#slivers final form

[pucksandpower]

Have My Baby

Day 8 → Breeding Kink 💋 Max Verstappen

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

The sound of your laughter, bright and unguarded, echoes through the garage. Max watches from the other side, just close enough to see you kneel beside Checo’s daughter, the little girl’s giggles rising as you hand her a toy car. It’s a small moment — insignificant, even — but it lands in Max’s chest like a stone dropping into a still lake, sending ripples outward.

The race weekend buzzes around him, mechanics and engineers in perpetual motion, but for a second, all he can focus on is you, surrounded by Checo’s kids, your hair slipping from behind your ear as you make some silly face that sends them into peals of laughter.

“You’re good with them,” Max says later, sliding into the seat beside you in the car. He’s not looking at you, eyes instead fixed on the road, but his hand finds yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“Hmm?” You ask, distracted as you scroll through your phone. You don’t look up, but your fingers tighten around his just a bit. It’s small, but he notices.

“Checo’s kids,” Max clarifies, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “You’re good with them.”

You shrug, finally looking up to meet his gaze. “They’re sweet. Just being kids.”

“They love you,” Max insists, a little more forcefully than he intended. Your eyebrows rise at his tone, curiosity flickering across your features, but you don’t push.

“They’re just kids,” you repeat, softer now, like you’re trying to placate him. “They don’t need much to be happy.”

Max falls silent after that, though his mind is far from quiet. He drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh, the warmth of your skin beneath his palm grounding him.

He’s been thinking about this for a while now — longer than he’d care to admit — but today, watching you with those kids, it’s like something clicked into place. A plan, half-formed but persistent, starts to take shape in the back of his mind. He squeezes your thigh absentmindedly, as if to reassure himself that you’re real, here with him.

“What’s on your mind?” You ask, breaking the silence as you lean back in your seat. You tilt your head to the side, studying him with that familiar, unflinching gaze that always manages to strip away whatever walls he thinks he’s put up.

“Nothing,” Max lies, and you know it’s a lie, but you let it slide. He sees the way your eyes narrow, the briefest hesitation before you hum in response. But you don’t push further, instead turning your attention back to the passing cityscape as the car winds through the streets.

When you finally get back to the suite, the evening’s warmth lingers in the air, the low hum of the city just outside the windows. Max lets you walk in first, watching the way you kick off your shoes by the door and stretch your arms over your head. The hem of your shirt lifts just a bit, revealing a sliver of skin that he can’t help but stare at. You catch him looking, a smile tugging at your lips.

“What?” You ask, feigning innocence as you walk toward him. Your hands find their way to his chest, fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. “You’re staring.”

“Can’t help it,” Max says, not bothering to hide the hunger in his voice. His hands come up to rest on your hips, thumbs tracing small circles against your skin. “You’re beautiful.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” you tease, but there’s a warmth in your eyes that betrays how much his words affect you.

Max doesn’t reply, just pulls you closer until your bodies are flush against each other. He dips his head to press a kiss to your neck, and you tilt your head back, giving him better access. He feels the way your breath hitches, the way your hands grip his shirt a little tighter, and it only makes him want you more.

“You’re tired,” he murmurs against your skin, though he doesn’t slow his kisses.

“Not too tired,” you reply, your voice a little breathless now as your fingers thread through his hair. You pull him closer, and he takes that as permission to lift you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you to the bed.

When he lays you down, he does it slowly, carefully, like you’re something fragile. His hands are steady as he undresses you, taking his time, savoring the sight of you beneath him. There’s a reverence in the way he moves, like he’s committing every detail to memory.

“You’re being gentle tonight,” you observe, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch him.

“I like taking care of you,” Max replies simply. His voice is calm, but there’s an intensity in his gaze that makes you shiver.

“I like it too,” you admit, and the sincerity in your voice sends a warmth through his chest. You reach out to him, pulling him down until he’s hovering over you, his hands braced on either side of your head. Your lips brush against his, soft and teasing. “But you’re holding back.”

“I’m not,” he lies again, but this time, you don’t seem to notice the hesitation in his voice. He kisses you deeply, his hands tracing the curve of your body, and it’s enough to distract you, to make you forget the way he’s been acting strange all evening.

Max is careful, though. He’s calculated, making sure you’re so lost in the sensation of his lips against your skin, his hands exploring every inch of you, that you won’t catch on to his plan. He slides a pillow under your hips, and when you look up at him in question, he just smiles, pressing a kiss to your stomach.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “I’ve got you.”

You do as he says, letting your head fall back against the mattress, your body sinking into the softness of the bed. Max takes his time, kissing his way down your body, his lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. When he reaches your stomach, he lingers there, pressing gentle, lingering kisses to the soft skin.

“You’ll look beautiful,” he whispers against your skin, his voice so quiet that you almost don’t hear it.

“What?” You ask, half-dazed, your mind foggy from the pleasure he’s been giving you.

Max doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he continues kissing your stomach, his hands holding your hips in place as he murmurs against your skin, “You’ll look beautiful all full.”

You blink, trying to process his words, but your thoughts are hazy, your body too lost in the moment to fully comprehend what he’s saying. Max’s lips move lower, and any questions you had melt away as he pulls you deeper into the sensation, your mind going blissfully blank.

Max’s voice is soft but firm as he murmurs against your skin, “We’re going to have a baby.”

It’s not a question. It’s not even a statement. It’s a command, one that leaves no room for debate. His tone, so certain and unyielding, sends a shiver through you. Your mind tries to catch up, tries to process what he’s just said, but it’s difficult. The weight of his words hangs in the air, heavy and undeniable.

You blink, trying to shake off the fog that’s settled over your thoughts. “Max, we can’t-”

“We can,” he interrupts, his voice still gentle but carrying an edge of finality. He looks up at you from where he’s still kissing your stomach, his eyes locking onto yours. “You’re perfect for it.”

“But I’m too young,” you protest, though your voice falters as he starts to rub slow circles over your clit. The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you, making it hard to concentrate on anything else.

“You’re perfect,” he repeats, his fingers skillfully teasing your most sensitive spot, drawing a moan from your lips despite the confusion clouding your mind. “You’re perfect for this, liefje.”

“I don’t know,” you try again, though the words are barely audible now, your body betraying you as it reacts to his touch. “It’s too soon.”

Max’s hand moves lower, his fingers brushing over your entrance, spreading your slickness with deliberate, teasing strokes. “It’s not too soon,” he coos, his voice dripping with reassurance. “I know what’s best for you. For us.”

His thumb returns to your clit, pressing down just right, and you gasp, your hips bucking up toward his hand. Any resistance you had starts to melt away, your body responding to him in ways your mind can’t seem to control.

“You’ll look so beautiful,” Max continues, his tone soothing and hypnotic as his fingers work you over. “All full and round with my baby. Your pussy …” He trails off, his thumb rubbing over your swollen clit again, sending a rush of warmth through your core. “It’ll be so puffy and pretty for me.”

You’re lost now, any coherent thought slipping through your fingers like sand as his words and his touch weave a spell around you. All you can do is feel, every nerve in your body attuned to the pleasure he’s giving you, the heat building steadily in your belly.

“Max …” you breathe, your voice trembling, unsure if you’re pleading with him to stop or to keep going. It doesn’t matter; he’s already made up his mind.

He shifts, positioning himself between your legs, his hands spreading your thighs wider to accommodate him. He lines himself up with your entrance, his tip pressing against you, but he doesn’t push in yet. He wants you to feel it, to crave it.

“Tell me you want it,” Max demands, his voice low and rough with desire. “Tell me you want to be full of me.”

You bite your lip, torn between the part of you that knows this is happening too fast and the part of you that’s completely under his spell, desperate for more. His fingers return to your clit, stroking in slow, torturous circles, and you whimper, the last of your resistance crumbling.

“I want it,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but it’s enough for him.

Max doesn’t waste any more time. He pushes into you slowly, filling you inch by inch until he’s buried to the hilt. The stretch is delicious, the fullness overwhelming, and you moan loudly, your hands clutching at the sheets beneath you.

“You’re so tight,” Max groans, his hands gripping your hips as he starts to move, each thrust deliberate and deep. “So perfect for me. You’ll be even better when you’re carrying our baby.”

The thought of it, the image he paints with his words, sends a thrill of arousal through you, and you can’t help but arch into him, meeting his thrusts. Your mind is a haze of sensation, every nerve alight with pleasure as he takes you, owns you.

Max’s pace quickens, and you can feel him getting closer, his breaths coming in harsh pants as he drives into you. “You’re going to take all of it,” he growls, the intensity of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “You’re going to be so full, schatje. So full of me.”

He pushes deeper, his thrusts becoming rougher, more desperate, and you can feel your own climax building, the tension coiling tight in your belly. You’re teetering on the edge, so close, and then Max reaches down, his thumb finding your clit again, rubbing it with just the right pressure.

You come undone with a cry, your body clenching around him as waves of pleasure crash over you. Max follows you over the edge, groaning your name as he fills you, his release hot and overwhelming inside you. He doesn’t stop moving, doesn’t stop thrusting until he’s sure every drop of him is deep inside you.

When he finally stills, he leans over you, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. His hand moves to your lower belly, pressing down gently, and you gasp as you feel the fullness inside you.

“You’re going to be so beautiful,” Max whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. “I can’t wait to see you, all full and round with our baby.”

He pulls out slowly, and you whimper at the emptiness, at the way his seed threatens to spill out. But Max is there, his fingers quickly pushing anything that dares to leak out back in, making sure nothing is wasted.

“Don’t worry,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your trembling thigh. “I’ll make sure you stay full.”

***

The room is bathed in the soft, golden light of the late afternoon, and the curtains flutter slightly from the breeze coming through the open window. It’s peaceful, quiet, but the atmosphere is thick with anticipation.

You’re propped up against a mountain of pillows on the bed, your swollen belly stretching the fabric of the oversized shirt you’re wearing. It’s one of Max’s shirts, soft and worn from years of use, and it drapes over you, barely containing the fullness of your body.

Max stands at the foot of the bed, eyes dark and intense as he looks at you. He’s shirtless, his skin glowing in the warm light, and there’s a possessive hunger in his gaze that’s never really gone away, not since the day you first told him you were pregnant.

He steps closer, his hand reaching out to touch your belly, his fingers tracing the curve of it with a reverence that makes your heart skip a beat. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough with emotion. “So fucking beautiful like this.”

You smile, though it’s strained, the weight of the baby pressing down on you making every movement feel like an effort. “I’m huge,” you say with a breathless laugh, trying to deflect the intensity of his gaze. But Max shakes his head, his hand still resting on your belly.

“You’re perfect,” he insists, his thumb stroking your skin softly. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.”

Your heart flutters at his words, but you can’t help the slight wince that crosses your face as the baby shifts inside you, pressing uncomfortably against your ribs. Max notices immediately, his brow furrowing in concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you reassure him, though your voice is a little tight. “Just … ready for this baby to be out.”

Max’s eyes darken even further at that, and he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your belly. “Soon,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. “And then …”

He trails off, his lips curving into a slow, wicked smile as he looks up at you, his hand sliding down to rest between your thighs. “And then I’m going to fill you again,” he continues, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. “Again and again, until it takes. And then I’ll do it again, until you’re always full with my child.”

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, a shiver running through you despite the warmth of the room. The sheer possessiveness in his voice, the certainty with which he speaks, sends a rush of arousal through you, even as your body aches with the strain of carrying his child.

Max notices the way you respond, the way your body tenses and relaxes under his touch, and he smiles, that slow, satisfied smile that tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. His fingers tease along the edge of your panties, just barely grazing your skin, and you can’t help the small whimper that escapes your lips.

“Do you like that idea?” Max asks, his voice deceptively gentle. “Being full of me, over and over?”

You swallow hard, trying to find your voice, but it’s difficult with the way he’s looking at you, with the way his hand is slowly inching higher, closer to where you need him most. “Max …”

“Tell me,” he presses, his fingers finally brushing over your clit through the fabric of your panties. The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you, your hips jerking involuntarily toward his hand. “Tell me you want it.”

“I … I want it,” you whisper, your voice trembling. Your body is aching, every nerve on fire, but he’s barely touched you, barely given you anything. It’s maddening, and you can feel the desperation building inside you, the need for release, for him, growing stronger with every passing second.

Max’s smile widens, his thumb circling your clit slowly, teasingly. “What do you want, liefje?” He asks, his tone almost mocking in its sweetness. “Tell me.”

You bite your lip, trying to resist the urge to just beg him to touch you, to give you what you need. But he’s relentless, his fingers moving in slow, agonizing circles, keeping you on the edge but never quite pushing you over.

“I want … I want to be full,” you finally gasp out, the words tumbling from your lips in a desperate rush. “I want to be full of you, always.”

Max’s eyes flash with satisfaction, and he leans down, pressing a kiss to your swollen belly. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with pride and something darker, something possessive. “You’ll always be so beautiful, all puffy and swollen with my baby.”

His words send another shiver through you, your body responding instinctively to the promise in his voice. He slides your panties down your legs, his hands gentle but firm, and you can feel your pulse quicken, your heart pounding in anticipation.

When he spreads your legs wider, his eyes fixed on the sight of you, so wet and ready for him, you can’t help but squirm, the need for him almost unbearable. “Please, Max,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need. “Please.”

“Not yet,” Max replies, his voice a low growl as he watches you, his gaze heated and intense. “I want to hear you say it again.”

You bite back a frustrated whimper, but you know he won’t give in until he gets what he wants. He never does. “I want to be full of you,” you repeat, your voice a little stronger this time. “I want you to fill me, Max. Over and over.”

He seems satisfied with that, and he finally, finally, slides his fingers inside you, his touch both gentle and commanding. The sensation is overwhelming, and you moan loudly, your body arching up toward him, desperate for more.

Max watches you intently, his fingers moving in and out of you with a steady, deliberate rhythm that drives you wild. “You’re so perfect like this,” he murmurs, his thumb pressing down on your clit again, making you gasp. “So fucking perfect for me.”

You’re trembling now, every muscle in your body taut with tension, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level. “Max, please,” you beg, your voice breaking on the last word. “I need …”

“I know what you need,” Max interrupts, his voice dark and soothing. “I know what’s best for you.”

His fingers move faster, deeper, and you cry out, your hips bucking up toward him as your orgasm crashes over you, sudden and intense. Max doesn’t stop, though, his fingers continuing to work you over as he watches you unravel beneath him.

“You’re going to give me another one,” he murmurs, his voice filled with certainty. “Another baby. Another perfect child. And then another. And another.”

You can barely think, barely breathe, but the thought of it, of being so full of him, of carrying his children again and again, sends another wave of pleasure crashing through you. “Yes,” you gasp, your voice trembling. “Yes, Max.”

“That’s my girl,” Max says, his voice filled with satisfaction as he leans down to kiss you deeply, his fingers never stopping their relentless pace. “You’re going to look so beautiful. Always full of my children.”

He finally pulls his fingers out of you, and you whimper at the loss, but he’s not done. He slides inside you slowly, filling you completely, and you moan, your body shuddering from the intensity of it all.

Max moves with deliberate precision, his thrusts deep and slow, each one pushing you closer to the edge again. He’s relentless, driving you higher and higher, until you’re trembling, gasping for breath, completely at his mercy.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his voice rough with possession. “Mine to fill. Mine to keep. You’re going to give me everything, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you cry out, your voice breaking as he drives into you harder, deeper, the pleasure almost too much to bear. “Yes, Max, I’m yours.”

He groans, the sound raw and primal, and you can feel him getting closer, his thrusts becoming more desperate, more urgent. “You’re going to be so full of me,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “So fucking full.”

And then he’s coming, his release hot and overwhelming inside you, filling you completely, just like he promised. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t pull out, just stays there, buried deep inside you as he catches his breath.

When he finally does pull out, you’re trembling, your body spent and exhausted, but there’s a deep, satisfied warmth in your chest, knowing that you’re his, completely and utterly his.

Max leans down to kiss you again, his hand resting on your swollen belly. “You’re perfect,” he whispers against your lips. “So perfect.”

You smile, your eyes fluttering shut as you let yourself sink into the warmth of his embrace. “I love you,” you murmur, your voice soft and content.

“I love you too,” Max replies, his voice filled with a tenderness that makes your heart swell. “And I can’t wait to do this all over again.”

You know he means it, and as you drift off to sleep in his arms, you can’t help but feel a deep sense of peace, knowing that this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

[djarincore]

TAGS: incubus!ghost, smut, dubcon, somnophilia, fingering, PIV

A/N: i had a hard time falling asleep the other night and between that weird state of feeling awake but also asleep i felt this weird sensation of someone touching me sooo... INCUBUS!GHOST banner: @/cafekitsune

this version is definitely sexier than unsettling lol

Slipping between the realm of reality and dream, you lay on your stomach in a half-awake state of grogginess and confusion.

There's a hand on your leg—and, it's slipping further and further up your thigh.

It's heavy against your skin. You feel the individual fingers curve around the meat of your thigh. Then another trails your waist and down your hip.

For a moment you feel like there are hands all over you, touching you, caressing you. A light, unrestrained moan slips past your lips.

The part of your brain that typically jumps into action, demanding for you to kick or scream, remains dormant. You’re too tired to care enough to open your eyes and face what will ultimately be nothing.

In its exhaustion, your brain is conjuring up phantom touches. That's all this is. It will go away and you'll finally be able to slip back into unconsciousness. Or maybe you were already asleep and dreaming.

You bury your face into your pillow and ignore the tricks your brain is playing on you.

But the hands remain persistent, slipping between your thighs, cupping your cunt. You tense as the hand slides your panties to the side, a thick finger drags down the seam of your slit.

“You awake?”

A gruff voice jolts you out of your daze. You turn yourself onto your back and come face to face with a phantom.

A large figure looms over you. His body hides the sliver of moonlight shining through your window, shrouding you and him in darkness. Though his body is that of a man, he isn't entirely human. His face, if you can even call it that, resembles a skull, hollow eyes stare down at you.

Your lips part, only to realize your mouth is dry, a scream barely forms. You attempt to scramble away from his hands, pushing yourself against the headboard.

“Ah, not so fast,” he grunts, gripping your hands and pulling you back flat against the bed. He pins your hands against your chest, squeezing when you wiggle against his grip. “I’m not nearly finished with you.”

Your tongue darts out to swipe across your lower lip. “What do you want?”

The entity doesn't respond right away. He's distracted by the bobbing of your throat as you try to swallow your fear. A hand reaches out to skim the skin along your neck, tracing up the column of your throat with his knuckles.

You hate that his touch is so gentle—so gentle it makes your legs clench. Your brows furrow as you try to push away the desire pooling in your belly as he touches you.

“Same as you,” he says. His hand moves to cradle your cheek, but you turn your head, making him grab your jaw and face him once more.

He leans in close. You see nothing but darkness beyond the holes in his skull mask; the lower half of his face is simply shadow. “Need a good fuckin’. So, lay still and let me work.”

As you breathe him in, smoke and musk, your eyes feel heavy. It's almost pleasant to be stuck in this state, just on the edge of unconsciousness. Your thoughts are a haze, limbs relaxed and limp, pliant beneath him.

“That's right, just give in to it,” he coos, releasing your jaw and wrists. He slides your T-shirt up to reveal your breasts, running his thumb over your pert nipples. “I’ll make you feel good.”

Your mouth falls open when he grinds his hard cock against you. Your chest heaves, but you can't do much against him besides lay vulnerable as he touches you.

He slips a hand back into your underwear, rubbing slow circles against your clit, chuckling when your hips twitch. A finger pets your slit, gathering your wetness along the tip and guiding it back to your clit. He works you up until your legs tremble around him and then pushes two thick fingers into your tight hole. He moves slowly, fingers working inside of you like a caress.

You're a whimpering mess and awfully tired. The more he builds your climax the heavier your eyes get. “I- ‘m gonna-” you muster, weakly clawing at your sheets.

He lowers himself to your cunt, letting his tongue join his fingers, lapping at your juices and moaning. He hums, something low and lulling, “Good girl, let go for me.”

You do as he commands, tightening around his fingers and coming on his hand. The rest of the world begins to fall away as you come down from your orgasm.

You wake to the wet sounds of him fucking you. His cock slides out of your dripping, sore cunt only to thrust back in, fitting snug in your tight walls. Your legs are pushed up, spread and open for him to fit between.

You don't know how long he's been in you or how long you’ve been passed out. “S-Stop,” you whine, hoping to get a break. Even though you assume you slept, you're still exhausted. You fear whatever this entity wants from you, once he has it, you'll never wake up again.

“No,” he grunts. His voice now takes on a heavy rasp, grating and no longer soothing. “Fuckin’ take it.”

“Please,” you whimper. It's pathetic, breathless but all you can seem to muster. “Don't kill me.”

