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vyzz-undercover · 3 months ago

Text

im insane have a few kilos of:

[cato/f!ambassador]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

(6,600ish words) (please fucking sedate me)

{i dont usually write in whatever perspective having a 'you' in this sort of context is, so forgive any oopsies besties!!!}

CONTENT WARNINGS:

•slight dubcon

•hints of size kink

•intercourse [M/F]

•degrading language

•mild possessive behaviour

•pisspoor cliche of 'oh no you're freezing haha body warmth eh?' trope

•mr. sicarius' insufferable ego

•tumblr's dogshit formatting from phone notes to the app

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super special thanks to all the writers im too much of a spineless coward to actually @ because i only ever lurked on anon asks on old main for, like: moodymisty, mothiir, lemon-russ, the-raven-lady, scriberye and many others. you're all the unknowing reasons why i made an alt to post this, cheers for your amazing works and ideas!!! :3

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It was doomed from the start, honestly.

Not to say he had any hope that an assignment would ever actually go easily for once.

It's supposed to be an apparently simple diplomatic procedure. Namely, you get to stand around, run your ambassadorial trap and bat your lashes and trollop about in front of pompous baseline fools. While he, Cato Sicarius, stands at attention in pissy formal wear; pretending like he's not a hair-breadth from an aneurysm watching it all take place.

Oh, and not to forget the brother who's a head taller than him, in full plate, and isn't being held to a standard of mock-humility.

He realises belatedly he's forgotten the Primaris' name. That shouldn't happen. He never used to forget things. Eidetic memory shouldn't let him. He shouldn't be able to—or, well—maybe his subconscious deigned it unimportant and emptied it out the proverbial airlock of his mind. It was admittedly largely inconsequential. He'd been told, surely. He remembers he was a Sergeant of some sort from his markings. He also remembers being gawked at by the Primaris, borderline felated by eyes alone. He's Cato Sicarius, afterall. Grand Duke of Talassar and High Suzerain of Ultramar—of course he'd been inspiring awe. But for some warp-damned reason, alongside all those great titles, his Father'd decided to add Master Babysitter of His Ambassador to the list. But Cato does doesn't let it bother him. He's always got better things to occupy his time. Like furiously glaring at you across the thunder-hawk, even if you'd been dead-set on counting the rivets in the floor plating.

You'd looked absolutely idiotic in an Astartes troop seat. Like a toddler in an adult-sized wheelchair, draped in furs that seemed a size too big; hiding a dress that looked a size too small.

Simply put, the entire assignment was to be an event in circle-jerking—until shit hit the fan with all the painful similarity of a Nurgling thrown headlong into a thruster engine.

To begin with, it was a trap—a trap where he's separated from brother-Sergeant 'whatever-the-fuck-riel' in the commotion and responding bolter fire. That'd left Cato pointedly responsible for evacuating you, the useless little chatterbox, by the scruff of your fuzzy coat through side halls.

On another note, of all the accursed biomes, he hates tundras the most.

Pointedly, it's exactly what seventy percent of this backwater, shit-hole planet is this time of year; whereas the other thirty percent is glacial mush.

He discovers firsthand just how much sloshy ice-water there is to be found as he kicks in a shutter door and gets doused for the first time of many to follow; only to vault from the eastern rampart. Sliding down a long, raised and sleet covered run-off canal that passed over the keep's lesser residential rooftops with you in his grasp.

Melt water soaks you both as he scrambles fights to a halt on the steep decline before the drop off. Wobbling balancing on the edge for a second before he manages to scud back up and down a side chute, worming through the raucous hellscape of filthy baselines and too-tight alleys into the scrappy frozen wilds.

There was little time to hesitate when he decides breaking into a dead-sprint with a soggy ambassador thrown over his shoulder's the modus operandi of the situation.

He didn't stop until he was at least fifteen clicks away, or rather—he only stops when he's able to recognise a spot to hide and await for emergency evacuation.

A half-standing shack. Probably some peasant's hunting hovel. Clearly in poor condition, and honestly, a cave would've been preferable—but he isn't about to pass up the opportunity.

The door doesn't even swing open when he nudges it with his elbow. No, it falls inward, because of course it does, and he grumbles belatedly when it thuds.

The inside of the structure is a damnable mess, but, at the very least, it's dry.

He moves to tug you off his shoulder and toss you onto a pile of rags in the far corner, but he hesitates periodically. Even through his own wet outer attire, he can tell very little body heat is coming off you. His hearing catches on the way your breathing labours below the incessant chatter of your teeth.

Some wretched part of him implores he let you down carefully next to the nested mess of dirty cloth; and for once, he acquiesces to granting mercy.

You curl up into a ball on the floorboards almost immediately.

In his eyes, you're the pict of some drowned rat. The fur coat you'd been wearing over your dress is just as soaked through as everything else. Your hair is full of small, frozen rivulets at the ends, mixed in with powder snow and ice; and all the while, you're whining softly and trying to coil tighter into a fetal position.

He's trying very hard not to just stand there and dumbly listen to your little noises of weakness like a salivating dog.

Instead, Cato turns and lifts the door back into place against the frame; then he activates the honing beacon on his belt.

No latency pings, no close contact.

He grumbles again, eyeing your shivering form over his shoulder begrudgingly.

He hates you.

He hates that he's the one who's responsible for you.

The fact he is also currently out of his power-armour because of this charade only makes him even more irate, impossibly.

Sure, he has his combat bodyglove on under the tacky regalia, but it's no real consolation. He'd feel a lot better if there was a couple extra hundred kilos of plasteel and ceramite on him.

He could've had his armour on, had someone else been the one to babysit you.

He would have preferred anything but sole custody of your wretched, annoying existence falling on him. But because he's the only competent Astartes around ninety percent of the time, and you're the root of all problems—it means he's the only one who's capable of handling your stupidity. He can't even imagine letting anyone else do it. You'd probably deafen Trajan with your yapping if he was in his stead. Or Prabian. And if Titus had watch of you, you two'd probably be—ugh, he won't even dignify the thought. He can't believe the man'd been Captain of Second Company before him, or how or why Agemman gave the captaincy to him. He understands why Titus'd been struck from most records aside from high clearance. To say nothing of the fact that one would think being a Blackshield for a century would humble someone. But no, it seems crossing the Rubicon Primaris gave him his balls back.

Cato had almost flown into a blind rage when he'd heard him jokingly warning about rough weather to you on the embarkation deck the last time you'd been in each others general vicinity—because oh, of course Lieutenant Titus is suddenly a subsector-renowned fucking comedian as soon as you're there. Cato ought to subpoena the dribbling Inquisition like that little snake Leandros did. See how Titus'd like a real stage to perform on again. Maybe they'll have a new rendition of the cunted Rubicon Primaris to piece his sorry fat-arse back together once more by then. But he won't. He won't because Marneus would sulk, and Cato would feel bad. Plus, Cato's infinitely more likely to kill an Inquisitor than help one. But you—you little skank—you find Titus so funny. Hiding a giggle behind your hand, pretending to look demure and professional despite your wretched nature.

Why don't you smile at him like that?

You would be the death of him.

It was always all because of you. Every single time. Because you're so useless in any situation that can't be rambled out of. Which is all of them when you're involved, in Cato's opinion. His Father should leave the talking to professionals who wouldn't break a hip from a smack on the rear.

But now you are going to die of hypothermia, like a typical, pathetic little baseline—well, unless you start following his orders.

Cato tries not to think of how you were acting when rounds started going off earlier. Of course, like a spooked animal, you'd been all ears to his commands then. Hiding against him with your hands pawing at the side of his dress uniform as bullets careened across the dining hall, looking up at him with those big, terrified, caught-in-the-crosshair eyes—and, Throne, it had been so easy to pick you up. You were so soft flimsy, he could fling you around like a rag-doll if he really wanted. Manhandling you would be a singlehanded venture. He's liable to just hoist you up whenever you think yourself bold enough to bother him next. Grab you by your uniform's scruff and just pin you against a bulkhead, you'd be bent at the perfect height to—no—no, no.

Abruptly trying to distract himself, Cato draws his blade from it's ceremonial sheath and activates the disruption core, trying to stoke some sort of heated spark as he drove it into the fireplace.

He brutishly nudges it amidst the old wood and long dim coals. It isn't his finest moment of critical thinking, but it seems to be working; seeing as a few weak embers sputter to life.

Gratingly, he's aware that even a servitor would've known starting a fire in hostile territory was a fool's surest way at getting caught—but he has no other choice. Either he acts the moron and plays his poor hand, or you die from the shock of your chill; and if that happens, he'll have to face his Father's wrath.

And Guilliman would have his left testicle as a paperweight if you died under his watch.

In conclusion, if Cato is to choose between stupidity and complete failure, he's opting for stupidity. Which aggravatingly felt like an ongoing occurrence, ever since you started existing anywhere near him.

He reaches for your soggy swaddled form, and tugs.

Even practically hypothermic, you've still got enough of a two-faced-bitch's spirit hidden away in you to hiss and swat at him blindly. So much for his Father's claims you were of 'sweet, kind temperament.'

For a moment, he genuinely wants to throttle you for the outburst; but he swallows down the urge.

"You need to get out of those," he snaps, glowering down at you. "Or you are going to die."

Your response is a poignant little groan as you glance dizzily around the room.

Cato huffs, "There are blankets beside you, fool."

He holds up a dingy plaid throw, half fraying and stinking of stale mould. It was an assault on his vomeronasal organ, but he wasn't about to let you act the typical spoiled cunt routine of an Imperial ambassador. He would have you wrapped in it sooner rather than later, wether you liked it or not. You dying reflects poorly on him, afterall.

"T-T-Turn, p-p-please—" you say, but your stammering mangles the words into a juddering mess.

He growls, almost tempted to snarl something about 'the fucking audacity in thinking you can tell him what to do—' but acquiesces out of sheer force of will and pivots on his heel, settling into a martial line stance.

Cato can hear you struggling to wriggle free of your clothes. The whines of effort and heavy breathing, to say nothing of the almost comedic slop sound one miscellaneous article makes as it hits the rotted wooden floorboards.

Even if he's taking it to his grave, he's admittedly itching to look over his shoulder.

It's a completely degenerate urge.

But he's—he's wanted this. He's wanted this exact opportunity.

He's got it, now.

You're alone with him.

Nothing and nobody to distract or detract from your attention finally being all on him.

You make a fey little groan, and he takes that as a signal you're finished.

He rounds about-face, and, for lack of a better word, ogles the shape of your covered form.

You've dragged that pile of rags closer to the meagre fireplace, lying on it with the plaid blanket strewn over the top of you.

Even completely hidden beneath, he can see you are still shaking under the ratty thing. Even moreso than before, in all actuality. He supposes that's a good sign. It proves your feeble body is still well and keen on living.

But the suffocating concept you're bare weak, soft useless and needing pathetic underneath that scrap of fabric worms its way into his brain like a cancer.

He grits his teeth so hard his jaw aches.

Tearing his gaze away, he finds the embers his blade coaxed are a small flame eating away at the old timber now.

Looking back, your shivering's subsiding, but your rapid breathing is increasing; which is surely not good.

He has an idea, which definitely isn't influenced by depravity at all—shut up.

Cato tries for a moment to actually unbutton his attire. His fingers are too large, unsurprisingly. And with the body-suit, he's got no leverage of a nail or two to do away with the dainty fasteners. So, ultimately, he tears the regalia down the front, sending buttons flying—and continues to pry and rend the sopping garments off his arms and legs until they're a pile at his feet.

Then he sets about a more strenuous matter. He releases the locking mechanism at his clavicle, and promptly undoes the thick claps over his pectorals so he can pop free the catches beneath, peeling the layered material back and shucking his arms and hands loose of their constraints.

The top of his bodyglove hangs around his hips now, and he sighs. The chill is of no real annoyance to him. He's built to endure most conditions. Sure, it's cold—but Astartes run hot. And right now, he's boiling for so very many accursed reasons.

He settles on his side next to you and scuds himself to bracket the pile of fabric.

"Move closer," he bites out.

He tries not to groan when you actually do, and surprises himself when he manages to stifle the sound. Even through the blanket, he imagines his warmth is a welcome change to freezing.

"T-Thank you," you say softly, soaking in his body heat like a banal reptile under a sun's rays.

He likes hearing timidity on your lips.

He supposes it stems from his habit of humbling you. The opportunities are unsurprisingly plentiful. He often finds enjoyment hearing you back-pedal when he would cut you down for so much as genially inquiring on Astartesian discussions. Putting himself in the middle and shutting you out, even if you were welcomed in them prior to his arrival.

If you want to ask something of his Brothers, it'll be his answers.

All it ever took was a growl and a curt reminder to know your place. Then you'd fumble and take two steps back. Snipped down to size as you ought to be. Forced to suffer an ounce of the shame he feels. Oh, and then your big doe-eyes'd cast down at Cato's ceramite boots, fussing; trying to apologise to him.

In truth, it's adorable pathetic to watch.

You look so hurt.

It's an act, he's sure of it.

You play at being difficult to anger, and that makes you just that bit more grating. You've unknowingly caught him with an unfair advantage. One that his prowess as a statesman and a warrior cannot seem to scratch. He's always left feeling robbed in your presence. In a way that furiously giving in to the alien urge of palming himself afterwards doesn't ever fix. He's toey and irked to be excluded when you talk to other Astartes, but simultaneously darkly glad that you shy from such antics with him.

It's paradoxical, yes. But no, he's not a hypocrite. Though some part of him is scolding him for being one. No, he's aching to sink his proverbial claws into you—though he won't ever say it to a soul. He won't because he knows he's not supposed to have tastes such as this. A pit in his gut taunts that the stint he'd suffered in the Warp is to blame. But he's the commander of Roboute Guilliman's Victrix Guard. He is not aberrant. The sidelong, fraction-of-a-second glances Cato receives from his Primarch when you enter his office to give briefings surely mean nothing.

It's clear why you have his Father's favour, but he'll never admit that either. Aside from Guilliman's desperation to find baseline company for some strange reason. You're surely just a pet to him. Like a small rodent he pries off a little wheel and sets out in a clear sphere to roll about on the bridge, or something.

To say nothing of his brothers' behaviours.

They won't show it in a group, but he knows the Astartes beneath him preen at your every query.

It's complete lunacy.

It's heresy.

You must have somehow beguiled them all, just like you've done him.

But you're still right there—right where he wants you.

And damn it all, does he want you.

He wants—he wants you on your front, squirming underneath him. No, wait, he wants to see you—but then you'd need to be on top. He can watch, like that. Then afterwards he'll have you on your back, perhaps. Why not sideways? You're already like that, now. Or—or... who's he kidding, he'd take anything, and everything.

Throne, he's so hard he swears he is going to have a brain haemorrhage. He feels like he's already had one, honestly, for all his thoughts are hazing. It's a million leagues worse than the time you'd accidentally called him 'Lord Sicarius' by accident instead of your usual choice of 'Commander' and Throne, he'd rubbed himself raw after that.

Maybe if you weren't such a whorish little wretch, his fantasies wouldn't be running so rabid right now.

You wriggle and your half-covered back slides up against his front.

Cato's never held himself stiller in his life.

Your skin feels like fine silk to his spiralling mind; and even worse, your damnable wriggling doesn't stop. You start making little movements with your feet to try to get circulation back in them—and again, there's a fey similarity to your behaviours and some soaked rodent he recognises.

Decidedly, you've realised it's not enough and promptly jut your feet backwards between his quads. Still continuing the motions, but more furiously.

The touch is dangerously close to the cradle of his inner thighs.

He swears he actually feels the blood drain from his face in mortification. The touch is meagre, but it's real. It's more warming than any he's ever known. And of course, to add insult to injury, that blood drains straight to were he's already painfully hard—which is currently pushed against his navel, halfway jutting out of his bodyglove's zipper.

Thankfully, you withdraw yourself from between his legs and sigh again, snug.

Then, you shuffle closer.

Your rear scuds right up to the swell of his confined cock.

Cato's immediately beside himself in an instant, flying into a rainbow of emotion. First, he's disgusted. Then he's seething at the audacity—which makes him furious—and finally, he's... he's ecstatic.

He groans, raring like some rutting animal; but the sound ultimately leaves him as an angry, subvocal snarl of transhuman harmonics.

You flinch, and wriggle away sharply, and he repeats the sound again at the loss of contact. You're only a hair away from being there still, he can feel how close you are—but you remain just beyond him again.

"My—my apologies, Commander... I-I—" you blurt out, voice still a little chill stuttered, "I didn't... I didn't mean to overstep."

He inhales steadily. He notes you're doused in human stress hormones; but he's acutely aware of a honeyed smell just below the surface. It's so suffocatingly sugary it's actually hurting his nose to scent the air. It's addling his thoughts, turning his focus to mist.

He can smell you failing to juggle all the reactions and thankfully rottenly settling for the one that makes you reek of mollasses.

"Come back, shut up," he hisses. "And stay still."

Sweet-stink radiates again before you swallow sharply.

There's an eternal breath of time in which he's about to go mad with anticipation, and the instant you're slotted against him again.

Some base urgency sends him frotting forward, and the thick, leaking head of him that peaks out the top of his zip brushes against a warm cunt; all thanks to that blanket of yours having slipped loose slightly, and lo, the blessed horrid consequence.

He'd live off the way your surprised gasp makes his nerves thrill.

"Is—" you wheeze, "Is that...?"

He grimaces, unsurprised you're ever stupider than you look. Recklessly, instead of lying—instead of saying 'no, it's a combat knife,' his mouth decides he's to act the most pathologically honest town crier alive.

"It," he intones sharply, before the words "...is your fault," leave him as a rushed hiss.

