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auggieblogs · 4 months ago

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nsfw | mdni | lando norris x fem! driver reader | smut with a bit of plot.

Author’s note: Hiiii, everyone!!! I hope you all are doing good. I am sorry for being mia, I actually started university recently (it’s insane). Needless to say I have a lot on my plate right now, and writing isn’t the first thing on my agenda but I felt weirdly inspired yesterday (i am clearly ovulating). Anyways I hope you like it, happy reading<3

ALSO AGAIN, MDNI!!!! THIS CONTENT IS NOT SUITABLE FOR ALL AUDIENCES.

―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist

You marched down the paddock, ignoring the piercing stares and whispers. Your heart was still racing, not just from the adrenaline of the crash but from the rage boiling inside you. The Baku Grand Prix had gone sideways fast, quite literally, and it was all Lando Norris's fault. Or, at least that's what you convinced yourself to believe.

Two laps in, you collided with him in one of the most reckless incidents of your career, sending both cars spinning out of the race. It wasn't just the crash that infuriated you-it was that smug, arrogant look you knew he'd wear afterward, refusing to accept his share of the blame.

As you stormed up to his driver’s room, you didn't even bother knocking, shoving the door open, fully prepared to let loose. But whatever words you had prepared immediately got stuck in your throat.

Lando was standing there, almost completely naked, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. His chest glistened with sweat from the heat of the race, and his hair, a little longer now with a baby mullet sticking out, was damp and tousled. Your eyes raked over him, heart pounding. His body was lean, muscles tense and glistening under the fluorescent lights. His face was a mix of amusement and heat as he noticed your reaction.

Lando raised an eyebrow, a slow smirk forming on his lips as he noticed your staring. "Like what you see?" His voice was smug, teasing.

You blinked, quickly snapping yourself back to reality. No way you were letting him get to you like this, not when you were still so pissed.

"That was a shitty move, Norris," you spat, trying to focus on your anger instead of the fact that he was practically naked in front of you.

Lando's eyes flicked down your body, scanning you slowly, deliberately, making you feel hot under his gaze. He leaned back against the wall casually, arms crossed, his expression smug. "You rammed into me,” he said, not even trying to hide his amusement.

Your fists clenched, and you took a step closer, your rage bubbling over again. "That was you! You cut me off and ruined my race!" you nearly shouted, your voice rising with each word.

Lando shrugged, utterly nonchalant. "Or maybe you just couldn't handle the pressure." He sat down casually on the couch, his legs spread wide as he leaned back, watching you with that infuriatingly smug look on his face. "Maybe you just hate that you'll never beat me."

His words hit you like a slap to the face, but you didn't back down. You stepped closer, fists clenched at your sides.

"You're a prick, Norris. You think you're better than everyone else—"

Before you could finish your sentence, Lando grabbed your wrist and yanked you down, pulling you onto his lap so you were straddling him. The sudden movement made your breath hitch, your hands instinctively going to his shoulders for balance as you sat on top of him, your faces now inches apart.

"You keep running your mouth,” he murmured, his voice a low, “and I swear to God, I'll fuck you so hard you'll forget how to speak."

Your pulse spiked, your entire body buzzing with a mix of shock and arousal. The heat of him against you, the feel of his hands on your hips, sent a thrill through you that had you struggling to catch your breath. But you weren't backing down. Not with Lando. Never.

"Is that a threat or a promise?" you shot back, though your voice came out breathless, betraying how badly you wanted him.

Lando's eyes flashed with something dark and before you could react, his lips crashed into yours. The kiss was rough, desperate, all teeth and tongue. His hands were everywhere- gripping your waist, sliding up your back, pulling at the zipper of your race suit until it fell away, exposing your bare skin to the cool air of the room.

He groaned as he peeled the suit off your shoulders, his eyes devouring the sight of your breasts as they spilled free. Without hesitation, his hands cupped them, squeezing roughly as his mouth moved down to your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin.

"Fuck, you've got perfect tits," Lando muttered, his voice thick with lust. He leaned forward, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking hard as his other hand kneaded the soft flesh of your other breast.

You gasped, your back arching as waves of pleasure shot through you. His tongue swirled around your nipple, teasing it until it hardened in his mouth, sending shivers down your spine. His free hand pinched and rolled your other nipple between his fingers, drawing moans from your lips that you couldn't suppress.

"You always walk around in that tight suit,” he growled against your skin, his breath hot as he moved from one breast to the other, giving it the same attention. “Do you know how hard it is to focus when I know these are underneath?"

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the moans threatening to escape as his hands and mouth drove you wild. But you couldn't resist anymore. The heat between your legs was unbearable, and you needed him-now.

"Lando, please,” you whimpered, grinding down against him, feeling his erection straining against his boxers. The friction sent sparks of pleasure through you, but it wasn't enough. You needed more.

He smirked up at you, his hands sliding down to your hips, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles that made your breath hitch in your throat. You moaned, your head falling back against the couch as your body trembled under his touch.

"Fuck, you're soaked for me," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "Is this what you wanted? All that fighting, all that tension—was it just an excuse to get fucked?"

You didn't answer, too lost in the overwhelming sensation of his fingers moving inside you, curling just right, hitting all the spots that made you see stars.

"I asked you a question,” Lando growled, his other hand coming up to grip your throat lightly, forcing your eyes to meet his. “Is this what you wanted?"

You nodded, barely able to form words. "Yes," you breathed. “God, yes."

A smug smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and without a warning her tore your panties down. He plunged into you. Filling you completely.

You cried out, your hands gripping his back as he set a punishing pace, each thrust deeper than the last. The room filled with the sound of your moans and the slap of skin against skin as he fucked you relentlessly.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he drove into you over and over again. “You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, his voice rough as he leaned down, capturing your nipple in his mouth again, sucking and biting as he pounded into you.

The sensation was overwhelming, pleasure building inside you with every thrust, every touch. You were close-so close-and Lando could feel it. His hand slipped between your legs, his fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit, pushing you closer to the edge.

"Come for me," he growled against your skin, his pace never faltering. "I want to feel you come all over my cock."

That was all it took. With a loud moan, your body tensed, and the orgasm crashed over you like a wave. Your walls clenched around him, and Lando groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as he followed you over the edge, spilling inside you with one final, deep thrust.

For a moment, neither of you moved, both of you catching your breath as you lay tangled together on the couch, bodies still trembling from the intensity of it all.

Lando shifted, rolling onto his back beside you, his chest heaving as he looked over at you with a satisfied smirk. “Still think it was my fault?" he asked, his voice teasing.

You gave him a tired smile, your body still buzzing with aftershocks of pleasure. "Maybe we both lost this one,” you muttered, your hand lazily tracing patterns on his chest.

He chuckled, pulling you close. "Guess we'll just have to settle it off the track more often."

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shurisgf · 7 months ago

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SLUT ME OUT — A. ARETAS. ✩

ೃ⁀➷ SUMMARY; in which , you tease armando a little too much in the club. | FEAT. Armando Aretas x POC!fem!reader | TROPE situationship ish? | FORMAT oneshot | GENRE smut smut smut | WARNINGS rough bathroom sex in the club | NOTES listen… a sweet sweet person requested and said “everyone thinks you’re a sweet innocent girl but you get slutted out by armando on the low.” and LISTENN- i took that idea and fucking ran w it ( ps. i kinda like toxic armando on the low )

🎧 for an enhanced experience , listen to Motivation — Kelly Rowland

Armando carefully watched you on the other side of the club, chatting with some random man. It looked innocent for the most part, but when he started to touch your arms, and you didn’t stop him, that popped a fuse in his head. He drank the rest of his shot and slammed the glass on the closest table, walking over to where you and the man were, at the bar. “Let’s go,” he made an attempt to grab you and leave, but the other man intervened and grabbed your other arm, “Unless you want to lose an arm, let her the fuck go.” He spat at the man and grabbed your hand roughly dragging you into the club bathroom, not even bothering to lock the door behind him.

Armando immediately pinned you to the wall and kissed you roughly, you wanted to tease him, this is what you got. He turned you around and held your frame against the wall sliding your skirt down to your ankles, the rush of cold air against your wet cunt making you shudder. He took hold of your hips, wasting no time in unbuckling his own belt and filling you up with his thick cock, pounding you against the wall. He didn’t wait for you to adjust to his size. His pace quickened as you were a sloppy moaning mess against the bathroom wall. “Que esa gente escuche lo puta que eres para mí.” He grunted, deepening his strokes, and all you could do is moan in response as he continued to hit that sweet spot against your walls, again and again, causing tears to fall from your eyes. He pressed down on your lower back, making you arch for him. “Can he fuck you like this? Hm?” He grunted in your ear, as he grabbed your hips fucking you repeatedly.