He laughs and the sound echoes through you. He rubs your puffy clit, making you flinch from the sensitivity and clench around him.

“Oh, ‘m not killin’ you; I'm keepin’ you.”

[puppym3]

୨⎯ "temptation" ⎯୧

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ bangchan x fem!reader

a result of the poll win! (cockwarming w chan)

summary: after waking up and realizing your boyfriend isn't next to you, you find him still working in his office. after asking him to join you in bed and his many refusals, you try convince him to join you.

wc: 2.7k

warnings: MDNI! 18+, established relationship, pet names (princess, baby, good girl, love), piv, unprotected sex, cockwarming (obvi), teasing, creampie, soft dom chan, chan is a workaholic, reader is needy, aftercare; (lmk if i missed any)

a/n: the poll was super close!! so i'm gonna post another poll that should be on my page now if you want to vote for the next one! i hope i didn't disappoint with this one;;; hope you enjoy reading!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

I felt the faint glow of the moonlight spread across my face from the cracks in the curtain. I stirred, my fingers brushing against the cool silk sheets where my boyfriend should be. The coldness of his absence was an unfamiliar and unwelcome feeling. I glanced at the clock on the nightstand—2:00 AM.

I sat up, the chill of the night air sending shivers down my spine. Wrapping myself in the blanket, I slipped out of bed, my bare feet meeting the cold floor. I lazily threw on one of Chan’s shirts and slithered out of the bedroom.

As I moved through the hallway, I knew exactly where I was going to find him at this hour. My gaze fell on the closed door of his office. The faintest sliver of light seeped out from underneath it. I sighed, approaching the door and gently pushing it open.

The room was dimly lit, the glow of his screen casting a pale light over his face. Chan was hunched over his desk, fingers flying over the keyboard, eyes fixed on the screen. Papers and notebooks were scattered around him, and a half-empty cup of coffee sitting right next to his laptop.

I stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him work. His brows were furrowed in concentration, a small crease forming on his forehead. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of worry.

“Babe?” I called softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't look up, too engrossed in whatever he was working on. I padded over to him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders from behind, resting my cheek against his head.

“Hmm?” he responded, still not taking his eyes off the screen.

“It's 2 AM,” I murmured, nuzzling his hair. “Why are you still working?”

“I have a lot of work,” he sighed, not sounding very convincing.

“But you can finish it in the morning, right?” I pressed, my voice tired.

“I just want to get it done,” he mumbled, fingers tapping against the keyboard.

“Chan, come on,” I pleaded, “You need to rest.”

“I can’t,” he groaned, leaning back against me. “I need to get this done.”

I sighed, feeling his warmth seep through my shirt.

"Come on, babe," I whispered, my voice filled with a mix of annoyance and playfulness. "I'm cold and I need your warmth to sleep."

He didn't respond, still lost in his work. I let out a small huff, a hint of irritation creeping into my voice.

"Baby, please," I pleaded, "I miss you and I can't sleep without you."

When he still didn’t budge, I decided to change tactics. Giving up on trying to pull him away, I slid onto his lap, straddling him. I pressed myself close, trying to make it impossible for him to ignore me.

His breath hitched at the sudden contact, and his hands faltered. I smirked to myself, knowing that I had gotten his attention.

"What are you doing, love?" he breathed, finally looking at me.

Chan's eyes dropped to my legs, and his gaze lingered on the expanse of skin visible beneath the hem of his shirt. I could sense his attention, his focus snapping back to me like a rubber band. His fingers tightened around my waist, and I felt a shiver run down my spine as he realized I was only wearing his shirt. The fabric was thin, and I knew he could feel the heat of my skin through it.

"Wha- Why are you wearing that?" he asked, his voice sounding strained

"I'm cold," I replied, my tone light and teasing. "And I thought it would be cozy to wear your shirt."

I leaned in close, brushing my lips against his ear. "Besides," I whispered, "It makes me feel a little bit closer to you."

I could feel the tension in his body as he struggled to maintain his focus on the screen. His hands slowly slid up my sides, tracing the contours of my body under his shirt. My heart raced as I leaned in closer, my breath hot against his neck.

"Chan," I whispered, my voice low and sultry. His fingers brushed against the bare skin of my stomach, sending shivers down my spine.

He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before finally looking up at me. His eyes were dark and intense, filled with a mix of desire and reluctance.

"I can’t stop," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "I have so much work to do."

"I know," I replied, my voice trembling slightly.

But I was too far gone, so needy for him, feeling his half-hard bulge pressing against me. I shifted slightly on his lap, rubbing against him slowly and deliberately.

Chan’s breathing grew uneven, and his gaze flickered between the screen and me, struggling to maintain his composure. The more I rubbed, the more his resolve weakened. He tried to focus on his work, but his concentration faltered with every brush of my body against his.

"You’re going to kill me," he whispered, his voice barely audible as he shifted slightly against me. His fingers trembled on the keyboard, his attention divided between the screen and the intense need pulsing through him.

I could feel the heat radiating from him, the hard press of his bulge making his struggle clear. His eyes were dark with desire, and I knew I had him where I wanted. I rubbed against him with increasing insistence.

"Channie," I whispered, my voice laced with desperation.

I continued to grind against him, feeling his erection grow beneath me. His fingers dug into my hips, and I could sense the heat building between us. I let out a soft moan, my body aching for more.

His breath was warm against my skin as he leaned in, his lips brushing my neck. "God, baby," he whispered, his voice hoarse. The sensation sent a jolt of desire through me, and I whimpered, feeling my need grow stronger.

He let out a low groan as he slipped his fingers underneath my panties, teasing me. I could feel the slickness between my legs, my arousal intensifying. "You're so wet already," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "You need this, don’t you?"

I nodded, biting my lip. "I need you," I whispered, my voice trembling.

He smiled, slipping his hand into my panties and rubbing slow circles around my clit. I moaned, my head falling back as his fingers slid into me. He continued to tease, sliding in and out at a torturous pace.

I rocked my hips, craving more friction, but he pulled away, his touch barely ghosting over my skin. "Chan, please," I whimpered, my voice shaking.

Leaning in close, his lips brushed my ear. "What is it, baby?"

"Please," I begged, my voice cracking. "I need you in me."

He smirked as my hand reached for the zipper on his pants. "And I need to work," he replied, his tone firm.

My hand paused on the zipper, his heated gaze locking with mine. "You’ll have to be a bit more patient, my love," he said, a teasing note in his voice.

"I’ll be a good girl," I promised, my voice quivering.

"Mmm... we’ll see about that," he murmured, his tone skeptical yet intrigued.

I continued to unzip his pants slowly, revealing his throbbing erection. The sight of him made me shiver with anticipation. I wrapped my hand around him, stroking gently.

He hissed in pleasure, his hands tightening around my waist. "Fuck," he murmured, his eyes locked on mine.

I kept up the slow, deliberate strokes, savoring his reactions. His breathing grew labored, and he bit his lip, struggling to maintain control. "Such a needy girl," he whispered, his voice strained.

Leaning in, I brushed my lips against his ear. "I’m your needy slut," I murmured, my voice dripping with lust.

He groaned as his hands slid up my thighs, pulling my panties down. "God, baby," he whispered, his breath hot against my neck.

He guided his cock to my entrance, rubbing the tip against me. My legs trembled as I slowly sank onto his length, feeling him stretch me open. "Oh fuck," I gasped, overwhelmed by the sensation.

He gripped my hips, pulling me down fully. I rocked my hips, grinding against him, and he groaned, his hands tightening on my waist.

I bit my lip, reveling in the fullness of him inside me. I rolled my hips, savoring the pleasure. His fingers dug into my skin, and the pressure on my clit sent waves of ecstasy through me.

"Alright, princess," he said, his voice rough. "Stay still for me. Let me finish this work so I can take care of you properly."

I whimpered, my body aching for release, but I stayed still, feeling completely stretched, waiting for him to finish.

He began typing away, his gaze fixed intently on the screen. I tried to control my breathing, the heat building between us making me dizzy. The sensation of his length throbbing inside me was almost too much to bear.

I bit my lip, feeling every slight movement sending ripples of pleasure through me. He glanced at me, a knowing look in his eyes.

"Don’t do that," he warned, his voice low and husky.

I felt myself instinctively clench around him again. "I’m trying," I breathed, my voice strained.

The pressure of him inside me was becoming almost too much. I closed my eyes, resting my head against his chest and trying to relax. I could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady against my cheek. The rhythm was comforting, and I slowly began to regain my composure.

I took a deep breath, my body still aching with desire, but I focused on the feeling of his body against mine, his warmth seeping into me. Chan continued to work, his fingers flying across the keyboard.

I concentrated on his touch, the heat of his skin against mine. The feeling of him inside me was soothing, and I gradually started to relax. Chan’s pace at the keyboard increased as he worked through whatever he was writing.

I closed my eyes, the steady clacking of keys lulling me into a sleepy haze. I felt myself drifting off, the warmth of his body enveloping me. I nestled closer, my arms wrapped around him, losing track of time in a dreamlike state.

Suddenly, I felt a jolt of pleasure as he shifted slightly. I gasped, my eyes fluttering open, immediately aware of his throbbing cock inside me. I tightened involuntarily from the sudden surge of pleasure and let out a soft moan.

I bit my lip, struggling to keep my reaction in check. Chan paused, glancing down at me with a smirk. "I thought you were asleep," he murmured.

"I was," I whispered, my voice trembling with a trace of sleepiness.

"I guess I’ll have to take care of you now," he replied, his voice tinged with sweetness.

Chan closed his laptop, scooping me up from under my thighs and carrying me. His hard length still inside me, standing now, I felt fuller with him. I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.

He carried us to the bedroom, each step causing me to stifle whimpers on his shoulder. He laid me gently on the bed, hovering over me with his arms on either side of my head. I gazed up at him, my eyes wide with adoration.

"What are you looking at?" he asked, a small smile on his lips.

"I love you," I whispered, my voice hoarse with emotion.

"I love you too, princess," he replied, his eyes softening.

He leaned in, brushing his lips against mine. The kiss started soft but soon turned heated, our need for each other spilling over.

I moaned as he rocked his hips, grinding against me. His cock was still buried deep inside me, filling me completely. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, wanting more.

"You waited patiently for me?" he asked, pulling out completely, the tip lightly rubbing against my entrance.

"Yes," I breathed, my voice trembling.

"Good girl," he murmured, slowly pushing back into me. I gasped as he filled me, the sensation almost too much to bear. I gripped the sheets, my knuckles turning white from the intensity.

He began thrusting in and out, picking up the pace. I cried out, my body arching as waves of pleasure washed over me. His hands explored every inch of my body, touching me in ways only he could. I shivered under his touch, his fingers finding all the spots that made me moan.

My eyes fluttered shut as I lost myself in the pleasure. The feeling of him inside me, the way he moved, was overwhelming. I felt like I was floating on a cloud, my body aching with need.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, his voice strained. "You’re so tight. I thought I stretched you well, hm?"

"Y-you did," I whimpered, my voice breaking under the intensity.

"So what’s going on, huh? Are you that needy for my cock?"

Heat surged to my cheeks, making me feel vulnerable under his gaze. I tried to come up with a response, but all that escaped was a breathy moan.

"I-I don't know," I whispered, my voice trembling.

"Oh, so you just wanted me to fill you up, hm?"

"Yes," I breathed, my mind hazy with pleasure.

He thrust deeper, hitting that spot inside me that made me cry out. I gasped, clutching his shoulders, overwhelmed by the sensation.

"Is this what you needed, princess?"

"Yes," I moaned, arching my back, my nails digging into his skin.

He groaned, burying his face in the crook of my neck. Picking up the pace, he drove into me with relentless abandon. The room was filled with the symphony of our moans and the sound of our bodies meeting in passionate rhythm.

The pressure inside me built up, the pleasure so intense I could barely breathe. He held me close, his arms wrapped around me as he moved inside me. The heat between us was palpable, our bodies intertwined as we approached our climax.

I moaned his name, feeling the wave of pleasure crest. My body tensed, the sensations coursing through me, and I cried out, my nails digging deeper into his shoulders.

He growled, his grip tightening around me. His thrusts grew more frantic, each movement pushing him closer to his own release.

"You feel so good," he rasped, his voice rough with desire.

I gasped, my body shuddering with aftershocks. The feeling of him inside me, the heat of his body against mine, was almost too overwhelming to endure.

He moaned deeply, his voice husky as he came inside me. His thrusts became more urgent, his body tensing as he rode out his climax. The sensation of him filling me completely sent me spiraling, causing my body to tremble uncontrollably.

Once we both caught our breath, he slowly withdrew, his face reflecting a hint of panic when he saw his cum dripping from me. He quickly looked around for something to clean up before it got on the bed.

Returning with a towel, he gently wiped me clean, the soft fabric sending shivers through my overstimulated body. He made sure every drop was taken care of, his touch tender and attentive.

"Baby, was that okay?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

"I’m perfect," I murmured, smiling up at him with a sense of contentment.

"Thank you for being patient," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to my lips.

The sleepiness from our intense moment began to catch up with me, my eyelids growing heavy.

"Channie, I’m tired," I mumbled, stifling a yawn.

He smiled warmly, shaking his head fondly. "I bet you are," he said, scooping me up in his arms and carrying me toward the bathroom.

"You always do this," I grumbled, a playful pout on my lips.

"Do what, princess?"

"Make me so sleepy after sex."

He chuckled softly, setting me down on the edge of the tub. "You wanted this, remember?"

"Yeah," I sighed, leaning against him as he started running my bath.

"Now, get in the bath and let me take care of you, hm?"

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

taglist!

@stanskzot8 , @loverbangchan

[tojisun]

this is an edit of my drunken thought last night but

hockey player simon is in my head right now—

thinking about how you are watching from the seats closest to the rink, and startling when he body-slams an opponent against the glass protector only for your eyes to meet his when he pulled away with a quiet snarl and snapped his head up in his anger.

he couldn’t have truly seen you, you tell yourself. he’s caught up in the middle of a game, high off his adrenaline, so you are damn sure that he didn’t really catalogue the interaction. that it was a fluke—eyes meet without the conscious awareness from the brains, you know that.

but.

riley (41) somehow began to gravitate towards your end of the rink, only slipping away for assists or to catch his mark. sure, the seat you chose was close to the ones that are angled well to the goal so perhaps that’s why he kept coming back, but there’s something electrifying at seeing the way he scans the crowd during the two-minute breaks, stopping when his eyes finally rest on you, before he skates away.

it makes your heart flutter, blood jumping as your mind runs with imaginations. you try smothering the blooming hope that maybe, just maybe, this man you idolize somehow is attracted to you. that somehow, amidst the craze and the adrenaline, you were able to leave such an imprint on him.

but the game rages on, with specgru managing to carve a tie against their opponents with mactavish (91) scoring a point. it makes the arena shake as screams and jumps erupt from your side of the rink; horns blaring as victory now seemed to be on the horizon. even the goalie, price (2), runs to mactavish, tapping his bucket, fond even in his excitement.

time runs. you swallow, parched, your eyes flicking between the screens and the rink itself as the tension reached new heights. your friend holds your hand, her nails digging into your skin, but you don’t even notice as you clock in riley’s fast skating, his blades slashing against the ice with intense ferocity.

garrick (33) passed the puck, and riley receives it.

your throat constricts, your eyes going wide. you plant your feet onto the floor, unconsciously tensing your muscles. your eyes follow his move, watching the way he devours the space to get to the best shooting spot—that sliver of angle in front of you.

you watch with bated breath, palm over your chest, but it takes your friend shaking you to realize what’s going on.

the roaring of the stadium is all of a sudden muffled as your mind catches up to your eyes, now finding meaning to what exactly it is you’re seeing. your friend is screaming your name but you’re deaf to it all, focused only on the man before you.

riley, the man that he is, points at you. then he turns, swinging his lumber, sending the puck flying past the goalie’s legs and into the net.

it happened so fast—barely a second or two—riley’s point and his score—but it unfolded so clearly before your eyes and victory sings in your blood.

“what was that!?” your friend screeches, pulling you up now that the game has reached its end with the specgru claiming their second win.

you try to tell her that you don’t know, that you don’t even understand what the hell actually just happened, but your voice refuses to form and your mind is back to buffering and riley is still staring at you—

jesus.

he is still staring at you.

god—

guys idek what this was but i woke up and saw bulletpoints of a thought so uhhh heres an attempt 😭

pt.02

mlist!

[pupkashi]

jjk 260 spoilers !!

my lover is back of course i had to write something even though im tispsy !

gojo can’t help but shoot you a cocky smile as he finds your eyes in the crowd of sorcerers, he walks pasts everyone cheering and hugging yuji, b-lining towards you.

“what, you really think I’d lost?” there’s a shit eating smirk on his face, one that softens into a love struck smile as tears form in your eyes when you hand touches his chest. his chest is firm and warm under your touch, it makes you grip the fabric of his beaten up black shirt and pull him towards you, wrapping your arms against him and squeezing as hard as you can.

“sweetheart?” he gasps, ignoring the shooting pain he feels in his sides from the injuries he’d acquired since rejoining the battle. you listen for his heartbeat, breathing a sigh of relief when you hear the rhythmic thumping against you ear.

the bottom of his shirt is torn to shreds, a jagged scar running across his entire midline is proof of shoko’s skills and satoru’s resilience. his pretty blue eyes shining down on you once more, dimples making you fall in love again.

“i love you” is all you manage to get out, too choked up and frazzled with emotions to say anything than the three words that you mean most. you don’t loosen your grip on your lover.

it’s a comfort to him as much as it was to you, especially as his arms are engulfing you, pressing kisses to your forehead and cheeks, kissing away your tears and reassuring you he was okay.

that night satoru lays wrapped in your arms, the little spoon after so many times having been the big spoon. every one of his scars is covered with kisses from you, soft ‘i love you’s and tender touches are all his mind is full of.

satoru is back in your arms. instead of nudging him to stop snoring you smile, embracing his twitches and the tickling of his soft snowy hair against your face and neck. you hug him a little tighter, letting him stir to get more comfortable, even if it means leaving you a sliver of space on your shared king bed.

for tonight, you won’t complain and make him scoot over, inevitably ending up in the same situation mere hours later. for tonight, you hold him close, you dry your tears and appreciate what is, not what could’ve been. you kiss your lover as he sleeps.

“don’t ever leave me again, angel boy” you whisper, squeezing a bit and finally closing your eyes, lulled to sleep by satoru’s rhythmic breathing.

[ipseitydelrey]

your lips, my lips ☆ s. reid

ship sub!spencer reid x fem!reader

content/warnings smutty smut (mdni 18+), mutual masturbation, mommy kink, accidental voyeurism, he sounds like a slut you can’t blame yourself

word count 2.5k

summary after spencer returns home early from a case, you come back home after work to find him in an incredibly compromised position.

a/n ignore the accidental hiatus, but hi !! im probably not going to be able to post at all in may bc im going to be in europe for the entire month. i’m posting this before going in a cave so…enjoy this as a treat!

To put it briefly, Spencer was…awkward.

That’s not to discredit him, though. You can tell that he loves the team and you (especially you). Although he’s less awkward around people he trusts and has known for longer, he still can’t really speak up for what he wants.

And the poor boy is just so touch starved. It’s clear he’s practically clueless when it comes to other forms of intimacy aside from sympathetic hugs to friends or victims in a case. Hell, it even took a month since you started dating for Spencer to be comfortable huddling next to you on the couch; it took even longer for him to be fine with sharing the same bed.

You had barely done anything sexual yet. The closest you had probably gotten to something intimate like that with him was him involuntarily jutting his hips up into your ass when you were making out on the couch. You had hoped that he would continue to do that, especially with how you could feel his hardness pressing up against your core, but he got so flustered and started stammering out high-pitched apologies before moving away and retreating into the bathroom. You imagined that he probably took care of it, but knowing him, maybe he doesn’t jerk off.

You went with that assumption for a while since you — and especially him — hadn’t initiated anything potentially steamy. For him, makeout sessions were enough and although you wanted more, you were okay with indulging in him. You figured that with how touch starved he was, you should take it slow before moving on.

You got to leave work early, and you’re usually glad when that happens but today you’re especially happy because Spencer had just gotten back from a successful case a couple hours ago. When he landed, he immediately texted you, letting you know where he was. When you left your workplace, you had forgotten to text him that you’ll be home earlier than expected, but you’re sure that he wouldn’t mind.

After all, he’s probably just as excited to see you, if not more.

You don’t call out to him when you unlock and open the apartment door; he should hear that you’re home with the locking of the door and the tossing of the keys, as well as the rustle of your coat as you take it off and hang it up.

It’s quiet, but that isn’t really saying anything since it usually is. But you’d figured that he’d meet you at the doorway, which he didn’t.