A belated pause wins out for a moment, and he's mortified as he realises what he's just confessed. There's a leaden feeling at the back of his throat. One option to recover the situation is that he could just hit you on the head. What'd be a shiner of a punch to a brother would be a terminal concussion to a baseline. Then, he'd tell the Primarch, oh yes, you died. Very sad. How? To shreds. To shreds you say? Truthfully, he can't really bring any actual conviction to the plan. He wouldn't. The notion is merely a hypothetical, in a perfect world where violence solved everything. Because if you die, Guilliman will send him to an Agri-world to be some peasant's plough-puller or someshit for a few centuries—and Cato's going to kill himself before he has to suffer that indignity. Uriel would never let him live it down. He's bound to suffer the same consequences, ultimately. Even if he's got no idea what an Astartes with a sex drive would be liable to be punished for. Oh, right. Corruption. So now, there's a credible witness to his flaw and one that his Father'll believe, worst of all, and... abruptly, you reply instead of scream in revulsion, your voice a mumbled little squeak as you say, "I didn't know—I mean, I didn't think—"

"Believe me, I am well aware you lack the capacity to think," Cato cuts in, and swallows down a snort at his own mean spirited joke. He's fucked, and for some reason he's suddenly further struck by the hilarity of the bastard, warp-spawn wiles of fate and chance. May as well be hung for the sheep as for a lamb, he decides.

Your breathing gains a shallow edge, and he feels you make as if to inch away again.

"I said not to move," He growls, and keeps you flush against him—holding you there by way of folding an arm across you.

"I just... uh," you reply, "I'm just..."

Your ass grinds back against him.

There's contact, your skin against the flushed, drooling head of him that feels painfully tender—and then you ruin it by speaking again.

"Curious, I suppose...? I was of the belief the Adeptus Astartes didn't..." your voice is soft, at least; slow and distracted, "Have an appetite for... this sort of thing?"

Cato momentarily stays fixated on the breathiness of your tone, and has to remind himself he's supposed to be angry at being robbed of silence—so he grumbles, "I told you to shut your trap," and promptly smothers a palm over your mouth.

You make a noise that sounds vaguely like a mumbled curse and settle, breathing hard through your nose to compensate.

Still, your rear presses back against him.

Cato takes the gesture at face value and fusses, roughly wrenching his bodyglove down to his thighs with his free hand.

Unconfined, his cock slaps the small of your back, and he manhandles you to readjust so it glides between your thighs instead.

Everything in place, he skews his hips forward, and his eyes roll back at the smooth, sublime drag of skin against skin. It's genuine perfection, wet and soft and molten.

The little hitched breaths you steal through your nose with each roll of his hips make him grind faster. Pressing closer with each, until the abhorrent, sticky sound of him steadily fucking against you is nigh deafening.

"I go in or I stay out," he says, and he can feel his molars grate against each other as he adds, "...or I can stop."

You shake your head furiously, or at least as much as the huge mitt on your chin, maw and jaw allows.

"Then decide," he snaps. "In?"

Cato hears the cartilage in your gullet move as you swallow dryly and nod.

Chuffed with your allowance compliance, he hums—and then it's his turn to hesitate.

When he draws his hand from your mouth, he curtly says, "Stay silent," and starts as if to tell you to arrange one way, then decides against it; dithering uncharacteristically. Then, rarer yet, Cato stumbles his words as he adds, "Move on to y-your front, then."

He doesn't know why he asked for the least preferred option when he'd been deliberating over the hypothetical for so long previously but nonetheless you, miraculously, comply without complaint. And despite himself he frustrates as you roll, his cock slipping away from between your thighs.

Draped in covers, he can't see much of you aside from the shape of you slowly arranging onto your hands and knees; before your chest sinks, and your ass stays up.

Like a rabid dog, he scrambles onto his haunches and scuds over behind you.

He's not entirely sure what to do first, and harrumphs.

In answer, your back arches even further in a dangerously luring bow, a display of willingness whorishness that turns Cato's thoughts to mush. Ass up and still in the pile, covered in blankets and rags, it's painfully easy to tug you from them just enough so that a decent portion of your raised lower half is exposed to him.

All he's able to comprehend the very next instant in some hind-brain, primitive way is a shapely ass, and a pretty pink cunt.

He grabs your hip, and the size comparison is so stark his head swims. With the span of one hand, he could palm a whole globe of your rear.

He does just that, and spreads you to take a nice long look.

You've a glossy sheen of clear slick that's starting to string down where it's collecting between your labia, and Throne—it's that. That's the sweet smell. And it's all for him—you're everything he's wanted.

Inspecting, he finds the hole leaking lubricant and a much, much smaller one below it—the vagina and then the urethra, he reasons by way of thinking back on a baseline biologis graphics; and, eyeing lower to a hooded fold, he finds a swollen little nub.

Pointedly, he's got a suspicion of what it is and turns his curiosity to it.

It's an easy target for his large thumb, even as slippery as your lust has made you, and—

A shaky little keen, then your knees pull together; body curling.

"Keep your damn legs apart," he grunts, wrenching them wide, and splaying a big palm on your ass to lift you into an arch again.

He's tempted to just bask in the glory of it all, grope, smack, lick—make you beg for it until he's sure you know he's in charge. Until you're as high strung for him as he's ever been for you. But he's frenzied, and well beyond being able to linger on those broader wants; not when he's got an Ambassador to fill.

He's aware of what your clit's really for now, and keeps rolling the pad of his thumb over it until you're squirming. It doesn't take long until your hole is visibly twitching. Nothing but a sloppy, wet mess of your own whorish excitement for him, as you ought to be. Cato bites back a longing sigh as he gets the delight of watching a fresh rivulet of slick string down your thigh.

And when he works up the gall, he jams that same thumb to the hilt in your cunt.

Your insides squeeze around it, and you start shaking, then. But it's not from the cold. No, anything but that. You're warm now, and he's deliriously happy to find you're as soft inside as the rest of you looks and feels. Warp damn him, he's no better than some slavering genestealer wretch fiending for its pound of flesh.

Your smaller baseline frame makes every part of him look huge in comparison. Even his thumb is big. And you're so much less—and the fact the disparity is so glaringly obvious plays havoc with his brain; but he's got an idea. An idea that he refuses to acknowledge sounding painfully like a boarding action to him.

With little tact, he sidles up and positions himself so his tip slots right against you, while stretching your opening with his thumb.

Lining himself up with his other hand, he nudges your entrance, smearing precum in with your wetness while inching forward; sliding his thumb out in tandem with pushing his cock in—and his efforts succeed.

Cato's transfixed watching the head of himself fill the gap, sliding in—and you let out a muffled yelp, still half-buried in the blankets like some stuck animal; your thighs juddering as you suck in air.

Honestly, he's glad you've smothered yourself like that, because he can't imagine keeping it together if you were actively watching him. He thinks the stark reality of it would have him run right out of the shack. Even the idea of having your pretty damning eyes on him makes him swoon sick.

With an over-eager roll of his hips, a shiver races up his spine. But he earns a cry from you.

He takes a deep breath.

There's a twinge of pain-smell and the vaguest hint of blood in the air, but it's impermanent compared to the amount of lust.

He pushes a little more, and you ripple internally around him; making a racketing, breathless noise—twitching before slacking, and then twitching again. A few perfect little moans escaping you at last.

Abruptly, all he's able to give a fuck about is the sensation of wet and hot, and how you're finally all his—it's a strangling fit, but it's satisfying a craving bone-deep. Infinitely better than his war calloused hands.

You feel sublime, and it's pure bliss finally getting what he's wanted for so very long.

All those rest cycles wasted furiously humping into his own clenched hand, all those hours of torment seething about your latest unintended slight against him.

He's so dazed by the new sensation he's massaging small circles with his fingers on your flank, humming lowly. Who would have known all he really needed was to hilt in a warm, velvety, absolutely sopping wet cunt to come around to you? Maybe you're not so bad afterall. That is, for an insufferable little cock-sleeve; but it's nothing Cato can't grin and bare. He can almost imagine tolerating further babysitting assignments, if it means he can use you as a hole to ram his frustrations into like this.

He continues petting you, absentmindedly.

But the involuntary mercy didn't stop you from jackknifing when he bucks in more—each little motion seating him deeper and deeper. He's stunned he fits. You're so... small, and Throne, he feels monstrous even fixating upon the disparity; nevermind the shiver that races up his spine at the thought.

He yanks you backward and you stop squirming for a moment.

When your wriggling starts up again, he holds you still with the sheer willpower only a neurotic control-freak could muster. He stops your motion, yes—but your insides also stop shivering around his cock and he's resentful of that.

Nonetheless, you make to move again then, keening and bothering him; but you're seemingly struck daft when he bottoms out at last, hitting your cervix. Your internal muscles tense on the intrusion, practically cramping around him, blinding him with ecstasy for a heartbeat as you clench down hard; and a squeak of surprise escapes you. Your legs lock stiff for a moment, air venting out your lungs in shock.

You garble out a sweet, hoarse curse that sounds more like a sob than anything.

Cato supposes the theatrics are what an orgasm on something his size does to a woman. And he finds he's appallingly keen to see and hear you do it again. Keen to feel it, too. He adjusts himself and grinds, making sure you're getting every bit he's got to give. It's no small feat of restraint from Cato to not simply drive into you with all his might like a hydraulic press.

Maybe that'll make your tight little hole cinch up again? He thinks you'd like that. No—no, you should be begging for him to keep fucking you. You should be thanking him while you're at it too, really. Thanking him for deigning to take you to begin with.

Your arch falls away to a prone slump with a whine, thighs trembling, leaving him straining forward to stay in you.

He is irate at your antics, now; and his retaliation betrays it.

Cato seizes your hips and yanks you back up his cock, shimmying you a little so he's nice and sheathed and stuffing you full, nigh folded under him. Warm cunt stretched taut around the base of his thick cock, like a perfect scabbard.

He's suddenly absorbed in watching your covered form consciously trying to counter the overwhelming forward mass of him starting to drive into you like he was part battering-ram.

"Better than all those limp-dicked, bastard lordlings you've let empty in you to even chance a cushion near my Primarch's table, hm?" His tone is little more than a scathing drawl, pulling almost entirely out of you just to dip the head of himself in.

You moan into the fabric smothering you, and he holds you with a controlled desperation.

"Answer me, you little shit."

He watches you nodding desperately beneath the cover a second later, failing to get an actual reply out around your huffing and puffing.

Cato groans, "Far keener for Astartes cock, aren't you?"

You nod again, needy.

"Throne, you're pathetic," he chides harshly, delighting in the soft whine of protest you make when pulls out to the tip one last time. "All that haughty bullshit, just to turn out to be so—so easy," then he's sliding back to the hilt and starting his rutting anew, grinding into that perfect spot that has your insides shiver around him again and again. "Isn't that right? This is all you're really good for?"

Beneath him, you're too much of an insensible mess to even think about answering; and somewhere in that depraved miasma of sound, he swears you're trying to say his name.

So, understandably, he inches forward on his knees and boxes you under him. Pinning you under the span of his bulk, two big hands firmly planted either side of your blanketed head.

He can see a few strands of your hair sticking out from beneath it and he can see the fog of your breath and the tip of your nose through a tented section, and only one of your hands—clawing out at the scraps of fabric.

"Prick-dumb animal," he sneers, flagrantly showboating; trying to sound as if he's not feigning lucidity and completely at the mercy of his lust.

He drops from his hands to rest on his elbows, manoeuvring a forearm under your head to prop your chin up. He's so bent over you that your ass is practically glued to his massive pelvis.

You can't stifle yourself now.

The sounds you make when he starts ploughing into you again are unrestrained and absolutely debauched. Practically music to his ears. He can feel your saliva smearing across his arm, and he's absolutely stupefied at the mantra of 'Sicarius, S-Sicarius, Sica-ah—rius—' you start panting. To say nothing of the keening whimpers that escape when you're not crying out for him. Louder with each thrust, and warp damn it all—his perfect memory is never going to let those gorgeous sounds go. He's going to fiend off you mewling his surname like a full dose of battle-chems until he fucking dies.

Cato groans and delights in the involuntary squeeze you make around his cock again; your hips skewing up into his own, meeting him.

He just wants one more thing—he wants—no, needs—he needs to hear you scream his name in that reedy voice. Telling him that you like him playing guard for you, and you're all his and you love hi—

Rather abruptly however, you're cinching down on his cock as you come again. Throne, your cunt may as well be Marneus' clenched powerfist the way you're wringing him for everything he's got. Crying out like you're inconsolable, and so painfully eager and—oh, fuck. He tries to hold off, but it's of little use. The dam cracks, and it's all too much for him far too quickly.

"You rotten w-whore—" the words leave him in between ragged, staggered pants, gritting his teeth even though it's achieving absolutely nothing. "Stop s-squeezing, I-I—"

He's finishing in you the next second and letting out a rough, unbecoming moan instead of the rest of his sentence; despite trying to muffle himself against your shoulder and save face. Emptying all his pent up spend as deep as he can inside you and rutting himself deliriously into oversensitivity. The simple feeling of it is a more profound experience than he can even begin to explain—and he's rendered daft. Fighting just to stay awake against the warm, coddling bliss running rife in his nerves as his muscles twitch.

Still trying to recuperate, he's drunk with afterglow for a few seconds. Head beside yours, sharing the same air and hurried breaths.

In his stupor, he notes that your hair smells nice even after everything. And he tuts softly, resting his eyes. Lulled by the soft sound of your hyperventilating evening out and the continuous, weak fluttering of your cunt around him, hot and tight, and still a perfect fit.

He almost understands why mortal men so frequently fought over baseline women, now.

Almost.

Because then you start squirming again.

Pointedly, he opens his eyes and begrudgingly lifts himself away, slipping free and leaving a big sloppy smear of combined fluids across your ass and thighs as he settles into a kneel.

You're still presenting yourself as Cato scrubs a palm across his face, and blinks slowly.

He glances down for a moment and swallows.

He's hard—still.

Just as ready to rut as he was to start with, despite the fact he's only just finished.

And, much like a beast in season, he genuinely contemplates another round—what would be the harm, anyways? He could be sliding himself back into you, right then, and he doubted you'd do anything but buck up to meet him. So much for some diplomatic prodigy. You're little more than a mewling wreck. And what better way to prove it than another wet layer of your mixed fluids on his cock?

A soft sound escapes you abruptly and he looks back to the place he's itching to slam back inside of.

A few fat rivulets of his cum drip out your abused entrance, but you're too well-screwed to even care, it seems.

He thumbs one of your folds aside and smiles smugly at the mess.

You poor thing, it must be so humbling to be put in your place. He hopes it felt good. Having your better's cum leaking out of you like a banner on a conquered fortress.

He's tempted to stuff his spend back into you and give you another load to drip. Let it leak down your thighs as you pad past his men on the flagship, that'd make them well aware of who you really admire—

At that brilliant jarring thought, blazing post-clarity arrived; an abrupt and unsettling feeling. The fact he'd even—even dignified your almost Slaneeshi-tier temptation—the fact he's raring to go again—he must already reek of your lust, and you of his—and Emperor have mercy, one quick scenting betrays everything, his men would tell their Father, and—you—you groan and worm yourself back under the blanket, likely truly feeling the chill now without his body to warm you.

The urge to say something becomes almost suffocating all at once, and Cato opens his mouth—just to be interrupted by a beep.

Hesitation seizes him, and he eyes his pile of half-frozen attire in the far corner.

Eighteen and a half seconds pass and it beeps again, indicating a second for every minute of arrival estimation.

The tracker beacon has finally done it's job.

But the matter of hastily cleaning up what insanity just happened becomes the real concern now.

Suddenly stuffed to the brim with adrenaline, Cato gets to his feet with Astartesian speed. He tries to take a step but sways, almost toppling. Looking down, he realises himself; and gingerly stoically waddles marches away from you, his bodysuit stuck around his knees. There's a cupboard in the other corner, covered in a frosted cobweb that looks a little like gossamer. Rifling through it provides him little. Most of it's contents are iced through, but a bottle of what stinks like absinthe is good enough, and he doesn't think it matters what he cleans up with. He definitely does doesn't look like a servitor on broken wheels as he scuds on his heels back beside your pile. And if he suffers any more injuries to his ego, they definitely don't include him bungling a kneel and being forced to wobble down on to his haunches. It's not his fault he's mentally accommodating for power armour that, currently, isn't there.

Pausing, he pokes the mound of scraps you're under, trying to rouse you.

When your answer to his 'kinder' effort results in you whining and curling up tighter, he settles for tossing any mercy out the window with a petulant grunt; and identifies the shape of one of your legs and tugs you half-free by your ankle like a speared fish, earning a yelp as the cold assaults you.

Grabbing one of the loose rags in your pile, he saturates it with spirit and scoops you up under the hips, before starting to wipe away the evidence.

You begin thrashing almost immediately when the rag makes contact. Then you're practically yowling, "It hurts, it h-hurts—wait, wait—" and okay—yes, maybe using high proof alcohol to clean the smell and slime of his cum off your freshly fucked hole wasn't his best idea. In his defence, you're one of the most stubborn baselines he's ever met, and you should learn to handle a little pain. Secondly, booze is the only thing that stays liquid at freezing.

"Enough with the bloody caterwauling, woman," he barks, effortlessly holding you steady despite your struggling. "It's not that bad, toughen the fuck up."

When he's done with you, he's actually remorseful of the situation. Certainly not his finest choice. Because now you're sniffling weakly, fussing about the residual stinging; and then you promptly scramble back under the blanket.

"There was nothing else I could use, okay?" He says sourly, scowling at the bundle of fabric you disappear into; before tossing the soiled rag he'd used to clean you into the fireplace to ignite.

He grabs another from the pile and douses it, wiping himself off—and at last, he's finally able to start to pull his bodyglove up over his hips. Wiggling and straining to fit the thick, skin-tight material over his still very much erect cock.

From the edge of his vision he can see you've peaked your head out to watch as he fixes the sternum latch in place.

He gives you a cursory glance, but nothing more.

He ultimately expects you to look away like the mouse you are—but no, what actually happens is worse. You just keep silently raking him with an expression that makes him feel like he's made of glass and every secret he's ever had or ever known is laid bare.

He can't stand it.

It makes Cato want to sneer at you fiercely in the hopes it would scare you off, remind you he's an exemplar of the Adeptus Astartes and shouldn't be stared at—something, anything except that look.

"Get up," he turns sharply and snorts.

The beeping is once every two and a half seconds, now.

Two and a half minutes, then.

"You let me fuck you," he bites out.