“Armando- fuck!” You whined out, getting closer and closer to your own high, trying to warn him. He slowed his pace and pulled out turning you around to face him, making you whine. “Should pretty girls like you get to cum? Hm?” He spoke, placing quick, rough kisses down your neck, stopping at your shoulder as he looked at you in your tired, fucked out state, knowing he’s the only one who can get you like this. His hands caressed the sides of your hips as he impatiently waited for a reply, knowing damn well you were unable to put together a coherent sentence.

“Armando, please i’m sorry, he was nothing-“ You whined, moving your hips against him, trying to feel something again. “And..?” He started, “And it wont happen again, please Armando-“

He picked you up and put you on the bathroom sink, his right hand supporting your back so that you don’t fall. Wasting no time in thrusting his fingers in and out of that tight pussy that belonged to him. His pace was fast, curling his fingers a bit while inside of you, driving you closer and closer to the edge. His mouth was working your neck, sucking roughly, leaving a trail of hickeys down your neck to your collarbone. He used his thumb to rub your clit whilst pumping his fingers in and out of you. “Fuck, fuck fuck!” You creamed all over his fingers, breathing heavily, trying to catch your breath. Taking his fingers out to taste you. Your whole body went limp against his.

“Eres mia,”

“Sit up mama, I’m not done with you.”

GLOSSARY !

Que esa gente escuche lo puta que eres para mí. — Let those people hear what a slut you are for me.

Eres mia — You’re mine.

TAGLIST; @ghettogirly @milliumizoomi @loakswifesworld @dyttomori

reblogs are greatly appreciated !

#ੈ✩‧₊˚ she was a 𝒻𝒶𝒾𝓇𝓎 #armando aretas #armando aretas x reader #armando armas x reader #armando x reader #armando armas #bad boys ride or die #bad boys for life #jacob scipio

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moonstruckme · 8 months ago

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ok ok, so you said you wanted some ideas for a camp counselor James, so I am here to supply one! What if reader was teaching the kids lashings and knots, and when cutting the rope with a pocket knife, their hand slips and they cut themselves, so reader tells one of the kids to get the nurse (because their hand is bleeding and they can't stand from the grass) but the kid comes back with James instead (because the kid panicked and James is the first person she saw) and James helps reader get to the nurse while fretting over their hand

Thank you for requesting angel!

cw: blood

camp counselor!James x fem!reader ♡ 827 words

A hiss escapes you as the knife slices across your hand. You drop it and your fist clenches closed on instinct, but not before the kids watching you see.

“Are you okay?”

“Did you cut yourself?”

“Do we call 999?”

“No, it’s okay,” you say, keeping the pain out of your voice. “Accidents happen. This is why I’m the only one who gets to use the knife, see?” You take a second to pray it’s not bad, but when you open your hand blood spills onto the grass beneath.

You squeeze it shut again, breathing through the wave of dizziness that nearly takes you under. The only thing worse than scaring your kids by bleeding all over the place would be traumatizing them by passing out on your way to the nurse.

“Mia.” You look to the most responsible girl in your cabin with the most reassuring smile you can piece together. “Can you go get the nurse for me, please?”

She nods, eyes wide, and sets off. You spend the next couple of minutes trying to distract your kids and yourself, but when an adult-sized shadow falls over you and you look up in relief you very nearly swoon for different reasons.

“Hey.” James’ brow is puckered. It doesn’t suit him, you think, but he looks lovely anyways. He probably can’t help that. “I heard we’ve had an accident.”

“Sorry,” Mia pipes up, “I couldn’t remember where the nurse’s office was, and I—”

“It’s okay,” you tell her, making your voice slow and soothing to combat her squeakish one. “You did your best, and I appreciate it.”

James flashes her a smile about ten times more effective than your own. “You have good instincts. Really, no one’s more equipped to help your fearless leader than me.” He sets a hand on your shoulder, softening his voice as he leans down close to you. “Are you alright?”

“I’m worried I’m gonna pass out,” you admit.

“Can I have a look?”

“It’s bleeding a lot, James. I don’t want to open it.”

“Alright, you’re okay. Let’s get up.” James uses his grasp on your shoulder to pull you to his chest, holding your elbow with his other hand as he stands the both of you up. The change in altitude makes you immediately woozy, and a quick sigh escapes you as he scrambles to get a better grip, one arm banding around your waist. “Do you need me to carry you?”

“No, sorry. I think I just…sorry.”

You expect him to tease you, but maybe you should have thought better of him. “What’re you sorry for? You’re alright, lovely, just let me know if you change your mind. Or just collapse on me, and I’ll get the point.”

He starts walking you towards the nurse’s office, your unsturdy legs following behind you. James’ body is warm and solid. You can feel the flex of his bicep pressed tight to your back, and the material of his shirt is softly worn. You don’t realize you’ve dropped your cheek onto it until you register the chatter you’re leaving behind and pick your head up.

“The kids,” you murmur, making to turn around. James keeps you held to him, but stops.

“Hey, guys,” he calls back to them, “my cabin’s in arts and crafts with Charlie, do you wanna go down there and tell her I sent you?”

There’s a few excited calls of agreement, and James waits until your campers start heading in that direction before you both continue.

“You cut yourself with your knife?” he asks, peering over your head to see where you’ve tucked your injured hand tight to your chest. It’s still dripping blood as you walk, though you think slower than before. “Is it deep?”

“A little.” You sigh. The sun feels hotter than it did a few minutes ago, and yet James’ touch has the beginnings of a shiver curled up at the base of your spine. “I think I probably scarred my kids for life.”

You can feel James’ chuckle reverberate through his chest. “Don’t worry, they’ll be fine. Kids are hardy, especially these ones. One of my boys put hot sauce in another’s coke yesterday and the kid barely even flinched. Drank the whole thing.”

You feel your lips tugging upwards. “Well, my girls are better than your boys.”

He huffs a laugh. “I could so prove you wrong, but I don’t make a habit of arguing with the wounded.”

James gets you to the nurse’s office in one piece. You expect him to go then, but he insists on staying to make sure you’re okay. He keeps you tucked into his side, scrubbing his hand up and down your arm intermittently and kissing your hair when the nurse has to clean your cut. He lets you leave your cheek resting on his chest, and you still feel dizzy for a myriad of reasons, but your injury is no longer one of them.

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kazekagevi · 5 months ago

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Bonds Beyond Words: If Eywa Wills It

PART ONE -- PART TWO -- PART THREE

Pairing: Aged-Up!Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader

Word Count: 5k

Tags: dark themes, but this chapter is actually very fluffy and silly, Lo'ak and Kiri and Spider becoming reader's besties, many attempts at comedy, eventual NSFW, aged-up! Neteyam (and Lo'ak, Spider, and Kiri), reader has PTSD, Neteyam dislikes humans (except for you), eventual jealous/possessive Neteyam, future Olo'eyktan! Neteyam, enemies-to-lovers, interspecies slow burn, angst, fluff, probably OOC, POV’s all over the place, forgive the inconsistencies.

Summary: You're not allowed to join the community until Jake Sully decides you're ready. Spider, Lo'ak, and Kiri teach you Na'vi.

A/N and Disclaimer: I tried my best to use some Navi language translators and the LearnNavi website to write this chapter, but there are bound to be language errors. I also know time works differently there. Sorry for all the inconsistencies!

This story contains explicit content and is only appropriate for audiences 18+. MDNI. Please do not repost my work.

The science shack isn’t so bad.

Your initiation begins after your first sleep that night. The next morning, Max and Norm put their research projects on hold to give you an actual, legitimate tour of the facility. The place is full of bells and whistles. Tiny buttons, translucent screens, and telecommunications. Technology is abundant; but your knowledge of how to use it is not.

“Here is the airlock control panel,” Max explains. He hovers his palm over a sensor—when it flashes sage green, the user interface appears. “Once you’re ready to interact with the community, we’ll scan your handprints and give you full clearance,” he futhers.

You’re helplessly eager. “Do you know when that will be?” you inquire.

Max presses the controller in the center of the panel. The glass door to the inner chamber slides open. You peek your head inside the airlock space—there are respirator masks for both humans and Na’vi, as well as a broom in the corner.

“I put that there,” Max says, referring to the broom. He’s stealthily ignoring your previous question. “Told Spider he needs to sweep after himself. He refuses to use the doormat outside. I think the only person who’s touched that broom has been me.”

You look at the ground. The floor of the airlock space isn’t as bad as you’d expect it to be. Admittedly, it’s filthy. There are mud stains of both human and Na’vi footprints on the vinyl floor. The size difference is jarring.

You have an idea. You smirk to yourself. “What if I cleaned this mess for him?” you offer. “I’ll sweep, then mop. I need to start pulling my weight, too.”

Max sighs. “What? So you can put on one of those masks and sneak out before the Olo'eyktan says you’re ready?”

Your expression sours. “You didn’t have to say it like that,” you reply. “I wasn’t going to sneak out,” you admit aloud. “I was going to accidentally open the front door or something with a mask conveniently in place. It’s not as deceitful that way.”