Odd.

You’re just about to call out to him when you hear a peculiar and out-of-place sound: a moan.

Although it startles you a bit, you think that it was probably the neighbours; that doesn’t make the slightest bit of sense consdiering it’s coming from inside the apartment, but it’s more believable than…

Then you hear another one, and this time you can finally pinpoint its location. It sounds like it’s coming from the bedroom. Spencer? It’s not impossible, but you had just figured that he wouldn’t be the type to pleasure himself, especially with those sorts of reactions.

You slowly make your way towards the room in question, seeing that the door is slightly ajar, leaving a sliver for you to peer in.

What you find is a heavenly sight: Spencer, fully unclothed, splayed across the bed with his length in his fist. His pace is slow, but it’s still enough for him to whimper and moan quite audibly. His other hand is gripping tightly onto the sheets as his head pushes back against a pillow.

It’s perverted, but you feel as if you can’t tear yourself away from watching. At this point, you start to wonder if he knows you’re here or if he even heard you come into the apartment. You struggle to keep quiet as your panties grow damp, and you end up biting your lip to keep yourself from moaning at the sight.

The sound of his fist moving up and down his leaking cock is lewd, his precum dribbling down and even slightly coating his hand.

“o-oh m-mommy—” Him saying that is your breaking point, and you push the door open and enter the room.

He finally notices you and he pulls the sheets he was just grasping onto for dear life up to cover his throbbing dick. You were expecting him to do that; although what he was just doing was insanely hot, he’s still shy, even around you.

He looks away from you, clearly embarrassed he was caught. “Uh, I was— I— ah…” he attempts to explain himself but it leads nowhere. “I-I’m sorry,” he whispers, sounding defeated.

“Why are you sorry?” It’s not a needed question; you know exactly why he thinks so. You move to sit on the edge of the bed as he moves away, still having the sheets pulled up to cover himself. He stammers, but no words come out. He’s so flustered and red in his cheeks, you fear he’s about to pop.

He squirms in his position slightly while a tiny noise that you can barely hear escapes from his lips. A noise of discomfort, you recognize quickly, but you’re not sure if it’s because you just caught him in a private moment or if it’s because his cock is starting to get achy from the lack of stimulation.

“Baby,” you say in a more serious tone, leaning into the notion of his fantasy of you as his mommy, “why are you sorry?”

You stare at him, though you wish he could return your gaze. “Y-You probably feel…uncomfortable b-because—”

Softly, you shush him, holding a finger up against his lips, and you smile. “I’m not uncomfortable,” you assure him.

“You’re not?” he asks, his words vibrating against your index.

You shake your head as you pull your finger away from his lips, instead moving to grab his chin with a soft grip. His cheeks squish against your fingers softly, making his lips look even more plush and kissable. You push your lips against his gently, though it’s obvious that he’s eager from the way he pushes against your mouth to chase the kiss.

The way he whines when you pull away from him is so cute, you feel as if you want to give in to his need to have you closer to him. But he can tell that you want to do something else to satisfy him, so Spencer quiets down. Your hand, however, remains firmly yet softly gripping his jaw.

You look down at the sheets covering his lower half, his erection not-so-subtlety poking the thin fabric, and you glance back up at him. “Do you want me to…” you trail off before looking down at his boner again.

In all honesty, it takes Spencer a good second or two before he gets what you meant by that offer. “U-uh, well, ah…” he stutters. You’re not exactly sure what he wants and frankly neither is he. Based on his previous experiences with intimacy, you decide to not give him a blowjob, or even a handjob.

You both sit there in silence; you can practically cut the tension in the room with a knife. As you think of what to do — since you don’t just want to ignore it, nor do you want to leave him unsatisfied and awkward — Spencer squirms uncomfortably, shifting ever so slightly. His thighs accidentally clench together, squeezing his erection under the blanket, causing him to whimper softly. He silently hopes that you didn’t catch that noise he made, but you did…and it gave you an idea; one that will satisfy both of your urges.

“Do you wanna keep going?” You ask. He would probably much rather do this himself, although you don’t know how he would feel if he were to masturbate right in front of you.

He hesitates for a second, but he does nod shyly. You notice how he’s not meeting your gaze with his own, avoiding eye contact almost entirely. Instead, he’s looking in the direction of your waist.

Without informing him, you stand up and your hands quickly find their way to the buttons on your pants undoing them. Spencer watches with an air of anticipation and slight anxiety as you pull your pants down, a bit hastily and it definitely shows just how eager you are at this moment. Your underwear is certainly damp with how much this situation has you turned on and he can see it clearly too. You couldn’t pinpoint his expression as he sees the wetness, whether he’s nervous or intrigued, until you see him lick his lips — a motion that he only does when he’s excited.

At last, you peel off your soaked panties, but you keep your eyes on his face, wanting to see his reaction at seeing you half-naked. Sure, he’s seen you in your bra and panties before, but that was never sexual and only when you were changing clothes in front of him. He’s always looked away, the gentleman that he is, but he couldn’t resist taking a peek or two at your near-unclothed state. Just like how now, where he can see your bare pussy, glistening and wet, he just can’t resist staring.

He doesn’t mind it; no, not at all. In fact, it’s just making him even more excited, to the point where he slightly pulls down the sheets that are covering his dick — not enough to actually show his arousal, but enough to clearly see his happy trail, which has you salivating.

You get back on the bed, not bothering to take your shirt off as well. You just want to get started already, but you think it would be better if you know he’s comfortable with this whole situation first.

“Is this okay?” you ask, alluding to your nakedness as your thighs are slightly spread, giving him a nice view of your cunt.

He swallows and nods feverishly as his gaze continues to bore into your pussy; all of his attention seems to be focused there, which amuses you.

Deciding to take the initiative, your hand makes its way towards your core. You dip the tips of your fingers in your wet folds, collecting some of the slick and bringing it up to your clit, where you start to gently rub it in small and slow circles.

You hear Spencer’s breath hitch as you do this. It’s like you’re subtly encouraging him to do the same thing and start masturbating again, which is exactly what you’re going for.

He ends up pulling the covers off his pelvis completely, allowing you to see his cock-filled hand. You bite your lip at the sight of him starting to slowly stroke his length again, although timidly, as if he’s being judged. You’re not doing that, of course; you wouldn’t dare judge him for doing something so pleasing in front of you.

He keeps avoiding your gaze so you lean forward as you continue to massage your clit gently and you bring your other hand to tilt his head up by his chin to look at you. The eye contact you both have now is both awkward yet erotic. You’re not really doing anything with each other, you’re just two people touching themselves in front of the other.

A couple minutes into this shared experience, Spencer is starting to get more confident and less self-conscious. His strokes are getting longer and faster, making him produce more noises from his throat; mostly small whimpers with the occasional moan but by god, those small moans just get you going. You end up quickening your pace too and you let yourself make tiny whines too.

Eventually, your fingers move from your clit and back down to your folds, where you insert a finger into your cunt. The sound that falls from your lips after you do so is more motivation for Spencer to speed up again. You thrust your finger in and out at the same pace as his hand and you’re sure you both are imagining something more intimate at this point.

You add a second finger and then later on a third and now, a few minutes later, you’re both moving in sync and moaning up a storm. His moans are louder though, but you don’t mind at all. They just give you more reason to speed up and keep going.

Nearing the end, you’re wondering who’s going to cum first. It wouldn’t be a surprise if Spencer did so before you since he’s been jerking off for longer than you have but with the way the pleasure is building up in your stomach, you’re not entirely sure anymore; your mind is just focused on the intense pleasure and nothing else.

“O-oh god…” you hear him whine. Now you know who is going to finish first.

“You gonna cum, baby?” It takes you some effort to ask that question, especially since for the past ten or so minutes, you’ve just been touching yourselves without even talking.

“Mhm,” he hums in response as he nods. His hand is going at such a quick pace that you can clearly hear how his precum-coated palm is moving up and down his cock. “S’much, I…”

“It’s okay, honey,” you stammer out. Then, in your pleasure-fueled haze, an idea forms in your head. “You can cum. Cum for mommy~”

The use of that nickname for you really gets him going and he can no longer hold himself back. “M-mommy!” he cries out with a gasp for air as cum spurts out of the tip of his cock. He lets his head hang back and his eyelids flutter as his orgasm hits him and it’s beautiful for you to watch. It only motivates you to speed up even more, wanting to reach your peak as fast as possible. You probably shouldn’t rush it to savor the moment but in this case, rushing is fine to you.

After his intense orgasm, Spencer watches with bated breath as you cum. Your hips rock forward, practically riding your own fingers while your back arches and your murmurs grow incoherent. If he wasn’t tired, Spencer is pretty sure that he would be turned on again immediately just from watching you finger yourself. He is almost positive that you’re thinking of riding him instead of your fingers, and he would be correct in that assessment.

The pleasure slowly dissipates until you’re left with the incredibly awkward feeling of having just jerked off in front of your boyfriend. Both of you aren’t really sure what to say or what to do considering this was technically your first shared sexual experience since you had started dating.

“Um—” “So—” you both say at the same time. You don’t know how to move forward in a gracious manner, so you shyly get off the bed and put your underwear and pants back on. He still sits in the bedsheets, which are slightly damp from the sweat accumulated from the experience.

He moves towards the edge of the bed — towards you — and sits up straight, trying not to feel embarrassed that he’s still naked. And even though he felt uncomfortable about being touched while nude prior, he plants his lips on yours.

You weren’t expecting this but it’s a welcome surprise, as you chase his kiss with all the energy you have left; which isn’t a lot, but is enough. He breaks from the kiss, but leaves his forehead against yours as he looks at you like a dog.

“Thank you, mommy.”

hopefully it wasn’t that bad <3 join the taglist

[poisonousquinzel]

@steaming-goblet-of-nutte-mylk

😭 except Joker's history with sexist behavior, his now over 3 decade long abusive dynamic with Harley, his gross obsession with Batman that has turned into SA before, the events of The Killing Joke & Barbara becoming paralyzed, are all significant and frankly Popular Joker plot points. It is consistent, it's his character at this point.

There's absolutely an issue in comics / their fandoms with inconsistency and back n fourth characterizations, as a Harley fan god I know skdjskd

But Joker is not a character who's greatly affected by it. Like at all.

He's very consistent being an abusive, sexist pig with an obsession towards Batman.

And there is someone who wrote a comic where he won't work with Nazis, that's why folks bring it up. Because 1 time he did a morally decent thing of doing the literal bare minimum & not working with scum of the earth Nazis.

But things like him being abusive or sexist or gross towards Batman aren't aren't rare Batshit Insane plots that happened here and there and Are Inconsistent. Him not being like that is inconsistent.

These aren't things that only people who Really read DC / Gotham related comics know about. Him sexually assaulting Batman maybe since that comic isn't a primary timeline one, but his obsession with Bats is quite literally these people's proof of him being queercoded. So, no.

Joker's actions in these plots are the foundation for his relationships with Batman & Harley, and Barbara no longer being Batgirl and becoming Oracle is directly tied to Joker's horrid actions when he paralyzed her, she's Oracle Right Now.

Sure, especially with Harley, I don't expect people to know every single horrendous thing he's done to her because frankly, there's a Fuck Ton, and I didn't even list it all, I didn't even list half. (Hell, I'm sure there's still moments that I haven't come across yet and that's saying something cause I've consumed just about every single piece of Harley media out there)

But The Killing Joke is a popular DC story, his unhinged obsession with Batman is like the only thing his character is, if you know he's obsessed with Batman, then you know the basics of his character.

And his relationship with Harley has Always been abusive. Like, if all these folks have seen of DC is BTAS, then they still know that. Joker not being abusive towards her is significantly more rare, inconsistent, and Batshit Insane tbf. And 9/10 times the "good moments" are clear as day love bombing to anyone consuming the content that's got more than 1 brain cell, it's just love bombing. It's called the cycle of abuse for a reason.

That's why I said "like y'all's only reference for him is the fucking Lego Movie and GOD it shows" because that's how they act he is all the time. It DOES show.

The Lego Batman Movie Joker is the outlier, he's the inconsistent one when compared to 99% of Joker's out there.

people in the replies of this keep mentioning Joker and him being queercoded n shit and it's just like 😭😭😭😭 y'all are so stupid I stg

Yeah the best example of a good villain whose not bigoted is *checks notes* the dude who violently abused his bisexual girlfriend, drugged her, pushed her into chemicals, ran her over with a car, infected her pet hyenas with rabies and had them attack her, hung her up by the neck with a chain, tried to forcefully impregnate her, pretended he was going to cut her face off to make her scared, made fun of her appearance to her face and to his goons, cut the side of her mouth open with a shaving blade, put a hit out on her, carved a J into her chest, pushed her out of a window 5 stories up, has kicked - punched - slapped - strangled more times than I could list individually,,,,, or has sexually assaulted Batman, and has sexually assaulted Barbara Gordon, is implied to have sexually assaulted someone in Joker (2008), oh and forced Harley to strip in a public crowded bar under threat of detonating the bombs in her and the squad's necks if she didn't. So ya know, also sa.

but hey !!! at least he's not said a slur! and he won't work with Nazis! as if that's not the literal bare minimum. Wow he won't work with Nazis, fucking NAZIS, do you want me to applaud him for doing the easiest thing that any person with even mildly decent or existent morals would decide? Ya know, not working with goddamn Nazis.

No one should be working with fucking nazis?? The bar is in hell.

Being an abusive borderline rapist with a sky high sexist streak is just casual Worst Villain behavior, he's not a bigot!

Everyone knows you're only a bigot of you 1. Say Slurs 2. Work with Nazis.

That's obviously the only qualifying criteria for being a bigot.

-

The Joker is a whole entire sexist with a history of severe in character abuse and sexual assault. but none of that matters to ((unfortunately large)) sections of the fandom or to locals cause some of y'all would rather just pretend he's an uwu messy gay dude who's just oh so in love with Batman and is not a sexist, abusive bigot cause fuck women and the suffering he enjoys putting them through right? like y'all's only reference for him is the fucking Lego Movie and GOD it shows

[endereies]

FEEL BETTER YET? - MS

No Nut November - Day 7

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ When you are on your period, Matt is always there to look after you

Every month you endured pain like no other, your abdomen puncturing you from the inside out. It was only 3am but it felt like you had been up for hours, tossing and turning to find any relief. Painkillers failed to aid you and if you moved too much, spurts of nausea floated around your body.

The one thing you were concerned about was not staining your boyfriend’s sheets underneath you. You had already changed a few times in the night, at that point it was better to stay there. The entirety of your body was pushed against the radiator, locating any lingering warmth you could without having to manually do it yourself.

It was agonising, the fact this had to happen at all to you made emotions sky rocket. The trembles of your body matched the way your breathing shuddered when your stomach clenched.

Just as another tear fell, the light above you flickered on.

“Baby? Fuck…are you okay?” Matt was by your side in an instant, his touch giving you the warm you desperately were trying to clutch onto. He was quietly analysing you and the scene in front of him as his concern increased. Each time you wanted to speak smoothly, the sharp pains constructed you. It just made you whimper in pain and it broke Matt’s heart.

He was used to you having rough periods, but this was on another level. You could breathe. You couldn’t think clearly, your mind fogged with the sheer agony within.

“Why aren’t you in bed baby, you could’ve woken me…you know that…” His tone was gentle and made you sob a few more tears before any words left.

“I- I didn’t want to bloody your sheets..or uh bother you…” You looked away once you saw his face twist into one almost filled with guilt. Independency was idolised by you, he saw it in everything you did. But he wanted to take care of you, this was the small sliver he had and he was going to use that.

“I’ll be back, okay? Just two seconds my love.” Just as quickly as he spoke, he left. The light above remained on, a signal he was still there. Rustling was heard in the distance but once the pain surged it was hard to focus on. Everything was too much. Towels bunched up around you, trying to protect you from the pain, no matter how much it didn’t work.

The sharp pains in your stomach had only gotten worse, even after medication. Every time that Matt crossed your mind it only made you feel so needy, clingy. Like a burden.

Matt returned quickly with his hands full on certain products you couldn’t quite make out. “So first off, I got the chocolates from the fridge I saved for you, and some of those sweets you like to chew…” The packets were held up as he showed them off to you. “I got some of the stronger medications for if you needed to top off with them, uh, I grabbed your socks too and just made a hot water bottle for you. I know last time was a little too hot, so I put some cold water into it as well. “

His gaze finally met your eyes, staring at the pile with tears forming. It was obvious you weren't blinking so that you didn't cry. You knew if you had tried to speak, your emotions would quickly be revealed, if they weren't already by your expression. Your lips switched into a small smile, full of gratitude towards him.

“I- Thank you…really”

“Anytime, I mean that. I just want to be here for you, no matter what.” You let out a small chuckle, allowing yourself to finally give into his efforts to take care of you, you needed it in the moment. Not that you’d admit that to him. He quickly placed the items on your his bed before returning to your side.

One arm reached under your knees while the other supported your back as he pulled you to his chest. It was warm and it was safe. You almost forgot about the pain. Almost.

He lowered you onto the mattress on your side of the bed before handing you the hot water bottle, along side your medication and a drink. He wanted to look after you, not overwhelm you. Matt pulled back from you, climbing under the duvet alongside you.

“I don’t want you to worry about the sheets or bothering me, just worry about yourself. You’re my priority and I never wanting you to think that ill ignore your pain. Never ever will I do that to you sweetheart.” His voice was barely heard over my breathing and a part of you wanted to ignore it, you couldn’t.

Subconsciously your body drew close towards him, the heat of the bottle inching closer to his skin until your head lay on his shoulder. “Feel better yet?” You nodded slightly. The pain had subsided, the bottle and his words warming the aches away.

“I love you, you know that right?” A soft smile covered his lips, placing a light kiss on your head.

“I love you too..”

This was what you needed.

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerrss @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa2s @emilyfaith2003 @jassturn @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone @ribread03

© ENDEREIES 2024

[multifandomme]

Caught

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Summary: Natasha's absence makes you needier than usual.

Genre: Smut, (masturbation, fingering, praise, dom/sub undertones, getting caught, finger sucking, pretty vanilla), not suitable for minors.

Word Count: 1.1k.

This piece is for day 12 of kinktober under the 'masturbation' prompt. This is a repost of a fic I wrote on ao3 in 2022.

More works from me here. || Masterlist here. || Kinktober 2024 Masterlist here.

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Wandering hands slipped beneath the bedsheets, the soft sound of rustling fabric bleeding out into the thickened silence. Natasha’s absence always incited a newfound level of desperation, but you hadn’t quite anticipated the sheer desperation that had claimed you. Initially, you had attempted to thwart the throbbing between your legs with distractions, a movie playing to nobody in the background as you fidgeted upon the mattress. Every extended attempt was obstructed by the wriggling of your fingers, a conscious mind of their own dragging them lower to pacify your urges.

Ordinarily, a punishment would follow such an overt act of disobedience, Natasha intent on being the only person who could induce such a pleasure. But her lack of presence was felt tenfold, a flitting tingle fast transforming into an uncomfortable pressure in the pit of your stomach that begged to be alleviated.

Deft movements saw your underwear yanked down to your ankles until you flicked them to the floor below, momentarily forsaken as your mind whirred with anticipation. Your fingers sought your pussy with avidity, unable to resist the temptation as you dared to trace your arousal with a sole digit, a shameless moan tearing from your throat. 

In the pitch darkness of the room, you felt at ease, the only semblance of light originating from the tiny ray that slivered in from the hallway outside. Soft breaths escaped your lips as you laved your clit with your arousal, your nipples hardening as the pleasure took a firm hold of you with no intent of letting go.

Liquid collected in abundance, only exacerbated by the touches that you had allowed yourself to undertake, proficient fingers probing at your entrance. The impulses were too strong to ever deny, a snaking finger daring to sneak inside of yourself as your back arched upwards from the bed, a warmth infiltrating the entirety of your body. Ablaze.

Electricity sparked with vigour, the motion of your finger inside of yourself finally providing some pacification as you basked in the feeling of being filled. You could only wish that Natasha was beside you, her soft coaxing words never too far away as she willed you into oblivion. The image of the redhead remained imprinted in your mind, her voice so familiar that you could almost hear it in its corporeal form as you reeled at the prospect. 

“Natasha, oh- fuck,” you hissed, mindlessly. 

“Naughty girl,” a voice erupted, startling you in place as you yanked your fingers away from your pussy in haste. “Someone really missed me, hm?”

Immediately, your eyes raised towards the door, a silhouette lurking over the threshold until the ghostly figure sauntered towards you. Even in the dimness, the smirk that Natasha donned could not be denied, practically entwined with her as she tugged the bedsheet away from you. Green orbs studied your indecency, her interest blatantly piqued as she honed in upon the glimmering arousal between your legs.