You're sitting now. Covered in one of the larger articles of rags. A tartan, fraying thing crumpled atop you, frowning and looking dejected. Then you open your mouth to speak but promptly stop. He can tell you're trying to form a diplomatic reply, and he grumbles, fuming.

"Tell anyone of this—" Cato's well aware he's being cruel as he adds, "—and I'll wring your little neck, Father's favourite pet or not."

You finally look away.

And he finds he can't stand that either.

So, to souse his bruised ego, Cato decides he's going to burn the shack down as soon as the transport lands and you're onboard.

He also decides he's going to burn that tacky formal tunic of his too, simply because he can.

#warhammer 40k x reader #space marine x reader #cato sicarius #warhammer fanfic #ultramarines #reader insert #cato sicarius x reader #warhammer 40k #my bad everyone i got lost in the sauce this long af #writing

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 9 months ago

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Vesuvia Weekly: Things the M6 don't do anymore

~ my little creative drabble for the prompt "How Things Changed" (pre- vs post- plague) over on @vesuviaweekly! Hope you guys like this little hurt/comfort/fluffy train of thought :3 ~

Julian doesn't shout in his sleep anymore. He still gets nightmares, still tosses and turns and mumbles and wakes up with a start in a cold sweat - but his troubled murmurs don't turn into the terrified cries that they used to. He's still working on eating better and sleeping longer and it's taking time. But from the moment you first lay down next to him for the night, some part of his brain understood that the warm, safe weight of you meant he didn't need to scream to be heard anymore - or helped.

Asra rarely makes tea anymore. They still love to drink it - multiple times a day, if they can - but now you're the one who makes it. He never got over his childhood wariness of tea kettles in general after the mishap that involved his magic appearing. While you were recovering, it was one of many duties they happily shouldered to take care of you. Now that you're equal partners again, it's one of the many small ways he's begun letting you take care of him in turn. Besides, yours tastes better.

Nadia doesn't run away to her tower anymore. She still visits it frequently, to think, or nap, or clear her head, or give her introverted nature a break from the constant social pressures of being Countess. But she doesn't run away to it, to sit in the circular chamber and pretend (or hope) that the rest of the world had simply ... ceased to exist. She doesn't like the thought of losing a world that has you in it. Now, her visits range from serene to tumultuous, but they all carry hope and purpose within them.

Muriel doesn't forget to tend the fire anymore. It used to be an easy thing to go without. After Asra moved out, after his tormentor went up in flames, it was easy to watch the light in his hearth slowly dwindle and die. It was peaceful to sit in the dark quiet of a stone hut and slip into another long, deep, chilly sleep. But now you're here. And you deserve to be warm. You're worthy of a space filled with golden light and soft furs and beautiful tapestries and good food and warmth. And maybe ... he is too.

Portia has stopped hiding in the library. Don't get her wrong, she still sneaks into it all the time. (Seriously, what else was she going to do when she was handed one of the only two sets of keys???) The library was her space, with stories only she had read, where the skills she grew for herself hid among the bookshelves. Her achievements are much, much bigger now. They look back at her in your eyes, in Pepi's little voice, in a flourishing Vesuvia. She doesn't hide in the library anymore. She emerges from it.

Lucio refuses to eat breakfast by himself, ever again. As a soldier, it was a hurried affair around campfires - nothing like the fun of raucous dinners the night before - and as a Count, it was brought to him in his chambers. He'd sit and eat the pile of sugary goods and eye the mess of last night's debauchery and try not to feel cold and small and alone. After three years of hell, he's not alone anymore. Breakfast is campfire food, or inn amenities, and missing most of the sugar he loves - but it's portioned for two.

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changisworld · 10 months ago

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Three ISN'T a crowd

Word count:7,184

Summary;When your bisexual best friend of 14 years tells you one random night that his long term boyfriend has a crush on you & offers you a chance to let out the sexual frustration you have been telling him about.. on his boyfriend…

18+, MDNI!! smut warnings under the cut

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post.

main masterlist here

SMUT WARNINGS: Threesome threesome THREESOME, mxm, PIV, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, some praise, B R E E D I N G kink, some slapping, light choking, oral (f & m receive) spit play, anal play (m receive), tit play,pet names,finger sucking, use of sex toys, mention of light system,slight dacryphilia??, overstimulation, marking, pinching, manhandling Reader & Jeongin are a tiiinnyyy bit nervous at first but it doesn't last long.,

OTHER WARNINGS: All participants have drank alcohol but are sober enough to concent, Slight mention of sexuality confusion but it's extremely brief, kinda fluffy ending

**this isn't proofread & i'm really not sure if i like this, this is my second time EVER writing a 3some so if it's all over the place i'm sorry, i tried my best</3**

You are currently sitting in your best friend & his boyfriends apartment, talking about the past weekend & the club the three went to, chatting away to your best friend, Seungmin as you both eat the random scraps of snacks from their cupboards, trying to clear it out before they go food shopping in the next few days.

"It sucked to be honest, didn't even get laid! I swear minnie if i don't get anything soon ima go insane." You yell slightly, giggling as you take another chip & dipping it in the basically empty jar of salsa then eating it, legs still dangling off the ledge of the counter top as you're sat on it, Seungmin leaning his arm against the same counter you're sitting on. "Cmon y/n don't be so ridiculous, you would have been laid ages ago if you didn't turn away every single person with legs as soon as they approached you. You never know, if you actually gave someone a chance, you could be in a relationship right now, ya never know.. look at me & innie for example, i didn't even think it was capable for me to date until he came along, gave him a chance & now look at us, maybe you're just not into guys at all anymore y/nnnn" He says, not even looking at you as he finishes the bag of bonbons he has been chewing on, his lips & tongue now slightly stained blue. "Nah trust me, i know i'm still into guys, i just get bad vibes off other guys for one reason or another! The only guys i actually trust is you & Jeongin, not even kidding." You sigh, rolling your eyes at the fact Seungmin has eaten the things you wanted.

Seungmin gave you a smile which you have to hold back a laugh at, unable to miss his blue stained teeth & lips. "I'd like to think you trust me, you've known me for 14 years & Jeongin for close to 5.. if you're wanting to get laid that badly, i'm sure innie wouldn't turn it down." he says nonchalantly, grabbing the empty packets & throwing them away. He comes back to where he was standing before & you playfully kick him. "Don't even say shit like that minnie, it's not a laughing matter! Why the hell would i sleep with your boyfriend?" you chuckle, not even taking it into thought, after all, Seungmin has said stupid shit like this before. "I'm not kidding! me n you both know that man has a small crush on you, i'm not delusional enough to pretend i don't see it! Me & him have spoken about it before & everything, trust me, he would." Seungmin chirps, acting as if this is just mundane conversation. "What do you mean 'spoke about it'? you're both crazy, not even just you!" you whine, getting a bit serious, you can't tell if Seungmin is actually kidding anymore. "Well I mean if you really wanna know, I simply brought up the fact that man stares at you as if he wants to jump your bones & he got all shy so I took that as an answer, I started prying a bit more & me & Jeongin haven't been with a woman in so long, he admitted to me that he missed the feeling & we were kinda discussing having a threesome, just haven't found anyone yet, we both know Jeongin gets a bit shy, took me & him around 7 months to fully have sex, he was so shy, it's cute to be honest.We wanna try it since, ya know, could have lost my touch or something, im so used to guys now. Tea?" He hums out after letting a small laugh out, turning the kettle on & taking his favourite buggs bunny cup out of the cupboard & grabbing your cat paw cup & holding it by the handle, raising his eyebrows to wait for your answer.

"Eh yeah, two sugars ad usual please.. anyways, what do you expect me to say to that?" You say, grabbing the mini box the teabags are held in & handing him two, your mind racing. "Well, not to make you feel pressured obviously, but if you want sex that badly, Innie would be interested, only thing is, he would want me there no doubt, We are just all helping each other to be honest, Me n Innie want to experiment with a threesome & you want sex, win win!" he cheers, handing you your cup of tea. You take it, still looking at your friend in front of you, not even knowing what to think. "Yeah you're right in that sense.. but like.. wouldn't that be awkward? I mean, for us n then also Jeongin, what would even happen after..?" You don't look straight at Seungmin anymore, getting a bit embarrassed. "Well y/n, we were eachothers first kiss & you took my virginity all that time ago, so It wouldn't be anything we haven't seen before, Hey, no pressure, genuinely, it was just a suggestion, don't stress it, your hair will turn white." he jokes, taking a sip of tea, studying your expressions. He knows how you react to things & he also knows if you didn't want to do something, you would straight up say no, he realises you only need reassurance. "You can say no, y/nnie, if you're worried about the fact me & Jeongin are together, don't be. Me n him have spoken a lot about sexual stuff & suggestions, I wouldn't have even mentioned anything if me or him was unsure, we both want to experience it, even if it's not with you. If you wanna do it, just say it, if you don't wanna do it, just say it, we can pretend this conversation never happened, we've spoken about wayyyy weirder shit before, if you would even consider this conversation weird." You can feel his eyes burning into you, despite you staring tight into your cup of tea, suddenly acting as if it's the most exciting & interesting thing in existence.

"I'll think about it, kinda just a lot to take in, you know? anyways, there's this show I wanted to start, let's watch it before Jeongin gets home from work, that guy is theee loudest person on earth stomping around the house." you laugh, getting off the counter. "Is it that stupid vampire show? I've been putting that of for a reason! 8 whole seasons is too much but fine, we can start, if it gets boring though we are switching & watching masterchef." He grumbles, slowly waddling into the livingroom with you, turning on netflix.

--TIME SKIP--

It has been a week since your & Seungmins conversation & 4 days since you have last seen him & Jeongin & you have just came down from the orgasm that felt more than underwhelming. You grumble as you throw your vibrator to the side of you & you stare at the ceiling. You begin thinking back to the conversation you had with Seungmin again & you mumble the words 'fuck it' before you're picking up your phone & tapping on Seungmins contact & clicking call. "This better be important y/n, me n Innie are.. doing something." you feel the nerves bubbling up in your stomach but then hear the backround noise coming from the other end of the phone.. "Hey! are you seriously watching vampire diaries without me?" you whine, eyebrows furrowed. "It got good okay! Jeongin wanted to see what was going on & we accidentally started binging it! anyways, why did you call so late?" he speaks, hearing Jeongins laugh in the backround which makes you smile a bit. "ah yeah, right.. about our conversation last week, when are.. you n Jeongin free? I, I wanna do it now that i think about it." you say, subconsciously beginning to nibble at your lip from the nerves. You hear the TV pause & you hear rustling. "Say that again y/n, did i hear you right.?" You know he heard you right, he's just doing it to let Jeongin hear. "Don't embarrass me! Is tomorrow alright..?", you can swear your breath gets caught in your chest, eyes staring at the screen. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about y/n, if you're wanting us to both fuck you, you can't get all shy just saying it, especially over a phone call." Seungmin says, you can practically see the smirk on his face. "Tomorrows fine y/n, come for 8pm, anyways, we are on a cliffhanger so ima hang up, also, stop breathing so damn heavy, people could think you were jerking off a minute ago" Your cheeks go bright red as strawberries at this & you hear Jeongin & Seugmin laugh at his joke. "shut up minnie, but uh yeah that's fine, see you both tomorrow." You hang up & let out a sigh, hands shaking slightly.

--TIME SKIP--

You're currently parked in the parking lot of Jeongin & Seungmins apartment building, taking deep breaths. You have no idea why you're so nervous.. You take one last deep breath before grabbing your bag & throwing open the car door & you quickly step out before you have any time to second guess yourself. You walk up the stairs slower than usual, trying to convince yourself you're not stalling & that it's not even a big deal. 'What the hell am i even doing' 'y/n just chill the fuck out, it's not a big deal' & 'once i'm there it'll be fine.' are thoughts that keep popping back into your head & before you even realise, you're at their door & you knock on it. After around 20 seconds, Jeongin answers the door, which for some reason takes you aback, even though it's also his apartment.

"Hey y/n, come in, Seungmin is in the lounge area" He says, giving you his pretty white smile as you step into the house. You cant help but notice the loose grey sweatpants & the plain white crewneck shirt, hugging hi arms & chest perfectly. "Thank you innie, i brought wine by the way, I didn't really know eh, what to bring." you chuckle a bit nervously, pulling the still cold wine out of your bag which he gladly accepts. "aww, so kind of you, you really didn't need to, glad it's only one bottle so you don't have the option of getting drunk & vomiting on our couch & rug again" he laughs & you groan as you smack him playfully before taking your shoes & jacket off & going into the livingroom & unsurprisingly see Seungmin laying on the L shaped couch. "Hiya stranger" you say, moving to the front of the couch & shoving his legs off the cushion so you have space to sit, making him grumble. "Hello not so stranger" he smiles back, turning himself so he is now laying his head in your lap instead, his legs now in the place his head was. A minute later Jeongin comes back into the room with the wine & three glasses.

"ooo y/n is feeling generous today, my second bottle of wine ever given to me from you" Seungmin says, helping Jeongin open the bottle & pour their glasses. "I'm guessing you want a glass too y/nnie?" Jeongin says, looking at you, eyes struggling to leave the tight tank top & basketball shorts you're wearing, he notices you're not wearing a bra. "yeah, please, just one though, we all know how i get when i'm wine drunk." you giggle as you take the glass of wont he just finished pouring for you. You all sit & talk about random things & eventually finish the bottle of wine. You are sat next to Seungmin & Jeongin is next to Seungmin & as the wine is kicking in for you all, the tension begins getting thicker. As you are all talking, Seungmin takes your hands & starts playing with the rings on it while he caresses it, his eye contact looking & feeling more different than usual.

"You've got such cool rings, forgot to tell you that y/n." Jeongin says, watching the way his boyfriends rubbing & playing with your smooth hands with his veiny ones. "thank you Innie, you don't wear rings often do you? don' remember seeing you with them, your hands are ho-nice though, love the veins on them." you say, butterflies in your stomach again as you take Jeongins hand & let your fingers graze over his veins which give him goosebumps. "Innie lets switch places hm?" Seungmin says, already practically picking Jeongin onto his lap & then putting Jeongin into his boyfriends seat as Seungmin takes Jeongins old spot.

Your cheeks go red instantly as Jeongins does too, his heartbeat racing in his chest. Seungmin sits all the way back to watch what is happening as you & Jeongin look into each others eyes, both too shy to make a move, not knowing where to touch. Seungmin sits back up & puts his hand on his boyfriends thigh, caressing it. "Why are you both so shy hm? baby, you've wanted this for so long, don't let it go to waste." Seungmin kisses his cheek & you begin watching the way his hand is moving on his thigh, making you notice the slight tent in his sweatpants now. "Anyone having any second thoughts?" Seungmin questions in a soft tone but you both shake your head as a no instantly & He hums at this.

Seungmin stands up to now sit on the other side of you, you now being in between the both of them. "Why not you lie down y/n, hm?" Seungmin says softly, moving the hair out of your face, not breaking eye contact. You nod a yes response & move yourself so you're now lying in the corner of the L shaped couch, your legs now on top of Jeongins lap, a bit far apart. You look up at Jeongin & he begins stroking your legs with his hand which makes you let out a satisfied hum, your senses a bit muddled up due to the alcohol. Before your brain tells you anything differently, you tug slightly on Seungmins hoodie & pull it towards you & he takes this as you nonverbally telling him to kiss you, so he does. He leans down & your lips lock, the kiss being quite soft. There's no tongue or teeth involved, if it wasn't your best friend you're currently kissing, you may think it's really romantic.

You both pull away from the kiss at the same time & look into each others eyes & he kisses the tip of your nose, making you both smile. "Definitely improved from the last time we kissed i can't lie." He chuckles, sitting back up & looking back at his boyfriend. "Why not you come take my place baby? her lips taste good, you'll love it." Jeongin doesn't need to be told twice before he is switching places again with Seungmin, His face now almost level with your own. Seungmin begins kissing your thighs as Jeongin leand down. "This still okay with you?" he whispers to you, finger twirling your hair "of course, we all agreed to it." you whisper back, smiling at eachother. Jeongin finally lets his lips touch yours, kissing you. Jeongin kisses completely different to Seungmin, his lips move differently & his kiss is a bit stronger, but you don't complain. His hand leaves your hair & trails down & lets his fingers trail down your jawline & your neck, letting his fingers wrap around it slightly which makes you subconsciously buck your hips. Your hands end up in his hair & you begin playing with it a little as he suckles on your bottom lip which makes not you.. but makes him groan.

You both break the kiss & just look at eachother for a moment before looking back at Seungmin, realising he has now taken off his hoodie & his face looks a bit red, clearly flustered. "You both have no idea how hot you both look, holy fuck. Wanna go to the bedroom, you two?" He asks, already knowing the answer. You & Jeongin both end up following Seungmin to their shared bedroom & Jeongin kicks the door closed behind you all. Not even a second later they are both back on you, Seungmin at your front kissing your lips as his hands find their way to your waist, holding it tightly, at the same time Jeongin is now kissing your neck & his hands are trailing themselves down your back & landing on your ass, caressing it as he leaves a few reddish teeth marks from where he is nibbling on your neck & shoulders. You let out quiet noises into Seungmins lips as you let your own hands bury themselves under his shirt, coming into contact with his abs & you can't help but tease him by letting your nails graze over them, making him twitch. "Go lie on the bed for us, mkay?" Jeongin mumbles in your ear before kissing your earlobe. Seungmin breaks the kiss to allow you to move.

You sit on the edge of the bed as Seungmin comes & lays behind you, your back now against his chest as Jeongin comes & crouches down in frontt of you, taking your hands & looking at you, noticing your swollen reddened lips. "Before anything else happens y/n, what are you into & do you have any hard no's? What about safe words?" You think for a second, not ignoring the hands playing with your shirt straps, pinging them against your skin, watching the way your skin is getting a bit red from the contact. "I can handle quite a lot Innie, my only 'no' is anal, i've just not done that before & that's quite a big thing, we can just all do the colour system instead of an exact safe word." Jeongin nods his head at your response. "Just so you know y/n, Innie can get a bit mean, despite him being a switch, mkay? Is there anything you don't want us to say?" Seungmin says softly, playing with your hair. You shake your head as a response, fingers caressing Jeongins hands as he is still looking at you with a slight smirk. "Ah okay, so you want us to just treat you the way you deserve? Fucking your best friend of so long & his long term boyfriend hm? So whoreish, don't you think Innie?" Seungmin teases, his fingers pinching your collarbones, making you jolt lightly, you blush at his words & you move your head to the side, trying to hide away but Jeongin is quick to pull you back to look at him by the cheeks. "I could have swore Minnie said on the phone call to not be embarrassed hm? can't even listen to instructions? He hisses. "Go lie down on the bed, Minnie hunny, help me choose some things to use on y/n." Jeongin says & before you can even fully sit up, Seungmin is already standing up & walking over to their bedside table.