Max sighs again. “Well, I have no say in when you’re ready,” he confesses. “That decision is only Jake’s to make.”

You have no choice but to yield. Max taps the censor again. The airlock door falls shut into place.

---

It takes an entire day to simply show you how everything works. It takes two more for you to demonstrate you were paying attention and know how to use everything. The only intuitive mechanisms are the knobs to the showers and the dials on the washer and dryer.

Like in any society, the science shack has its own set of rules, regulations, and norms—quite literally, since Norm transfers between his human body and Avatar frequently. The showers are closed once every twenty-five days for necessary maintenance. Humans aren’t to leave when the Na’vi are sleeping or on significant Omatikaya holidays. Don’t talk to Max before he’s had his first coffee. Spider is supposed to sweep after himself in the airlock room. You can’t use Mia’s handleless mug, but you’re allowed to wash it if you’re extra careful.

By the end of the week, your head hurts.

You know the only way to become proficient in something, like speaking a new language or utilizing advanced technology, is to thrust yourself into it. Take the plunge—don’t fear it. Embrace the nosedive. Freefall.

So, after dinner on your seventh day, you get as close to doing that as possible. You sit on a small perch by a tiny window, nestled in a corner of the science shack. You’re hungry; for one, Norm’s cooking tastes much worse when you’re not famished, so you couldn’t force yourself to go back for seconds, let alone finish everything on your plate.

But also, you’re hungry for something else. Now that you’re safe from the RDA, you can actually consider doing what you came to Pandora to do all along. You can practically taste it.

You know Jake Sully is right. Life in the science shack is complicated enough, and you need adequate time to acclimate. But you’re starting to feel like you’re trapped.

The window allows you to see a slice of life at High Camp. You come here around the same time after a meal, just like clockwork. You haven’t seen Jake Sully since your conversation, but you’ve seen many others.

Just right now, you see a group of young women shuffle past, laughing and gossiping about who knows what. You see two kids, presumably siblings, one chasing after the other, before they’re stopped by one of the village’s elders. You see injured warriors limp towards the tsahìk’s tent. You see a woman in her homestead, weaving a basket. You feel nothing but sonder; the profound sensibility that these people are all living complex lives of their own, and you’re simply witnessing these complexities unfold right before your eyes.

You begin to recognize a few faces, like that of the shaman healer, otherwise known as the tsahìk. You also take note of which warriors visit her tent most frequently.

You routinely see a Na’vi female with short, straight jet-black hair. She tends to pass by the science shack every evening of every day, stare at the door, frown, then leave. On two occasions, your eyes met before she wandered off.

You’ve learned a few more common phrases, which Norm, Max, Spider and Mia teach you at meal times. Kaltxì is a standard greeting. Rutxe means please, and irayo means thank you. Ngafkeyk pefya? means ‘how are you?’

You also learned that the lines you recited to the Na’vi in the forest, Neteyam, were of a standard dialect. They weren’t incorrect, just slightly different from that of the Omatikaya’s. And, allegedly, your pronunciation was off.

In your extensive travels on Earth, you learned quickest when you immersed yourself in a new, unfamiliar environment. It was the rush—the thrill, the trepidation—that drove you to adapt. It was as just as you told Jake Sully: so I will.

Immersion is the only way. Norm knows this too; as an exceptional xenolinguist, he learned more from interacting with the Na’vi for a few weeks than he did from reading any book. He really understands. He wishes he had more time to help with your studies, but he must return to his work. His newest botany project is time sensitive.

As you sit by the window, you use an electronic tablet programmed with a basic flashcard feature to get yourself acquainted with the Na’vi language. It’s not particularly helpful, since spoken practice is more beneficial than anything written. You’ve been skimming some of Jake’s old journals, too. But at the time of their conception, he wrote only in English, and misspelled many Na’vi words and phrases.

The flashcards do nothing besides test your aptitude for memorization. It doesn’t help that your attention span is elsewhere, like you left it on a far, distant planet.

Everytime someone passes by the window in your peripheral vision, you have no choice but to look up and see who’s there. It’s usually another Na’vi face you’ve never seen before. You don’t realize it initially, but the more you turn your head, you’re helplessly aware that you’re looking for someone. It never is, but you’re hopeful it might be Neteyam—you still owe him for saving your life. You have an inkling however, that he’s probably avoiding this place for one reason or another. That very reason might just be yourself.

It’s obvious that this method of study is inefficient. You power off the tablet and continue people-watching with your knees tucked against your chest.

Any moment now, you know you’ll see that girl with shoulder-length hair. You want to know why she frowns, but you don’t know how to ask ‘what’s upsetting you?’ in Na’vi.

Now that you think about it, though, you’re unsure if that’s a wise idea. Even when you are allowed into the community, you know that you will have to keep a distance. Know your place. Although the humans and Na’vi residing here coexist in apparent harmony, you don’t want your presence to disrupt the peace.

There’s a quiet knock on the other side of the airlock door across the main room—it’s so faint you almost miss it.

When you sit up, you hear footsteps thudding against the vinyl flooring. You see Spider look around then over his shoulder as he approaches the door.

He begrudgingly places his hand over the scanner. He presses a button and the front of the airlock opens.

He quietly shouts something in Na’vi—skxawng. You’re not sure what this word means yet.

From your window perch, you can’t see what’s going on, but Kiri and Lo’ak enter the space through the main door. They each grab a respirator.

Spider continues to say things you don’t understand. From his tone of voice, he seems slightly agitated.

“You can’t be here,” Spider says to both of them in Na’vi. “Not until the new girl gets introduced to the community.”

Lo’ak takes a deep breath—the respirator in his hand looks so small. He’s almost as tall as his father now. As the years pass, Lo’ak just gets bigger and bigger. It makes him feel like Spider is shrinking.

“C’mon man,” Lo’ak says. “Let us in. We’ll only take a minute,” he adds, wearing a devious smirk on his face. “I uh, forgot something when I was here last?” he tries.

“Yeah, right,” Spider replies.

“Lo’ak, you’re not helping my case,” Kiri says, glaring at her older brother.

Lo’ak’s jaw drops. He scoffs at her. “You told me to come with you!”

“Yes, and it turns out you’re not helping!” Kiri hisses.

Spider groans. “Can you two just leave? I don’t want to get any flak for this.”

Kiri grits her teeth. She places both of her hands on the glass separating them. “Please, Spider. I haven’t seen Mom in forever,” she says. Her eyes water. “It hasn’t been this long since the time we lived in Awa'atlu… I miss her.”

The crease between Spider’s brows disappears. From what you can see, he looks apologetic. “Oeru txoa livu,” he says to Kiri. “But I’m not supposed to let anyone in besides your dad.”

Lo’ak’s expression falters. He looks at his feet. His ears fall flat. “You know, I haven’t seen Tsireya since we left Awa'atlu,” he says just loud enough for Spider and Kiri to hear.

Spider rubs his nose bridge. Kiri sighs and flicks his temple with her fingers. Once Lo’ak starts talking about Tsireya, he can’t stop.

While this interaction continues to transpire, you stand from your perch and tiptoe over. Your footsteps are padded by thick, cotton socks. You advance slowly, like you’re approaching a crime scene covered with caution tape.

“Lo’ak, go home and go to bed,” Kiri says, poking his chest. She then spins back around. “Spider, let me in, please.”

“I’m sorry, Kiri,” Spider replies. “You know I would if I could.”

Kiri places her hands on her hips. “You can, very easily, actually. Just press the button,” Kiri says. She points to the spot where she knows it is on the other side of the door. “It’s right there.”

Spider sighs. The crease in his brow returns when he realizes Lo’ak is suddenly smiling. “Why are you doing that?”

Lo’ak waves to you from the other side of the airlock. “Hi!” He greets you in English. “What’s your name?”

Spider jolts when he realizes you’re standing there right behind him.

Kiri gasps. Her eyes go wide—they practically sparkle when she’s excited. “I told you, I saw her!” she says to Lo’ak in Na’vi.

You smile at the male and female Na’vi before you. They seem so friendly, and the male Na’vi’s English sounds great. “Hello there,” you reply. You formally introduce yourself.

Spider presses a palm to his temple. He knows he’s going to get in trouble.

“It’s nice to meet you!” the female Na’vi says, also in English. “I’m called Kiri. And this is my older brother, Lo’ak.”

That’s his cue—Lo’ak waves again, flashing his vibrant smile.

Spider scoffs.

“My good brother here, Spider,” says Lo’ak, “this skxawng,” he adds, more quietly, “was about to let us inside.”

“I was not,” Spider protests.

“C’mon,” you say. Spider rolls his eyes—you’ve just met Lo’ak but he’s already infected you with whatever ailment he has that makes him the way that he is. At the same time, however, Spider knows it’s one of the best things about him.

“Why can’t we let them in?” you ask. This is the most exciting thing that’s happened to you in five days.