“So needy,” she remarked, her fingers inching in to trail over your throbbing flesh, a look of amusement claiming her features. “All you need to do is ask.”

Humiliation clouded you with intensity, a darkened blush materialising upon your cheeks and radiating heat. It was the first time that you had been caught in such a compromising position, rendered self-conscious beneath Natasha’s burning gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you uttered, quietly as you began to clamber to a sitting position, quickly occluded by a strong hand that forced you backwards. “I tried to stop, but I couldn’t, I-”

“Ssssshhh,” Natasha hushed, a slender digit pressed rigidly against your lips and painting it with the arousal that Natasha had been priorly inspecting. “How about I finish that for you, my love?”

An uncontrolled groan fell from your lips in the knowledge that Natasha planned to alleviate your neediness as you took her finger into your mouth. Expertly, you coated her digit with saliva, your tongue swirling around until it glistened in wetness.

“Hmmm,” Natasha mused, retracting her finger from your mouth with a sadistic simper. “You’re more desperate than I thought.”

You nodded avidly in agreement, hoping to instil Natasha with a sense of urgency, your heartbeat pulsating agonisingly between your legs.

“Please,” you begged, enlisting the help of your most convincing pleading expression, the one you knew sent Natasha’s self-control spiralling. 

Natasha’s jaw flexed instantaneously as you bit back a victorious smile, knowing that your underhand tactics had succeeded. A response from her was unnecessary, her fingers manoeuvring to mirror the actions that you had exerted earlier, a ghosting touch landing upon your pussy. She hummed softly as she brushed against your arousal, two fingers sliding in without warning as she gnawed upon the full flesh of her lips. 

“So fucking tight, baby,” she growled, lowly, a carnal sound bursting from your own mouth in response to her remark. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Your hips jogged in accordance with her soft motions, gentle as she basked in the way your walls hugged her fingers so snugly. Desperation surged without respite, intent on pressing Natasha for a faster pace as you bucked aimlessly into her hand.

“Please,” you breathed, whorishly, all traces of embarrassment forsaken as your mind became fixated upon your carnal urge to come undone. “Fuck me harder.”

Natasha acknowledged your plea with a hum, a cocky smile plastered upon her face as she increased the pace. Of course, the woman turned the tables, a brutal force emerging as your breath fought to catch up, Natasha merely chuckling towards your strife. Your body shuddered as the redhead’s fingers jammed into you, methodic whines ripping themselves from you as you stared into her sparkling orbs.

“That’s it, baby,” Natasha coaxed, her voice delicate and in contention with the aggression conveyed in her movements. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it, hm?”

Mindlessness denied any verbal response, your brain lacking coherence as you gazed up, dumbfounded by the pleasure that flooded you. Natasha peered downwards, a knowing simper glued to her lips as her eyes darkened with lust, wholly consumed by you.

“Cum for me, baby,” she demanded, domineeringly, her teeth bared in impatience. “Cum all over my fingers like a good girl.”

A calculated swipe across your clit had your body quaking below her, your pussy cinching Natasha’s digits with intent. You cried aloud, more so when she continued to slam into you, no heed paid towards the unbearable oversensitivity that you were faced with.

“Fuck, baby,” you panted, breathily, your hands outstretched in search of Natasha’s wrist in the hopes of stymying her motions. “Stop, I can’t take it.”

Natasha scoffed in amusement before prying her fingers out of you only to shove them into your gaping mouth. Instinctively, you suckled with zeal, your tongue flurrying as you recalled the familiar taste of yourself commencing its invasion.

“Next time,” Natasha spoke, her face merely inches from yours. “You wait for me. Do you understand?”

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[wyniepooh]

Know

art knows you like no one else. he knows you better than you know yourself.

standford!art x reader. mentions of alcohol. cheating on reader’s part but it’s valid bc her bf is an ass. art knows he can treat u better than ur shitty bf, and proves it.

“You have to know, right?”

“what?”

your words came out slurry and slow, and it took all your might to not let your squinted eyes close. through the sliver of what you could see, art sat opposite you, back against the side of his bed and beer bottle in hand.

you chuckled, “I don’t know what you-“

“That he treats you like shit.”

you stop in your sentence, choosing instead to fill your mouth with another sip of your beer. You gulp down the prickly liquid, wiping your mouth as you say, “you don’t know anything about us.”

He shrugs. “I know you’re spending a Friday night getting drunk with his roommate, rather than accompanying him to that fancy tennis gala he was invited to.”

you shook your head casually, taking another full sip before speaking.

“I’m wasn’t interested. You know I don’t play, right? i didn’t want to-“

“Did he ask?”

you laugh, running a swift hand over your face. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he sat up slightly, scooting a little closer to where you were. you had your legs crossed, and you were drowsily leaning on the side of your boyfriend’s bed. he propped his elbow on a raised knee. “did he even ask you to go?”

you smile slowly faded as you looked down, sucking on the inside of your cheek as you tried to focus instead on the harsh, brown carpet of the room. Faded music could be heard from the other rooms, and usually, you’d be in one of those dorms, partying it down, but tonight, you much prefer the silence.

“No,” you whispered.

He cleared his throat and took another swig. “you know, with the way he talks about you and the way he acts around you, you would think everyone knows exactly how he feels about you. everyone except yourself.”

He chugged what was left in his bottle, tossing it to the side where a pile was beginning to accumulate. He stared straight at you with half-closed eyes and pressed his lips together. “honestly, sometimes, I think you know too. deep down. I think you know exactly what he’s thinking, exactly what he’s going to do to you, and yet you choose to ignore it.”

“Why?” He asks. there was a look of genuine concern and confusion of his face. his expression was pained, as if the idea of you suffering hurt him more than you.

You nibble at the bottom of your lip, hoping that the pain of the peeling skin would stop the tears from running. your actions were done in vain, as your tears had already begun to form and fall. Suddenly, you feel a warm finger on your face, gently swiping away at your dampened cheeks.

The pad of his thumb stayed on your cheek while the rest of his hand uncurled around your jaw. “You have to know, right?”

“Yes,” you sniffled, “of course I know he treats me like another one of his fan girls that he tosses away after-“

“No, not that,” he mutters.

“look at me.”

He guides your chin up until your eyes are parallel with his, and for the first time that night, you get a good view of his face. His overgrown blonde hair scattered all over his face, some across the front of his blue eyes. They seemed to not be able to concentrate in one place, flickering from your hair to your nose to your chin. You were sure that your cheeks were as flushed as him from the alcohol and the embarrassment, so much so that heat was practically radiating off of the two of you.

“what are you talking about, then?”

he sighed, dropping his hand from your face and slumping his head down at the same time. you could feel his warm breaths escaping his nose and hitting your cold knees.

Finally, he looks up, brows creasing as he responds, “how I feel about you.”

he parts his lips, struggling to find the words. “You have to have already known, right? I mean, all the times I’ve wiped away your tears and and comforted you because that asshole did something stupid again.” A beat passed.

“I know I can treat you so much better,” he breathes, “if you would just let me.”

Somewhere between his first question and his last, the proximity between of the two of you had closed. His arm suddenly wraps around your neck as he pulls you into him, digging his nose into the space where your shoulder and neck connects.

“Please,” he mutters.

chills spill down your body from his words, and you simply pause in all of your thoughts for a moment. Finally, you close your eyes and hug him tight around his waist as he tenderly rocks you back and forth.

you’re the one to pull back, and at first, you see a glimmer of disappointment in art’s eyes. but then you lean close, and closer, and, for the first time tonight, he smiles. He further guides your actions by placing a hand on the back of your head, not letting go even once your lips have connected with his.

your own fingers scratch at the back of his curls, and you swear he laughs against your mouth. You bask in the sounds of your mixed pants and the electric buzz generated from the delicate connection of skin in the otherwise quiet room, and it brought upon a lightness in the air, something you hadn’t felt since earlier that day when you first saw art in the dining hall.

“I know,” you mumble against his lips, stopping for a minute to catch your breath. You rest your forehead on his, eyes still closed as you caress his glowing face with both hands. he laughs again, harder this time, and you join him, repeating the same two words over, and over again.

-

a/n: hey google play the historically significant song treat u better by shawn mendes

[impracticalcrybaby]

Drunken Mistake

Ellie Williams X Fem!Reader

Summary: Ellie confronts you about what you guys did last night after the party.

Contains: 18+ content fingering r!receiving, strap use r!receiving, slight hair pulling, mention of alcohol

"C'mon wake up."

I groan. I hated waking up. I shove my face into the pillow. "Five more minutes." I mumble. I wanted to finish my dream of riding my horse into an open field and there was a little house that my parents were watching me from the porch. That was all ruined when I feel my body being flipped over.

I open my eyes slightly seeing Ellie holding onto my hip with a stern expression on her face. "Wake up." She insisted. I start to close my eyes again. "Y/nnnnnn" Her voice cooed softly. With my eyes still closed, I groan shifting my body to sit up. I hear her shuffle on the ground and then come back. "Arms up." I lift my arms up and feel a shirt being put over my head.

I finally open my eyes to see Ellie adjusting the shirt to fit my body. That's when it hits me. Last night we went to a party and I drank a lot. And when I say a lot I mean...A LOT. Ellie must have taken me home. I suddenly feel embarrassed. "Ellie I got it." I mumble and shoo her hands away to fix the shirt myself.

Ellie furrows her eyebrows but listens and stands back with her hands in the air. She watches from afar and I can feel her eyes on me. "Can you turn around?" I say with a bit of embarrassment. She turns around with a sigh. I stand up from the bed with a groan, finding my shorts on the floor I swiftly put them on. “Jesus why’d you let me drink so much?” I walk past Ellie holding on to my head in pain.

She follows me out of the bedroom door with a nervous chuckle. “Listen honey, I tried.” She shrugged her shoulders. “You are one stubborn girl.” I looked at her and rolled my eyes. As I’m chasing ibuprofen down with a swig of water, I hear Ellie let out a sigh. I look at her with tight eyebrows. “Can we please talk about last night?”

My stomach has sunk to the floor. I almost choke on my water as I’m remembered of the scene of what went down. “Ellie.” I warn. “No. We need to talk about it.” She begs me and holds on to my arm. I look between her eyes as I try to form words. “It was a mistake?” My breath got caught in my throat and the words croaked out of my mouth.

The look of hurt washed over Ellie’s face. “A mistake?” Her eyes wonder my face as if she’s trying to find a sliver of comfort. I rest my shoulder with a sigh. “Ellie…We were drunk…” She lets go of my arm and shakes her head in disbelief. “No drunk person fucks their roommate, tells them they’ve been dreaming of this moment, and then admits they are in love with them.”

I stand there in shock. My eyes wide and my jaw clenched. I wanted to forget that. The slip of words that oozed out when I wasn’t in control of them. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Ellie asks in a whisper. Her eyes haven’t left my face and they have pierced themselves right through me. I am at loss of words. The courage I had to say what I did last night has disappeared. Ellie raises an eyebrow as she waits for me to answer.

“I-I…I was scared.” I admit. My cheeks a shade of crimson. Ellie finally removes her eyes from my face, looking down at the floor. Her face in a scrunched expression. I stand in front of her like a deer in headlights. With her face still to the floor her voice creeps out “So…You meant it?” I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, throwing my head back. “Yes Ellie, three whole years I have loved you. Three years I held in these feelings.”

Ellie looks back up at me, her expression hard to read. We make eye contact in silence. A tense silence. Ellie let out a small smirk, sending a confused expression to my face. “Three years is nothing compared to my six years.” She admits and in a quick motion she grabs my face in her hands, hungrily smashing her lips on to mine. The shock ran through my blood but simmered down melting into the kiss.

I copied her hunger. She pulled my body closer to hers. Feeling her heat made me go even more crazy. Her tongue didn’t wait for permission and entered my mouth sloppily. I move my hands into her hair slightly tugging at her auburn locks. Her hands found their way down to my waist, moving up and down my abdomen. Our mouths are moving in sync with a few pathetic noises escaping.

We pull away for a second out of breath. Ellie’s hands make their way down just below my ass. “Can we finish what we started last night?” She asks with a sly smirk. I roll my eyes with a smile, “Shut up and kiss me.” Without hesitation Ellie connects our lips in another hungry kiss. She gently picks me up off the ground letting out a small gasp from me. My legs wrapped around her hips as we continue to deepen the kiss.

With me still wrapped around Ellie, she walks over to the kitchen counter placing me on top of the cold marble. Ellie’s lips leave my lips down to my neck. Sucking and biting at the skin, she leaves a few marks. “Oh fuck~” I throw my head back onto the cabinet. Ellie makes her way down from my neck down to my chest. She kissed over my clothed breast. “Take this off.” She demanded. The tone her voice sent shivers down my spine.

I took too long for her because she ripped it off my body in second. With my bare skin in the open she immediately attached her lips back on to my chest. Sucking at every inch of skin. Leaving marks here and there. My soft whines and moans were the only thing you could hear in our apartment. Her hand made its way up to my left breast. Kneading at the fat and her thumb rubbing circles on my nipple.

I tug at her hair harder, making Ellie moan. She moves lower down to my stomach and then down to my thighs. She was practically on her knees at this point. I look down at her with my mouth agape. She looked at me with puppy eyes. My eyebrows tighten and a whine escapes my mouth seeing Ellie like this. Her fingers snake down my abdomen down to the waistband of my shorts. She tugs at it for approval.

I give her an eager nod allowing her to pull them down. As quick as she could she stood up and pulled my shorts down with my help sitting on the counter. She takes in what she sees in front of her. I become a little nervous being so exposed in front of Ellie while sober. “Oh baby, don’t get all nervous on me now.” Ellie chuckles kissing down my body back to where she was before.

She looks back up at me with those puppy eyes. Begging for me. Her hands hold on to my thighs massaging them to keep me stimulated. I bite my lip looking down at her from this angle. Her fingers begin to creep their way to my inner thigh. They move higher up and just slightly graze right where I need Ellie. A small high pitched whine leaves my mouth.

Ellie liked the reaction I had and did it again to tease me. She had a taunting grin on her face. My legs began to squirm under her. Ellie hummed, “Poor girl…so needy.” She pressed her fingers down on my clothed cunt sending a loud scream like moan from me. She continued to press down getting slightly deeper and kissed my knees.

“Fuck Ellie…I need more.” I whined out. My eyes begging for her more. She gave me a sly smile before hooking her fingers in the waistband of my underwear, pulling them down. I was fully exposed displayed right in front of her. “Fuck.” She said under her breath before licking a stripe up my cunt. “Mmphm~” I bit my bottom lip, throwing my head back.

Ellie didn’t hesitate to up her pace. Finding my clit and making circles with her tongue around it. Licking up every inch of surface. “Ah fuck Ellie!” My hands pull at her hair as my thighs squeeze around her head. Her hand then pull my thighs down, pinning them to the counter as she continue to suck and lick against me.

My heavy breathing and moaning echoed in the kitchen. Ellie continued to lick up every drop of me as my hips began to buck against her face. “I-I’m gonna c-cum.” I rode out my high onto Ellie’s tongue. “C’mon baby.” Ellie hummed against my clit, vibrating it and making me come undone on her face. A loud moan echos our kitchen as I have reached my high and finished. Ellie continued to lick up any remaining drop of me. “Good girl.” She smiled as she slowly stood up from the ground and kissed my cheek.

She pulled away from my face to look at me. I was breathing heavy while staring deep into her eyes. My mouth slacked open and my legs still spread. I looked like a fucked out slut. She had a teasing grin on her face, “I’m not finished just yet.” I felt a wince leap from my throat. I didn’t know if i should be excited or scared. But I was both.

Ellie softly grabbed my hand and helped me off the counter. I stumbled as my feet hit the floor. She ate me out that good damn. As she lead us to her bedroom I followed behind like a lost puppy. Holding her hand and staring so lovingly at the back of her head. Once we made it to her room she let go of my hand, “You get on the bed and I’ll be right there princess.” She kissed my forehead and without any questions I did as she said. I walked over to her bed and sat down comfortably.

She left the room and shortly came back. But this time she had something on. A strap on. I felt my stomach tighten as I stared at it. Ellie chuckles, “Didn’t think I would come back with this?” I gulp and look back up at Ellie, “N-no…I just didn’t think it’d be this…” I look down at it. Her tongue pokes the inside of her cheek with furrowed eyebrows. “Big?” She says. I laugh nodding and covering my face with my hands. I hear her shuffle over the to bed, “Oh shut up.” She chuckles and removes my hands from my face.

My face red I look at her and she’s smiling. A sweet smile that I fell for years ago. I admired her freckled face. The curve of her nose and the way her eyes were shaped. I was in love with her. “I love you.” I whispered, my eyes filled with love. She looks at me with the same look. Her eyes filled with love she whispers back, “I love you more.” She kisses me gently at first. Then the kiss deepens. She gets on top of the bed and hovers over me. As I hungrily kiss her she shifts us into a position. My legs open around her thighs and her strap perfectly lined up with me.

We pull away out of breath, “Are you ready?” She asks with a nervous crack of a voice. “Y-Yes.” I look down at the strap as it slowly enters me. A exasperated sigh leaves my mouth as Ellie fills me all the way. She makes small and slow thrusts, kissing my shoulders. My mouth falls open and breathy moans escapes. Ellie slowly picks up her pace, leaving me to moan louder. My nails dig into her back for support. I can hear a moan from her when she begins to go faster.

The sound of skin slapping together and our moans combined are filling the room. “Mmm fuckk~” I can’t even feel the shape of her cock because of how fast she’s going now. “Fuckfuckfuck.” I feel myself reach my edge. Ellie continues to thrust in and out of me faster and faster. Her hands are roughly holding onto my hips. They will be bruised later from how hard she had a grip on them. A groan leaves Ellie’s lips. “C’mon princess. Be a good girl for me and cum.” Her voice was deep and breathy.

“I’m gonna cum!” I yelp. Ellie thrusted deeper, reaching right on a sweet spot. That sent a scream come out of my mouth. With my eyes tightly shut, I let out a last moan. “Oh fuck~ Good girl.” Ellie growled. She slowed her thrusts and they became sloppy. Ellie then pulled out with a wince coming from me. She plopped herself right next to me. Both of us out of breath and sweaty.

She puts her arm above my head and starts playing with my hair. I look over at her with a smile. She smiles sweetly back. “Was that okay?” She whispers and takes her other hand to my cheek. I blush under her touch, “Of course it was.” My smile grows as big as it gets. Ellie blushes and pulls me closer to her. With our close proximity her scent becomes more prominent. I take a deep breath of it and close my eyes. My body being in her arms and her chin resting on top of my head, we doze off.

a/n: i’m sorry if it’s rushed or if the ending isn’t as good as you wanted it to be. this is my first time writing a one shot so please be considerate!! HOPED YOU LIKED IT!!! 🧡🧡

[loaksky]

— 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘴

the deets — in which you, a quiet healer in the tribe, have the biggest crush on the upcoming leader. sometimes you think the feelings could be mutual. until one night in the glowing forest shatters that.

the who — neteyam x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — like 7.6k (jesus h. christ)

the tags — idiots-to-lovers (it's teyam, he's the dummy), childhood friends-to-lovers, one-sided pining (reader is a softie).

the warnings — language, a lil kithy kithy, neteyam's emotionally constipated, but he redeems himself! reader's kind of a pushover, but it comes full circle!

the notes — first post for avatar & i'm really excited but a lil nervous bc like ??? i haven't written fanfic in SO long. i imagine neteyam & reader to be a few years older in this fic (eighteen or nineteen), but at the same time the circumstances could fit their current age as well. finally, this is written in a heinous blend of second / third. don't know how to explain, but i think it flows okay? if you like it please leave a request or let's have a chat! (also barely proofread oops).

YOU AND NETEYAM HAVE ALWAYS BEEN IN DISTANT ORBIT. Many would argue the two of you are cut from the same cloth; quiet, noble, mature, but you couldn't feel even more disconnected from the tribe's golden boy even if a chasm would crack the earth between you.

It's why you think it's silly that you'd develop such a yearning, your heart thudding like a war drum every time his amber eyes flit to yours. There's never any weight to his gaze, just fleeting glances among frequent observation, but you can't help but stare.

It doesn't help that his youngest siblings cling to you like a second and third skin, chattering excitedly about whatever piques their immediate interest. You just listen and hum your acknowledgements, a comfort to the two as you move through your studies.

Oftentimes he's sent to fetch his siblings, clearing his throat outside of the tent's flaps to announce himself, then wiggling a few fingers through the opening before peering in.

He's always in a hurry, never biting when you offer him opportunities to linger. You understand, how busy it can be when the whole clan begins to rely on you. So you bask in the short-lived moments in his space, skin scented with salt and the tang of the foliage.