You sit in the middle of the bed & you look over to what they are both taking out of the drawer & that's when you notice a small, red vibrator in Jeongins hand & you feel the butterflies in not just your stomach but also in your chest. Seungmin comes & takes his old position behind you as Jeongin crawls up the bed & his stomach is against yours as he looks down at your shirt, then back at you. "Don't you think we should take this off, hmm?" He questions, seduction in his voice making you almost melt as his fingers toy with the hem of your shirt. "Yes, please, take it off Innie.." You rush out, hands fidgeting on his arms, not knowing where to lay them. "already begging for my boyfriend, hmm? didn't take long now did it? so desperate." Seungmin says so calmly, you would believe he was simply speaking about what he had for breakfast the way he is saying it so casually, the only giveaway he is affected by it is the boner you can now feel pressed onto your lower back.

Jeongin smirks at his boyfriends words before he finally feels the need to take off your shirt & is glad he wasn't mistaken when he thought you weren't wearing a bra. Your nipples perk up & pebble as the cold air hits them, making you suck in a breath at the coldness. Jeongin looks up at Seungmin then back at you before he gathers a glob of spit & lets it fall onto your nipple, making you whine & your back arches on instinct. "Ooo, y/nnie likes that, don't you? Can i have a taste?" He asks "yes, yes please Innie, please" you say, giving him a convincing smile, which works. He leans down & takes the nipple he just spat on into his mouth & begins swirling his tongue around it as Seungmins fingers reach down to pinch the other nipple as his other arm lands on his boyfriends head & begins slightly tugging on his hair, making Jeongins moans mix into your own. Seungmin leans down to your ear & whispers "My Innie likes a bit of pain y/n, don't be scared to pinch him n pull his hair mkay? He might even give you a few slaps, that okay?" he asks, fingers not giving up on your nipple, making it more sensitive, you swallow & open your eyes so you're looking at your bestfriend from below & you nod at him, making Seungmin smile.

Jeongins tongue gives up on your nipple finally before he blows cold air on it, making you hiss from the sensation before he switches to your other nipple & repeating the same motions. Seungmin moves his fingers as Jeongin begins nibbling & suckling & he puts his middle & Index finger up to your lips & they part, allowing them access. You decide to put on a mini show for Seungmin by taking both his fingers all the way to the knuckles as you make eye contact. That is short lived, however as you feel your shorts being pulled down, leaving you in just your white panties. "you know, me n Innie were wondering what colour panties we thought you'd wear, I guessed white so I win, that means i'm allowed to taste you first, isn't that right babe?" He says, Jeongin unsuctions himself from your now raw nipple to look at you both. "don't make me jealous Minnieee" He grumbles before sitting back on his knees.

Seungmin moves so he is no longer behind you & lays your head against the pillows as he moves to the spot he wants to be, in between your legs. He plays with the outline of your panties & your hips buck on instinct. "Stop teasing minnie, just touch me!" You whine but Jeongin, who has now moved so he is standing at the side of you, pinches your tit, hard enough to make you hiss but not enough to cause genuine pain. "Don't speak to my boyfriend like that you whore, are you forgetting he's my boyfriend hm? you get what you're given, shut up & don't demand." He hisses at you while taking off his shirt to reveal his stunning frame, which makes your mouth drool. You are busy admiring Jeongins abs & also the hard on that isn't being given any justice from his sweatpants as you can almost see every single detail of his cock from how much it's pressed against them. You reach out & begin pawing at his sweatpants which he allows you to do but you freeze as the kisses that were on your thighs have now moved & being given to your covered cunt which makes you gasp & your head spins to look back at Seungmin who is looking right back at you, lips giving pecks all over your covered pussy.

Jeongin pulls your hair slightly to pull your attention back to him too "You're being given a tiny bit of attention & now you're letting me go without? cmonn, gimme some attention too." Jeongin says, slightly whiny in his tone & you smirk at him before finally pawing his waistband of his sweatpants down & he finishes the job by taking them completely off, leaving him in just his underwear & your jaw drops. Even though it's still covered, you can tell he is huge. Just from estimating, it looks around 7 inches & thick, it makes your mouth water. "wanna taste it, please Innie, lemme taste" you say, biting your lip slightly as you begin palming him over his underwear, which makes his dick twitch. He looks back down at his lover & sees that he is now beginning to pull your panties to the side so he decides to give you what you want by pulling his underwear down, finally freeing his cock, already red & angry at the tip & wet with precum.

He begins tapping his cock along your cheeks & tongue as you stick it out which makes him chuckle at the sight, precum making contact with your skin which turns him on even more. You giggle as he does this & you put your hand on top of us that's on his hard cock & guide it to your mouth. "Someone's eager aren't they? As much as i'd like to see you beg some more bunny, minnie is right in saying i've been wanting this for far too long." He helps guide his cock into your mouth & you begin running your tongue across his leaky tip, his cock twitching at the sensation.

As you are sucking & licking on his boyfriends tip, he blows some cold air on your slightly swollen clit & then licks a long, slow strip from your hole all the way up to your clit before swirling his tongue in small circles making your hips buck & lift off the mattress but he is quick to hold you down. Without breaking contact, Seungmin grabs the small vibrator & holds it up to your clit, making Jeongins cock slip out your mouth to moan & your eyes squeeze up before Jeongin is putting his cock right back into where he wants it. You hum around his cock, sending vibrations throughout his body which makes him feel dizzy from the pleasure & you remember what Seungmin had told you about Jeongin liking pain so you take it upon himself to let your hand leave his actual dick & trail down to his balls & you begin caressing them before giving them small, quick pinches which makes Jeongins low groans turn into a higher pitched hiss. You do it a few times before he pulls out of your mouth. "Don't wanna cum just yet darling, want to taste & feel you first." He pumps himself slowly, trying to catch his breath while looking at you, admiring how dirty you look, spit all over your chin & mouth, the hair around it soaked with it.

Jeongin makes you open your mouth by pulling on your bottom jaw slightly & then letting a glob of spit fall into your mouth & you whine, feeling your orgasm approaching due to Seungmins talented tongue & also the vibrator doing wonders. The vibrator is still on your clit while Seungmin is tongue fucking you, your wetness dripping all down his face & onto the sheets beneath you. You are trying to grind your cunt against his face but he is still holding you down so you can do nothing but take it. All of a sudden Jeongin spreads your legs even further & makes you hold them by the inside of your knees & he settles himself next to his lover & then takes over where the vibrator just was, nibbling & harshly sucking on your clit, letting it get impossibly wetter by letting every drop of spit drip down onto your pussy, making it almost impossible for their tongues to even taste you without sliding off. "So fucking sweet, taste so good y/n, could be here forever." Seungmin huffs out, breathless. He leans back in & starts licking your cunt again, helping Innie but also, ends up licking Jeongin. Their tongues keep running over each others & they whine even more at this, Seungmin humping against the duvet as he does so which makes you whine & moan even more, turning you on more than you thought possible just imagining the sight, unable to actually look down at the view since you feel so fucked out.

Jeongin slips two fingers into you & your breath stutters again & you can now freely grind your hips & lift them off the bed since Seungmin has stopped holding onto them & has instead got onto his knees right behind Jeongin & uses his hands, still a bit wet with your juices as he spreads his cheeks & spits onto Jeongins hole. Jeongin jumps slightly at the coldness but doesn't stop devouring you, who is now clenching around his fingers, whining & whimpering at his tongue. "g-gna cum, h-holy fucking g-god, how are you both s-s-o good at this full th-threesome thi-fuck! c-cummin" you squeal as your legs go tense & you lock Jeongins head in between your thighs as your orgasm flushes over you, your eyes scrunching shut as you feel your eyes rolling into the back of your skull. Jeongin stops licking but instead gives gentle kisses to your clit as his fingers slow.

Jeongin has began to start grinding against his boyfriends tongue, letting out whines you didn't think he was actually capable of as Seungmins tongue working its way inside his hole, tasting him, enjoying every second & stretching him slightly in such a familiar way. A minute later Seungmin worms a finger into his hole & Jeongin whimpers at the intrusion. He removes his tongue as his finger begins doing the work & he leans over, his chest against Jeongins back& pulls Jeongins face to face him as much as possible before kissing him, letting him taste himself & then lets Jeongin catch his breath & looks down to admires your swollen cunt. "I heard when a woman is pregnant, their pussy gets bigger & more sensitive, wouldn't you like that Innie? Look how swollen & juicy y/ns cunt is now, how good we made it look." Seungmin says cheekily, kissing Jeongins cheek before pulling his finger out & walking back over to you.

"You look so beautiful all fucked out, a slut like you can take a bit more though, can't you hmm?Ah, to answer your statement by the way, we are good at threesomes because it's not our first one, silly." Seungmin asks you, rubbing his palm over your nipples as you feel Jeongin squishing your pussy lips together, making you flinch from the feeling. "w-who else- holy f-fuck my brain just is'n't working"you chuckle, brain still a bit cloudy. "Wan' fuck you, want y-your cock" you say in a slow & hushed tone, you finally coming back to earth after your orgasm. Jeongin giggles from in-between your legs & gives your cunt a slap before moving himself so he is on the other side of you, across from Seungmin. "You sure? We never use condoms so we forgot to buy some, did you bring any, bunny? we're both clean, we got tested last time we invited someone, a random one night stand." Jeongin speaks, admiring the thin layer of sweat in his boyfriends hair & face & also how reddened your nipples are.

"I- i thought i was the first, but uh, im still on birth control & i'm clean, d-don't want a condom, feels better raw." You bat your eyelashes at both of them, playing with Seungmins short drawstrings, surprised on how he is actually still fully clothed after all this time. "No bunny, you're not the first person, but you're the first person we've actually invited, the rest were just one night stands, we actally have feelings about you, it's different." Jeongin says as he leans over you to pull off his boyfriends shirt, revealing the body he loves so much, Seungmin then takes it apon himself to wiggle his shorts off too, leaving him in just his underwear which he kicks off a minute later, springing out his also huge dick, around 6 inches & on the thicker side too but has a curve pointing upwards, leaving you completely nude & also Innie completely nude since he discarded the rest of his clothes ages ago, your mouth watering due to how close you are to the two hottest guys you know are now naked next to you, their cocks inches away from your lips.

"So anyways, you don't mind about us going in raw? you are that desperate to feel not one but the two of us? You really have no shame, want the risk of a baby hmm? turns you on , does it y/nnie?" Seungmin questions, leaning over to pump his boyfriends leaky cock as your hand reaches up to jerk Seungmin off, making him bite his lip. You nod at his words, giving a look full of lust at them both before you suddenly sit up & you straddle Jeongin, reaching back out to grab Seungmins cock again but he stops you & manhandles you off him again so you are now on your hands & knees, pussy facing Jeongin as he gets up onto his knees. "You fine with this position babe? Don't really know why we bother to ask seeing since you'll just take whatever we choose to give since that's all you've done since we closed the damn door." Seungmin says as he positions himself in front of you, his cock not far from your lips as he pulls & grabs the base of his cock tightly. "Don't care what position, just fill me up, please, dying for it." You hush out, wiggling your ass to try entice Jeongin to put his cock where you need it the most but he instead, gives it a few spanks, cock twitching at the reddening cheeks.

"Open up hunny, i feel as if ima explode if i've gotta let my cock be dry for more than one second." He taps his cock against your lips & you open your lips happily, allowing his heavy tip to now rest on your tongue as you start giving it kisses & swirling your tongue along the underside of his tip, making him whine. Jeongin sees his boyfriends reactions & can't hold himself back anymore & he finally pushes himself inside you, slowly enough so you can adjust but he doesn't face much resistance due to how wet they have made you. You let out a whine & your eyes scrunch shut as you feel Jeongin bottom out inside you & Jeongin lets out a short whine, throwing his head back to the ceiling which is one of Seungmins favourite sights.

Jeongin grabs onto your hips & holds onto them tight enough to leave bruises as he starts to speed up his thrusts. "Fuck, you're so tight y/n, n-not gonna last long, s-so good." He groans out, watching the way your wetness has completely coated his cock & has left a shine. He slithers a hand down to your swollen clit & begins rubbing it which makes you jolt, right into Seungmins dick, taking way more of him in your mouth which makes him groan. He begins stroking your hair as you start challenging yourself & keep slurping & hollowing your cheeks until you can't fit any more of him in your mouth & you keep bobbing your head & moaning, letting the vibrations shoot through his cock. "g-gonna cum, jagi, kiss me p-p-please." Jeongin whines, sounding so needy, sweat making his skin shiny. Seungmin smirks at him but doesn't say anything but instead grabs him by the hair & yanks him forward before Seungmin himself leans forward, causing your mouth to be even more impossibly full as he slowly bucks his hips, letting you spit all over yourself, the bed & also his pelvis & thighs as Jeongin fucks into you a bit slower, holding himself back & rubbing your clit faster, feeling the way you're clenching around him.

Jeongin lets out a squeal as his hair is pulled but it's short lived as his lips clash against his boyfriends, fitting together perfectly. The kiss is full of drool & tongues, teeth clashing together as they both moan into each others mouths. They both pull away & Seungmin pulls his cock out your mouth & you instantly start coughing & gasping as spit is dripping absolutely everywhere. "g-gona cum Innie, c-cum in me fill me p-pulease" you beg, eyes rolling back as you grab onto Seungmins legs, the fuzzy, hot feeling finally bubbling over inside you & your legs start shaking again as you almost collapse but Seungmin holds onto your arms. "fuck, g'na cum in you y/n, gonna make you so full, swollen belly filled with our children hmm? gonna have swollen tits too huh? so leaky for u-us" He lets out another whine before you feel his cum fill you up, making you let out a breathless whimper as Jeongin basically squeals, his balls finally emptying.

"Did so well y/nnie, can you handle me too hm? don't want my angels cum dripping out of you, we need to make sure it sticks now, don't we?" Seungmin says as Jeongin pulls out of you & moving to the edge of the bed, giving you both space. Seungmin manhandles you so you're now laying on your back & you help by pulling your legs up so they are out of the way. "What's your colour, y/n? you look absolutely finished." Seungmin chuckles, caressing your thighs as he waits for your reply. "g-green, just want you too minnie, please" you rasp, voice now dry & a bit sore from all the noise you've been making. Seungmin gives you a short hum before lining himself up & then pushing inside at long last.

"Wow baby, you really did fill her up, it's coating my cock already, you were right innie, fuck y/n you're so tight." he breathes out, looking over to his boyfriend who has now moved back down to you & is now jiggling your tits in his hands, biting his bottom lip while looking up at his boyfriend, smirking at eachother. Seungmin starts an insane pace & you can't let out anything other than choked groans as you feel him all the way in your belly. Jeongin kisses, nibbles & sucks marks all over your tits as you have your hand weaved through his hair, eyes closed. "F-fuck min' too-too deep holy fuck, s-slow down, too sensitive" you request but Jeongin is quick to silence your request by kissing you, this time with tongue, as his hand slithers up to your neck & squeezes just enough to make you whine. "You can take it hunny, just gotta make sure i've fucked Jeongins cum into you properly, we both know that. F-fuck, you would look so hot pregnant baby, need to see it." He grunts out, his hands laying themselves on your stomach & pinching it every so often as he admires it.

Jeongin breaks the kiss when you have both sucked all the breath out of each other before he returns to you tits again, pushing them together to smother his face in them, tickling you slightly. You let out a quiet chuckle at the feeling as you begin grabbing at the duvet beneath you, your knuckles turning white as your pussy is being pounded non stop. "Just wanna drink milk outta these, can't wait for you to let me do it." Jeongin mumbles from in between your tits, mostly to himself as he takes a nipple into his mouth again, letting out a groan at the taste of you. "Jus-want your babies, both of your b-babies, c-cum in me please min" you whine out, begging him. Seungmins cock twitches inside you & you feel it, his hips falter as he feels his orgasm finally approaching. "don' need to tell me twice, gonna fill you u-up, definitely gonna stick won't it? Gonna be so full with your babies, body will be s-so hot for us, only us hmm?" He reaches down to play with your engorged button which makes you yelp & that along with his dirty talk & Jeongins tongue, you cum instantly, screaming as it hits you for the third time that night & your eyes can't help but begin crying from the overstimulation. You cream his cock & as you clench around him, Seungmin looks down & the second he sees the white cream at his base, he lets out his seed inside you, letting out a raspy moan as he stops his movements.

You all catch your breath for a minute, not sharing any words with one another. Jeongin kisses your cheeks softly & strokes your hair as Seungmin pulls out. Seungmin kisses your stomach before mumbling a 'be right back' & he leaves the room. Jeongin helps move you so you're lying on the pillows as he keeps cuddling you, letting you melt into him. Seungmin comes back with two bottles of water & a warm damp towel along with the bag you brought with you & without saying anything, he gives Jeongin the water bottles & he opens one & helps feed you water as Seungmin parts your legs just enough to wipe your raw pussy with the towel to help clean it, the sensation making you twitch. "You did so well y/n, thank you for doing this with us, so good to us." Jeongin says softly, kissing your forehead. Seungmin gives the towel to Jeongin & wipes the sweat off his forehead with it before throwing it aside. "y/nnie, i brought your bag through in case there anything you want or need from it, you can also stay here if you like, we can sleep in the living room or-" "don't be silly minnie, we can just share the bed, all of us. Just wanna cuddle & sleep. But i want a bath first." Seungmin hums & smiles. "I'll go run us a bath then, i know you have almost no choice but sit tight mkay?" He jokes before leaving. You stroke Jeongins hair & you both sit in silence for a while comfortably until you hear a small snore, you look at Jeongins face & you chuckle & kiss his nose as you now know he's fallen asleep.