“Exactly,” says Lo’ak. “Let us in,” he chants quietly.

“The door isn’t broken, is it?” you further, keeping a serious demeanor. “I’ll just check to make sure it works,” you tell Spider.

“Wait–”

The airlock’s inner chamber door opens, allowing Lo’ak and Kiri entry.

“Would you look at that,” you profess. “I know how the door works.”

Lo’ak chuckles as he strolls inside like he owns the place. Kiri rushes past the three of you, making a beeline for the large container in the middle of the main room. She presses her palms against the glass and whispers to the Avatar stuck inside. Your brows furrow in confusion.

“You were right,” Lo’ak mutters to Spider in English. “She is short, even for a human.”

Your jaw goes slack. A surprised chuckle falls from your lips. “If you call Spider skxawng, then what are you?” you can’t help but retort.

He grins. “If there was a clan of a hundred skxawng’s,” Lo’ak says, “they would have no choice but to make me their leader.”

You laugh again—harder than you were expecting to. This Na’vi might be an ass, but at least he’s got a sense of humor.

Spider groans again. “If you two knuckleheads stay, you have to keep it down,” he says.

Lo’ak puts his hands up, defensively.

“Can I ask what she’s doing over there?” you say aloud.

Kiri now has her face pressed against the glass. It fogs from her breath.

Spider and Lo’ak look at each other. Lo’ak rubs the back of his neck before speaking: “it’s a long story, but that’s the Avatar of Kiri’s biological mother. Kiri is my adoptive sister.” Lo’ak then hums to himself. “Maybe it’s not such a long story, after all.”

That’s why she looked so sad. She simply missed her Mom.

You blink once. “Oh, alright.” You nod, looking at Spider. “All of that information about Mia’s coffee mug was really important, but this,” you say, gesturing to the tube in the center of the room. “Not so much.”

Spider shrugs. “It’s important,” he says. “But, this is just commonplace for all of us.”

“She’s been doing this since we were kids,” Lo’ak reaffirms.

“Maybe we’re blind to it,” Spider offers. “It’s always there, so we can’t even see it if it’s right in front of us.”

Lo’ak simpers. “Well said.”

“Thank you,” says Spider. He grins.

They nod together and rub their chins like idiots. You assume this must be a regular thing for them.

“Skxawngs,” you say.

Of course, they both look your way, as though you’ve called them by their birth name.

“Did I use that properly?” you ask in English.

They nod. You sigh woefully.

Lo’ak practically snatches such low-hanging fruit: “What’s got you all blue?”

You can’t help but glare at him. “They say you don’t know a language unless you know how to properly insult someone,” you say. “But I don’t actually know any useful Na’vi, and I haven’t had a conversation with anyone. Half of the words I know are just insults!”

“Simmer down,” says Spider. “You learned plenty today,” he says.

“And, last I heard, you did have a conversation with someone,” Lo’ak mutters.

Spider crosses his arms over his bare chest and looks you in the eye. “We’ll do our best to teach you.”

“Then teach me,” you reply, glaring daggers his way.

Spider’s eyes narrow. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. A couple of hours ago, you were enthusiastic. Now, you’re starting to get on his nerves.

Spider then looks over at Kiri, and makes an almost silent whistling noise. In response, Kiri’s ears twitch and she peeks over her shoulder.

“What the hell did you just say to her?” you demand.

“Oh, that?” Spider chuckles dryly. “I didn’t say anything, yet.”

“What is it?” Kiri calls back to him.

When Spider responds, he speaks entirely in Na’vi. When Kiri replies to him, she does the same. Spider then turns to you, speaks only in Na’vi again, then laughs. He says something else. Laughter erupts. Kiri and Lo’ak follow suit.

You have no choice to presume they’re talking shit about you in their native language.

In reality, they’re saying things that make no sense just to get you riled up. The first thing Spider told Kiri was “let’s pretend like we’re making fun of her. Keep going along with it until I say stop.”

Needless to say, they play their roles with great conviction, like actors on a stage. They fool you.

“You guys are dickheads! That’s enough.”

They finally stop when you fold your arms over your chest and start pouting; but they don’t stop laughing until Norm yells from down the hall to, in his words, ‘tone that shit down.’ When they’re caught, Spider purses his lips, and Kiri and Lo’ak takes deep breaths from their respirator masks in unison.

“You’re incredibly impatient,” Spider admits, lowering his voice. Lo’ak nods in agreement. You’re all sitting around the tube that holds Grace’s Avatar. Kiri traces small shapes on its surface with her lithe fingertips.

“And you three,” you say, pointing at each of them, “are a bunch of jesters.”

“No, you’re a jester,” says Lo’ak. He doesn’t even know what that word means, not in English anyway.

“That’s exactly what a jester would say.” You groan in frustration. “I am impatient, but you don’t have to say it so directly,” you reply. Your expression is downcast and dejected.

You want to learn the language. You want to be able to talk to people. You want to carry out conversations, and learn, and laugh, and cry. You want to become a phoenix, rising from the ashes of an otherwise hopeless situation. You’re here, you’re alive, yet you don’t feel that way. Not at all.

You don’t want to feel like an outsider. You don’t want to live life from a bird’s eye view, on your little perch by the tiny window. You don’t want to feel like a canary in a cage. You don’t want to feel like a fish in a large, technologically-advanced bowl. Or like a beetle in a glass jar with holes poked in the top. You don’t want to be alone. You don’t want to be locked away in the science shack, just like how you were in the RDA’s basement.

Your eyes water. How could it be? Have you simply gone from one prison to another?

“You may be impatient, but I think you’ll fit in with us just fine,” Lo’ak interjects. He smiles genuinely. After a few moments, so do Spider and Kiri.

You wipe your eyes. Your face feels hot.

Kiri calls you by your first name, grasping hold of your attention. “Don’t worry. We’ll teach you to speak Na’vi, and you’ll be just like the rest of us,” she says affectionately.

“I don’t know about that,” Lo’ak mutters.

There’s a pregnant pause. You, Spider, and Kiri expect him to say that you’ll never be a true Na’vi, or something of the sort. You weren’t raised as such, like the three of them.

“She won’t grow another foot overnight,” Lo’ak says finally. He looks right at you with a shit-eating grin. “You’ll never be as tall as we are.”

“Well said,” Spider remarks.

---

Kiri and Lo’ak can’t stay for much longer—they have to sneak back to their tent before Jake Sully finds out what they’ve been up to.

“They won’t get in trouble if he finds out, right?”

You and Spider are the last two awake. You’re sitting at the kitchen table.

Spider waves his hand around nonchalantly. “They never do,” he says. There’s a brief pause. “Okay, sometimes Lo’ak does,” Spider adds. “But never Kiri or Tuk. You’ll meet her eventually. She’s the youngest sibling.”

“Alright, so there’s the three of them. Lo’ak, Kiri, and Tuk. And Neytiri is their mother, right?”

“Four of them,” Spider corrects you. “Neteyam is the oldest. One year older than Lo’ak.”

You blink. “Neteyam is the Olo'eyktan’s eldest son? The one who found me?”

“That’s what I said, didn’t I?” Spider retorts.

You glare at him. “Yes, that’s what you said, only a whole week late!” You whisper-shout at him. “Just like with Kiri’s biological mother.”

Spider throws his hands up. “I guess I thought someone already told you,” he says defensively. “You talked to Jake, right?”

“Right,” you reply. “But he didn’t mention anything about Neteyam being his son. Didn’t mention anything about his children actually.”

“With all that you went through with those fuckers, he may have thought it could be taken as insensitive,” Spider suggests.

You hum. Maybe, just maybe, Spider’s right.

“Kiri works in the tsahìk’s tent during the day. Lo’ak puts in the least amount of effort necessary to be considered one of the warriors,” Spider says. “He’s usually around, but oftentimes not. Either way, we will find time to help you learn Na’vi.”

“Is Neteyam one of the warriors?” you ask.

Spider nods. “These days, he’s become one of the best.”

Your thoughts drift back to when Neteyam found you. You were practically ambushed—he was so controlled, so swift with his movements. Spider’s words don’t surprise you.

“So, he’s busy all the time?”

Spider addresses you by name. “What are you getting at?”

“I still need to thank him,” you confide. “He can’t avoid me forever.”

Spider sighs. “He can try,” he mutters.

“So, he is avoiding me?” you ask. Your cheeks are turning red again.

“He’s…” Spider begins. He looks distraught. “He wasn’t always like this,” Spider says. “Neteyam and I are cool, but he never sets foot inside this place if he doesn’t have to. Ever since the Sully family returned from living with the Metkayina, the Reef People, he doesn’t get along with Norm and the others like Kiri and Lo’ak… He merely tolerates the scientists here.”

“You’re saying he hates humans,” you say bluntly.

“Hate is a strong word,” Spider replies. “But he has many reasons to dislike them…” Spider swallows. “To dislike our kind.”

The words fall from your lips: “you’re right.”

