wants something to eat.

She declines the offer, but then her stomach growls again and she accepts some smoked meat and a piece of bread with a grateful smile.

I let her eat in silence while I clean up around the hut a little.

I put away the arrows I’ve been fixing on my desk and hang up my cloak by the door. After returning with Octavia in my arms earlier I kind of just shrugged it off by the hearth.

I put another log on the fire, watching the flames immediately take to it before turning around to see how Octavia is doing.

“Oh, you poor thing,” I tease quietly, seeing her passed out with a piece of bread still in her hand.

I take the rest of the food from her and place it down on the bedside table, which is essentially just an old wooden box I got in Polis from one of the vendors for free. Then, I carefully maneuver her into a lying position before covering her with my sleep furs.

“Sleep tight,” I whisper, admiring her relaxed face for a moment before turning away with a sigh.

Looks like I’m sleeping on the floor tonight.

Today. . .

“How’s your hand?” Octavia mumbles against my jaw.

I take my eyes off the thousands of glowing butterflies around us and tilt my chin down to look at her.

The blue light dancing over her face makes her eyes sparkle, and I press a kiss to the tip of her nose before answering. “It’s healing.” That earns me a frown, so I add, “It still hurts, but I’ve had worse.”

A guilty look crosses over her face, so I pull her tighter against my chest and kiss the top of her head. “Stop it. I know what you’re thinking and it’s not your fault. We’ve talked about this.”

“But—“

“No buts,” I interrupt softly. “The past is in the past. Let’s just focus on the future.”

Octavia huffs, but agrees with a grumbled Fine.

I smile against her temple and squeeze her waist playfully before looking back up to watch the butterflies.

When I brought her back to her people they tackled me to the ground against Octavia’s protests before hauling me into the giant metal ship they landed in.

They interrogated me, asking about all kinds of things, but I honestly had no idea what they were talking about.

They wanted to know what us Grounders are up to and why we’re targeting them, but I honestly couldn’t tell them anything because I haven’t lived in Polis or Ton DC in years and I’m no longer in the loop with Indra and Anya.

As far as I’ve observe since they landed, I found them to be no threat, but Lexa and the others must think otherwise.

No matter that though, I never hurt any of them and I usually steer clear of them. Well, everyone except Octavia.

I didn’t say much during the interrogation after I tried to make it clear that I have nothing to do with the attacks, but they didn’t believe me which ended with me having a weird looking screw shoved through my palm and a bruises all over my body.

Octavia managed to sneak me out after drugging everyone with Jobi Nuts, kissing me before sending me off and we’ve been seeing each other secretly ever since.

The bruises have faded since then, but my hand is still badly injured which has made hunting quite difficult recently.

I manage just fine though, relying on nuts and fruit now more than before.

“They’re beautiful.”

Octavia’s voice brings me back to reality and when I look around I can’t help but agree.

“They are. The first time I saw you, you followed one of them into the woods,” I admit. “And the pure joy on your face when they started landing on your arms made my heart melt.”

Octavia interlaces our fingers over her stomach and runs her thumb over my knuckles. “You saw that?”

Her questions is curious rather than accusatory and and I nod, pressing another kiss to the top of her head. “Yes. And it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Octavia freezes and turns her head slowly to look at me again. “You mean that?”

“Of course,” I whisper and before I know what’s happening her lips are on mine and she’s kissing me slowly.

It’s not our first kiss, but the meaning behind it is different and as the kiss turns into something more heated, I pull back to make sure we’re still on the same page.

“Was that okay? I mean, it wasn’t too much?” I ask which makes her laugh.

“I literally initiated the kiss, Y/N,” she says, her smile bright and loving.

“I’m just making sure.” I return her smile and we go back to watching the butterflies until it gets too cold to stay outside. “Come on, let’s get you back to the ship.”

“Mmm, no,” she whines, holding onto me as we get to our feet. “I don’t want to go back yet.”

“But your brother—“

“I don’t care.” She cups my cheeks and runs her thumbs over my cheekbones. “I want to stay with you.”

I meet her green eyes with my own and the pleading look she’s giving me is enough to make me melt. “Okay. Fine.”

She squeaks excitedly and pecks my lips before pulling me in the direction of my cabin. I keep an eye out for any of Indra’s scouts, my unoccupied hand on the hilt of my dagger all the way home, but we don’t come across any of them.

Octavia slams the front door of the cabin shut as soon as we’re inside and pushes me back against it and kisses me fiercely.

Every touch of her hands on my face and neck is electrifying and her lips kn my own take my breath away.

“Please,” she whispers when she pulls back a while later. She rests her forehead against mine and cards her fingers through my hair.

“Please, what?”

“Touch me,” she tries to clarify, but my kiss muddled brain is still not get what she wants from me.

“I. . . I am touching you,” I stammer which makes her smile playfully.

She steps back, pulling off her shirt in one smooth motion before taking my hands and placing them on her naked waist.

I choke slightly and stare at her wide eyed, not daring to look anywhere below her neck. “Oh.”

Ignoring my daft remark, she returns her hands to my cheeks. Her eyes are darkened with desire and I can’t help but shiver at the feeling of her warm skin beneath my fingertips.

“Please,” she says again. “Touch me.”

I know exactly what she means now, but I can’t bring myself to move. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel pressured or—“

I’m cut off by a fierce kiss that only last a second. “I’m sure. I want this. I want you.”

I swallow dryly and let my eyes wander over her face for a moment before leaning back in to recapture her lips with mine.

Her hands run over my chest as mine slide to her lower back and before long she’s tugging on the hem of my shirt.

I allow her to pull it over my head, leaning back down to trail kisses down the side of her neck, but then her hands land on the scar on my neck and chest.

I freeze and my grip on her tightens involuntarily. I lower my chin to my chest and squeeze my eyes shut.

“I— shit, sorry. Are you okay?” she whispers and I nod my head even though I can’t bring myself to open my eyes again.

I’m literally covered in scars, hence the nickname Scar, and she’s seen me shirtless before, but this particular scar has always been a sore spot for me.

I didn’t get it during my time as Indra’s second in command. I got it as a child when my family’s house burned down and a burning beam fell on me.

I was the only one who survived, losing my father and older brother to the fire, and I’ve been living on my own ever since.

“I’m sorry,” Octavia whispers again. She knows the story behind the scar, and even though her touch momentarily brought back bad memories, I want to follow my own advice and leave the past in the past.

“It’s okay.” I open my eyes again and bend down in the blink of an eye, picking her up by the back of her thighs.

“Y/N!” she squeals, clinging to me like a koala by wrapping her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist.

I smirk and nip at her throat while making my way to the bed.

“Yes?” I tease which prompts her to tug on my hair in warning.

“Just-“ she’s breathes heavily- “shut up and kiss me.”

I chuckle and drop her on the bed, jumping on after her.

________________________________________________

Writer’s block is a real bitch at the moment, but I’m trying my best to post as often as I can.

*Not proofread yet (I’m honestly so lazy I haven’t proofread anything in so long. . . Oh well. . .)

#x reader #fluff #the 100 cw #the 100 #octavia blake x reader #octavia blake

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