#skz smut #stray kids #changbin #bang chan #han jisung #hyunjin #jeongin #lee know #seungmin #felix #seungmin x reader #jeongin smut #jeongin x reader #seungmin smut #kpop smut #smut #oneshot

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landoscaring · 4 months ago

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landoscar fic masterlist

my amazing takes have garnered me a few new followers, so i thought i'd create a bit of a masterlist for the fics i've written for these two maniacs that perhaps you'd like to read, if you're so inclined (if not, that's okay! you can keep enjoying my frankly incredible takes, will buxton i am COMING for you in the cleanest of ways).

Edit: this started out small with just a few fics but now it's quite big, so, read below:

greet me with goodbye (completed, 3/3) (memory loss fic) (E)

Oscar is more than used to speed, for obvious reasons.

Speed has been a constant in his life, even as a child. His mom, embarrassingly, likes to tell people that as a kid he’d pretend to act like a car, revving up and down his house like a madman. He remembers his first karting competition, the confidence that flowed through his veins and the adrenaline of thinking he was the fastest 10-year-old to ever exist. He’s still confident, he has to be, in order to make it in this sport, but he’s had years to refine his technique, understand his car, and finesse his driving so he can achieve the speed he needs to win a race. His speed on track has earned him a spot in the most exclusive grid on the planet, a process that was fast-tracked itself when he made the move to McLaren, shocking the motorsport world as he did.

And yet.

a landoscar soundtrack (series) (4 parts/?)

we might as well be strangers (3/3) (what you need to know: oscar-moves-to-a-different-team-and-lando-has-feelings fic) (E)

Lando really should’ve known better than to get attached.

Scratch that.

He should’ve known better than to fall in love with a teammate. Again.

maps (1/1) (what you need to know: oscar is one jealous dude and has a lot of thoughts about it) (M)

Oscar’s never really thought of himself as a jealous person. His mom jokes that he’d been a pretty chill baby, and that even when his younger sisters came along, he never really fought for his parents’ attention, which at first worried his parents, afraid that he’d simply been building on his rage and would throw a fit eventually. But no, not really, Oscar had just been content with being there, watching the world around him with wide, observant eyes. So long as they let him read his car magazines and zoom around his house pretending to be a Ferrari, he was fine with having his younger sisters around.

only to live in your memories (1/1) (what you need to know: oscar yearns, lando flirts, it all comes crashing down at danny ric's wedding) (E)

“I think Ozzy here is not telling us something, mate,” George conspires, and Alex hiccups through a laugh before he stands, wobbly, and walks closer to where Oscar’s standing.

“Out with it, you rascal,” says Alex, hand aiming for Oscar’s shoulder but landing somewhere on his collarbone instead.

Oscar can’t help laughing at the ridiculous display in front of him and decides to simply accept his fate and tell them, as good-naturedly as he can: “Pretty sure he’s somewhere around here hooking up with Daniel’s sister.”

He’d thought his pals’ reactions would range from vulgar remarks to crude gestures, jokes at Daniel’s expense, that sort of thing. Instead, his announcement is met with drunk pity. They both look like they kicked a puppy, and the puppy is Oscar.

This is precisely why he’d been pretending to be drunk. So that they could maintain the guise of not remembering the next day and doing it all over again at the next wedding.

kisses (4/?) (what you need to know: post-race fics to heal or destroy, there is no in-between) (E)

chapter 1: zandvoort

chapter 2: monza

chapter 3: austin

chapter 4: mexico

never break the chain (4/5) (what you need to know: lando and oscar hate each other because of a racing incident when they were kids! but then they're teammates! oh no!) (E)

Zac looks at Lando, then at Oscar, and then back at Lando. “You need to sort this out, stat. I’m not having this –”

“What are you going on about? We’re golden, Oscar and I,” Lando bristles. “Practically besties, aren’t we, Osco?”

Lando knows using his old nickname for Oscar is a low blow, if his expression is anything to go by. But whatever. He’s fed up with this, and he wants Oscar as far away from him as possible, so if it hurts him, good.

Zac is turning red, and his mouth is opening, surely to remind Lando of his place, but Oscar beats him to it. He stands, inclines his head politely in Zac’s direction, and steps directly in front of Lando’s chair. His jaw is set, eyes cold. Lando has never seen him angry, had thought him incapable of it.

“I wasn’t expecting much, but I definitely thought you’d at least grown the fuck up,” he sneers. “Clearly, I was wrong. And for the record, you crashed into me. Thank you, Zac, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

secret's a blinking light (1/1) (what you need to know: fake marriage! oh no! lando needs to stay in australia what will oscar do!) (M)

So, he thinks he surprises himself and his sister Hattie and every single person he’s ever interacted with when he says, “I’ll marry you” to Lando Norris one Thursday afternoon in late May.

(He can blame it on George’s and Alex’s pestering, that.)

Lando seems surprised, too, but he recovers quickly.

como te vas (1/1) (what you need to know: lando eats oscar's choco bunny. oscar is looking for it. chaos ensues) (T)

Oscar, who’s pacing around the room with a confused expression adorning his face. His gorgeous, kissable face. Lando quickly forgets about the stupid fucking game and instead starts to plan his attack. He could launch himself from here, probably. Oscar would catch him. Or. Well. He could also fall flat on his face, and everyone knows that’s like, 78% of his whole charm or whatever. Anyway.

He calculates. Closes one eye. Turns his head sideways. Oscar’s still pacing the room, rummaging through the discarded clothing on the floor; the mess on his bedside table.

Lando rolls his eyes.

“Something missing?”

new romance (ilysfm) (3/3) (what you need to know: oh no they get accidentally married in vegas! but then they talk about it! it's cool!) (E)

There’s a beat of silence, and Lando just has to know, he needs to know, so he asks: “Do you remember anything?”

Oscar shakes his head slowly. He lifts a hand, then starts enumerating: “I remember the podium, debrief, hotel, taxi, club, Max, some horrible dancing, tequila –”

“That’s what I—,” Lando starts to say, relieved and disappointed at the same time, and then there’s a glint of something on Oscar’s hand, and instead he says, “fucking hell, what the fuck.”

Oscar splutters, his eyes darting around the room and across Lando’s body quickly in search of damage. “Wha—?”

“We’re both wearing rings,” and Lando’s head is spinning, but something tells him he’s right. “We’re in Vegas. We’re both wearing rings in Vegas, Oscar.”

i just want you for my own (1/4) (what you need to know: secret-santa-exchange-at -the-office landoscar! they are secretly in love! santa fixes it!) (M)

Los Boyos

Today

Georgie (affectionate) [12:03 PM]:

Hohoho, mateys.

Albonito [12:04 PM]:

? good afternoon?

Albonito [12:06 PM]:

…well go on george don’t leave us hanging mate

Georgie (affectionate) [12:07 PM]:

Apologies. Ocon needed some help with the printer.

Georgie (affectionate) [12:08 PM]:

just overheard lewis and seb in the lounge room. apparently nando wants the whole floor to partake in a secret santa exchange. details to come.

december '24 (or, a landoscar fever dream) (series, 4 parts)

Lando [12:09 PM]:

mint. is that the one were you steal peoples gifts i love that game

you know how to ball (i know aristotle) (1/1) (what you need to know: post wcc 2024, landoscar finally do something about it) (E).

Oscar tries not to stare at Lando as he moves through the crowd, at the graceful sway of his hips, the delicate set of his shoulders. He sees how he places his hands over people’s backs, shoulders, arms, head tipped back in delight, lips stretched thin in a smile that radiates self-assuredness and confidence. A finally. Someone reaches over to adjust Oscar’s cap and he grins in their direction, hoping they can’t see where his eyes had been. Andrea catches his eye on the way down, though, and there’s a glint there that lets Oscar know he’s been caught on. He laughs, shrugs one shoulder. Andrea rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face never falters.

it's night time (time to play) (1/1) (what you need to know: fia gala + plus one allegations +strip poker +mile high club) (E).

Oscar almost forgets about the whole thing until Lando messages him three days later, asking him what he’s up to.

Not much, mate, I think I’m still hungover.

lmao lightwait. did you think about my offer

What offer?

to come to ruanda with me

Oh. Right. So he hadn’t imagined that whole exchange.

Not sure I’m what they mean when they say you can have a plus one, Lando.

in your eyes (i see and feel it all) (1/1) (what you need to know: galex conspires to gift landoscar a padel date) (T)

wdym? your my mate

and you won the thing to like

plus ill be so bored osc come on

Friends, Lando thinks, are overrated.

His certainly are, anyway.

Specifically, those who think they’re being coy by setting him up on a padel date with his teammate. Whom they know he’s been in love with for the better part of the year. And who remains painfully clueless about the whole thing.

He’d approached him, at the end of the season, holding up his padel coupons from Alex with a hopeful, knowing glint in his eye. The news of their conspicuously identical secret santa gifts had traveled fast across the paddock. Max had laughed, loudly, and clapped a hand over Lando’s shoulder in what Lando thinks was his idea of commiseration. Maybe, Oscar had said, floppy brown hair blowing gently back in the Qatari air, once it’s warm back at home, we could…and Lando had nodded before he’d even finished the sentence.

He regrets that moment, thoroughly and completely.

there's a hole in you and me (that pulls us together) (1/1) (what you need to know: lando says oscar's name on stream) (M)

He listens to Max ramble on and complain about the lag, and soon enough they’re playing. Lando ignores the chat and focuses on the mission. But then the guy next to him, his partner, takes a wrong turn and Lando says, without thinking, “On the right, Osca—Connor, on the right.”

And yeah, he knows how that’s going to go. Max is quiet, but he sees him subtly shake his head at him. Lando double checks that he’s not needed and turns around to find Oscar looking at him from the bed, mouth quirked up.

“Did you just –”

Lando nods, sheepish. It’s not like they’re a complete secret, even. They haven’t exactly been quiet about it. Their friends know, and the team, too. But –yeah, it’s not public-public, yet.

#fic masterlist #landoscar fic #landoscar #lando norris #oscar piastri #formula one rpf #formula one fic

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worthyprnce · 21 days ago

Note

What type of pet would the Merlin characters have in a modern au?

OMG I LOVE THIS QUESTION 🤩 would you mind if I make this a long post with pictures and all?? I hope not because I will. let's go!!!

gwaine — i have this little headcanon of mine that modern gwaine spends a few years traveling around the world alone except for the company of a black cat he rescued in one of his early adventures. but in his childhood and teens I can definitely see him with a pet iguana.

merlin — merlin would also have cats. a cute calico he rescued and soon realized she was pregnant, and so he also has one of her kittens, an orange one. when gwaine comes back with his own cat and starts living with merlin, the three of them get along very well and become an inseparable trio. but for some reason I can also picture merlin having an borzoi dog as well as the cats. I don't know how friendly they are with cats though, and I see him more as a cat person, but I added a picture of the dog as a reference anyway (she matches with his first kitten because I love when animals match, you'll see). but to me he probably has the cats only. moving on....

gwen — gwen also has a cat. a pretty brown/white cat. however she also has a dalmatian. she got them both when they were very young, so the two of them are two beautiful ladies who get along with eachother perfectly. and the reason I gave her a dalmatian is simply because, and hear me out please: arwen 101 dalmatians au.

arthur — arthur is 100% a dog person to me. and I looooooove this little 101 dalmatians arwen au I have in my mind. they met just like in the movie, they were both walking their dogs and the dogs had them wrapped around their leashes. later arthur found out gwen was his sister's best friend who she was talking about ever since she came back to camelot (morgana lived somewhere else for a while, uni reasons, and also let's pretend camelot is a modern place too because I'm too tired to think of some alternative and I don't want to say london because that's lazy and a ridiculous cliché. anyway). boom. love at first sight, met cute, soulmates finding eachother with a little help of their dogs.

morgana — I'm not sure about her, actually. I have three options in my mind, so you can decide for yourself what you like best for her. I think she would have either two black sphinx cats, two black borzoi dogs or three black dobermans, cerberus kinda vibe. she's a baddie, her pets would be too

percival — I love the trope big muscular guy with tiny cute kitten. that's percy to me. I'm not sure about how many cats he would have, I can see him with only up to three, but idk. maybe he helped to rescue three little kittens that were abandoned somewhere and he kept them all because he is a gentle giant <3

lancelot — I can see him both as a dog and a cat person. maybe he has both cats and dogs, but idk.... I think he would have one or the other. however, if he had a dog it would be a brown labrador. idk why... I'm not 100% sure about him, but I think a labrador would fit him somehow.

leon — I see him having very knightly dog breeds, if that makes sense. dogs that still give off the "my owner is a knight" vibe. like either a scottish deerhound, an irish wolfhound or a greyhound.

elyan — a bernese!!! and a calico cat too, one of the kittens merlin's cat had :) elyan is that kind of person that is also traveling to many different places and he is very active even when he is at home. and to me, he fits a bernese perfectly. it's a cute dog, very very cute, but he is also big and active, he needs attention, space and a good routine, and elyan is a perfect owner for him imo. his cat loves to make company for him too, even if she is not as active as her little brother dog. she likes to walk around with him too.

mordred — a pair of bunnies :) he got one when he was a child and got used to them, so he doesn't see himself owning a dog or a cat now.

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wheneclipsefalls · 11 months ago

Text

Ma Neteyam pt. 15

Pairing: Aged up Omega Neteyam x Alpha Male OC

Masterlist I Ma Neteyam Chapters I AO3

Warnings: swearings, violence, angst, trauma, oldest sibling syndrome, omegaverse, abo, power imbalance, dom/sub dynamics, stockholm syndrome, sexual content, etc.

Summary: It is time for Neteyam to face the music, or in this case, face Eywa.

A/N: This may have taken forever but I couldn't be more excited to finally post this! Thank you all for hanging in there. Let me know what you think<3

Neteyam idly ran his thumb over the curved carvings along the bow. It was pristine, beautifully mesmerizing with the hand carved designs running up and down the wood smoothly. He couldn’t have carved one better himself. His own bow back with the Omatikaya still had scratchings from his early teenage years where he hadn’t learned the art of wielding a knife carefully.

“I’m afraid I’ve been slightly negligent with courting gifts and this one took much longer than anticipated.” Kxolo admitted, watching Neteyam diligently as the boy observed the gift. “Hopefully it is up to your standards, my love.” Hints of a fond smile were laced with the slightest flinch of nerves.

“It’s beautiful.” Neteyam breathed.

It was everything and more that the omega could have hoped for in a courting gift. The type of gift that he had spent far too many nights dreaming about alone in his hammock to one day receive from a handsome alpha such as Kxolo. It was moments like these that he found it terrifyingly difficult to not pretend their situation was normal. To pretend that Kxolo was simply another alpha who had strolled in and stole his heart through charm and traditional courting.

And yet, that couldn’t be the case, because this bow symbolized more than love or desire to court. It showed that the Olo’eyktan was now officially trusting him with weapons. Were it a traditional courting such a trust would never need to be forged again.There never would have been a doubt in the first place that he would keep violence directed away from his lover.

Neteyam wished that this realization alone would have been enough to keep affection from spreading over his heart as he marveled at the tender care and effort that was put into the gift. It was disorienting and borderline painful that such conflicting emotions managed to cohabit his mind and heart.

“It’s a start.” Kxolo corrected. “You like it then?”

“I love it.”

“So then what is wrong?”

Neteyam could feel the radiating body heat coming from his mate as he shuffled to sit behind him, wrapping those muscular arms securely around his waist. Soothing pheromones came in gentle waves towards him, breathing in the musky scent that he knew only as Kxolo. It was no longer a thought that instigated his body’s reaction to his alpha’s face rubbing along his neck. Every reaction had become instinctual and impossibly difficult to go against.

That is if he wanted to.

Did he want to?

Silence hung as a heavy answer, enough to have Kxolo pressing further.

“Of course, I do not expect you to leave behind your Omatikaya bow. Perhaps I can send a good word over to your family and arrange for it to be brought over soon.”

The thought was almost laughable, especially with their reluctance to speak on the current trip Tamil was making over to the Omatikaya clan today. Neteyam didn’t need verbal confirmation to know that sending Tamil over specifically had been a strategic choice. And an even more strategic choice to keep Kxolo at home, far enough out of the range of his father's axe.

Neteyam could already feel the knot in his stomach tightening as he imagined the news being broken to his father. Neteyam had presented…and Kxolo had not stayed away. The only bright side Tamil could possibly present is still the lack of a mating bond. Even with Tamil’s calm countenance and measured words, it would not be enough to keep Jake from flying off the handle.

Would it be enough to have his father, Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya clan, breaking peace in order to storm the village and rescue his son? Kxolo seemed convinced that it would not come to that, but the alpha always had a way of finding confidence in situations that Neteyam himself could not fathom.

“No need…this one will do more than fine.”

“I would be more than happy to take you out hunting, baby boy.” Kxolo paused, head swaying from side to side as he internally deliberated his next words. “Although I do recall your father once telling me that you often insist upon hunting alone at times, against his best wishes. Promise to be careful and I may be inclined to do so upon occasion.”

Neteyam was nodding before the words had fully left his mouth. Promises of safety and caution rained from his lips and luckily Kxolo took them in stride with a chuckle and sweet peppered kisses.

A viperwolf scattered along an overhead branch but Neteyam ignored it. A perfect hunting target and yet this newly crafted bow had only served as decoration thus far. He couldn’t even bring himself to load an arrow. Kxolo had left him alone to hunt at his leisure with an implied promise of bringing back a less solemn Neteyam. However, Neteyam knew where he needed to go-what he had to do.

Every step on the path towards Vitraya Ramunong [Tree of Souls] felt weighted, the thumping sound ringing in his ears. He walked as if he could crumble under the true pressure of this impending moment, this occasion that could change his life. Neteyam was not one to underestimate the influence of Eywa’s conclusions. Amid his time here, however, the idea that Eywa was simply used as an excuse for this kidnapping had rooted itself deep into his mind. Never had he questioned her decisions because it had been obvious she played no real part in his current circumstance.