But there are moments when you truly think he sees you. When you cross paths during clan meals, and the smallest of smiles twitches in his lips when you cut fruit and he's the first you offer to. When it's time to train to shoot your bows and he adjusts your form with a brief brush of his fingers on your elbow. When all of the older healers are unavailable and he shyly peeks his head into your tent for a quick patch up.

Nevermind the small tells stored in your short-term, but the little slivers of time when you were both growing into yourselves. When you were seven and he'd carried you to the elders when you hurt yourself. When some of the older kids in the clan would pick on you for keeping to yourself and he'd tell them that it was unbecoming and cowardly to pick on someone weaker than them. When he picked a flower during a group excursion into the deep depths of the forest and stuck the glowing stem in your satchel.

You had fallen so hard for Neteyam and your only hope is that he'd be at the end of the fall to catch you.

“You're not listening, ________!” Tuk whines and you look up from the scrolls you unfurled from the basket moments before she walked in.

“Sorry,” you murmur. “I have a lot on my mind.”

There's a small giggle from somewhere else in the tent and you peer from Tuk to Kiri who beads an anklet on her own.

“Yeah, like big brother,” Tuk teases, turning her attention back to her own beadwork.

Kiri's face splits into a grin.

“You've been lost in thought a lot more recently,” she observes. “Could Tuk be correct?”

You don't bother to deny it, the obvious flush in your cheeks a dead giveaway. Kiri's always been perceptive and the more you fight her on it, the longer she'll draw it out.

“I think it's worth a shot,” Kiri says. “Neteyam’s always had a soft spot for you.”

It's a million degrees hotter in the tent.

“You don't have to do that,” you say quietly, slouching in your seat.

“Do what?” Kiri challenges.

“Pretend I have a chance.”

Kiri makes a face.

“You do!” she argues. “Neteyam's just shy.”

You're silent for a moment, fingers twitching over a tear in the scroll. You want to believe her, tell her that you think it could be worth a shot, too. But you scent him before you hear him, and then you hear him before you see him.

Four blue fingers wiggle in the tent's opening before Neteyam is poking his head inside.

“Tuk? Kiri?” his voice rumbles. “Ready?”

Kiri glances at you as she stands to her feet and begins gathering her things. Her eyebrows do a little dance, eyes widening as she tilts her head discreetly to her brother.

“I'll see you,” you say quietly, patting Tuk on the back of her leg as she drops her finished anklet in your lap and giggles at you.

You follow their movements as they exit the tent through where Neteyam holds the flap open for them patiently.

He simply lifts a hand as a silent greeting and you wait until they're out of sight and earshot to expel the breath you'd been holding and slump down on your pillow.

In hindsight, you should have been more careful. Neteyam was a skillful hunter, the tribe's best warrior after his father. It's only normal that he'd be in the dense forest when you were plucking flowers and herbs for your salves, speaking quietly to Eywa about your concerns.

“Please, Great Mother,” you whisper, the woodsprites caressing the skin of your arms. "Please give me a sign, any form of motivation to be brave about my feelings."

The grass below your toes lights up and tickles the pads of your fingers as you pluck the glowing flowers.

There's a trail of them, purple and pink, and you pluck and pluck and pluck until you're led to the mouth of a clearing.

Something salty and tangy circles your figure and like usual, you scent him before you see him. When your gaze latches onto his lithe figure, you grin a little, lips parting to announce yourself. This must be your sign, of how vast and great the forests are surrounding your looming home tree, it must be fate that you stumble upon him at this hour.

But his name dies on your tongue when he shifts and you see the silhouette of another pressed to his side.

It's another Omaticaya girl, pretty and tall. You'd know her anywhere, the waves of her thick hair, the tinkle of her dainty laugh. But she is fierce all the same, far from perfect, but gritty enough that it doesn't matter.

Te'feyra draws a bow and one of Neteyam's hands come up to adjust her front grasp, fingers closing over hers and the arrow.

“Steady hands to make up for the recoil,” he says softly and your heart is in your throat.

He's engulfing her as she takes her aim and sends the arrow flying through the air.

Somewhere unknown to you, the arrow sticks its landing and Te'feyra jumps excitedly, pressing her lips to Neteyam's briefly.

You back away from the clearing, eyes burning as you fist the flowers so hard they wilt in your hands. A twig snaps underneath your weight and from your distance, you see the glow of Neteyam and Te'feyra's eyes through the brush.

You take off running without a single word, and despite your stomach tearing itself to ribbons, you thank Eywa for the clarity.

“Something's wrong,” Kiri says to you days later.

Instead of the tent, you two are sitting on opposing branches of a thick tree, observing the flora and fauna of your corner of the forest. You decide that you need some time away from the bustle of the clan's circle and venture off into the opposite side of the woods.

“Why do you say?” you wonder, scribbling onto one of your scrolls.

“You're naturally quiet, I get that, but the past few days, I feel like I've been in the presence of the dead,” she sighs, staring down at you from the branch above. “And Ewya's given me the feeling that all may not be well with you.”

You lick your teeth, then roll your lips nervously.

“I told you Neteyam didn't like me,” you admit.

Kiri's eyebrows furrow.

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw him,” you sigh, fiddling with your pen. “In the forest with Te'feyra. She kissed him.”

Kiri curses under her breath.

“This is stupid,” she huffs. “He's just being stupid. Neteyam likes you and I'm going to prove it.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Kiri's already jumping down from the branches of the tree and dragging you with her through the darkening forest.

“Kiri, this isn't necessary,” you finally pipe up. “It's okay if the feeling isn't mutual, I never expected it to be.”

Kiri stops in her tracks and her pinched face softens, braids swinging by the set of her jaw.

“________, we all grew up together,” she says softly. “I know my brother, and I know you. You two belong together, I feel it.”

You swallow around nothing, allowing her to drag you through the forest and back into the clan's main circle.

“Hey, Kiri! ________, where are you two headed off to in such a rush?” one of the elders calls from where they're working on tools.

Kiri smiles politely.

“Very important business,” she replies quickly, fingers tightening around your wrist to pull you across the grass.

You stop in front of their family's hometree and Kiri guides you through vines and steep inclines before pausing in front of their family's tent.

Lo'ak's voice sounds from within, whiny and irritated.

“Bro, are you being serious right now?” he squeaks and Neteyam grunts, obviously bored.

“Frankly, Lo'ak this has nothing to do with you,” he says.

“Dude, yes it does,” Lo'ak argues. “You've inadvertently involved everyone in this affair because you won't get your head out of your ass for three seconds and just admit that you like her.”

“I don't like, ________,” he says simply and Kiri freezes in front of you.

You chew the inside of your cheek, fingers twitching in Kiri's loosened hold.

“Who are you trying to convince?” Lo'ak moans. “You're really going to commit to Te'feyra even though you have no interest in her?”

“Te'feyra is a great huntress,” Neteyam says simply. “She's well-loved, a strong leader. What's there not to like?”

“________ is all of those things,” Lo'ak says. “She's a talented healer, always patches you up when you get yourself in trouble. The clan loves her, Tuk and Kiri love her, Mom and Dad love her.”

“The clan barely knows that ________ exists,” Neteyam says and you wince.

Kiri makes a move to infiltrate the heated conversation, but you put a hand on her shoulder and shake your head.

“Dude, that's low,” Lo'ak scoffs in disbelief.

“________ is a sweet girl, but she's weak. She's hollow and does what she's told. I wouldn't want to spend my life bonded to someone so passive,” Neteyam says plainly and Lo'ak lets out an exasperated hiss.

“You're kidding right? ________ is amazing,” Lo'ak challenges. “She's quiet, but she's caring. She's resilient and intelligent and anyone would be lucky to be bonded to someone like her, your stupid ass included.”

“Maybe you should focus more on training for your rite rather than trying to play matchmaker,” Neteyam says, showing the first signs of annoyance.

“You just won't admit that for the first time you're scared,” Lo'ak finally says.

Everything seems to still and Lo'ak presses on.

“Everyone loves you, you're the clan's golden child and you can do no wrong. You like ________ so much, but you're afraid that you'll let her down,” Lo'ak says fiercely. “But you don't realize that being a pussy about your feelings is the ultimate let down!”

“You'd know a lot about being a let down, wouldn't you,” Neteyam grumbles.

There's a split second of silence before Neteyam lets out a loud grunt of pain. The flap to their tent flies open and Lo'ak freezes before you and Kiri.

His eyes meet yours and his gaze softens before stalking past.

Neteyam stands stunned in the middle of the tent, lip bruised and bleeding. His gaze swings to the arch way, face falling when he finds you standing behind his younger sister.

“Wanna go swimming?” Tuk asks you the next evening, after dinner.

You smile down at her weakly, heart melting when she pets your hand. You can't deny her, nodding gently as you stand from where you're sitting on the outer circle of the scattered clan.

“Carry me?” she asks sweetly.

You heave her up with a grunt and she grins at you, playing with one of the braids in your hair. Her small fingers caress the skin of your cheek and you blink when she ghosts over your eyelid.

“Pretty,” she whispers, head nestling on your shoulder.

“I think you're prettier,” you tell her, readjusting her growing form as you walk through the brush, towards the rush of the waterfall.

You don't realize that there's a set of eyes on you, watching as you disappear through the trees with Tuk.

The cliff that houses the waterfall towers above you two in a semicircle, the water rippling gently as Tuk squirms from your grasp and splashes through the shallow pool.

“Stay close, Tuk,” you coo, toes wiggling through the pebbles washed up on the tiny shore.

“I've been practicing!” Tuk tells you. “Wanna see how long I can hold my breath under water?”

“Stay in shallow waters,” you advise her, wading into the pool until you're waist deep.

Tuk dramatically inhales and then sinks down under the surface. Something cracks in the distance and you glance around, met with the stillness of the forest and the chirp of bugs.

When you turn your attention back to Tuk, you smile fondly as you wait for her to emerge, counting the seconds diligently to report to her chubby cheeks.

Fifteen pass, then thirty. Your smile begins to fade as your arms feel around in the water around you.

“Tuk?” you call out, chest tightening when you're met with the subtle rush of the glittering cascade from the waterfall up above.

You push forward in the water until your chin touches the surface.

“Tuktirey!” you shout, thrashing around the pool, searching for her tiny frame through the illumination. “Tuk!”

Your toes lose purchase as the water deepens and you begin to panic without the youngest Sully in sight. You turn when you hear a splash, Tuk giggling on the shore.

Your stomach churns hard and Tuk's face falls when she sees your panicked expression.

“Tuk, I-I can't swim well!” you cry out, legs flailing as you splash through the water. You try to dig your toes in the earth below, but you're just shy of the mark.

Tuk looks scared on the shore, fidgeting as she looks around desperately.

“You're too deep, ________!” Tuk whines, voice laced with tears.

Your legs ache, head lolling under the water for a moment before you emerge with a splutter.

“Get– Go get help!” you instruct her, feeling your calves begin to burn as you try to keep yourself afloat. You don't know how long you'll be able to tread water. “I'll be okay, little one. Hurry!”

Tuk turns, picking up her satchel as she makes way for the path you took. When she's out of sight, you fall slack, chest heaving as you try to use your skinny arms to paddle at the water.

Meanwhile, Tuktirey runs through the forest, tears spilling down her rounded cheeks as she trips over sprawling roots and nudges low-hanging vines from the pathway.

She skids to a stop when Neteyam, who had finally worked up the nerve to excuse himself from dinner, comes into view.

He turns when he hears her wailing, face scrunching when he registers his youngest sibling's anguish.

“Tuk, wha—”

She grabs at his hands, tugging him towards the path to the waterfall.

“________ needs help!” she cries. “She can't swim!”

Neteyam's ears prick at the mention of your name, scooping up his youngest sibling in his arms before breaking into a sprint through the brush of the brightening forest. The woodsprites begin to emerge and he barrels into the clearing of the waterfall breathlessly.

It's still, like it's been untouched and his heart hammers nervously in his chest, eyes searching the pool for any sign of you.

He's setting Tuk down quickly before splash desperately into the water.

“_______!” he calls.

He ducks underneath the surface, eyes open wide as he searches for you. And there you are, body slack as you sink slowly to the bottom of the rocky pool.

He dives forward, lungs burning as he cuts through the waters with lean arms. His fingers circle one of your wrists, the other hand winding around your waist as he propels you two up above the water. He chokes on a breath, hand coming up to touch your face.

Your head lolls to the side, eyes shut as Neteyam holds you close.

“Neteyam!” Te'feyra calls from the shore, having followed him after being rebuffed during dinner.

Kiri and Lo'ak are close behind, eyes wide when they see their eldest brother wading quickly through the waters with your unconscious form in his arms.

“Neteyam,” Te'feyra repeats, hand coming to grasp his bicep.

“Not now,” he grunts, tugging his arm from her grasp to march through the brush of the forest.

Woodsprites surround you two as he takes you back to the village, a silent plea to the Great Mother not to take you away weighing heavy on his lips.

You awake to a shining sun and a wet towel on your head. You squint against the beaming light and sit up abruptly as the prior night dawns you like a swift strike to the gut.

“Whoa, wait, slow down,” a thick voice rumbles.

You scent him before you see him.

Neteyam's hands are on you, guiding you back to rest on the pile of pillows that had propped you up before.

You shoot up again anyways.

“Where's Tuk?” you ask anxiously.

“Tuk's fine,” Neteyam says. “She's eating breakfast with Kiri and Mom.”

You lean back in relief, eyes squeezing shut as you wheeze out a sigh.

His hands are on you again, gentle, warm as he takes the towel from your forehead and wipes your face to refresh you.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly, hesitantly.

You pause a moment, but then nod.

“Yeah,” you affirm hoarsely. “M'fine.”

Neteyam just stares at you, yellow eyes unblinking and you know this isn't like one of those fleeting moments. He sees you and it makes your gut churn hard.

“I'll be okay here,” you say quietly. “You may have...someone, you know, waiting for you.”

Te'feyra's name is a silent implication and Neteyam doesn't look amused.

“I told them I would look after you until you're fully well,” he counters, wringing the towel into a bowl that sits next to the mound of blankets your rest on.

You fiddle with your fingers, fully disheartened because even in times like these, he remains the diligent leader-in-training that he is.

The air in the tent is think and you can't breathe.

“I'd like some air,” you whisper, crawling from the soft mat to climb to your feet shakily.

“You need to rest,” Neteyam says crossly, seemingly annoyed at your persistence to put as much distance as you can between the two of you.

You don't respond and finally he seems to burst.

“You can't swim and yet you still went after Tuk,” he calls after you like an accusation. “Why?”

You pause.

“Tuk is like a sister to me,” you say quietly. “I would never let anything happen to her.”

You make a move to exit the tent, but Neteyam's voice stops you in your tracks.

“You could have died,” he says quietly, and you can't place the emotion in his voice.

“I'd do it again,” you admit, craning your neck to face him. “I'm not that weak.”

Neteyam's face falls and you duck from the tent.

Neteyam becomes restless after that moment. He loses his focus, agility taking a hit as he hunts one on one with his father.

He goes to shoot another arrow, but Jake stops him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Neteyam, I know I can be hard on you,” he starts. “But I’m always here.”

“Yes sir,” Neteyam nods.

“Something’s bothering you,” Jake observes. “You’re not yourself. You’re losing focus.”

Neteyam swallows.

“Sorry, sir,” he says, head hanging.

His braids form a curtain around his face and Jake gives his shoulder a squeeze.

“Son?”

Neteyam swallows again, head tilting up to look is dad in the face.

“I don’t want to be with Te’feyra,” he admits quietly.

Jake's lips twitch.

“Well I could have told you that,” Jake scoffs, the corner of his lips twitching into a soft smile. “You look about as dead as a washed up fish when she’s around.”

Neteyam recalls the kiss she’d given him nights ago and how he'd internally recoiled, body stiff under her touch.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“Why are you sorry?” Jake prods.

“Because I know Te’feyra is who the clan wants me to be with, who is my most suitable match,” he says. “I just— I don't want to let you down.”

Jake gives him an impish grin.

“Neteyam, let me give you a word of advice. There are things in this world that are suited well for each other; you and Te'feyra are one of those things. But your heart and your mind are the two most powerful things about you,” he says. “You will not be punished for giving into your heart.”

Neteyam thinks of you. He thinks of your face, the lines of your timid smile, the idents that dimple your cheeks. He thinks of your touch when he's wounded, gentle and expert, warm against his skin. He thinks of your voice, airy, soft, a low rasp.

He thinks of when he'd called you weak. Of your face, wounded and hurt. He's stricken in this moment as he realizes that strength doesn't have to be audacious. It can be quiet, small acts that become mighty.

Tuk had told him about the waterfall, how she'd wanted to pull your leg a little. You'd accepted your fate if Ewya deemed it time, you'd even sent the youngest away in the chance you wouldn't surface.

You were far from weak. Your strength ran nearly as deep as the roots of Ewya herself, yet you'd taken the criticism in stride. Let Neteyam paint you as a coward, a pushover with no spine.

“I think there’s someone you need to clear the air with,” Jake says after a few moments of silence. “She should be in her tent.”

Neteyam's hands are clammy. It's been nearly a week since he'd last seen you. You'd reserved to spending time inside of your tent to brush up on your studies and refine your work. He'd catch glimpses of you, but you were used to blending in the background and Neteyam's used to overlooking you.

Was he being presumptuous? Maybe you only admired him as a warrior. Or perhaps it was a duty to the clan to revere him. He feels sick to his stomach thinking of confronting you. But Lo'ak wouldn't try to convince him of his own feelings if it wasn't mutual, would he?

And when had the feelings become mutual? He's recently began to think that perhaps he'd always liked you because you were the only one who didn't actively vie for his affection. Who only saw him as Neteyam, an equal, not Neteyam, the Olo’eyktan's son.

Maybe it was whenever he'd see you wandering in the forest during his hunting trips, murmuring to yourself as you picked herbs and flowers for you studies. Or maybe when he'd spot you still high on the branches of the lofty trees with a tablet of paper and ink. Maybe it was when you'd smile at him shyly when he'd adjust your form during archery and it'd melt his insides. Or when you two were little and he'd plucked flowers for everyone and you were the only one who'd smiled at it sticking out of your satchel.

If he recalls correctly, it's pressed to a scroll hanging in your tent and that alone makes his heart race.

Maybe you two are inevitable and he'd only prolonged it because of his own fears.

“Neteyam!”

Te’feyra steps in his line of sight, standing before him and the hometree that houses your tent. He glances away when she stops in front of him.

“Te’feyra,” he greets cordially.

“I haven't seen you since the incident with ________,” she says. “Are you alright?”

Neteyam nods.

“Never better,” he says simply.

“After dinner we should–”

He spots you, satchel thrown over your shoulder. You glance his way momentarily, but scurry in the direction of your tent when you lock eyes with him.

“If you will excuse me, please,” he says politely, extricating himself from Te’feyra to follow after you.

He catches up to you right outside of your tent.

“________!” he calls.

You freeze almost imperceptibly, but continue on your way, climbing the flattened incline spiraling around the center of the hometree.

“________,” he murmurs, fist closing around your skinny bicep.

You jolt to a stop, golden eyes razor sharp as you glance down at him. Your fist is wrapped tight around the strap of the satchel, knuckles stretched taut.

“Neteyam,” you reply softly. “Yes?”

He opens his mouth to say something, but finds that his tongue weighs heavy behind his lips.

“If you seek help, there are elders available for healing,” you inform him, making a move to remove your arm from his grasp.

He instinctively tightens his grasp and you shift uncomfortably.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says quietly, pulling away. “I just want to speak with you.”

A few beats pass as you blink at him.

“Well?”

“Oh,” he swallows. “Can I come in?”

You turn to face the flap of your tent before craning your long neck over your shoulder to nod.

“Sure,” you agree, holding the hide open to let him in.

You step in after him, table scattered with mixtures of finely-pounded dust, scrolls of research and bundles of materials.

You set your satchel down and begin unloading your finds from you excursion.

Meanwhile, Neteyam paces nervously, trailing the circumference of your tent, eyes flitting every which way to take in every piece of you.

A thick silence envelops you and you clear your throat when the satchel is empty.

“You wanted to talk?” you ask, watching as he stops in front of a scrolled tacked to one of the beams.

It's the pressed flower he'd given to you all that time ago as children. It's central in the room, catching the sun so beautifully and Neteyam uses this as the last bit of courage he needs to continue.

“You kept it,” he says, voice shaky.

“Of course,” you say simply, picking through your different finds. “You gave it to me.”

Neteyam turns, looks you head on and he feels his resolve crumbling.

“You like me,” he says bluntly, afraid that if he beats around the bush, he'll cop out.

“Everyone does,” you deflect.

Neteyam's jaw locks.