You begin to question whether or not you should follow through with thanking him for saving you. The interaction with Kiri and Lo’ak went so well—perhaps it gave you an ounce of hope, things might go smoothly with Neteyam too. He’s been on your mind constantly, replaying in your thoughts like a broken record. You’re certain there are other Na’vi who share similar sentiments. You have to be careful.

“Don’t think about it too hard,” says Spider. He stands from the table. “I’m going to sleep,” he says plainly. His footsteps fade as he walks to the barracks.

Spider’s sympathies do very little to ease your mind.

---

Spider kept his word. Kar is teach. Karyu is teacher, and Karyunay is apprentice teacher. Ayfo kar nga—they teach you.

In the days—and eventually, weeks—to come, you fall into a new routine.

You study Na’vi during the day-time hours. The science shack isn’t so bad. Sometimes, if he’s available, Norm works with you on your phonetics and grammar. But typically, it’s just you, your electronic tablet, and your perch by the windowsill.

When you learned other Earth languages in the past, it was easier to learn other languages in proximity to their language group with which you were familiar. Romance languages, such as Spanish, French, and Italian, bore many similarities. The same went for Germanic languages, and even some Sino-Tibetan languages.

Na’vi, however, is completely different from any language you’ve spoken, or even attempted to learn. But your dedication is unwavering.

Lo’ak and Kiri return to the science shack two days after your first encounter with them.

“Okay, Spider was right. At first, he was angry,” Kiri says. She takes a deep breath through her respirator. “But then, I suppose he thought about it more and decided it was a good idea after all.”

Jake Sully has given Lo’ak and Kiri his word of approval to help with your studies at nightfall, as long as they don’t slack off their usual duties.

“He thinks it’s a good ‘method of assimilation’ or some shit like that,” adds Lo’ak.

You nod. “He’s right,” you say.

“Yeah, whatever,” Lo’ak admits nonchalantly. “Sometimes.”

You all sit on the floor around Grace’s tube again.

“Well,” you clear your throat. “Today, I studied grammatical structure and simple, common vocabulary. Maybe we could start with-”

“Nga za‘u ftu peseng?” Spider asks. He’s asking ‘where do you come from?’

You blink. It takes a moment for the cogs in your brain to rotate. But in due time, you register his question.

“I come from Earth,” you reply in English.

“If you really want to learn,” Spider says, “you should reply in Na’vi.”

You should. The only issue is, you’re not sure how. But you have no choice but to give it a try.

You fail the first time. The second time, you almost get it right—close enough to where Kiri pries her eyes away from her mother to give you a look of encouragement and a thumbs up.

“You’re almost there,” says Lo’ak. He straightens his posture, no longer slouching against the glass tube. “But if you don’t want to sound like a baby learning their first words, you need to change up the word order. For myself, I would reply with ‘za‘u oe ftu Eywa’eveng.’ Which means in English, ‘I come from Pandora.’ Your reply, obviously, is going to be a little different.”

Lo’ak pauses, takes a breath from his respirator, then mimics your higher-pitched voice, speaking as you would reply in Na’vi.

His impression of you is already spot on. “I don’t sound like that!” you protest.

They all laugh, and you can’t help but join them.

For the rest of the evening, the three of them ask you simple questions in Na’vi. All you have to do is reply, also in Na’vi. The longer you go, the easier it gets. You build upon the scaffolding of your day-time studies, as well as every question and response before the next.

---

This continues for many nights.

During the days when you’re sitting by the window and Lo’ak and Kiri pop into frame, you instinctively smile and wave to them. They always reciprocate.

They don’t say it outwardly, but the two of them look forward to these evenings with you. They get to spend more time with Spider. And, although they’re both fluent in English, the practice benefits them, too. Plus, they’ve taken a liking to you as well.

“Who the hell are you waving at, skxawng?” Neteyam asks Lo’ak one day. They’re about to head off on their ikrans to train. Lo’ak needs to learn a new hand-to-hand technique. Neteyam is conveniently out of your line of sight.

“I’m waving to the new girl!” Lo’ak exclaims. He continues waving. He’s practically beaming.

Neteyam huffs.

“Her pronunciation is getting much better,” Lo’ak says. His arm falls to his side again. “But it honestly wasn’t bad to begin with,” he adds. “Do you think you were, perhaps, exaggerating?”

“No,” Neteyam answers curtly. He looks agitated—his ears twitch and his tail swishes wildly. “She’s a distraction." You're proving Neteyam's point. Lo'ak won't stop waving. Neteyam groans. "Hurry up, Lo'ak. We have things to do,” he says. When they were younger, Neteyam would’ve slapped Lo’ak’s bicep or grabbed him by the ends of his hair, but he’s a man now. He can’t show his impatience or impulsivity.

Lo'ak disappears from your vantage point.

---

It’s already been a month. Your diligent practice is starting to pay off.

You can hold very basic conversations in Na’vi. You’re learning more about the language and culture every day.

They don't want to feed your ego, but your teachers have discovered you're a fast, proficient learner.

“Syep means 'to trap.' It’s a verb,” Lo’ak explains to you in English. He’s lying on the floor with his legs propped up on a chair from the dining table. Suddenly, he swings his feet from the chair, and stands to his feet.

You don't want to feed any of their egos either, but they're all smarter than they think. Especially Lo'ak.

“Spider, peseng lu syeprel?” Lo’ak asks.

You’re unsure what a syeprel is, but you know he’s asking where it’s located.

“I think it’s in the supply closet, over there,” Spider replies in Na’vi.

“What’s a syeprel?” you ask, also in Na’vi.

“Take a guess!” Lo’ak calls from down the hall.

You hum. You switch back to English: “Well, it must be a particular type of trap? Like a mouse trap or something?”

Kiri hums too. “It does technically trap something,” she says after a few moments. “But you’re thinking too literally,” she adds with a smirk.

You scratch your head. You’re dumbfounded.

“A-ha!’ Lo’ak says triumphantly. “I’ve found it.”

“Found what?” you call.

“Ask nicely,” says Kiri. “In Na’vi.”

You try again. “Rutxe,” you say, slightly embarrassed. You do as you’re told, and ask in Na’vi.

Lo’ak returns. He’s holding an ancient piece of technology—an extremely old hand-held digital camera with a slightly scratched lens. “Say cheese!”

He snaps a photo of you, Spider, and Kiri lounging around on the floor. None of you were prepared.

Kiri sighs and glowers at him. “Lo’ak!”

Lo’ak chuckles. “Alright, alright. We’ll take another one.”

The four of you stand around Lo’ak, the camera operator. “Kiri, crouch down a little bit,” he says, directing your places. “Spider, lean closer to Kiri.” You hear Spider sigh.

Lo’ak then glances at you over his shoulder. “Stand on your toes, tawtute. Or else you won’t be in frame,” he chides you with a sly smile.

You do just that and smile for the syeprel. “You’re an ass, Lo’ak,” you say through your teeth.

“Smile, everyone!” he sings in Na’vi. Lo’ak spins the camera around to take a photo of everyone while operating it at the same time. He smiles and snaps another photo. The flash is momentarily blinding.

You break free from your pose. “So, a camera is called syeprel?”

“Yes, it is.” replies Lo’ak in Na’vi. “It traps a moment in time, doesn’t it? Rel means like an image, or a picture,” he adds in English.

It’s clicking. Your jaw goes slack. Spider can’t help but chuckle at your expression.

“Language learning is so cool,” you gawk.

“You sound just like Norm,” says Kiri.

“Whatever,” you say in Na’vi. You switch back to English again. “There are lots of animal names in English like that. Anteaters eat ants. Junebugs come out in the month of June to find mates. Grasshoppers hop around in the grass. Centipedes are named after their one hundred legs.”

“Now you really sound like Norm,” Kiri teases you. “Don’t start talking about plants too, or I’ll have to go home.”

“What about bed bugs?” asks Spider. “I've only heard of them from the others. Never seen them here. I’m assuming they would be found in your bed?”

You nod.

Kiri hums, thinking. “What about butterflies then?” she asks. “I know that butter comes from milk and milk comes from Earth cows, but could they make butter too?”

You scrunch your nose at the mere thought of butterfly butter. “I don’t think so.”

Lo’ak can hardly contain his laughter. “What about cockroaches?”

Kiri smacks his chest. Lo’ak half-groans, half-cackles. Kiri scolds him in Na'vi, but it's not long before she starts laughing too.

You and Spider follow suit. From down the hall, Norm calls for you four to keep it down again.

But you can’t stop. In fact, Norm’s complaints make it worse. Joyous laughter fills the room. You’re having the time of your life. For the second time since your escape, you think this must be heaven. You’re briefly reminded of your imprisonment—you remember the few times you laughed with your cellmates. You remember those slivers of euphoria.

You also remember that you’re safe now. The science shack isn’t so bad. Not with Spider, and Kiri, and Lo’ak, and even Norm, and Max, and Mia, and all the others.