That idea had increasingly become harder to hold onto and although a part of him didn’t want to know the truth, it was the right thing to do. His parents could only be held at bay for so long and Neteyam needed to know whether or not this mating would truly be worth going against them.

A mating that strong could only be one fated by Eywa.

And yet when the shimmering vines came into view Neteyam could only feel a strong urge to bolt in the opposite direction. Perhaps there would still be time to get some hunting in after all.

He pushed the temptation aside and reminded himself that this was his responsibility. Framing tasks like that always made them easier to beckon because that was a concept he fully understood, one he was used to following ever since he was a small boy.

The Tree of Souls was everything beautiful and more.

How had he managed to stay away for so long?

Neteyam carefully lowered himself to his knees amongst the glowing roots. His bow was placed to the side and the omega spent more time than necessary putting it in the right place and fidgeting with his clothing. He even took time to bat away every stray hair sticking out from his braids.

His throat constricted, feeling as if he had swallowed a yovo fruit whole as he reached behind to grasp his kuru. The braid was heavy in his hand as he brought it over his shoulder. The tendrils danced and waved in the breeze without care but even the thought of connecting it to a vine made his stomach flip.

There was no turning back from this.

No matter the outcome he would no longer be able to sit idly in this gray area.

Fight his parents or fight the man who had captured his heart?

The dam broke. The last shreds of resistance keeping his emotions at bay burst at the seams and Neteyam could no longer fight the rising sob. The world mixed into a blurry mess as large tears invaded his vision without reprieve. HIs lungs contracted and ached until the only sound in this oasis was his garbled sobs.

It was complicated. Complicated and messy.

There was simply no path that would be without heartbreak and trials. However there was more than struggle that awaited him, something deeper that raked his trepidation higher.

Guilt.

Guilty for not trying hard enough to get home.

Guilty for pushing away a fated mate.

Guilty for waiting so long to seek the truth.

Surely even Eywa herself would look down upon his actions because Neteyam was raised better than this. He was the son of Toruk Makto, a Sky Person turned Na’vi legend. He was the son of Neytiri Te Tskaha Mo’at’ite who was only a young woman when she lost her sister and took her place in the clan only to then lose her father, home, and future role as Tsahik in one day. Neither had shirked away from the destiny Eywa had handed them. They had risen above their own expectations and became the people they were truly meant to be.

They took world shattering news in stride before jumping into action and now Neteyam couldn’t even get himself to communicate with the Great Mother.

This was not who he was supposed to be. Omega or not, Neteyam had always known he held the mantle among his siblings. What example was he setting for them?

The omega’s small hands covered his face in despair, foolishly hoping to hide his face from Eywa’s all-seeing eyes.

“Neteyam?”

His sobbing choked into a garbled mess in his throat as he desperately wiped at his tear streaked face. It took several swipes for him to recognize Tamil’s figure in the distance.

He was back already?

How long had he sat there crying like a child?

“I-I’m sorry. I was just about t-to get back. Lost track of time.” Neteyam tried to dart to his feet but Tamil stopped him with a calm hand.

“Mawey Neteyam. Stay.” Tamil’s voice purred forward with such tenderness and sincerity, Neteyam couldn’t help but relax back on his knees. Calming alpha pheromones radiated from him and although they smelt like stale dirt compared to Kxolo’s, the omega felt his muscles release tension.

It was only when a small gargle sounded that Neteyam finally noticed the squirming baby in Tamil’s arms. The small child flopped to and fro as the alpha slowly sat across from him. Her eyes were the size of moons as they glistened in the glowing lights, chubby hands already reaching towards any vine she saw.

Neteyam couldn’t pin down why if his life depended on it, but the sight of her made whatever resolve he had scrambled together break once more. The sobbing returned and no amount of self discipline could keep back is undignified crying.

Tamil placed a comforting hand on the omega’s shoulder as he cried.

The alpha didn’t speak. He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t even urge the boy to calm his crying.

He simply waited.

Tamil’s daughter simply watched on with curious eyes. Once the crying had become old news, she started to reach for some of Neteyam’s loose braids. A pout quickly formed on her lips when her father pulled her back from tugging on them.

“Do you want to hold her?” Tamil asked softly.

Neteyam nodded frantically, unsure of why he craved to hold the small child so badly. Tamil handed her over with such gentle care, Neteyam felt as if he was carrying the rarest jewel as he placed her on his lap.

Although he tried to keep her neatly upright on his lap, she seemed to have other ideas. She could barely crawl but what she lacked in leg strength she made up for in her strategic scooting over his legs. Little huffs left her lips as she dug her nails in his legs and pulled herself forward. Those golden eyes never strayed from his swinging braids. She had a goal.

“What is her name?” He whispered, voice heavy.

“Vili.”

Finally her stubby fingers latched onto a braid and a delighted giggle escaped her as she tugged on it. Neteyam winced slightly but a surprised laugh replaced his sobs this time. Tears still rolled down his cheek but there was now something else to focus on. Her small body strained as she went for a specific blue bead in his hair.

“Apologies, hair is her current fixation. It is only by Eywa’s mercy that I am not already bald.” Tamil informed but there was anything but ire present in his tone. He laughed and tried to detach her vice-like grip from Neteyam’s braids.

“It is fine.” Neteyam barely managed to get out, other hands softly stroking her thin curls. The touch snagged her attention, doe eyes looking up at him suddenly. When he repeated the action, Vili leaned into the touch clumsily. She released the hold on his braids and suddenly she was slumping against his chest, snuggling close.

Another wave of emotion washed over him as he held the small baby close.

“You are troubled.”

“I…I was only…”

“It is fine, Neteyam. I would be concerned were you not.”

Surprise flickered through him, eyes snapping up to meet Tamil’s.

“I do not envy your position.” The alpha clarified, pulling Vili’s thumb from her mouth.

It felt silly to be surprised by the statement but there were days where it seemed everyone took the kidnapping situation in stride,seeing it as simply a small hurdle for the new couple. Kxolo always kept a strong face, reluctant to let on his own concerns about the tension with the Omatikaya clan.

“They are going to hate me.” Neteyam was startled to find what originated as a simple thought come out in whispered form, but since it was out, the words wouldn’t stop. “I was supposed to be finding a way to get out of here and yet all I have done is fail. No worse, I have gone against everything my parents have taught me and allowed myself to fall for the psycho that kidnapped me. I go to stop and back track….but then….I can’t. I’ve….I’ve betrayed my parents, my siblings, my clan! I’ve given over my own purity and now my parents will hate me. I am not the firstborn they deserve!”

Tears slipped down his cheeks so fast they began to drop on Vili’s head. Her nose scrunched in confusion before patting at her own head.

Sharp teeth sunk into his bottom lips as he tried to hold back more disgraceful sobs. Although he was on the verge of breaking into a million pieces, there was satisfaction in having the words said out loud. As if they were something he no longer had to hold on his own. They were shared.

Not daring to glance up at the alpha, Neteyam let the silence stretch between them.

“Vili had trouble breathing when she was first born.”

Neteyam quirked his eyes up finally.

“Those were longest two minutes of my life. When she did start breathing normally I would refuse to take my hand off her chest. I fell asleep to the rise and fall of her chest. I say with no exaggeration, it was the most terrifying day of my life.” Their eyes connected, a seriousness falling over them.

“And without a doubt the greatest day I shall ever know. I thank the Great Mother for her every night.”

The tension slipped and Neteyam found himself smiling down at Vili who wouldn’t stop kicking her legs at his arm.

“I do not expect you to understand, Neteyam.”

Neteyam brows furrowed.

“Only a parent can truly comprehend what it means to love someone unconditionally in the way we love our children. But hear my words when I tell you there is not a single thing that my daughter could do to make me love her a morsel less. That will never change.”

Neteyam gulped down the lump in his throat. Vili had found a new interest in the omega’s stomach, gummy mouth chomping down painlessly on his lower stomach.

“Your parents love you. If I didn’t know it before I surely know it after today.”

Neteyam perked up, hands already shaky in anticipation.

“What happened? Were they upset?”

“Naturally, but you need not over concern yourself. That is not my point.” Tamil, pursed his lips, lost in thought for a moment.

“Your parents love you and will continue to love you no matter what you do. You need not do anything to earn that love.”

The words turned over in his head on repeat.

“But will they forgive me?” He whispered after a long pause, barely more than a breath.

“That assumes you have done something wrong.”

“Haven’t I?”

“Only one being can answer that.” He responded, ever so gently removing Vili from his lap.

The Tree of Souls had never burned brighter, etching its presence into Neteyam’s consciousness until it could no longer be ignored. Biting his lower lip, the omega casted his eyes upwards as the sacred seeds cascaded down flawlessly.

“And if I don’t want to know?”

Already on his feet with Vili situated on his hip, Tamil paused and smiled warmly down at him.

“You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

And with that, Tamil silently began to walk away. Before leaving however, he turned once more.

“Neteyam.” He called, causing the omega’s attention to turn. “I see you.”

Emotion gripped at his heart as he quietly whispered the same back. Tamil smiled but left without delay.

Echoes of the forest surrounded him in a gentle ambience. Subconsciously, Neteyam thumbed at the designs along his new bow.

It was time.

Afraid his nerve would be fleeting, Neteyam hastily threw his kuru back over his shoulder and let the tendrils connect to the nearest vine.

He cleared his throat, expecting to follow his usual routine of addressing Eywa, but a light blinded him before there was a chance. The words were caught in his throat and the forest scenery melted away before his eyes. Panic went to a find a grip but then something new washed over him.

Peace flowed through him in ripples, the same pulsations of an active Tree of Souls. It thrummed through his veins in perfect time with his heart. Only blinding light could be seen but Neteyam was calm. More calm than he had been in years. A peace that he could only vaguely remember experiencing in early childhood.

Eywa’s love wrapped around him in the same way his own mother had held him close as a babe. There was no judgment, no retribution; just love. His worries took the back burner as he settled into the feeling, no longer letting his brain overwork itself to understand the situation. He accepted the light, accepted the peace, and opened himself up like a flower does to the sun.

Slowly his vision began to recover, revealing the familiar forest before him. However, this time Neteyam found himself no longer underneath the glow of glimmering vines. Slightly startled and confused, he took in his surroundings rapidly whipping his head back and forth. His gaze snagged on Kxolo’s form and although it was surprising to see him there, Neteyam couldn’t help but feel relieved.

“Sempu! He broke my bow!” A small girl bursted through the trees holding a piece of thin wood. She darted to Kxolo without hesitation, flinging her small body at his calf to cling to.

Neteyam blinked, heart racketing in his rib cage as he witnessed the events.

He expected Kxolo to be surprised, perhaps point the small girl in the direction of her real father and comfort her along the way but there was not a flicker of hesitation in his features. Instead, Kxolo let out a long sigh and fought back what appeared to be an amused smile.

“Alright alright, mawey, sweet girl.” He easily positioned her on his hip and the small child instantly tucked her face into his neck and sobbed. She was not easily consoled, despite his efforts to pry an explanation out of her. “Come now, show it to me.”

Finally the girl reared back to look up at Kxolo. Neteyam he had never seen a more perfected pouty face in his whole life. Her eyes were filled with tears and small lips so expertly set the omega was sure this particular expression was a familiar one to her. Kxolo, however, visibly softened upon seeing her distress.

He examined the small strip of wood with the other hand before smiling.

“It is not broken, my love. Simply needs some mending.” His voice soothed over her but the result didn”t last long.

“I told you!” Another child bolted from the treeline, this one at least a foot taller than her. The boy pointed an accusing finger at her. “She is always tattling on me but I didn’t even do it because it not even broken and-”

“Mawey mawey.” Kxolo reassured but that stern steel laced his voice.

“But sempu, she is always trying to get me in trouble!”

“I am not!” The girl wailed, tears coming back at full force.

“You crybaby!”

Neteyam jumped in surprise because that was not a Na’vi term, in fact it wasn’t Na’vi at all. The young boy had switched to English and to further his shock the tiny girl appeared to understand him perfectly as she stuck her tongue out at him.

“Stop it.” Kxolo accentuated each word with a pointed look.

Although it had a unique accent coating the sounds, there was no mistaking the truth. Kxolo was speaking English. Brows furrowing, Neteyam found it hard to compute the new information. It had become clear that this scene had to be in the future at some point but how? When?

“Now now no more of that.” Kxolo spoke again in Na’vi as he swiped away the girl’s tears.

“I want Mommy!” She cried out in English, already trying to find a way out of Kxolo’s arms. The boy on the other hand seemed to have already moved on with a simple eye roll before jetting past the Olo’eyktan. Kxolo caught him before he could slip away, hand gently holding him by the arm. The boy huffed and yanked back with all of his force but it was no match for his alpha father.

Neteyam felt guilty admitting it, but he was tempted to laugh at the scene before him. Both children trying to pull away and run off to get into trouble while Kxolo simply held them tight and patiently led them towards the lake’s edge.

“But then I hits em with a jet pack.”

Neteyam looked close to see which child had spoken but neither had stopped their whining for a second. Instead his ears twitched as he heard a different voice coming from the treeline, a strangely familiar one.

“That is not how a jet pack works, paskalin.”

It was a bizarre thing to hear his own voice out in the open air, different from the way it sounds in his head, however nothing could prepare him for seeing a clone of himself emerging from the trees. Exactly like him in every way but this time there were two children attached to his side, one in his arms while the other got a free ride by wrapping around his leg. Looking close he could see the difference in age slightly, along with a few new ornaments in his hair but there was no denying the resemblance.

It was him.

“Okays but mine specials.” The small boy cling to his leg urgently claimed.

“Of course, baby.” He heard himself respond, now switching over to Na’vi. In his arms was another small child but this one had to be barely old enough to talk, thumb in his mouth while that small tail tried to wrap around Neteyam’s arm.

“Daddy!” The tiny boy abandoned him to run over to Kxolo, thrusting a stick with a few feathers up towards him aggressively. “Look whats I mades.”

“Wow! That is fantastic.” The last word in English was barely discernible, the Olo’eyktan struggling more with this one in particular. Kxolo eyes shot to Neteyams and he saw himself shoot the alpha a small smile in approval.

“I knows.” The tiny boy agreed, already confident that this fact could be nothing but the simplest truth.

Kxolo didn’t have a free hand to commend the boy so his tail wrapped around him instead. A fit of giggle burst from the boy as the tuff of Kxolo’s tail tickled at his cheek. It appeared to be just the distraction needed as the Olo’eyktan was finally able to turn and face Neteyam with a grin.

“Yawntutsyip.” He greeted with a smirk but the small girl was already reaching for Neteyam.

“Mommy! My bow!” She whined, thrusting the piece out. Neteyam offered a few words of comfort before awkwardly taking the bow and managing to still keep a hold of the baby in his arms. It took less than a minute to slot the string back into place and hand it back. The tears stopped instantly.

“Time to bathe.” Kxolo purred but outrage broke loose. The older boy in his grip groaned and went to dart away causing him to set down his daughter so he could use both hands to bring him back. The girl took this opportunity to run over to Neteyam and cling to his leg, promises of never bathing again falling from her lips.

Meanwhile the smallest boy had already left behind his art and was sprinting straight towards the lake. Neteyam’s own heart lurched for a second in panic when those stubby legs hit the water’s edge but to his relief it appeared the boy was quite the swimmer. Future him seemed to know this too as he focused his efforts on swaying his daughter to get in.

Kxolo and their son were the last ones to get in. The Olo’eyktan had the older boy tucked under his arm, his legs dangling to the side as he pouted. Once his father had placed him in the water he went to make another break for it but Kxolo was already three steps ahead of him, shuffling back and forth to barricade the exit.

The smallest boy giggled as he watched his older brother and father interact.

“My turns! Catch me Daddy!” He shrieked before going to run away. The tiny boy ran straight into his older brother and bounced backwards into the water immediately. He surfaced with laughter and to Kxolo’s luck his older son had finally given up playing this back and forth game.

The Olo’eyktan chased his younger son through the rippling lake for several minutes until the tiny boy had to climb onto a rock for a rest.

It seemed that harmony had finally been struck as the kids giggled and chased each other through the lake. Kxolo took their smallest child and placed him into a makeshift leaf wrap by the lake, just enough water trickling in to allow the toddler to splash and play.

Even from a distance Neteyam could easily see the way Kxolo’s eyes scanned over his future self, hands quickly coming to follow the curve of the omega’s back.

Neteyam glared back at him playfully, tail swatting at his arm. The Olo’eyktan was neither swayed nor put out by the response. In fact, his smirks tipped upwards as he finally yanked his omega into his arms at last.

“And you question how we got so many children.” Neteyam said.

“I don’t recall you complaining last night, omega.” Kxolo whispered against his neck. Even watching the interaction Neteyam could feel his own body shiver with anticipation. His future self seemed to share the sentiment as he blushed. This time, however, that blush was not followed by shying away or trying to hide it but rather giving his mate a playful smile and reaching to connect their lips.

Kxolo cupped each side of his face tenderly, soaking in every swipe of their lips together like it was the last breath he would be allowed to take.

A glimmer of teeth shone through as neither was quite able to hide their smiles in the kiss. Even Neteyam’s tail lazily swayed back and forth in delight. There was not a hint of tension or stress present in his countenance. Neteyam’s hands hooked underneath the Olo’eyktan’s battle band for grip before rising up onto his toes. Kxolo’s responding laugh was more visual than audible.

“Ewww! Dad!” The oldest son groaned, nose scrunching up in disgust. Their daughter on the other hand began to giggle and sashay her way towards them, eyes wide and intent. When their son went to protest once more, Kxolo playfully splashed back at him and that was enough to start a full blown attack from the children.

Chubby little hands swatted at the water earnestly, hoping that their combined forces would be enough to take down their parents. When Kxolo’s head snapped in their direction they scattered, already anticipating his retribution. With a mighty roar he dramatically charged after them, gathering them up in his arms easily as they shrieked in delight.

The forest colors became saturated until light was blurring around him in every direction. That beam took him once more and Neteyam could no longer see the young family in the lake.

When Neteyam opened his eyes they struggled to make sense of the visual before him. Sparkling vines swung from overhead, bathing him in their glow. Limbs heavy and head pulsing, the omega finally realized he was now laying on his back underneath the Tree of Souls once more.