“No, ________, you like me,” he repeats.

You feel small, sorting the petals by color, fingers nimble against the soft grain of the wooden tabletop.

“Presumptuous,” you hum, unable to meet his piercing gaze.

“________,” he presses.

You bite your lip, tears clouding your vision as your fingers begin to trembling through the sorting. He's being so unfair and he doesn't even know it.

“Why?” you ask shakily.

“What do you mean why?” Neteyam counters, voice taking on the same edge he did with his brother days prior and he'd interrogated him about you.

“Why are you doing this?” you croak, and he hears the tears in your voice.

He's across the floor before you can blink.

“Are you crying?” he asks, shocked.

“Why do you want me to say it so badly?” you choke, poor petals strangled in your vibrating fist. “Is it not enough? To know that I yearn for you silently? That everyone pities me because my heart belongs to someone who's already spoken for?”

Neteyam is stunned.

“I like you, Neteyam. I always have,” you say, voice raw with emotion. “It's my biggest defeat to say I always will. Is that what you want to hear?”

Your eyes are tinged red and his throat feels stuffed with cotton.

“I've always admired you,” you say quietly, between hiccuping breaths. “But I didn’t know you could be so cruel.”

Neteyam winces, every word he’d practiced earlier, completely obliterated from his short term. He knows he should just tell you, tell you that his heart yearns for yours, too. That he'd been too blinded by his impending duty to feel the full effects of what a first love could be like.

“You should go,” you say when he's silent.

You brush your tears away and pat your cheeks dry with the back of your hands as you carefully set the wilted flowers the the edge of the table.

“I–”

“Neteyam, spare me, please.”

“I don’t want to,” he finally says.

Your eyebrows furrow, eyes swollen as you gaze at him unjaded. Who he believed to be so stoic and passive now baring every possible inch to him.

“You're–”

“I don't want to be with Te'feyra,” he finally spits, fists clenched. “I won't be with her.”

Your gaze softens, lips parting to ask what's gotten into him, but he cuts you off.

“You,” he answers firmly, before the question clings in the air. “It’s you. I want to be with you.”

"Stop," you whisper, shaking your head furiously. You take a step away from where he's quickly closing in on you. “Don't–”

He pauses mid-stride and the expression on his handsome face is absolutely devastating. His chest rises and falls shakily and you take a moment to meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice it before,” he says desperately, “I was scared and didn't fully realize it, but I do now.”

“That’s unfair,” you hiccup. “This isn't just on your terms. You can’t— you can’t just tell me you like me and expect me to be with you.”

These passing moments are the most he’s ever heard you speak, and he’s afraid that he's severely underestimated you. It doesn’t taste so sweet now that he’s faced with the reality of things.

“You will be the future leader of this clan,” you continue. “That is a great responsibility that you've prepared for your entire life. Who you decide to be with is a permanent fixture that cannot be undone.”

“I know, I know,” he assures you.

“You find it in your heart pity me, Neteyam,” you breathe quietly. “But do you really want to be bonded to someone passive and weak?”

He opens his mouth to argue, but you've squared your shoulders, stomach caving and expanding with a deep breath. You turn to your prior task.

“You should go,” you repeat. “Duty calls.”

“What do you mean you need help?” Kiri asks incredulously, eyes widened at her older brother.

“________,” Neteyam says. “She's icing me out.”

Kiri's face melts in relief and she scoffs a laugh.

“Do you blame her?”

“Kiri!” he pleads.

Kiri stops her movements, falling back on her haunches to meet Neteyam's desperate gaze. It's so unlike him, being uncertain, nervous. He's picked up the habit of fiddling his fingers and Kiri snorts to herself.

“Actions,” she says simply.

“Huh?” he vocalizes.

“Words mean nothing to ________ if your actions don't support them,” she says. “This entire time you've acted so lukewarm towards her. Of course she won't believe you when you decide to acknowledge that you love her.”

Neteyam's throat bobs as he stares down at his sister.

“And how will I do that?” he presses.

Kiri shrugs.

“Not so mighty warrior now, are we?”

As the days progress, you begin to grasp at finally coming to terms with the tattered remains of what's left of you and Neteyam's frayed relationship. Your heart hasn't stonewalled him completely, but the yearning for him has dulled to a slight ache.

His eyes are piercing every moment you share the same vicinity. Kiri would even try to argue you that it's longing, but Neteyam's a slave to his honor and you aren't convinced.

“You should pity the poor boy,” an elder tells you as you cut up ingredients for the evening's dinner.

You pause, fingers tightening around the handle of the knife. You roll your lips together before briefly meeting her gaze, warm under firelight.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you deflect, clearing your throat.

She laughs, peeling a purple fruit.

“Neteyam,” she says forwardly. “Hasn’t taken his eyes off you in who knows how long. Will you continue to let him suffer?”

You want to argue that it's you who's suffering. That the heart that beats inside the hollow of your ribcage feels like it'll tear in two every time you recall the venom in Neteyam's voice when he'd called you weak.

“I doubt his suffering has anything to do with me,” you say instead. “We are only acquaintances.”

The elder laughs again.

“Is that why he's been pestering the elders for input on how to sway your heart?”

Your head shoots up from where you've focused on the fine cuts of vegetables.

“What?”

“He’s been slacking on his duties, instead poking around the elders and villagers trying to pry information about you,” she says. “Heard him muttering about what kind of flowers you like.”

“It will take more than flowers to sway my heart,” you mumble.

“So you admit that there's something there, hmm?”

Your cheeks heat, caught like a fish in warm waters.

“I–”

“I'd argue that Neteyam’s liked you longer than you've liked him,” the elder says simply.

You bite.

“Why do you say that?”

“He's always asked Eywa for courage, and it seems like she gave you as an answer.”

The elder climbs to her feet, leaving you near the open flame. You open your mouth to call out to her, but the scent of salt and leaves envelops you before you can say anything.

You crane your neck and find Neteyam a few paces from you.

“Do you have a few moments?” he asks politely.

You want to say no, tell him that you'd offered him an infinite amount of moments that he'd spent building bridges between the two of you, but if he's a slave to his honor, you're bound by heart.

“Okay,” you say hesitantly, abandoning your task.

He holds his hand out for you to take and your fingers slide across his warm palm as he pulls you to your feet. Once he secures your hold in his, he tugs you along.

You don't know where he's taking you, or what he could possibly want with your time, but you feel a thousand times more nervous than ever now that the tangled web of your feelings drapes the both of you.

After a few moments of rugged silence, climbing through bushes and brush, he punctures the quiet.

“Are you well?” he asks.

“Yes,” you answer after a moment. “You?”

“Truthfully?” he responds, pausing to face you. You realize his hand still engulfs yours. “No.”

“No?” you parrot shakily.

“No,” he affirms. “I've been hurting actually.”

Your eyebrows furrow.

“You should seek help if you have an ongoing–”

“Here,” he says, the hand still caught in his being guided to lay flat against his chest. You can feel his heart hammering behind his ribcage. “It hurts here.”

You swallow, pulling away from his grasp when you realize his insinuation.

“Don’t,” you warn.

He breathes a shaky sigh before taking a step towards you. He's corded muscle and warmth as his palm comes to cradle your jaw. Your bottom lip twitches as you stare up at him.

“It’s always been you,” he says quietly, thumb brushing your chin as his eyes map every curve of your face. “I think I’ve always known it deep down, but...”

Your hand comes up to meet his, gently prying his touch away.

“Neteyam,” you sigh. “Had the last few days unfolded differently, I don't think you'd been saying this now.”

“Maybe not now,” he agrees. “But one day, I would. I know I would. Because when I recall every fond moment, you’re there. No matter how close to the background you get, you’re always there.”

You look skeptical, and Neteyam knows he's losing you. So he digs in the small knapsack he has slung over his broad shoulders and pulls out something thin.

When he holds it up with shaky fingers, your breath catches in your throat. Strung through the taut brown of tree vine is a line of beads identical to the one that he wears on a braid tucked behind his ear. Upon closer inspection, you notice the blue and purple beads formed to create your favorite flowers.

“Wha—”

“Until you decide you want to be mine,” he says, voice trembling nervously as he takes your arm and gently slides the band up until it fits snuggly around your bicep. “So that you remember I'm always yours.”

Your voice is caught in your throat as he brings your fingers up to his lips.

“I won’t push you,” he says when he realizes your words have evaded you. “But I’ll wait for you.”

“Neteyam–”

He simply smiles at you, golden eyes shy as he takes a step back to admire his handiwork. He seems satisfied, triumphant, when you eye the band but make no moves to remove it.

“I’ll wait for you,” he repeats, giving your fingers a squeeze before running off.

“He did what?” Lo’ak shrills a week later.

The younger three Sully's had hunted you down and brought you to the clearing dedicated to archery training.

Slender fingers wrap around your wrist and elbow to turn your arm to examine the band with wide eyes.

You can’t help but smile gently to yourself, watching the way the sun catches the reflection of the pearlescent beads and reflects them brightly.

“I knew that dummy was planning something,” Kiri grumbles. You bite your lip when she meets your gaze. “Well?”

“Well what?” you ask, arm still in Lo’ak’s grasp.

He twists playfully and your laugh glitters in the air.

"Are you going to put my knucklehead brother out of his misery or what?" Kiri hisses, arm drawing to shoot a arrow that stabs the target about a centimeter too left.

Tuk giggles as she runs up to the target to examine the damage.

“Yeah, please do, he's in love and it's disgusting,” Lo'ak grumbles, still eyeing the cuff.

Your heart skips at the mention of love, cheeks going warm when both Kiri and Lo'ak notice how you've gone quiet. They begin laughing, dealing you playful punches.

“Stop that,” you scold, swatting their hands away. “I haven’t given him an answer yet.”

“Oh, get real!” Kiri huffs. “You are so in love, you know you'll say yes.”

“Please put me out of my misery,” Lo'ak moans. “I'm tired of being his therapist because he's a little bitch.”

“Lo'ak,” you warn, eyes narrowing.

He giggles and Kiri stifles a laugh as you flounder, cheeks blooming under the siblings' teasing.

“You are both so awful,” you say petulantly, arms crossing one over the other. “How are you so sure I’ll return his feelings?”

It's Kiri's turn to groan, eyes rolling.

“Sure enough that I know if I let you in on a little secret, it'll light a fire under your ass,” she says seriously.

Your spine goes rigid, arms loosening as you wait with bated breath.

“Neteyam may choose you, but if you don’t choose him back quickly enough, someone could swoop in and claw that chance from you,” she shrugs.

Te'feyra's name is an ugly insinuation and something green coils its way into the pit of your stomach as you recall the chaste kiss she'd pressed to Neteyam's lips all those nights ago in the forest.

“Gears turning?” Lo'ak lilts.

They definitely are and suddenly you feel small, digging your big toe into the dirt to drag lines through the forest floor. You nod hesitantly, band suddenly tight around your bicep.

In your ruminating, Lo'ak and Kiri pass a knowing glance.

“Well?” Lo'ak prods.

You fidget, rattling with nerves.

“I suppose...”

Lo'ak sighs and his hands come down on your shoulders to steer you through the clearing.

“Where are we going?” you squeak.

“To put everyone out of their misery,” Lo'ak huffs.

The forest seems way more alive than usual, glowing so bright it almost overpowers the sun. Woodsprites gather around as Lo'ak nudges you through the thick foliage and you can't help but think about the sweet smile that curled on Neteyam's lips as he assured you that he was yours. All yours.

The fire crackles in the distance and you know that the morning meal is in the works when voices roar quietly meters away.

Neteyam sits near the center, surrounded by elders and the dreaded girl.

Te'feyra's obliterated every single centimeter of space available, nearly melded to his side as the elders talk animatedly over the two.

You want to turn back, uncertainty vice-like, but Lo'ak squeezes your shoulders as a silent plea. Not even a moment passes before Neteyam peels himself away and begins putting distance between them.

When Te'feyra gives him a curious glance, he gives her an uneasy smile.

“Be courageous, ________,” Lo'ak encourages. “You're one of the strongest people I know.”

With a final pat on the back, he pushes you towards the circle and the sudden movement catches everyone's gaze.

“________,” one of the elders calls fondly.

You smile and bow your head, fingers twitching at your sides.

“Hello,” you greet quietly, eyes swooping hesitantly to Neteyam who rises to his feet, already watching you intently.

That's when you notice it, the choker fastened around his throat. The vine is identical to yours, but it's strung with a line of beads that mirror the ones woven into a singular braid at the nape of your neck.

You hadn't realized that he'd noticed it all this time, but it's the ultimate confirmation that Neteyam sees you. And when he notices that you notice, he smiles softly.

The elders notice as well, drawing the link between your arm band and the necklace that Neteyam wears, now that you two stand opposite each other.

“May I borrow Neteyam for a moment?” you ask politely.

The same elder you prepared with the evening prior gleams a wide smile when Neteyam takes a step towards you, fingers brushing delicately with yours.

Te'feyra remains seated, lips twitching as her gaze flits between the two of you.

“By all means,” one of them says. “Take your time.”

You bow your head again, heart thudding when Neteyam's fingers twine with yours and he lets you drag him out of the circle and deeper into the forest.

When you deem that no prying eyes or ears surround you, you stop, Neteyam bumping softly into your back. The hair on the back of your neck bristle when he makes no moves to extricate himself from you, simply moving your braids from your face to reveal the string of beads tucked near the nape of your neck.

“You needed me?” he whispers, fingers still ghosting the skin of shoulder.

You swallow, squeezing your eyes shut as you relish the moment. Your fingers are still locked and for a fleeting second, you pretend that it's always been like this, the two of you.

“I am nothing extraordinary,” you start, and Neteyam's fingertips pause at your elbow.

“I'd argue differently,” he responds.

“I value time alone and I get overwhelmed often,” you continue.

“We all have our moments,” is his rebuttal as the hand covering yours squeezes gently.

You sigh.

“I could—”

Neteyam turns you and you're met with the the choker, beads glinting under the light. Your eyes drag up the column of his strong neck, flit past his soft lips and finally lock with his searing gaze.

“You can try all you want to run me off,” Neteyam laughs quietly, cupping your jaw. “But I'm not scared anymore.”

Your expression is skeptical and Neteyam decides to bite the bullet. He's closing in on you and your heart pounds violently in your chest.

“Neteyam,” you whisper weakly, hand coming up to his chest.

He traps your fingers against his heart, lips slotting between yours before you can protest some more.

It's like the forest comes alive around you, grass tickling between your toes as you melt under his touch and lean up into his mouth.

His hands are everywhere at once, branding your cerulean skin as he kisses you like it's your last moments. There's no hesitation, no feeling it out, just his warm breath and his soft lips as he pulls you impossibly closer.

“I'll take you as you are at any moment,” he says breathlessly between kisses. “You just have to say you want me back, ________. Please.”

You nod, nose brushing against his as one of his palms splay at the small of your back and the other grabs your chin, pulling you back to plant another burning kiss on your lips.

“Say it,” he begs.

Your eyes begin to mist as you nod again eagerly, parting for a moment to whisper the words.

“I'm yours,” you hoarse, hands on either side of his neck. “I'm yours if you'll be with me.”

Neteyam simply kisses you again, a satisfied hum rumbling from his built chest.

“Fucking finally,” a whisper sounds from the brush.

A LIL' BONUS

“You think they would have figured it out on their own?” Lo'ak asks, wolfing down his food.

Kiri shrugs, feeding Tuk a piece of fruit from her wooden plate.

“Maybe,” she says, unable to suppress her proud grin. “Maybe not. They're both stupid."

“I think so,” Te'feyra laughs watching you and Neteyam fondly from across the fire. “They were a long time coming.”

an – thank you SO much if you've made it this far! again, leave a request or let's chat hehehe. up next is lo'ak so stay tuned! :)

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neng © 2023

[mead-iocre]

Furnace Girlfriend | Leah Williamson x Reader

synopsis: it's too bloody hot for a cuddle

warnings: slightly suggestive at the end

wc: 1.2 k words

You wake up– again. 

Clammy and far from pleased, you shuffle so you are laying somewhat on your back. Heat and perspiration pollute the air making it almost hard to breath comfortably. Despite being dressed in a thin tank top and shorts, your skin still prickled with sweat. You feel an uncomfortable dampness beneath your knees, probably a result of your body sweating through the night and seeping into the cotton that now clings to your skin. You’ve been slipping in and out of sleep, unable to fall into slumber, and it doesn’t help that your girlfriend loves to cuddle. Leah is pressed against your back, every inch of exposed skin sticky against yours. At first you thought buying a king sized bed would be enough to give you both ample space, especially in sweltering summer nights like this, but you should have known better than to underestimate your Leah. 

You love her but when the temperature is at boiling point, and her generous body heat was making things worst, you are left to suffer on your own at– a quick peek at your phone screen that nearly blinds you– 2 am in the morning. Your hair is tacky against the back of your neck, only adding to your growing fickle mood. You could try to wiggle away, to create some room between the two of you, but you were on the edge of the bed and the next wiggle will send you face-first on the hard wooden floors. 

Craning your head slightly, you try to make out your girlfriend’s form in the dark and sure enough she was fast asleep, uncaring for the heat wave emitting from within these four walls. When you squint even harder, you see that not only was she perfectly content to slumber in her own sweat, her lower half was covered under the 100% solid Egyptian cotton blanket that was sourced from Italy. You were sure you had kicked the blanket off of the bed before you both went to bed— so what it was doing back on the bed, blanketing your girlfriend in this heat, is a question you did not care to find an answer to right now.

You had had enough. 

Swinging your legs off to the side, wincing at the stickiness of your skin as it leaves the cotton, you grab a pillow and slip on your shearling slippers. You blindly make your way around the room, careful not to bump into anything that might wake your girlfriend from her cosy sleep, the lucky fucker. If you were in a better mood you might’ve left your girlfriend with a peck or two, but you were hot and irritated right now, so no kisses for her. When you feel for the doorknob, you twist it open, making sure to shut it gently behind you. You make the journey downstairs to the living room, still groggy and still annoyed. Turning on the lamp by the side table, you start to arrange your bed for the rest of the night. 

You practically collapse onto the sofa, audibly sighing at the coolness in the living room compared to the sweltering heat in the bedroom. The air is slightly cooler here, a faint breeze from a slightly open window. You sprawl out as much as you can, welcoming the space and lack of a furnace in the form of your girlfriend. Though still warm, the cooler air and the softness of the sofa are enough to lull you into falling back asleep. Your body finally begins to cool down as you drift off, hoping for an undisturbed sleep and a more bearable morning. 

But all good things do come to an end at some point. 

You shift, adjusting uncomfortably at the weight on your front.

Why did it feel like you were being weighed down by something?

Opening your eyes, you blink away the sleep and look around. Streams of light peeked through the sliver of space in between the curtains. The air feels fresh, and there's a gentle quietness that hints at the world just waking up. When you look down, all you see is a mass of blonde hair. 

Leah. 

Your girlfriend, that you had left sleeping in bed upstairs, is now sprawled on top of you on the living room sofa. Her head was tucked into the crook of your neck, and you could feel warm puffs of breath against your skin. It was hard to tell if she was sleeping, or how long she had been laying on top of you like this. You reach up, sneaking a hand under her tank top and run it across the small of her back. Tidy nails lightly scratching her bare skin, you nudge her awake. “Lee…”

“You lef’me in bed” 

So she is awake.

“Leah” You grumble louder, the heat once again creeping up to you again now that you’ve got your personal furnace back on top of you. “Love, it was boiling up there–”

“Don’t give a fuck. You don’t leave me alone in bed” 

You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut again. There was absolutely no way you were going to sleep alone, especially now that Leah knew where you were sneaking off to cool off without her. Her iron grip around your waist and her legs tangled around yours was proof of that. 

“But it’s so hot, and you’re a human furnace”

“yeah well I ain’t having it when its cold and you need this human furnace to warm you up”

Suddenly, the blonde sits up so she was straddling your waist. Your eyes open, and you squint up at her, confused as to what she was up to.

“Sit up” 

“What? Lee, I’m tired and barely got any sleep–“ 

“Come on. Up you get” She tugs at the material of your tank top. “It’ll be quick and it’ll help with your overheating problem”

You sit up abruptly, gasping exaggeratedly at her teasing. “I do NOT have an overheating problem– you're the human heating system”

“C'mon. Arms up” Leah grabs the bottom of your tank top in her hands. You could already guess what she was planning to do, and made no move to stop her. 

She pulls your tank top over your head, leaving you in your black cotton bra. “Cheeky. You just want a look at my tits”

“I’m doing this to help, baby” She laughs, but doesn’t deny your accusations. 

“Shorts too?” She cares to ask but in fact she’s already shuffling off and standing to the side so she can shimmy your shorts down your legs for you. Once you are left in only your bra and panties, Leah grins at you— and there too goes her own t-shirt. 