You laugh until your ribs hurt. You laugh until tears well in your eyes.

---

A/N: This chapter was so fun to write! I hope you guys had as much fun reading it as I did writing it. Again, please forgive any language inconsistencies.

Don't worry my darlings! Neteyam is going to be all over the next chapter. Believe in the slow burn!

And thanks again for all the kind comments, reblogs, and notes. You guys are awesome!

Taglist: @m1tsu-ki @promnightbinbaby

#avatar the way of water #avatar 2009 #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x you #self insert #self insert fanfiction #x reader #neteyam sully x reader #atwow

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jhdyuiee · 10 months ago

Text

Mirrors

-‘๑’- pairing: HUSBAND!jaehyun x WIFE!y/n

-‘๑’- warnings/tags: smut!, dirty talk, pet names (baby, good girl, wife, beautiful), unprotected sex, finger-fucking, squirting, spanking, heavy making out/kissing, breast play, cursing, multiple orgams, riding

-‘๑’- w.c: 1.6k

-‘๑’- a.n: hii!! i’m sorry for being MIA for the last month, school has been rlly overwhelming with midterms & testing but i’m on break rn which means ill be back to uploading! look foward to all the content i’ll be releasing starting with this one!! i love u all & thank you for waiting. i’m truly sorry 🤍

. . .

The hard crash of his lips on mine as the faint sound of the door slamming shut rung in my ears.

“Naked and on the bed,” he said as he pulled his lips away, his voice so deep.

Without a second thought, I went into the room and rid myself of every piece of clothing I had on. The cool air brushed against my wet aching core and hard nipples. Jaehyun walked in moments later, his hard cock leaking with precum. I wanted nothing more but to get a taste of it in my mouth, and fuck me til’ I forgot who I was.

Only he could do that.

His fingers grabbed my chin, lifting my head so I could look at him, eye-to-eye.

“Open your mouth,” he whispered, and so I did; slipping in two fingers into my mouth. “Suck.”

I sucked on his fingers, while he looked at me in a taunting way. His face saying, What a slut. I swirled my tongue and sucked on his fingers. ‘Is it weird how I find this oddly hot?’

Soon I was put in a haze, Jaehyun must’ve noticed it since he took his fingers out and managed to position me on top of him.

“You shouldn’t be thinking about anything else besides me,” he said, pinching one of my nipples roughly. I unconsciously grinded against him, his hard cock resting against my ass.

“S-sorry-“ I muttered, before he picked me up and sat in front of the mirror that stood in the corner of the room. I was positioned with my back resting against his chest, and his hands opening up my legs. I watched through the mirror all his movements and the way my cunt drooled.

“So wet for me,” he taunted, as he ghosted his hand around my cunt. Before I was able to mutter a sentence, a word, he slapped my cunt. I omitted a low yell, earning me another slap. “Oh! Fuck. J-Jae.” Slap. “Please ‘m nn-no.”

His hot breath warmed my ear, and he whispered, “No, you deserve a punishment after the show you put on at dinner.” His lips lingered for a while longer, then kissed down my neck. I felt like I was going to crumble any minute now, just by his harsh slaps and taunting words. I was so close, so fucking close, but then his slaps came to a hault.

“J-Jaehyun?” I questioned, turning my head back. His lust-filled eyes staring back at me.

He smirked, “Oh my pretty wife, you don’t get to cum yet.”

“Wha-What? I-“ He interrupted me halfway when his fingers intruded inside my cunt. No warning, Nothing. His two fingers going at an unmerciful pace, my stomach fluttered. The knot threatened to unleash any moment now.

“Pl-Pleas’ let me c-cum. I’m cl-close Jaehyun…”

His pace slowed, then halted again. He was torturing me. I couldn’t handle it. “No, no, no. Please Jae let me cum,” I begged him. I needed to release.

His hand grabbed my jaw, turning me to face him. “Apologize then,” his hazy voice said. “Apologize?” I questioned. “Yes, apologize for the show you put on earlier.”

The last hours came rushing back into my hazy mind. The incident at the restaurant. The incident in question was when I put on a dress—so short in his words—that it kept lifting up, nearly exposing my ass.

In truth, I wore it to piss him off, and because I might’ve felt a little needy for him today. However, I underestimated how many people would have their eyes on me, and the amount of fumes erupting from Jaehyun's head.

“S-Sorry… I’ll never do that again Jae.” His face didn’t change, “And?”

“And I’m only yours. I belong to you Jaehyun.”

He smirked, his lips finding mine. The kiss distracting me from his fingers that once again intruded inside my cunt, continuing their pace. His thumb playing with my clit, stroking, and circling it until it had me begging into our kiss. I wanted more.

“Please fuck me.” The words came out of my mouth, when I pulled away from the kiss.

Jaehyun didn’t say anything, he just lowered his head into my neck, sucking on my sweet spot as he continued relentlessly finger fucking me. I involuntarily clenched around his fingers, signaling him.

“It’s okay baby, let go all over my fingers beautiful.” Jaehyun's words were the tip of the iceberg, I came crashing down. Loud moans erupted from my lips, tears streamed from my eyes, and the faint touch of his lips against my shoulders.

“I always love it when you squirt,” he whispered. When my eyes finally fluttered open, I witnessed what he meant by that. I squirted all over his arm, the mirror, and the floor. The scene in front of us; a mess.

He brought his hand that was inside me to his mouth, licking himself clean of all my juices. He let out a satisfied groan. When he finished, he picked me back up and threw me gently on the bed. His cock aching for it’s release.

“Spread nice and wide for me baby,” he said. I grabbed my legs, spreading them for him. In different circumstances I would’ve hesitated, but the lust clouding my mind cut out any logic or emotions.

“Good girl.”

He brought himself closer, his tip prodded outside me. He was teasing me, but I was running out of patience. I shifted closer until his tip was the only thing inside my cunt.

“Impatient aren’t you my wife,” he teased as he watched me. He was enjoying this so much, I saw it in the way he look at me.

“Please hurry Jae, I need you to fuck me already.”

“Fuck you drive me insane Y/N.”

We both moaned when he pushed his cock further in, stretching me out so well. Jaehyun groaned, taking my arms to pin them above my head.

“So fucking tight,” he chuckled. “Even after all that squirting.”

Jaehyun thrusted hard and rough. The squelching sounds echoed in the room along with my moans. I would’ve been scratching his back if it wasn’t for the hold he had on my wrists that he pinned above my head.

“Ri-Right there,” I moaned out when he hit the spot he knows will have me crashing and crumbling. “Deeper… Harder.”

“As you wish,” he said. Jaehyun angled me slightly, his thrusts reaching me more deeper. The hold on my wrists disappeared, his hands now coming down my body until one reached my clit. He circled and pinched the already swollen clit as he thrusted even more relentlessly into me.

“Cum,” he groaned. One thrust, then two, until I finally came. I came hard on his cock, clenching around it while he fucked me through my climax.

His thrust then slowed down, going sloppy. He was close too. A couple thrusts more and he came too. His white seeds painting my insides white, filling me up so well.

“Good job baby,” he whispered, kissing my lips gently, a total contrast to his demeanor earlier. He laid beside me, and we waited until we caught out breaths. However, I was far from satisfied, I wanted him back inside me.

I turned to his side, he was already looking at me. He smiled, his dimples appearing. I got up, staring at his cock, which was still semi-hard.

“Not satisfied,” he said. I turned to him, seeing the smirk plastered across his face. I nodded. “Then ride me baby, you know what to do.”

Before I entered him, I stroked him to get his cock harder. I positioned myself on top of his cock, lowering myself until the tip poked me. I slid him in slowly, until he was all the way in.

“Fuck. Feel so good,” he groaned, bringing his hands to the sides of my hips.

I started bouncing, increasing my speed the more I go. His fingers dug into me, marks sure to appear. “Keep going baby, like that. Fuck. You’ll be the death of me.”

His praises only ignited me even more. “You like that?” I said when I leaned forward to capture his lips. He only let a satisfied groan into the kiss, but his hands traveled down to the flesh of my ass. He kneaded it, smacking it moments later. His smacks didn’t stop, but they did once I got back up.

“Keep riding me beautiful, I’m close to cummin’ now.”

And so I continued, his hands now on my tits. He fondled them, playing with both my nipples and later pinching them while I bounced on him. “Come down, I wanna suck on em’” he commanded.

My hands on the headboard, while my tits came in front of his face. I felt as his tongue darted out, and sucked on one like a child.

Slap. “Keep moving,” he said, biting down on my nipple.

It didn’t take long until we both came. My third climax erupting from me, in a hazy and euphoric way. I only saw white.

“Fucked dumb my little wife,” Jaehyun said, looking down at me. My legs trembled, tear stains all over my face, drool escaping my lips, and his love marks scattered all over my body.