To say it was disorienting to come back to reality would be an understatement. His mind felt like it was suspended between two different times, the present and future. The real shock, however, was the deep aching in his bones as he realized this future had not occurred. At least not yet.

But that path would only form if he decided to accept a mating with Kxolo. Everything in that vision was nothing but an idea, one given by Eywa, but still just a speck of what could be.

However, there was one fact that still remained in the present.

One that was true and had been true for a while now.

He loved Kxolo.

He was in love with Kxolo.

No other person ran through his mind on cycle. No other person made him feel so safe and cherished. No other person had ever captivated his mind body and soul in the same way Kxolo had. Intentional or not, Neteyam had fallen past the point of no return.

He thought of his future self, the way he had radiated a happiness that Neteyam had never fully recognized in himself. A complete metamorphosis. Neteyam couldn’t deny that his future had never looked brighter than in that snippet of time.

Hope was a flame burning ever brighter.

For so long he had felt guilty for going against his father’s disapproval of Kxolo. He had wanted so desperately to become like his parents, who fought for their future. But now he could see that they too had to go against the expectations of the clan, mother’s parents, and the RDA all so they could pursue a future that others could not yet comprehend.

To honor his parents legacy he could only be true to himself.

Now it was his turn to fight for the future he saw.

“I really should be at communal dinner with Neteyam.” Vamai protested, fingers lazily shifting the cut berries back and forth.

“You are eating here.” Her father quietly reminded her. Her parents had insisted on an intimate family dinner for the night but were the tension to grow any higher Vamai was sure it would cut off her air flow until she suffocated.

“But Neteyam has been acting strange for a couple days so I really should be there to make sure he is alright.” She explained. “Olo’eyktan would want the same.” It never hurt to throw Kxolo’s name in for good measure.

Her father sighed before putting aside his half eaten fish.

“If Olo’eyktan is upset about your absence I will apologize myself.” He countered and her mother laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. Vamai didn’t mean to be harsh towards her gentle mother but she couldn’t help but shrug the touch off. She was in no mood to be touched.

Reluctantly accepting her fate, Vamai strapped herself in for the rest of a silent awkward meal. She wasn’t sure what her parents thought this would accomplish. It was not going to fix what had been done.

“Epok says you are still not speaking to him.” Vamai’s father spoke in a smooth tone, even wafting calming pheromones her way. It was almost laughable the way they viewed her as a skittish prey ready to pounce away at any moment.

“Well I am not related to him so therefore I am under no obligation to talk to him.”

Her father’s composure cracked, brows knitted.

“I take it you are still mad then.” Came his reply.

“Oh am I? I didn’t think that option was still available to me.”

“Vamai,” Her mother tried to scold but it was more of a sigh to herself, a desperate plea to try and play nice.

It seemed too that her father was struggling to approach the situation without things escalating. His tail stood on point and those ears were already perky and alert for any shift.

“Settle, Vamai.” He warned but that spark of electricity was already vibrating through her. Sometimes that energy in her system flowed like a river, giving her the strength to push through physical bounds and explore to her content but other times it reacted like a live wire. It buzzed and hummed through her until she knew all those pent up emotions were going to fly out as lightning.

Trying to keep it trapped in a box would only sour her mood in a different direction. Either it was going to come out in rage or it would flow as endless tears. She didn’t want to accept either. Doing so would push her parents to worry for her more. It was that same worry which had put them here in the first place.

“Epok is a nice man, Vee.” Her father gently urged. “I was only trying to look out for your best interest.”

Lightning had always been her favorite.

“So you hatch up schemes to mate us together? Going to him behind my back like that, convincing him to secure my hand? How is that in my best interest?” She shoved the leaf of berries off of her lap.

“You have been stubborn. So unmovable from the beginning that you often get in your own way, sweetheart.” Her mother jumped in, her smooth voice such a harsh contrast to Vamai’s own distressed one.

“That’s right. I’ve come to accept that you most likely will not want to mate with an alpha, your need to push at authority is something that I don’t anticipate going away, but that is why Epok was the perfect choice.” Vamai’s father added.

Vamai’s jaw set so hard she could feel the aches settling into her back teeth. She fought the urge to grind them together.

“He is strong, responsible, reliable, capable, and already shares a friendship with you. Not to mention holds a respectable status among the clan.”

“I didn’t ask for his courting profile.” Her cheeks began to flush a deep purple, the blood rushing to her head at abounding speeds. Eyes flickering to the door, possible escape had never looked more tempting. “Why would you try to make that decision for me?”

It was evident that her father too was quickly losing his patience. Heavy breaths flared from his nostrils every time he prepared himself to speak. The civil temper in the hut was hanging by a thread and one that she was sure either herself or her father was going to snap.

“I mean what did you think? Let us fuck enough times and I would fall in love with him?”

It was her.

She snapped it.

And her father’s rage had boiled over. Once again her mouth had run away from her and had therefore put herself in the line of fire.

“Vamai Te Zehu Sehu’ite, you will watch your mouth!” He towered over them standing at full height.

It was only instinctive but Vamai still hated the way her ears pulled back and tears gathered in her eyes. Her omega was a whimpering mess and on the verge of surrendering to this fight. It didn’t matter though, she had dealt with worse.

Although her father’s hands were balled into fists and scent wafting with anger, it seemed he too could sense her shift in emotions through that betraying essence.

His voice softened, “I am less than pleased about the…manner of your relationship but once again Vamai it had only come to that because it was the only way you allowed Epok close to you. Every other suitor who has tried for your hand has been shoved away and rebuked by you. You must know that does not do well for a male’s willingness-”

“Poor babies.” She muttered, arms crossed over her chest as she stared at the door to their hut.

“What your father is trying to say is that we are worried about you. Finding a mate is a joyous endeavor, but also a very important decision. It can be…painful at times to go without one, especially as an omega.”

Vamai knew her mother was trying to speak from a place of experience but it was difficult to ever relate her own character to that of her mother. Her mother was gentle, soft spoken, kind and caring. Somedays Vamai felt as if she could not be further from the descent of her parents.

“You act as if I will never get mated. It’s not as if I have sworn off the entire concept. Just because I don’t have feelings for a few village alphas? So what? You just said so yourself that the choice is important.”

Her parents shared a look, one that made the electricity crackle in her veins.

“My child,” Her father crouched down and reached to cup her cheek. Those calming pheromones prowling once more but Vamai scowled back at him. “Your path thus far has been a rocky one. One that I would have never wished upon my only daughter.”

She reeled away from his touch.

“That’s what this is about? You know I will get mated but you don’t trust my taste.”

Her father’s gaze snagged her own and it took every fiber in her to hold the look.

“I made one mistake! One. Is that what you want me to admit? Tenatu was a mistake! I was young and foolish and let my emotions get the best of me. I know that, believe me, I will never forget it!”

“Vee” Her mother's soft voice cooed but Vamia was already pulling away from her gentle touch.Too scrambled and on the edge of a breakdown to think, she grabbed her small pouch and shoved the weird neck comm into it before her parents could see what it was.

“Vamai, do not be hasty.” Her father warned, but she was already parting the hut flaps.

Anxious for a quick retreat, she was not prepared to bump into a hard chest. Vamai stumbled backwards as two hands went out to steady her.

“Oh, Vamai. Are you alright?” Epok asked, trying to help the small omega get her footing.

She scoffed, ripping her arms from his grasp and turning back to her father.

“What a wonderful dinner you had planned, sempu.” She gritted out, face already turning a darker shade with rage.

She didn’t allow either male to speak, didn’t give them the time to persuade, justify, or defend their actions. It was clear that tonight she was in fact the fool.

So Vamai did what she knew how to do best.

She ran.

“I’m not in the mood, today.” Lo’ak grunted out, storming away from Amnu.

His father had been raging since that morning per the news. Lo’ak was surprised both of his parents didn’t jump the messenger Kxolo sent, no matter how soft spoken or gentle he was about delivering it. Regardless, that anger had shown through in training. Jake had run the warriors down to the bone, merciless with his corrections of every single infraction. Each screw up had come with a consequence, reminiscent of Jake’s military days and something Lo’ak was all too familiar with experiencing.

At the end of the day, he was exhausted, infuriated, and craving nothing more than to speak with his feisty omega. As tough as Vamai thought she was, her insults could do nothing more than brighten his day.

“It is true then.” Amnu said, ignoring his warnings.

Lo’ak grinded to a halt. With a bone chilling stiffness, he turned to face the other alpha male.

“What. Is.” He hissed, teeth already preparing to tear the male limb from limb. It had been too long of Amnu’s pursuing and nagging.

“What they say of your brother. He is mated with that psychotic Olo’eyktan.”

Their game of chase quickly flipped on its head, Lo’ak’s long legs carrying him towards the male in stomping fashion.

“It is not.” His five fingers splayed over the male’s chest, pushing him backwards until he stumbled slightly. “Watch your mouth.”

Amnu held his arms up in surrender, lips turned downwards.

“Fine. I do not protest. In fact that is good news, especially considering our deal.”

Lo’ak could already feel his sore muscles bunching up. This was not the conversation he needed today.

“What the hell are you on about, Amnu?”

“I’m talking about when I covered for your ass a few weeks ago. I was under the impression you would bring home a certain pretty omega. And yet, no Neteyam.”

“First of all, I never promised you anything. You were the one that wanted to help get Neteyam back. Secondly, your help was nonexistent considering I still got turned over within a few hours.” Lo’ak’s hands balled into fists tight enough to mark half moons into his palms. He was in no mood to be tested, even less so engage with some horny entitled alpha.

“You know that I would treat him better than that brain dead Olo’eyktan. You and I want the same thing.”

Lo’ak swore he heard his teeth crack from the pressure of his clamped jaw. Amnu’s confidence, however, appeared to know no bounds as he calmly pushed forward.

“Even if he has been,” Amnu paused, lips pursed while looking for the right term. “Sullied, you could say.”

The first swing was instinctual. Lo’ak neither needed to think nor decide to give him a right hook. The second, however, was more precise, more intentional. Both made his knuckles ache, but it was more than a worthy cause.

“You keep my brother’s name out of your filthy mouth!”

Amnu stumbled and poked at his now bleeding lip but his features too soon morphed in a display of fury.

“You seem to forget that before this whole mess I was courting your brother for months.”

“Oh really? Is that what those pathetic gifts were? Truly, I thought they were some garbage toys for Tuk.” Lo’ak sneered, ears pointed and alert for the receiving attack.

And it came.

The other alpha rammed into him, bringing them both to the ground in a tangle of snapping jaws and swinging hits. Admittedly, Amnu got his fair share of hits in, but Lo’ak’s restraint was quickly circling down the drain. It was true that Amnu had been relentlessly pursuing Neteyam but his desire was no match for the swirling emotions that had been spiraling in Lo’ak for months now.

So he channeled it.

Every jab, tug, and punch was fueled by that turmoil.

Every day that had been spent trying to keep that fire inside, trying to fill in as a good older brother was compacted into his anger. Amnu made some scratches, even managed to pounded in some deep bruises but Lo’ak was less than deterred.

He rolled them over, straddling the male and pushing him into the dirt violently. Amnu growled and squirmed but Lo’ak knew how to position his body so that escape was not his to be had. He pinned Amnu’s neck down with his leg, the pressure not enough to cut off the airway but still able to cause great strain.

“You think that beating me up is going to bring him back?” Amnu’s hoarse voice egged him on. Another hit to the jaw. “It’s not my fault you failed.”

And that’s when Lo’ak let the floodgates open.

Lip bleeding with scattered bruises along his stomach and face, Lo’ak stomped back to his hut. The fight had dialed his adrenaline to eleven and yet it still left him unsatisfied. In the end he had been triumphant but what did it really matter? Amnu was the least of his problems. His mother and father were sure to be fighting once more as they struggled to keep their emotions in check and find a solution. His older brother was swaddled in the arms of some asshole and his own love life was keeping him up at night until his training was suffering.

Settling into his hammock, Lo’ak had never been more grateful to have a place to call his own. It gave him the solace and time to think that he required on days like today.

“Lo’ak.”

He shot upright, eyes scanning the ground for the earpiece faintly making the sound. He tried not to dwell on how fast he scrambled to respond. It had been a hard day. He deserved to hear her voice.

“Little snitch, well well well. You do know how to start a comm link after all.” He struggled to keep the words light. Vamai had a knack for creating this playful conversation between them, however he was sure she would not describe their interactions in the same light.

“Yeah….guess so.” She responded and Lo’ak blinked.

“What are you up to?” He hesitantly veered forward, trying to gauge her reaction.

“Nothing really.”

Lo’ak brows furrowed as he winced and pressed on his bleeding lip.

“Nothing, huh? It’s kind of hard to do no-”

“Why are you talking strange?”She interrupted.

“Strange?” He mumbled while pressing the cloth against his cut.

“Yes, you sound different.”

He paused for a moment.

“Oh that. I have a cut on my lip, just a minor-”

“How?”

It wasn’t rare for Vamai to be so blunt, but Lo’ak couldn’t help but notice her sudden attention.

“I got into a fight. Nothing major, just the usual banged up cuts and bruises.” He shrugged, laying back down on his hammock. Talking to Vamai was meant to be his escape from the events of the day. The last thing he wanted was to get into the details.

“And you have seen tsahik.”

Lo’ak grimaced at the idea of facing his grandmother at a time like this. The last thing his family needed was to worry about the injuries his heated temper had bestowed upon him.

“Well, I don’t think now is a good time for that. My family is a little…disarrayed.”

The silence hung heavy for a moment and Lo’ak found the questions at the tip of his tongue begging to let loose. He didn’t want to think about Neteyam or the Olo’eyktan or any of his problems, but there was always a temptation to beseech Vamai. Surely she would know if the rumors were true.

“I can patch you up.”

His thoughts reared to a stop.

“What? What do you mean?” He sprung back up in his hammock, muscles aching from the sudden strain.

“Patch you up. Heal your injuries.”

His fingers ran over the neck comm, making sure there were no missing parts that could be distorting the signal.

“Yes I….you could.” He swallowed. “Are you offering?”

“I suppose so.” Came her reply and Lo’ak just about nearly fell on his face as he scrambled to unwind the hammock around his legs. What had gotten into her? Most nights he was lucky to get a ten minute conversation with her and now she wanted to see him? But not only that. Heal him, take care of him.

Although a primal part of him purred at the idea of his omega warming up to him, his suspicion couldn’t be ignored.

“Meet me at the bottom of the waterfall.”

Lo’ak hastily agreed but there was no reply.

The waterfall, the same waterfall he had jumped down after her. The same waterfall that at the bottom of he had tasted her essence for the first time.

The same place she had forbidden them of speaking about for weeks.

On the ride over Lo’ak struggled to suppress his urgency. He told himself over and over that it was sure to be a joke. Vamai had been…compliant with their comm conversations but any speak of meeting up again had ended with radio silence. He told himself that she was simply playing a prank on him and that the day would once again end with another disappointment.

It didn’t stop the flutter in his stomach, however.

A flutter that had burst into an avalanche when he landed to find her petite form sitting against a tree, arranging bowls of healing ointments.

It couldn’t have been more than two weeks since he had a waft of her perfume but a serge of primal emotion swept over him at the familiar scent regardless. It rolled forward memories of how that essence had complimented her taste perfectly, of how she had moaned out his name and squirmed against his gripping hands.

More than anything however, it brought forth the memory of her small form in his arms. The way she had slept so softly against him.

Now, however, that fleeting tinge of peace that had been present in her pheromones was nowhere to be found. In fact, Vamai sat still. So perfectly still and stiff that it had sent chills down his spine. He tried to get a read on her scent but there was a messy sprawl to it, like a tangled web holding what lied beneath.

“You showed.” He forced on a smile as he rounded the tree.

Vamai stiffened and nervously shuffled the bowls into a random order.

“I said I would.”

The anxious demeanor immediately put him on guard. When he caught her hand that was reaching for another bowl he spoke softly. “Are you alright?”

“Don’t do that.” She shoved him off. Weirdly the aggressive action felt more like her usual self. He leaned into it, hoping to press some sort of reaction or answer that would make sense.

“Why not?”

For the first time upon arriving her eyes met his. They burned with a formidable rage but there was a shimmer of waterworks lined over them as well. Her lips quivered and immediately, Lo’ak’s tail jerked up on alert.

“Vama-”

“Can you please just hold still so I can do this?” Vamai snapped.

And although a part of him stirred at her disrespectful tone, even his alpha knew how to detect an omega in distress. He sat back on his knees quietly.

She didn’t meet his eyes while preparing the healing balm, letting her wavy hair create a curtain to hide. Vamai was stoic as she began rubbing ointment into a cut on his collarbone, but there were tell-tale signs that Lo’ak couldn’t help but focus on. Her small fingers trembled with every motion over his cut. Although it stung, Lo’ak didn’t so much as flinch.

Her golden orbs dared a glance at his beaten features.

“You got injured like this how again?” She whispered, eyes intensely trained on the already treated cut in front of her.

“A disagreement.”

“Skxawng.” She huffed, but there was a waiver in her voice. “With who?”

“Just some moronic alpha that has an obsession with Neteyam. Thought it was his place to make swift judgments.”

Her hand paused and from his vantage point Lo’ak could just barely make out her sharp teeth nipping into her bottom lip.

“And he looks worse than this, right?”

“Of course.”

Vamai nodded, shrinking back into her hair once more.

“Good.”

Her touch became softer, increasingly more gentle when running over the bruises and cuts. She avoided his face, however, tending to every other area first. It tied a knot in Lo’ak’s stomach to see her this way. Quiet. Withdrawn. Small.

Vamai was often like a ticking bomb. On some days he couldn’t help himself from chasing to set her off, to get her to reveal something of significance. Their connection was real, he knew it and there was no denying that she must have felt it too, but he could never figure out what the big hold up was.

However, he knew on certain days that it was crucial to handle her with care. If he had learned anything about bombs from his father it was that the smallest and seemingly most inconsequential moves were that same that had them blowing you to bits.