Now left only in her plaid boxers and sports bra, your girlfriend gestures for you to shuffle over across the sofa. You raise an eyebrow at her, but do as she says. “Why do I have to move? I was here first”

“Because…” Leah starts, producing her own pillow seemingly out of thin air. She must’ve brought one down from the bedroom and you only just noticed now. She throws her pillow down beside yours, fluffs it up, and then settles beside you. “I don’t want you falling off the sofa, baby”

She snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you to her as close as possible. You lay on your sides, face to face, and this time you gladly welcome her touch. Her hand stroked up and down your back, lightly massaging away the tension in your muscles from the hours you were deprived of Egyptian cotton sheets. Her touch far too intimate, too suggestive, for early morning shenanigans. You giggle when her massaging seizes, her hand stopping just above your panties, and her pinky finger slips just underneath the lace. “Cheeky” You whisper, all conspiringly.

“shhh” She hushes you, pecking your nose, but makes no move to remove her hand. In fact, her entire hand has now slipped under the lace, greedy and groping for skin.

It’s not as hot anymore thanks to the lack of layers, and you wouldn’t admit it out loud, but you were having trouble sleeping without your girlfriend beside you. If she had waited another hour in bed, you probably would’ve slipped back into bed with her. 

“gimme a kiss” Is said with a pat to your ass. You chuckle breathily when you can just about make out her lips pursed into a pout, the dim lights catching the wetness of her bottom lip. You do as she says and kiss her, savouring the feel of her soft lips against yours. Placing a few more sweet pecks against her pouty lips when she chases yours for more, you will yourself to end the kiss before you both end up losing more sleep doing other things.

“now sleep, love”

Inspired by the heatwave around the UK lately.

it's so bloody hot I've been living off of cornetto ice cream, an electric fan, and lemonades all week.

-- kisses, butter

*This work is my original creation. Please don’t copy, share, or translate it without asking for my permission first. Thanks for respecting that!

[k0yaz]

Hi love 💕 May I request comfort/fluff one shot Arlecchino x fem Reader who developed a terminal illness a few years back and is now often bedridden but is getting better however Arlecchino is still super overprotective of her

white light.

Pairings: arlecchino x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, terminally ill reader, angst, but there’s comfort yay I know yall love this, LOTS of mentions of death, like a ridiculous amount, dw reader doesn’t die but grim reaper bullies us every chance he gets like damn, or is the grim reaper a she, that means my friend is immortal since if death is a woman it’ll never come for them, sorry off topic, very soft arle, yes we love our soft king walskskfj, why is the shower so cold help me, not proofread.

A/N: THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE AND IT TURNED OUT SO NICE HOLY also, school is starting soon so I might have to go on break in couple months but no worries I can find some time to write and it’ll be a while into the year until i actually need a break yk <3 🕯️

The fluffy layered clouds hovering in the sky slowly parted themselves to reveal illuminating gleams of sunlight pouring into the room through the window curtains situated to the right of your bed. Slow gusts of wind began to join the warmth of the gold light, brushing along your skin and causing an array of goosebumps to bloom along your arm. You were lucky. Not too long back, your immobile body was enveloped into the same bed, a sickly hue painting your face as your pale tinged lips could only part to cough out a few strained noises.

Perhaps the gods had took pity on you? You supposed you’d never figure out the answer as to how your body curved back from a terminal illness in its final stage. It was supposed to be incurable, and your body back then seemed to agree with what should have been. You were dangerously dangling right above the realm of death, only a hair apart from succumbing to your imminent demise. The doctor who noted your worsening state only had a strike of pity in her voice whenever she’d inform Arlecchino of your current condition, shaking her head as the words: “she won’t make it.” muffled through the door seperating your room from the outside.

It hurt to hear. Not for you per say, but more to hear the emptiness in Arlecchino’s voice when she attempted to dismiss the doctor’s words coldly. She didn’t want to hear that. She didn’t want to hear that your condition was only drawing you closer and closer to death, she wanted to hear that you atleast had a small chance of surviving. As much as she tried to choke back the bitter pain in her unwavering voice, she always clung onto that small sliver of hope deep down, internally calling out to a sea of nothingness in hopes that something would come help you.

Sudden news of your recovery, or rather your condition suddenly improving one day was nothing short of a miracle. It shouldn’t have been possible at all. You were around the final month mark, your entire body burning with an agonizing rush of soreness as you wanted to plead for death to take you away from the unbearable discomfort searing every limb of your ghastly and thin form. That night you had gone to bed, hoping to escape the aching pain of your illness eating away at you. That was when you saw it. You dreamt of a faint glow of white light—or was it a slight pale yellow? The dream was vague and confusing, and held no meaning at all. The light simply danced in circles before you as your life trajectory seared across your eyes.

However, the dream must have meant something.

The next morning you had awoken, your body feeling much lighter all of a sudden, as you had the strength to now sit up completely. Hands carefully massaging the thick blanket draped over your lap, you blinked in confusion upon realizing that you were indeed alive and able to sit up. Sure, you were still incapable of moving around or sitting up for long, but originally, you weren’t even able to raise your body a quarter of the way up, as it would simply result in your spine slamming back into the sunken, comfortable mattress.

When the doctor made her way into the room, performing her checkups which she believed to be futile and tragic, her initial expression of sorrow shifted to one of quick shock. This shouldn’t have been even the slightest bit possible. Arlecchino’s reaction was all the more endearing the moment the newly discovered news made its way to her. You’d never forget the rare smile of pure relief and happiness crossing her usually stoic front, seeming as if Arlecchino was glowing in that moment.

She had attempted to clear her throat and position herself upright, concealing the internal delight bubbling in her mind at that moment. The door had softly creaked open, the sway of the old hinges on your bedroom door being the only noise, along with the quiet howls of wind, resounding within the cell of a room that held your life by a mere thread.

You simply sat there, your scrawny form nearly engulfed by the heavy blankets cascaded onto your lap as the light livened the hue of your face. And when that sweet smile made its way onto your lips weakly upon seeing the harbinger hover before your bed, Arlecchino had to suppress every urge of hers to hem you between her arms in a tight hug and never let go. She wanted to embrace you with every drop of love and affection lingering in her heart as her blackened hands tightened into your back, like a promise to never let you go. Since then, your condition had steadily improved. Months passed, and then years. At this very moment, you now had the ability to walk around and perform minor tasks adequately, yet you still remained bedridden for the majority of your time.

A light pain slowly overtook the side of your chest abruptly, drawing out a few heavy coughs from your throat as your palm pushed against your left breast in an attempt to soothe the throb pushing and pulling against your heart. Quiet ticks of the clock seemed to inch in sync with the rugged beats of your heart, both echoing throughout the room in a sort of twisted harmony. Although your condition had gotten better, storms of weakness and coughs would still persist through, as this was quite a serious illness you suffered from.

The silk white blankets enveloped your limp frame, cascading over your body and situated slightly below your chest, while the back of your head burrowed into the pillows to bask in the favorable comfort enshrouded around every outline of your lounged body. Your chest rhythmically rose and fell as you choked out a few labored breaths, still clenching your fingers against the fabric of your loose shirt covering your chest.

Your vision suddenly started a gradual spin, objects within your range slowly drawn out of focus, and not taking long for the spin to pick up the pace as your vision suddenly shifted to a bleary mess of the room. Head tilting back, you rasped out a line of shaky breaths as the frightening episode of dizziness quickly subsided as soon as it began, causing a sense of panic to rush through you briefly while your chest rose and fell in uneven motions from your initial fright. In that very moment, a small screech of wooden hinges caught your attention, your head carefully raising as to not incite any possible negative reaction from your sensitive body.

Swift and heavy clicks of heels prodded across the room, a sound you’d recognize anywhere even if you were miles away. You raised your head barely even level to the headboard, delivering Arlecchino a feeble smile as her eyes softened upon meeting yours. Slowly, you took her hand into yours, palm resting over the top of her defined knuckles as your thumb circled along the cursed gradient of her hands gently. She could only breathe out a grateful sigh, her head dropping in a restful state as she rested herself onto your shoulder affectionately.

“Are you feeling any better?” She almost immediately questioned, her usually composed eyes having a flicker of concern dashed across them. Her eyes wandered along your frail body, the hints of worry still subtly etched onto her face as her grasp on your hand below hers grew increasingly taut and stiff as she awaited your answer. As much as you wanted to chuckle and tell her you were okay, you clearly couldn’t even say that much.

“Hm. Same as usual. Can’t move my legs well today, but I’ll live.” You casually answered, not taking in the impact your words might have placed onto Arlecchino.

Live.

She was so glad you were able to live.

Arlecchino suddenly dragged her teeth along each other, her mouth remaining closed as the grit of her teeth quietly bounced off of her cheek into her eardrums. It took everything she had to swallow back that wretched feeling boiling up to her throat, her heart wrenching and flooding with discomfort upon hearing the way you threw your life around so casually in your words. She had always been extensively protective over you ever since your condition deteriorated, yet it grew exponentially once you began to recover over the years. She’d always tend to you, sometimes never leaving your side for hours on end as she’d just sit there, head lowered and lips pushed against your frail hand.

Her grip on your hand tensed noticeably, making you shift your eyes up to her lowered dark gaze, staring off into an endless abyss as her expression just seemed…soulless and empty at the mere thought of your passing away. She was afraid. Afraid that just when she believes that her beloved would live despite being in poor condition, she’d walk into your room one day to discover your heart dead still, body completely limp and deceased.

The thought of that made her hand noticeably quiver between yours, disturbing images of your possible sudden death plaguing her mind like a broken subliminal record trying to shatter her soul by tearing away the one person she loves most in this cruel world. It was indeed cruel, as this very world had targeted the reaper to loom over the side of your bed at all times, carefully awaiting the moment to take you away from Teyvat. Arlecchino internally cursed herself at the idea that perhaps this punishment was because of her. She wanted you to be spared. You weren’t the one with blood on your hands, she was.

Despite her agonizing thoughts gnawing at the back of her mind, your sudden firm grip on her hand made her head snap back up abruptly, eyes locking onto your thin fingers cupping her shaky hand in place. If she could, Arlecchino would cry at this very moment, allow herself to shed a couple tears. Yet she knew she couldn’t. She didn’t want to worry you any further, especially in your current state.

“Arle, I’m staying. Please, don’t worry about me. I am better now, right?”

“I know. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t around.”

It was evident that Arlecchino had a difficult time a few years ago, when you were announced to die in under a couple months. She had to mentally prepare herself to lose you soon. She was used to it, you were just another person in her life that slipped away too soon, right?

But she couldn’t.

She couldn’t bear losing you. It was too much even for her.

Arlecchino needed you in her life, and she���d wipe out the entirety of the world just to keep you safe.

Your hand reached up to graze along the skin of her cheek, smiling as she instinctively leaned into your touch. Her eyes fluttered shut as she held your hand in place against her cheek, opening her eyelids once more to gaze at you lovingly with red x-marked eyes.

“Hey Arle, I’m still not feeling the best today…so do you think you could-“

You didn’t even get a chance to finish your hesitant sentence as she lowered herself onto the side of your bed, squeezing herself next to you as her arms gently circled your torso and grasped you against her. You only hummed out a content sigh as you felt your slouched back press to her upright chest, the difference in your postures just making the moment oddly romantic and sweet. Arlecchino’s face buried into your shoulder, intaking a soft inhale as if she missed your scent clouding her senses every time she was close to you.

It didn’t take long for you to drift off to sleep in Arlecchino’s arms as you curled up into the warm blankets piled over both of you. Arlecchino, still awake, quietly shifted her weight onto her side to glance down at you, smiling softly upon seeing your peaceful rested expression. Maybe finally, she rinsed the lingering blood splattered on her hands that led you to this awful fate. She’d rinse it a thousand times if it meant that you would remain safe like this for as long as you lived.

However in this very moment? Arlecchino had forgotten every sense of dread clawing at her constantly, instead focusing on your huddled up form engulfed between her protective grasp.

She swore that she would never let you go again, and she would treasure every inch of you. Not even death can do you two part.

A/N: omg I kept switching between being proud of this and being not so proud bc I had to stop midway through and I lost my train of thought AUUUSHSHDBFN anyway yayayayashshdhd I loved writing this so much AND CALM DOWN ON THE ARLE REQUESTS HOLY SH-

ok bye I’m gonna go on character ai cause I can’t sleep to bed

[blkkizzat]

thinking of sucking honey off satorus long juicy d!ck

lmfaoaoaoa that was not what i was expecting coming to check my inbox but im already on demon time so lfg!!

so i headcanon that gojo loves lovingly picking at you, his lil wifey, like the man will just say the most out of pocket crazy ass never-been-touched-degen-ass-shit just to get a reaction from you or sneak up on you just to scare you so he can grope you lmfao. he especially loves doing this shit out of the blue when you are preoccupied with something else. he loves how your cheeks puff out and your face warms as you fluster and hit him as you shoo him off every time.

its one of the cornerstones of your relationship and he's been doing it for years. so he doesn't expect you ever to get desensitized to it enough to return his energy.

thats where he fucked up.

the next time he tries to fluster his cute lil wifey is when you are in the kitchen preparing a nice charcuterie board to take over to Utahime's soon cause all the girls were getting together to binge watch Love Is Blind.

Sneaking up behind you, Gojo wraps his strong muscular arms around you giving you a sloppy wet kiss on the neck before a firm pinch on your ass cheek as he reaches over you to steal some meat and cheese off your tray. "S'TORU!!!" You were so focused on making the presentation of your tray perfect you nearly jump out of your skin flinging the honey you were spooning into a small jar all over Gojo—all over Gojo's dick, to be clear.

the crotch of his pants now soiled with a large sticky glob of honey. not missing an opportunity to tease you Gojo pulls down his blindfold looking at you with his panty-dropping-pussy-dripping-inducing smolder.

"this honey ain't gonna suck itself off sugar lips, come lick this Bit-O-Dick baby."

"bet."

"huh?"

Gojo looks shocked and his blindfold falls down completely as you untie your apron, casting it aside.

"—babe!"

you don't respond with words only your hands when you force him back until his legs hit a kitchen table chair and you push him down to sit.

"good boy."

manspread, Gojo is clearly nervous, practically trembling in anticipation now. It was a joke! Sweating bullets and hands shaking Gojo mind is racing not actually thinking you would fulfill one of his life long fantasies of having your pretty mouth suck his dick off through his shorts. what is going on!?

nestling between his powerful thighs you look up at him with your bright doe eyes you innocently wet your lips. he had the perfect view of your cleavage, seeing just a sliver of your pebbled peaks when the front of your dress dipped lower. your soft hands snake up his leg to squeeze his inner thighs and spread them even wider almost to an uncomfortable stretch as the bulge under his pants visibly throbs through the material.

oh my god, you're actually gonna do this for him!

you haven't even touched his dick yet and its twitching like crazy.

"you ready, daddy?"

"i-i—er—yuhh..."

gojo can barely form words and they fumble out of him from him being embarrassingly hard. you'd see a patch of pre stain his pants if it wasn't for all the honey on his crotch. gojo's whole body is vibrating as he too eager for you to finally do something this fucking lewd for him. your mouth sensually opens to hover over his clothed cock. he can feel your moist breath puff over his length and its near unbearable. tongue extending out as you hover directly over him, gojo with his astute six eyes doesn't miss the small drops of saliva that bead on your sinful lil tongue, rolling down the tip to fall directly on his—

"—OOOH FUHHHHHHCK!!"

warmth spread over gojo's lap and you recoil back startled.

gojo literally came in his pants.

head tilted back his hips spasm up as he lets out a long shakey breath.

"whelp! i guess that's that then."

you hop up, dusting yourself off.

"—waiiiit huh!? babe!"

"nuh-uh toru i agreed to clean off the honey, that was my bad—you nutting yourself? that's your foul...although i have to be honest, i thought the peek you got of my tits would have done it, who would have thought it would have just been my tongue? you're a lil fuckin pervert, you know that babe?"

gojo looks more confused and forlorn as you return to finish packing up your charcuterie board.

"doesn't feel good to be teased now does it, baby? now that's really gonna stain if you don't go clean yourself up soon—sticky dick."

you laugh as you gather up your tray and head out.

leaving gojo to brood in your wake.

oh it was on now.

this was not supposed to turn into this lmfao. it just came out. lmfao also Bit-O-Honey is those old honey candies your granny always had in her purse. i had gojo say Bit-O-dick cause he sick like that fjehkfjhkfj.

gojo a menace. lock him up so i can finish these other fics lmfao. im not doing a pt2 to this lmfaooo it gotta end here plz—just imagine him tying you up and beating your doonies down when u get home as payback 😭

[drabbles-mc]

Different Now

Bucky Barnes x ExWife!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, angst

For Week 5 of @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer 2024: exes

Word Count: 6k

A/N: something about Bucky and an ex-wife really got me Thinking Thoughts. hope y'all enjoy!!! xo

The apartment wasn’t something that you had asked for when it was all said and done. Really, you hadn’t asked for anything. The only things that you wanted weren’t things that could be divvied up by overpriced divorce lawyers.

When you had tried to tell Bucky that you weren’t interested in keeping the apartment, he wasn’t having it. You tried to argue that it had been his to begin with, that you were the one that moved in with him. It only made sense for you to be the one to move right back out again. But he was adamant—he always was. His argument then had been that he had another place to stay in the meantime until he found something else. It felt like half of his life was at the tower anyway, so it wouldn’t be a problem to treat it like a long-term stay at a hotel until he found a new apartment.

You were so sick of arguing by then that you just gave in. If he didn’t want to have it, it wasn’t the hill you were preparing to die on. You slapped your signature and initials where the lawyers told you to and just like that, the apartment was yours and Bucky wasn’t.

He did you the courtesy of letting you know when he would be stopping by to move all of his things out. When the day came, he knew that it was no stroke of luck that you happened to be out of town for a few days. The realization stung but he supposed that he couldn’t really blame you for it either.

The first few weeks after he’d moved all of his things out, the apartment felt almost painfully empty. There was a sliver of time during which you were thinking about moving out anyway, Bucky’s final parting gift be damned. It didn’t feel quite like home without him, without Alpine and all of the chaos and mess that came with the two of them.

Eventually you started to fill in the gaps that he’d left behind. New books for the shelves to fill the space where his used to be. Art and trinkets to fill in the empty spaces where his small pockets of clutter used to reside. It was the largest the apartment had ever felt and it was strange to have no one to share it with. Slowly, though, you started to adapt. It slowly started to feel like home.

Redecorating the apartment was one thing. Adjusting to your daily routine without Bucky being part of it was another. It wasn’t as though either of you had been blindsided by the divorce—it’d been coming for some time. Still, even as the distance had grown between you, there were still those tendrils of connection that hadn’t been severed yet. Attachments that only form after years spent with someone day in and day out through all of the things that the two of you had gone through together.

There were times when you were lounging on the couch in the living room and for a moment you’d find yourself wondering when he was going to come home only to realize that he wasn’t going to. Or you’d be heading home after work and you’d almost go to find his name in your phone to call and see if he needed you to pick anything up on your way. Habits you hadn’t even realized formed until you no longer needed them.

Weeks turned into months. New habits formed to replace the old ones that no longer suited you and your life. If you didn’t think too hard about it, you didn’t feel the dull ache that still existed down in your chest. You stayed busy with work, with friends. The times when you thought about reaching out to Bucky, you made every effort to reach out to just about anyone else instead. The last time you’d had any sort of conversation with him was when he moved his things out. And even then, it had been a simple text exchange. Him saying, “All set. Let me know if I missed anything.” Followed by your brief response of, “Will do”. Something short that made you glad he couldn’t see the tears that were welled up in your eyes.

Not reaching out to him was difficult. It was hard not to sit and wonder if he was having just as hard of a time with it as you were, but it wasn’t like you could reach out and ask him about it. The closest you got to any kind of communication with Bucky was the rare text from Steve. He never asked about Bucky or anything having to do with the two of you. He kept it cordial, the way that you’d expect from any acquaintance, you supposed. Because that’s what he was to you now. You got the apartment in the divorce. Bucky got all of his friends. Painful but fair.

You were halfway to falling asleep on the couch when your phone buzzed on top of the coffee table. The groan of annoyance you let out was involuntary, arm still slung across your forehead as you contemplated whether or not you wanted to see what anyone had to say. It wasn’t terribly late—not what you considered emergency late, anyway. But it was still getting close to past the time most people would be reaching out to chat.

Your arm that wasn’t covering your face reached out from underneath your throw blanket. Blindly groping around, your fingertips finally grazed over your phone. You were forcing your eyes to open back up all the way as you carefully held the phone over your face. There had been enough instances of you dropping it directly onto your nose and forehead to dissuade you, but it never stuck.