“Yes,” I muttered. His head came down next to my ear whispering, “You did well.” His voice caused an eruption of butterflies in my stomach. I always loved his praises.

“Go to sleep now baby, I’ll clean you up,” he said. “And the mess you made in the mirror,” he teased. I pouted at his words, earning a laugh from him.

“I’m sorry, I love you.” He kissed my temple saying, “Good night my wife.”

“Good night Jae, I love you.” I muttered into the night before I drifted off into a quiet and deep sleep.

. . .

2024.03.23

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wcbblife · 8 months ago

Text

Slow mornings

Thinking about early mornings with Paige and your energetic toddler.

a/n: Those Paige mom hcs just make my mind wander way too much

For some reason, your baby girl woke up way earlier than usual, and you felt a small finger silently poking at your back. You tried to get up as quietly as possible since Paige was still peacefully sleeping next to you. Deciding to let her rest, knowing that all the games and practices were really taking a toll on her, on top of taking care of a toddler, even though she had insisted you wake her no matter what.

The only problem was that your toddler burst with energy as soon as you closed the bedroom door behind you. “Hey, we gotta be quiet. Mommy is still sleeping in there,” you whisper, trying to calm her down, but it’s seemingly no use. Even at the crack of dawn, she always seemed like a ball of energy.

You kneel down to her level, placing a finger to your lips. “Shhh, let’s play a quiet game, okay?”

She nods enthusiastically, but the concept of “quiet” doesn’t seem to register. You lead her to the living room, hoping to find something to keep her occupied without waking Paige. Grabbing her favorite coloring book and crayons, you set her up at the coffee table. “Here, let’s color together.”

For a few minutes, it works. She’s absorbed in her drawing, and you breathe a sigh of relief, thinking you might have bought Paige some more precious sleep. But then, just as quickly, she’s up again, darting around the room with boundless energy.

You try to think of something else to keep her entertained. “How about a snack?” you suggest, heading to the kitchen. She follows you, bouncing on her toes. You grab some fruit and a small cup of juice, hoping the distraction will last a bit longer.

As she munches on the apple slices, you glance at the clock, realizing it’s still so early. The sun is just beginning to peek through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. You sigh, running a hand through your hair. Keeping up with her energy is a challenge, especially when you and Paige are just way too tired.

The only thing that seems to calm her down momentarily is the creak of the door to your shared room. A sleepy Paige emerges from the dark room, her tousled hair on full display. You throw her an apologetic look as your daughter shrieks with delight at the sight of her other mother. She waddles over to Paige, her little feet pattering on the floor, and you see the grin on Paige’s face grow.

“Hey baby,” Paige says, reaching down and groaning slightly as Mia jumps into her arms. “You’re up early.”

Mia takes a careless hold of Paige's chin, shrieking once again, and you watch as Paige winces at the loudness of it.

“Sorry, babe,” you say, moving toward them and rubbing Mia’s back with one hand and Paige’s bicep with the other. Paige shakes her head, leaning in to give your cheek a sweet kiss.

“It’s okay,” she murmurs. “I missed my morning cuddle time anyway.”

Mia babbles something unintelligible, tapping her hands on Paige’s shoulders with excitement. Paige chuckles, bouncing Mia gently to soothe her.

“Aren't you tired, baby girl?” Paige asks Mia, never really expecting a real answer. “Wanna watch Bluey with mommy?” You both jump as your toddler shrieks with excitement. “I'll take that as a yes,” Paige laughs.

“I'll get started with breakfast. Please try and rest some more,” you say, brushing a stray hair off Paige's face and throwing her a worried look.

“You don't gotta worry about me, momma,” she replies, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Alright?”

“Okay, baby,” you respond, unable to suppress the smile on your face as Mia buries her face in the crook of Paige's neck. “Be nice, Mia.”

Paige carries Mia into your room, and you hear her mumble something soothing before the unmistakable tune of Bluey fills the house. You pause for a moment, enjoying the sound of Mia's giggles blending with the cheerful music.

In the kitchen, you start preparing breakfast, the familiar routine bringing a sense of calm. You whisk eggs and pour them into the sizzling pan, the smell of cooking filling the room. You glance over at the room, seeing Paige and Mia cuddled up on the bed, completely engrossed in the show. Paige’s eyes occasionally flutter shut, but Mia’s boundless energy keeps her awake.

You plate the food and bring everything to the table, ready to call them over for breakfast.

“Breakfast is ready!” you announce.

Paige gently disentangles herself from Mia, who protests with a small whine but quickly settles as Paige promises more Bluey after breakfast. She carries Mia over to her highchair and settles her in, making sure she’s comfortable.

You watch them with a smile as you pour coffee for Paige and yourself, setting the mugs on the table. “Here you go,” you say, handing Paige her coffee.

“Thanks, babe,” she says, taking a sip and sighing contentedly. “This is just what I needed.”

#wcbb #women's basketball #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader

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writingbuckets · 1 month ago

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞: 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐯

paige bueckers x podcaster!reader

wc: 5k

a/n: heyyy... so sorry i've been MIA, i had finals then went on vacation and am just now getting settled. but the good news is that im officially on break so i have nothing to do but write. the even better news is that to make for falling off the grid, i've written an absurdly long chapter AND it's a double update. theres also a surprise for you in part 6 *wink wink* enjoy!

The text came earlier than you expected that morning, breaking through the low hum of background noise from the TV. You were sprawled across the couch, a half-empty mug of coffee balanced precariously on the armrest, idly scrolling through a random sports highlight reel that had been playing for the better part of an hour.

Your phone buzzed against your thigh, the vibration cutting through your thoughts. Picking it up, you noticed the name at the top of the screen before you even read the message: Paige Bueckers.

Paige Bueckers:Pick you up at 7. Wear something nice.

Straightforward. Confident. Classic Paige. A smile tugged at your lips as you read the words, the familiar surge of warmth spreading through your chest. She had this way of making everything seem effortless—whether it was threading an impossible pass on the court or casually setting the tone for what felt like your first real date.

You stared at the message for a beat longer than necessary, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. Memories of the last few weeks flickered through your mind. What had started as casual hangouts—grabbing coffee after gym sessions, joining her and her teammates for late-night food runs, or studying side by side in the library—had slowly shifted into something else.

There was the way her eyes lingered a second too long when she thought you weren’t paying attention. Or how her hand would brush yours during a game of pick-up, sending sparks through your skin even when she laughed it off. How the teasing between you had gone from lighthearted to loaded, every quip hiding an undercurrent of something deeper.

The tension had been building steadily, a slow burn that neither of you acknowledged directly but both felt all the same. You weren’t sure when the casual hangouts had started feeling like something more—maybe it was the night she drove you home after a team dinner, her hand gripping the gear shift tightly as you talked about everything and nothing. Or the time she lingered after an impromptu game of HORSE, offering to shoot a few extra free throws with you, even though you both knew she could sink them blindfolded.

You hadn’t put a name to it yet, but the space between you felt charged, like it was waiting for the right moment to catch fire.

Still, Paige had been careful not to push. She kept things easy, never giving you a reason to second-guess her intentions—until now. Something about her message felt different, more deliberate, as if she’d finally decided to stop dancing around the edge of whatever this was.

Your fingers moved instinctively, typing out a reply.

You:Define “nice.”

The three little dots appeared almost immediately, a sign that Paige was already crafting her response.

Paige Bueckers:Something that’ll make me regret making dinner the main event tonight.

Your face heated as you read the words, and you quickly locked your phone, your heart racing. The flirty confidence in her text was nothing new—Paige had always been bold, unafraid to say what was on her mind. But this felt different, like she was deliberately testing the waters, seeing how far she could push before you pushed back.

For a moment, you debated whether you should reply. The temptation to fire back a teasing remark tugged at you, but the idea of leaving her hanging was just as enticing. Instead, you leaned back against the cushions, your thoughts spinning.

In truth, the idea of going on a proper date with Paige wasn’t as foreign as you might have thought a month ago. Back then, it had been easy to chalk up the lingering glances and subtle touches to her naturally magnetic personality. Paige had a way of drawing people in, making them feel like they were the only one in the room. You weren’t immune to that charm—no one was—but you’d convinced yourself that what you had was firmly rooted in friendship.

Now, though, you weren’t so sure. The lines had blurred, the boundaries shifting in ways you couldn’t ignore. And if Paige’s message was anything to go by, she wasn’t ignoring them either.

The weight of it all settled over you as you glanced back at your phone, the screen dark and unresponsive. Tonight wasn’t just about dinner—it was a step forward, an unspoken acknowledgment of the tension that had been simmering between you for weeks.

You glanced at the clock, the numbers blurring slightly as your mind raced. You still had hours to prepare, but suddenly it didn’t feel like enough time.

Paige Bueckers had a way of keeping you on your toes. And tonight, you had a feeling she was about to raise the stakes.