Breath held in his lungs, Lo’ak ever so lightly rested his palm against her lower back. At first it was soft enough to be mistaken as a brush of wind but when she didn’t pull away, he allowed his hand to flatten across the soft skin.

He couldn't see her face, couldn’t get an accurate read on her but her scent shifted dramatically. Then suddenly she was resting her forehead against his chest. His other hand dug into the dirt as he fought off every instinct to brush her hair away and see what was really happening.

His patience was not tested for long however.

The shaking began and then came the sobs.

Tears rained down on his chest as Vamai crumbled against him.

His body reacted before his brain could catch up. She didn’t fight him as he pulled her to sit on his lap and latched his muscular arms around her. Calming pheromones drifted from him without thought but nothing could mask her own essence projecting sadness, longing, and…fear.

His brows furrowed, terrified for a moment that he had become the source of this turmoil, but then she leaned closer until her face was burrowed in the crook of his neck. A shiver ran down his spine as he once again experienced this long awaited contact.

Cheek laid against the top of her head, Lo’ak focused on keeping his breathing consistent and calm, something his omega could latch onto. It took considerable effort as his alpha was pulled between two different desires. To coddle and to protect. Surely this onslaught of emotions had to have an origin, one that his alpha was eager to exterminate.

How long had she been feeling this way?

Regardless, Lo’ak forced himself to remain calm and keep her bundled close against him.

He hated to see her so distressed and yet it had never felt better to have her in his arms, to finally express his adoration through a physical outlet.

Her wavy hair tickled at his nose as her sobs quietly rang through the air. One of her small hands found purchase along his battle band and Lo’ak’s heart fluttered in his chest. Daring to push the boundaries just a little further, Lo’ak carefully pushed a few curls away from her forehead.

Her face was still buried against his neck but he could see the tears streaks staining her gorgeously soft cheeks and lips. He took it as a good sign when she didn’t correct this action, but Vamai wouldn’t open her eyes either. He wondered what secrets hid within those golden eyes. What sorrows she held at bay.

When the tears had ceased neither Na’vi moved.

She fit so perfectly against his larger form, tucked away where he could protect her from these invisible dangers. Pride swelled in his chest when Vamai shifted to tuck closer and relaxed in his hold. Long fingers skated up and down her spine, fiddling with the feathered straps intricately woven there.

Incidentally his pinky brushed her curling tail.

To his utter shock and delight that thin appendage curled around his wrist.

He looked down but her eyes were still shut. Staring for a moment, he thought that perhaps she had drifted off but then golden eyes peaked up at him through slanted slits. Immediately they closed against and Vamai shuffled to hide against his shoulder.

He suppressed a chuckle, knowing she would bite back at him for finding the action cute.

Instead he allowed himself to breathe in the moment. Silence was not a common occurrence between them, something he was unfamiliar with in their dynamic but he found himself enjoying it. It gave him the opportunity to fill his lungs with her essence, allow it to imprint itself into his mind, because he was not foolish enough to believe this would last forever.

At some point Vamai would remember who was holding her and remember whatever reasons she had for keeping him at arm's length. Then he would be back to chasing her, back to wrestling the omega into facing her own feelings. It was a challenge Lo’ak was willing to face, but it came with lonely moments too.

It would be worth it though.

This he knew as he brushed another curl from her temple.

Kxolo believed he had a knack for patience and keeping a cool composure. That is, before he had met Neteyam and the omega had easily turned him inside out.

It wasn’t uncommon to hunt solo for a few hours. Two, maybe three hours was normal. But when hour four hit, Kxolo could no longer keep his nerves at bay. He raced through the forest, barreling through bushing and scaling overturned trees within his path.

Worst case scenarios tumbled and tangled in his mind, tormenting him endlessly as he ran.

Neteyam had been off that morning. His head had been far away from the present and Kxolo regretted ever letting the omega out to hunt alone in that state. The forests of Pandora were not for the faint of heart and definitely not for those distracted. He could only imagine what creature had found him as prey.

Kxolo’s hand was drawing up to unsheath his knife when suddenly a familiar figure came into view.

Instantly the Olo’eyktan sagged in relief.

“Neteyam.” He breathed. “There you are, baby boy.”

He sheathed the dagger once more and quickly went to embrace the omega. Neteyam fell into the hug easily but his tail flickered back and forth in anticipation. Kxolo’s own tailed pointed in alert.

Holding the boy back at arm’s length, Kxolo scanned his slim frame for injuries.

“You aren’t hurt, are you?” He asked with brows knitted.

“I’m not.”

Kxolo beamed, nerves finally washed away.

“Come, I will help you bring back your kills.” Kxolo urged, taking him by the hand.

“Kxolo”

“I must admit you had me worried, little one.” The alpha chuckled, hand squeezing the smaller one in his grasp.

“Kxolo.”

“Yes love.” He hummed, focusing on following Neteyam’s footprints back to his hunting grounds.

“Kxolo.” Neteyam firmly yanked on the male’s hand, causing the alpha to immediately spin on his heel to face him. The Olo’eyktan’s ears perked up.

“Neteyam, what-”

“Mate with me.”

Thank you all for the support and patience! As always, your feedback and comments not only mean the world to me but also motivate me to write more. Can't wait for Chapter 16!

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Please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the Ma Neteyam taglist<3

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studywgabi · 9 months ago

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Anyone Else?

I am 18 years old and I just found out I am intersex.

I started puberty at an earlier age than average. I had severe acne, oily skin, and hirsutism in second grade. I remember my dad telling me to wash my face because I was getting "a type of pimple called a blackhead" (he had to explain to me what it was, I had never heard of them) when he dropped me off at before-school daycare at 7 years old. When I told my mom I had hair under my arms that same year, she flat-out refused to believe me. She simply said I did not, that it was impossible.

I started shaving my legs in third grade, after begging my parents to let me for a year. My mom said I should only have to shave every other day, and again denied the truth when I told her that wasn't enough. Once I started shaving my legs, I noticed the hair everywhere else: my back, my chest, my face, all over.

I googled my symptoms over and over, scouring the internet for a documented experience of any other woman who was like me. I questioned my gender identity over the years. I had wondered if it was possible for me to be intersex, but I had a very limited view of what that could mean, and I assumed if I was, it would be very physically, externally, obvious. At that time, I didn't think it was possible for my doctors, my parents, and everyone else in my life to miss something so important.

For about a year, I identified as non-binary and used they/them pronouns. I think that part of this came from a place of being young and exploring my identity, but it also came from deep insecurity. I didn't feel like being a girl was an option for me because of the way I looked, so I thought it would ease my pain to pretend I wasn't a girl. I want to make it abundantly clear that I am in no way saying questioning one's gender identity is only about being insecure. That was my personal experience, and I am in the minority. I am the exception to the vast majority of experiences.

I bought plain, solid-color, clothes 3 sizes too big and wore pants and long sleeves all summer to swallow me up. I always wore my hair down and I always had bangs to cover as much of my face as possible. I wanted to make it impossible to see my face at all, and, between bangs, glasses, makeup, and a mask, I was fairly close.

By the time I was 12, I had developed a four-hour daily routine for removing all my hair. After a year of seeing my therapist, I finally broke down and told her about my hirsutism via pen and paper and through tears. I was so, so ashamed that I couldn't even say the word "hair" out loud. She immediately told me I might have PCOS, something I had never heard of, and it turns out she was right.

It was only recently, six years after my PCOS diagnosis, that I found out there was any discussion at all about PCOS being considered an intersex condition. I am ashamed to say my first reaction was one of more fear and insecurity. I have been chasing womanhood all my life, and this felt like yet another barrier to it. Even if I didn't identify as intersex after reading about this, it's taught me I have quite a bit of unlearning to work on.

I am in no way qualified to declare PCOS to be an intersex condition, and I am not telling other people with PCOS that they have to be intersex, but I now identify as intersex. I love that PCOS awareness is a trending hastag on tiktok, but there is still so much more research that needs to be done, especially into this particular area. I read peer-reviewed journals from scientists and blog posts about individuals' real experiences and I found a term that feels like home for me, that fell in line with the way I had always felt about myself. I will still use she/her pronouns, because they also feel right for me.

When I experience things like this, I don't know what else to do but write about them. I hope we learn more about this, and I hope I can talk to someone who has also had this experience. Thank you.

#intersex #nonbinary #gender identity #genderqueer #trans #her #she/her #they/them #pronouns #lgbtqia #lgbtq community #lgbt pride #lgbtq #queer community #queer #diagnosis

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parvulous-writings · 1 year ago

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About the Night before // Vander x reader

Request: Hi! What about a reaction of Vander x reader where vander goes to benzo and he sees some scratches on vanders shoulder or back from the night before with the reader? :D don’t rush things it was just a thought! :3

Requested by: Anonymous

Summary: Benzo visits his friend Vander one morning, and finds out what the old Hound of the Underground has been up to.

Warnings: Mild language

Words: 2K

Notes: So, it’s not scratches, per se, but a very similar situation! And it turns into a very long convo 0-0 My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! Original character list - please request for these too!

Not my gif

A thick, green fog clouded the upper skies of the Lanes, letting nought but a little ray of light through here and there; a particularly nice morning for the Undercity. Business, of all kinds, was starting up as per the norm, one of these being the Last Drop - a frequent place for all dwellers of the Lanes. As the freehouse opened it’s doors to the general public, the first to stroll in was a very close friend of the owner - another local merchant, by the name of Benzo. Trailing behind, and nearly getting hit by the door as it started to swing shut behind Benzo, was the older man’s young ward, who had insisted he accompany him to the establishment, so that he could see the few other children around his age. Benzo, of course, complied - anything to keep the young boy out of trouble, and somewhere he knew. Well, for a little while, at least. Whilst the more youthful of the pair scuttered off to find his peers, Benzo made his way over to the bar. “Mornin’.” He grumbled, resting his arms on the cool wooden surface as he shuffled himself onto a stool. The tall man behind the bar - by the name of Vander - gave Benzo a small huff in greeting as he ran a damp cloth over the surface of the bar, trying in vain to remove some of the years old sticky patches where beverages had been spilt. "And what do you want?" The man asked, though not in any way malicious. His tone carried the amusement that most of their conversations held at one point or another. Benzo pretended to think for a moment. "How about a mate who's less of an arse than you?" the pair chuckled lightly, and Vander shook his head slowly, he knew it was all in good fun. “Just thought I’d drop by, check in, and whatnot...” Benzo continued, “Been a while since I’ve seen you... something wrong?” Vander glanced at the man across from him, as he moved to pour him a pint. “No, nothing’s wrong...” Vander replied honestly. “Just been busy...” “Kids getting into scuffles again?” “No, not more than usual...” Vander shrugged. Benzo hummed at this. “Right...” It was unclear whether or not he actually believed Vander. He tapped the fingers of one hand rhythmically against the scratched surface of the bar, somewhat deep in thought.

Vander watched him, his grey eyes flitting between his friend’s face, and his never-resting fingers. He quirked one, bushy brow, waiting patiently for Benzo to do or say something more. But, he didn’t. Not for a few minutes at least. It was then that something caught Benzo’s eye; something only just visible over his friend’s shirt collar. A small mark, possibly even a shadow - Benzo wasn’t sure. “You got a little bit of uh... dirt, there...” Benzo scratched the area that was affected on Vander on his own skin. Vander’s brow furrowed slightly, and he replied simply; “I han’t been anywhere that bad... And the better half ran me a bath last nigh’...” He grumbled, starting to rub his neck, initially thinking that perhaps he had missed a patch whilst washing the night before. It seemed to click for both of them at the same time. Vander’s cheeks started to turn an interesting shade of red, though thankfully this was mostly hidden by his beard. Benzo couldn’t help the chuckle that started to bubble past his lips, hanging his head and shaking it slowly. “Good night then, I take it?” The man asked, finally bringing his face up to lock eyes with Vander again, before falling into a new lapse of giggles. Vander just sighed, giving his friend a moment to get it out of his system. “Yeah, actually. Had some alone time with the other half, and-” “I can see that.” Benzo blurted, laughing again. Vander, once more, looked unimpressed. “... And had some conversations.” Vander tried to continue, not that Benzo was listening this time around. It took another minute or so for his friend to settle again. “I’m glad you’re finding it so amusing.” “How can I not?” Benzo continued to chuckle. “I’d have thought that a man, at your age, would know how to hide a bloody hickey!” Vander just sighed in response to his friend’s guffaws. He knew better than to try and speak over his friends instances of giggles - firstly because it would only anger himself and Benzo, and secondly because he knew that moments like this could be few and far between in the Undercity. “Right...” Benzo sighed happily, “Sorry, I’m done, I’m done...” He wiped under his eye with the back of his hand. Vander looked quite bemused. “I’ll take your word for it...” Vander shook his head, a light smile on his lips, only just hidden by his beard. “But yes... had some conversations, after the fact, I mean.” “So we’re just skippin’ to the end of it all, you’re not tellin’ me any details?” Benzo asked, only half joking. Vander gave him a mildly unimpressed look. “No, you’re not getting details.” He paused, and then continued. “So, me and the better half had a conversation...” “Yeah, you said that.” “... About maybe having some more kids.”

Silence fell between the two men. Benzo was the first to speak. “More kids?” He asked, incredulously, leaning back slightly where he sat, keeping one hand on the table to steady himself. He let out a long breath of disbelief, as if he were the one who was planning to expand the family. “Don’t you think four is enough already? Not to mention the amount of trouble they get into on their own? How the hell are you going to deal with more kids?” “We’ll manage.” Vander replied simply; he had faith in both his abilities, and yours. His kids had always taken a shine to you, why or how it had happened was never really clear, but the younger ones certainly seemed to listen to you more than they did most adults. Benzo just looked at him in more disbelief. He could hardly believe what he was hearing, now. “Stop gawking at me.” Vander scolded, but the man’s expression did not change. “I’m not helping if they get into trouble...” Benzo warned. “I wouldn’t expect you to. They’re not your problem, are they?” Vander chuckled, slinging the rag he used to clean glasses over his shoulder to keep it out of his way. "I s'pose not... But they'll be around little man, won't they? That'll eventually make them my problem." Benzo laughed - it was quite a common thing for Vander's kids and Benzo's ward to get into trouble together. Vander hummed in agreement. "Yeah... But I think Vi might help them... As much as she can, at least." "Aye, she's a good role model, besides all the scuffles and back alley fights... Takes after you. I remember when we were that age and you were just the same." Benzo recalled with a sly smile. "Yeah, I remember... And I also remember the reason I got into those fights." Vander looked knowingly at his old friend. ”Certain someone I knew kept getting himself into trouble... And it’s not like me to just leave someone to fend for themselves in a situation they can’t handle, is it?” Benzo sighed quietly - he knew Vander had a point. He couldn’t remember a time where he had been in over his head, and Vander hadn’t come to give him a hand. It was certainly unlike the burly man - or his pink haired daughter, who certainly took after him when it came to fist fights - to leave someone unable to defend themselves. “Vi will take care of them, if me or the other half can’t... I know it ain’t... ideal, in a place like this, and I know it’s another mouth to feed, before you even say anything.” Vander cut Benzo off just as he was about to speak. “But, I don’t know how to explain it to you without you thinking I’m a complete and utter sap.” “I thought that anyway. You’re just confirming my theory.” Benzo joked with a deep rumbling laugh. “To be fair on you, though... Could take your mind off of other things, eh?” Vander nodded quietly in response - he agreed entirely that whilst an addition to the family could cause certain stresses, they could also be an absolute joy to have. “An’ on top of that,” Benzo continued, “Could help some of them calm down a bit... I think that could also help with all the scuffles...” Benzo was referencing one child in particular; and Vander knew it. Young Mylo had been bristly ever since he turned twelve. Vander was sure that it wasn’t something the young boy always meant for, but it certainly happened often, especially with the youngest of the bunch, Powder. Perhaps Benzo had a point - a new addition to the family could in fact help Mylo regulate his emotions with a little more success, or it could go in the exact opposite direction and lead to a total fallout.

“So how you goin’ to tell ‘em?” Benzo quizzed - a valid query. “Well, I think Vi already knows... or at least has a feelin’ that that’s we’ve been discussing, behind closed doors an’ the like...” Vander moved around the bar to actually sit next to his friend, rather than remaining standing on the other side of the bar. It made him feel closer to his friend, and more at ease than before. This was a close conversation between the two of them, so why not physically be closer? “Y’know, she ain’t brainless... But I still don’t know how she feels about it all... I think she thinks the same way you did... It’s dangerous - and neither of you are wrong... It just... Might be a kind of light in the darkness, for us...” Vander’s voice was quieter now, more gentle. “You have never sounded sappier than you do right now. And that’s saying something.” “I know.” Then silence fell between them both once more. There was something... Odd, permeating this silence. A sense of... Almost comfort, or as comforting as the pair dared to get with one another. The two were extremely close, but they rarely would divulge into their emotions with one another, it wasn’t the done thing. There were touching moments like this, though they were very few and far between, as neither of the men really felt comfortable in doing so, it wasn’t something that they had done with most people - or in the case of Benzo, any people. It was new to them, and naturally they shied away from the feeling, and the discomfort of bearing their souls to one another. “What about the other kids?” Benzo broke the silence, unable to bear it any longer. “Well they’ve got no idea... I don’t think Powder will be worried, she’ll probably be more excited than anything else... Claggor will be a little wary, but the same... It’s Mylo I’m worried about - ‘specially when the kid gets older. Y’know what he’s like.” Benzo nodded sagely as Vander went on, humming quietly in agreement. “If he don’t mellow out enough for you, send him over to mine sometime, I’ll keep him busy... He can help little man, they’ll keep each other occupied, I’m sure.” Vander gave Benzo a smile, “I owe you one,” He told the man, as both got to their feet. They knew from the dim light streaming through the window in the door it was time for them both to go their separate ways for the day, and reconvene at a later time. “You owe me more than just one, Vander.” Benzo jested, and both laughed, shaking the hand of the other, before Benzo gave a wave, going back to his shop on the other side of the Lanes. Vander moved back behind the bar, and the day went on as normal, operating practically like clockwork, as it had done for so many years now.

#vander arcane #arcane headcanon #arcane fluff #vander x reader #Vander #arcane vander #vander oneshot

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