Skimming the notifications on your screen, at first you thought that your eyes were playing tricks on you. Maybe you were just exhausted. Or maybe you were stuck in a very realistic if not boring dream. Or nightmare, depending on how you wanted to look at it. There just didn’t seem to be any other reasons that there would be a text message from Bucky waiting to be opened.

It got you to sit upright, at least. The blanket fell from where it’d been pulled up to your shoulders, piling in your lap as you leaned back against the arm of the sofa. There was no universe in which you would leave the message unopened, or delete it without reading it. Even though you knew that about yourself, though, you still sat there for a few seconds and entertained the thought of it.

You typed in the passcode to your phone with the second nature ease you always did, the only difference now was that your heart was in your throat as you waited to see what the message was going to be. It’d been months, and it was late, and you had no idea what you should be expecting from him.

“Feel free to say no but I need a favor” Your heart dropped to your stomach and then another message came through. “Not an emergency”

His messages didn’t leave you feeling like you had anything in the way of answers. If anything, now you just had more questions. “You okay?” Part of you knew that if things had really been bad, he would’ve called. Or he wouldn’t have reached out at all. One of the two.

“Need a place to stay” You couldn’t help the deep sigh that you let out as you read his message. Then, as if he heard you, he sent a follow-up message. “Just one night. Promise”

If you said no, he’d drop the topic. You knew that about him beyond a shadow of a doubt. He’d let it go and realistically it would probably be the last time you heard from him. But you also knew that he wouldn’t be reaching out and asking you if he had somewhere else he felt like he could go. He had people he could lean on, places he could be. If he was reaching out to you there must’ve been something going on. It wasn’t your business to ask about anymore, though.

“Still have the address?” It was a lame pass at a joke, but you hoped it would at least convey that he could come over.

“Yeah, think I might have it somewhere. Thank you”

You didn’t reply, didn’t really feel like there was anything else that needed to be said. instead, you looked around your apartment and wondered if there was something that you were supposed to be doing. It felt strange, the idea of him being back in the apartment again. It was his first, sure. And then you shared it. But now it was yours and he was going to be a guest. However long it would take him to get there, you were sure it wasn’t enough time to unpack all of those feelings.

Bucky gripped onto the strap of the backpack he was wearing as he stood outside the door of your apartment. The halls leading to your apartment had been empty, which he should’ve expected with how late it was. He stared at the door, the same dark, mock-wood paneling staring him in the face that had each night for so many years. It felt familiar and strange to be standing in front of it again.

He adjusted his grip on his backpack, a brief distraction so he didn’t have to contemplate knocking or taking out his keys. It was later now than it had been when he first reached out. The amount of time that had passed had nothing to do with how long it took him to get from the tower to your apartment—that hadn’t taken very long at all. What made him so late was the amount of time he’d spent sitting in his car debating whether or not he was actually going to do this. The engine had been off, everything silent, and he just sat there staring at the symbol in the middle of his steering wheel as he weighed out every possible scenario, all of the pros and cons that he could think of.

But now he was here and he almost turned around and walked away again anyway. Before he could completely chicken out, he fished his keys back out of his pocket. It took him longer than he wanted to admit to realize that he still had the apartment key—it was just such a fixture on his keyring by that point. But he didn’t have it in him to bring it back. It wasn’t like he ever used it, or even thought about using it. There was something about it that he just couldn’t throw away.

He had about three seconds of thinking this was the one singular time that his sentimental streak was going to come in handy. But then when he tried to slip the key into the lock, he found that he couldn’t. He double-checked to make sure that he’d gone to the right apartment on the right floor, although he couldn’t imagine messing that up.

Then it hit him. Whether you had asked the landlord to swap out the locks after he left or if the man had done it on his own because he didn’t trust any split to be as cordial as any couple tried to make it out to be, Bucky no longer could let himself in. Pulling in a deep breath, he shoved his keys back into his pocket and reached to knock on the door.

The speed at which you leapt off the couch at the sound to get to the door would’ve been embarrassing if he had been able to see it. Luckily your shame was just for you. Stopping in front of the door, you took a couple breaths as you smoothed out the oversized t-shirt and pajama shorts that you were wearing. Maybe you should’ve thought to change but it was too late now. Besides, it wasn’t anything that Bucky hadn’t seen a million times before.

You undid all the locks. When you had first gone over to Bucky’s apartment you’d thought that he was a little paranoid. You didn’t blame him for it, but it still crossed your mind. After he’d moved out, though, you found that you had no interest in getting rid of the deadbolt or slider-chain that he’d had put onto the door.

His face was all exhaustion and worry until he found himself looking at you. Then the worry lines on his forehead eased a little, his frown didn’t stretch quite so deep. Even so, you could still see the stress on his face and in the way that he was holding himself. You were sure that the current circumstances didn’t help, but whatever had happened that resulted in him reaching out to you was just as much of a culprit.

“Hi,” he finally said when he realized that it’d just been the two of you silently staring at each other.

The sound of his voice was enough to get you to smile despite the knot in your stomach. “Hey.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, adjusting his backpack as he did. “Thank you for this. I know I shouldn’t have asked…”

You shook your head as you opened the door and gestured for him to come in. “It’s fine.” Once he was inside you turned around and redid all the locks. You ignored the endearing expression on his face when you faced him again for the sake of your own sanity. “Everything alright?”

He started off nodding but then it dissolved into a shrug as his chin tucked down towards his chest. “Didn’t want to stay at the tower. Everyone’s been at each other’s throats lately so when we got back this afternoon I just…I didn’t want to stay there.”

“Your place far away now?” you asked as you took his backpack from him and set it by the couch. You started to walk towards the kitchen, hoping he would take the hint and follow suit.

“What?” he asked, toeing off his boots before he started to trail behind you.

“Your apartment. Or house. Is it far?” You were still trying to figure out why he had decided to come here of all places.

“Um,” he stumbled on his words as he stayed by the stretch of counter kitty-corner to where you stood at the coffee pot, “n-no. Not…really.” He kicked himself immediately. He was never able to lie very well to you at all, let alone so quickly on his feet. It said plenty about him, about how he felt about you, but there was no time to get into all of that.

You looked over at him, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “Want a cup of coffee to hold onto while you tell me about whatever that means?” You kept your tone light and joking enough, but you knew that years of experience with you meant that Bucky knew he wasn’t going to be able to get out of explaining himself.

He let out a small sigh of defeat as he nodded. “Please.”

Neither of you said anything as you made a cup of coffee for each of you. You could see him out of the corner of your eye. Any other circumstance would’ve made it seem strange that he was staring at you so blatantly, but there weren’t very many other things to hold his attention at the moment. Something told you he wasn’t really in the mood to try and count all the things you’d changed after he moved out.

You brought the coffee mugs over to the small table that was tucked off to the side in your kitchen. You sat down and waited for him to do the same, which he did after a moment of hesitation. He pulled his mug closer to him, cupping it between both his hands even though only one could really feel the warmth radiating off of it.

“So?” you asked before taking a sip from your cup.

He didn’t look at you, eyes fixed on the drink in front of him. “I’ve been staying at the tower.”

You nodded, leaning back in your chair. “Okay?”

He sighed, shaking his head. He still couldn’t make himself look up. “Since I m—” he tripped on the words, still not accustomed to saying them out loud, “Since I moved out.”

Your eyes widened. “Bucky.”

He had no other choice but to look at you now. “I know.”

Gesturing briefly to the apartment, you said, “I told you to just keep th—”

“I know you did,” he cut you off. “I wanted you to have it. Still do.”

“You can’t just stay at the tower forever. It’s basically, like, a glorified frathouse.”

You both had a laugh at that before Bucky’s face sobered up. “I wasn’t planning on staying there. Just,” he took a sip of his coffee, enjoying it more than anything he’d concocted at the tower in the last few months “didn’t get to it.”

“Tony mention starting to charge you rent, then?” you asked, a joking lilt to your tone to hide the ache in your chest.

Bucky huffed out a laugh, a slight upward curl to his lips, but you could tell that he was trying to stuff down some of the same feelings that you were. “I’m sure he will once he figures out how much hot water I use.”

You let a beat pass before saying, “If you need help finding a place, I can—”

“No, no.” There was a hint of frustration in his voice but it wasn’t really directed at you. “Finding a spot isn’t the issue. I can do that.”

“Then why the fuck have you been crashing at the tower this long?”

“I wasn’t ready to get my own place!” he snapped, not meaning to. The answer came out quickly and much more honestly than he intended. He’d wanted to some up with something snarky to evade the discussion, but it was too late and he was too tired. Sitting across the table from you always left him feeling so vulnerable. He tried to ignore the sad frown on your face, the tears welling in your eyes. “I wasn’t ready to start over. Getting my own place? I just…yeah, no.”

“Sorry,” the word came out meek and mumbled. You hadn’t meant to pry open that particular can of worms, especially not on a night that he was just looking for a place to unwind and rest. Maybe it would’ve done the two of you some good to have some form of contact over the last few months, but it was too late to go back and fix that now.

“You still like it here?” he asked.

You could hear the hopefulness in the question. There was only one right answer to the question. Bucky needed to know that the one thing that he could really leave you with was something that had done you some good, something you could still enjoy even if he wasn’t around to enjoy it with you anymore.

You nodded. “I like it. It’s…you know…it’s different now. But I like it.”

He tried not to sound too relieved. “Good.”

Minutes ticked by with nothing but silence between you. Everything that either of you wanted to say, you felt like you couldn’t. every time you glanced over at Bucky, he was already looking at you. His face never really gave away much, but you could still see the sadness in his eyes. You couldn’t help but to think that this wasn’t exactly what he thought he was singing on for when he reached out needing a place to crash for the night.

Like he could read your thoughts, he spoke up. “Figured I’d just take the couch.”

“You sure?” you asked, like you had any real backup plan to offer.

He nodded as he stood up out of his seat. He picked his mug up off the table, and then yours before walking them over to the sink. You watched him as he quickly rinsed them out before setting them down in the sink basin. “It’s fine. I’ll be gone before you’re up in the morning.”

You frowned at that without meaning to. “You don’t have to—”

“It’s fine. Like I said—I just needed a break.”

There was no use in trying to turn it into an argument, so you nodded. “Okay. I’ll grab you a blanket and a pillow.”

His shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.”

When you came back out to the living room, Bucky had already changed. He was in his usual sleepwear—an told tank top and loose shorts. When the two of you were together, he’d always just foregone the shirt half of the equation, but you assumed that he was trying his best to be courteous.

You offered him the folded-up blanket and the pillow resting on top of it with a weak smile. “Here you go.”

His smile wasn’t much more convincing than yours, but at least you were trying together. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” You raked your fingers back over your scalp as you tried to figure out if there was something else you should be saying or doing. “If you need anything else, let me know. Or, you know,” the nervous laugh you let out let him know you were no more certain about this joke than he was going to be, “help yourself. Whatever it is, is probably right where you left it.”

Surprisingly enough you both chuckled quietly. “Thank you.”

There was nothing more to say or do but it still felt wrong to turn and head off to your room. Your standing there wasn’t doing either of you any good, so you crossed your arms over your chest. “Okay. Goodnight, then.”

He nodded as he tossed the pillow onto the couch and started to unfold the blanket you’d given him. “Night.”

You took a small step backwards. “If I don’t see you in the morning, good luck. With…you know, everything.”

He gave a small smile as he draped the blanket onto the couch cushions. “Thanks, doll.”

The sharp silence that followed those two words permeated the entire room. Bucky froze, unable to look over at you. You froze, unable to look anywhere but at him. The tension in his muscles came back tenfold as he tried to figure out how to walk himself out of the minefield he’d just stepped into. He took a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling for a moment before over at you.

“Sorry,” he said, although he wasn’t sure how much he meant it. “Force of habit. It’s been a while.”

You wished that you’d felt nothing when he said it, but there was still the flutter in your stomach at the sweetness, the familiarity of the pet name that he hadn’t been around to call you in far too long.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him. You pulled your arms a little tighter around yourself, like that would stop you from reaching out and doing something stupid that you’d be kicking yourself for later. “I get it.”

He could see the tension in your body, could practically feel the waves of it rolling off you. “You sure it’s alright that I’m here?”

You laughed, the sound tired but still a little amused at the question. Your arms dropped back to your sides. “Yes. God. Please, it’s fine. Don’t, don’t worry about it. I’d be more upset knowing you were going back to the tower.”

He laughed, muscles in his shoulders loosening. “Okay.”

You reached out, fingertips just barely grazing against his forearm. “Goodnight.”

The touch barely lasted for a second but he could’ve sworn that he felt the warmth from your fingertips spread throughout his whole body in that moment. You were already turned away from him and making your way to the bedroom. Off to be alone in a place the two of you spent so many nights sharing.

His body was moving faster than his brain as he stepped to go after you. He knew as he was doing it that it was a terrible idea from every angle but he couldn’t stop himself. You’d heard his footsteps, and you were turning around to see what he was that he needed. Your pause caused him to have to stop short, hardly a hair’s breadth between you. You were holding your breath in anticipation, waiting for whatever was coming next, Bucky’s eyes desperately searching yours.

He brought his hand up to your cheek, his palm rough but warm against your face. You sunk into his touch the same way one sinks into their bed at home after a long trip away. Your eyes fluttered shut but it didn’t stop the tears from welling and escaping onto your cheeks.

“Bucky…” even at a whisper your voice cracked with emotion as you said his name.

He waited for you to open your eyes, to look at him again. Your eyes were glassy, the tears that weren’t staining your cheeks clinging to your lashes. But you were beautiful. In that moment he couldn’t understand how or when it had all turned into such a mess. It seemed impossible that it had all fallen apart.

He was waiting for you to pull away as he leaned in, but you didn’t. You didn’t backpedal, didn’t try to push him away from you, didn’t ask him to stop or say it was a bad idea, even though he should’ve and it was. His lips caught yours for the first time in…he didn’t want to think about how long. When you kissed him back it felt like it erased all the months of distance and silence between you. Your hands rested on his chest and suddenly the mess disappeared.

Even when you came back up for air, your lips were still practically touching. Your nose brushed against his as you shook your head. “Bucky.”

He shut his eyes tight for a moment, knowing where this was going. “Don’t.”

A knot formed in the back of your throat. “But—”

“Please.” He brought his other hand up so that they were both cupping your face. It’d been a long time since the chill of the metal made you flinch. It still felt familiar, welcoming despite the circumstances. “Please.”

Another half-hearted protest was on the tip of your tongue but he kissed you again before you could get it out. It made your knees weak, the amount of desire that he was able to pack into one gesture, a gesture that didn’t last nearly long enough.

“I know,” he said with a tiny nod. He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “But I’m askin’ anyway.”

You knew that you were going to give in from the start, but at least now you could lie to yourself if you had to—you could tell yourself that you at least tried to put up a little bit of a fight. Satisfied with that, you nodded as you leaned in and kissed him.

Relief coursed through him as he wrapped his arms around you. With no hesitation he turned and started to walk you back towards the couch, not taking his lips off yours as he did. His hands slipped up underneath the fabric of your shirt dragging and mapping out your skin like he was trying to feel for anything that had changed since he last had you like this. Your hands slid up his chest and neck, briefly running over the stubble that was coming in along his jaw, before they wound themselves into his hair. He leaned into you, deepening your kiss further at the sensation of your nails carding through his hair and raking along the top of his head.

He pulled out of the kiss, only doing so long enough to get your shirt off, and to allow you to do the same to him. They landed haphazardly on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. They no sooner hit the floor and Bucky had you lying flat on your back on the couch. Not even a second passed before he was on top of you, settled over you and in between your legs like he was always meant to be there. He kissed you with conviction as his hands ran over your stomach and chest. You moaned into his mouth at the sensation, missing the way that it felt when he touched you like this.

You felt the smooth metal of his Vibranium hand cupping the side of your face while his other hand trailed teasingly down your stomach towards the waistband of your shorts. You felt the whine building in the base of your throat before he even reached your core. The way you felt him smile into your kiss let you know that he knew it, too. You missed him too much and wanted him too badly to care about that.

The second you felt his fingers give a teasing graze over your center, you were bucking into his touch. You felt the shaky breath he took in, like there was still some part of him that was trying to exercise some self-control. It was too late for that now as far as you were concerned. He dragged his fingers along your folds, feeling how wet you already were for him. The thought of you still wanting him so badly had him pulling his lips off of yours so that he could litter your neck and chest in love-bites and marks that would be there long after this was over.

You arched into his touch, the feeling of his teeth along your skin. His hand that had been cupping your face now had a firm grip on your jaw, keeping your chin angled in a way that gave him the most access to the sensitive skin of your neck. You didn’t fight it, helpless to do anything but whine and pant, hands tugging at his hair so that you could feel the vibrations of his moans along the column of your throat.

If things had been different, you could’ve spent hours doing just this—just the touching and teasing. The game and the chase of it all. But the invisible clock that hung over the two of you was ticking, and reality was going to set back in sooner than you wanted. You wanted him one more time in earnest before you lost him again.

“Bucky,” you whimpered.

Then he was over you, looking down into your eyes. His expression was half-arousal, half-worry, like he thought this was going to be the moment when the other shoe dropped, when you decided that this was too bad of an idea to continue.

You pulled lightly down on his bottom lip with the pad of your thumb. “I wanna feel you inside me.”

Your words, the desperation in your voice, it nearly rendered Bucky a puddle on the floor. He couldn’t conjure up a single word to say, but he didn’t have to. Instead, he quickly pulled your shorts down your legs and tossed them off to the side. He felt the way you were pushing down on the waistband of his and the breathy laugh he let out only lasted for a moment before he realized you got them halfway down his thighs. You were too needy to wait any longer, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him into you.

Bucky lined himself up at your entrance, sliding in as you wound your legs tighter around him. Your lips crashed against his in a bruising kiss as you reveled in the sensation of him pushing into you. Your moaned and gasped into his mouth at the return of the familiar sensation, your nails clawing at his back because you had to get it out of you somehow.

He left a trail of kisses along your jaw up to your ear. His voice was low as he egged you on, coaxing more out of you as he started to thrust into you. He missed this, the way you felt, the way you sounded. He missed your moans and the way you said his name, the way you asked for more, harder, don’t stop, like he was a man who would ever tell you no. He missed telling you how good you feel, like you were made for him. He missed telling you how pretty you look when he’s fucking you.

He missed everything else, too, but for now this was what he could have. And he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.

Your legs were trembling around his waist and he knew that you were close. He wasn’t far behind you. He didn’t stand a chance from the start. Then your teeth sunk into the skin where his neck met his shoulder and the last of his resolve went out the window. His thrusts became harder, faster. His face was buried in the crook of your neck when you came, and he etched the way you cried out his name into his memory.

Even in your blissful daze, you could still feel that he was getting close. You felt the way his hips began to tense and stutter. You could also feel the way that has was trying to pull out. You were a pliant mess beneath him but you still had enough strength in you to grip onto his hips and pull him towards you.

He shook his head. “I—”

“Please,” you begged, words slurred with lust, “Jus’ wanna feel you again.”

The neediness in your tone and the pout of your lips did him in. He spilled into you, continuing to thrust until after he was spent. He collapsed on top of you, still buried inside you as he rested his head on your chest. Your heart was thumping at a rabbit’s pace against his cheek, and all he had it in him to do was close his eyes and soak it in.

Neither of you said anything as you tried to catch your breath. Bucky slid his arms underneath you, hands on your back as he kept himself pulled tight to you. You had one hand flat on Bucky’s back between his shoulder blades, the other toying idly with the messy locks of hair that you could reach.

This would usually be the time when one of you started the, “You okay?” conversation, but it felt like there was too much to unpack for that question now. Instead, Bucky tilted his head and looked up at you, giving a slight raise to his eyebrows. You got the hint giving a tiny nod to let him know that, given the circumstances of it all, right now you were fine if he was fine.

He relaxed then, letting his head drop back to your chest again. You settled back into the pillow that you’d originally brought out for him to use. Eventually, when you caught your breath, you’d head back to your own bedroom. But for now, there was comfort in the cramped quarters of the couch.

When you woke up the next morning, it was to the light coming through your living room windows. You let out a tiny groan, wiping at your eyes as you tried to register your surroundings. You were on the couch, blanket draped over you. Alone. And that’s when the night before rushed back over you all at once.

Sitting up, you looked around the apartment. Your clothes were folded and left neatly on the coffee table, but Bucky’s were nowhere to be found. Glancing over to the kitchen, you saw the two coffee mugs from the night before washed and left to dry in the drainboard. Then you looked down at the floor beside you and noticed that Bucky’s backpack was gone. Just like him.

(divider by @silkholland 💞)

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