The hours leading up to 7 p.m. were a chaotic mix of anticipation and nerves. You rifled through your closet, pulling out one outfit after another, none of them feeling quite right. Casual but sophisticated? Too boring. A little edgy? Too over-the-top. Eventually, you settled on a sleek black dress with a low neckline that hugged your figure in all the right ways.

As you stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the fabric and adjusting the straps, you couldn’t help but wonder what Paige would wear. You’d seen her off the court enough times to know she could pull off anything—from oversized hoodies to the rare tailored outfit that turned heads.

By the time 7 rolled around, you were practically pacing the apartment. The knock at the door made you jump, and you took a deep breath before opening it.

Paige stood there, leaning against the doorframe like she had all the time in the world. She wore a fitted blazer over a crisp white shirt, the sleeves pushed up to her elbows, paired with tailored pants that emphasized her long frame. Her sneakers—pristine white—gave the outfit a casual touch, but she looked undeniably put together.

Her eyes swept over you, lingering just a second too long to be polite.

“You look…” she began, her voice trailing off as a grin spread across her face. “Incredible.”

Your cheeks warmed under her gaze, but you managed a smirk. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Bueckers. Didn’t think you owned anything without a logo on it.”

She laughed, the sound low and easy. “Special occasions call for special outfits. You ready?”

You nodded, grabbing your clutch. As she held the door open for you, her hand brushed lightly against your lower back, and the subtle gesture sent a thrill up your spine.

**********

Paige hadn’t given you any clues about where you were going, no matter how many times you’d tried to prod it out of her earlier that day. Every attempt was met with the same maddeningly smug response: “Patience, Y/N.”

By the time her car finally pulled up to the restaurant, you understood why she’d been so secretive. The place was breathtaking—one of those spots that looked like it had been plucked straight out of a luxury travel magazine. Soft, ambient lighting bathed the space in a warm glow, while elegant decor—polished wood, minimalist greenery, and sparkling crystal accents—created an atmosphere that was somehow both intimate and grand. Even from the curb, you could tell this wasn’t just dinner—it was a statement.

“You really went all out,” you murmured as Paige came around to open the car door for you, a move so smooth it made your heart skip.

She grinned, offering you her hand as you stepped out. “Told you I was determined to impress you.”

You followed her inside, the quiet hum of conversation and the gentle clink of glasses welcoming you into the space. As your eyes adjusted to the low lighting, you took in the subtle details that made the restaurant feel special—candlelit tables, discreet nooks for privacy, and an unspoken air of exclusivity that was equal parts thrilling and intimidating.

Paige must have noticed your hesitation because she nudged you lightly with her elbow. “What’s the verdict? Too much?”

You shook your head, a soft laugh escaping. “Not too much. Just…unexpected. I didn’t peg you for the romantic type.”

She gave you a mock-offended look, placing a hand over her chest like you’d wounded her. “I’ll have you know, Y/N, I can be extremely romantic when I want to be. Guess you’ll just have to wait and see for yourself.”

The host greeted Paige with a warm smile—her name clearly recognizable even in a place like this—and led the two of you to a secluded corner booth. It was tucked away, offering just enough privacy to feel like a small haven amid the otherwise bustling space. The soft light from the nearby wall sconce cast a golden glow over the table, and as Paige gestured for you to slide into the booth first, you couldn’t help but appreciate how thoughtful she’d been.

“This is...nice,” you admitted as you settled into the plush seat, glancing around at the cozy setup.

“I know,” Paige replied, sliding in across from you with a smirk. She leaned back against the booth, her long legs stretching out in front of her like she owned the place.

Her confidence was infectious, and you found yourself relaxing slightly, though the elegance of the setting still had you a little on edge. As you picked up the menu, your eyes widened at the selections—dishes with names so fancy you weren’t sure if they were in English or Italian.

Paige tilted her head, watching you with amusement. “What’s going through that overthinking brain of yours right now?”

You set the menu down with a small laugh. “Honestly? I’m trying not to freak out over how fancy this place is. I’m not sure I can even pronounce half the stuff on this menu.”

Paige laughed, the sound warm and unguarded, and it immediately put you at ease. “Relax, it’s just dinner. Think of it as a really well-decorated diner.”

You raised an eyebrow, fighting back a grin. “A diner where the appetizers cost more than my grocery bill for the week?”

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, her playful grin firmly in place. “Okay, how about this? I’ll order for both of us. Deal?”

Your eyes narrowed slightly, both intrigued and skeptical. “Bold move, Bueckers. What if I hate what you pick?”

Paige’s grin widened, and she tilted her head slightly, her voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Then I’ll spend the rest of the night making it up to you.”

Your breath caught, the words hitting with more weight than you expected. You tried to keep your composure, but Paige wasn’t done. She leaned back in her seat, her eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and confidence. “But, let’s be real—you won’t hate it. I have excellent taste.”

“Oh, do you now?” you shot back, finding your footing again in the banter. “And how exactly do you know that?”

She shrugged, a hint of challenge in her expression. “Well, you’re here with me, aren’t you? That’s proof enough.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. “Wow. You’re really laying it on thick tonight, huh?”

“Just calling it like I see it,” Paige replied smoothly, her grin softening into something more genuine. “But seriously, Y/N, don’t stress. This is supposed to be fun, remember? Let me handle the menu, and you just enjoy the night. Deal?”

You hesitated for a moment, but the way she was looking at you—equal parts playful and sincere—made it impossible to say no. Finally, you nodded. “Alright, Bueckers. But if you order something weird, I’m holding it against you forever.”

Paige chuckled, lifting her hand as if swearing an oath. “Noted. I promise to stick to the non-weird stuff.”

As the server approached, Paige rattled off an order with a confidence that impressed you, selecting dishes that sounded fancy without being over-the-top. The way she spoke to the server—polite but with a casual ease—only added to the charm she seemed to be radiating tonight.

Once the server left, Paige’s attention shifted back to you, her gaze soft but focused. She drummed her fingers lightly on the table, a teasing glint in her eye. “Alright, serious question time,” she said, her tone light but curious. “What’s the weirdest pregame ritual you’ve ever heard of?”

The question caught you off guard, and you blinked at her before breaking into a grin. “That’s random.”

She shrugged, her lips curving into a lazy smile. “I was just thinking about how some of my teammates have the wildest superstitions. Like one of them has to tie their shoes in the exact same order every time. Left shoe first, three loops, then right shoe. It’s wild.”

You chuckled, leaning back in your seat as you thought about it. “Okay, okay. Weirdest one I’ve ever heard? I interviewed a softball player once who said she had to eat the exact same breakfast before every game—eggs, toast, and a single slice of pineapple. If the pineapple wasn’t there, she swore it threw her off completely.”

Paige’s eyes widened, and she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “A single slice? That’s… oddly specific.”

“I know, right? She was dead serious about it, though. Said it was her ‘good luck charm.’”

Paige laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “I get it, though. Sports are such a mental game. Sometimes those little things trick your brain into thinking you’ve got the edge.”

“Okay, Miss Rational Athlete,” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Do you have any weird pregame habits I should know about?”

Her smile turned sheepish, and she looked down at her hands for a moment before meeting your gaze. “Nothing too crazy. But I do this thing where I listen to the same song right before warmups. It’s like my hype track.”

You leaned forward, intrigued. “What song?”

She hesitated, a playful grimace crossing her face. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“No promises.”

Paige rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the grin tugging at her lips. “Alright, it’s ‘Run This Town.’”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of you. “Are you serious? That song’s so old!”

“Hey!” she protested, pointing a finger at you. “It’s a classic. Plus, it works. Gets me in the zone every time.”

“Okay, okay,” you relented, still grinning. “I’ll give you that. But now I’m curious—what’s your off-court hype song?”

She tilted her head, considering it for a moment. “Off-court? Probably something chill, like ‘Best Part.’”

The answer surprised you, and it must have shown on your face because Paige raised an eyebrow. “What? You didn’t think I was capable of being mellow?”

“I mean… not really,” you teased, biting back a smile.

She laughed, shaking her head. “Wow. See, this is why I asked you out. You keep me humble.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, your chest warming at the sincerity beneath her playful words. “Glad I could be of service.”

Paige leaned back, her eyes scanning your face like she was committing every detail to memory. “Alright, your turn. What’s the one thing that always gets you in the zone? For work, podcasts, whatever.”

You thought about it for a moment, tapping your fingers against the table. “Honestly? Coffee. I know it’s basic, but if I don’t have a cup before I start working, it’s game over. My brain just doesn’t function.”

She laughed, her gaze softening. “That’s not basic. That’s survival. Trust me, I’ve seen my teammates without coffee before morning practice. It’s not pretty.”

The two of you fell into an easy rhythm after that, the conversation flowing effortlessly as you swapped stories and quirks. Paige shared tales of grueling practices and ridiculous pranks her teammates had pulled, while you recounted some of your most memorable podcast interviews and the behind-the-scenes chaos that often went unnoticed by listeners.

By the time the first course arrived, you were completely at ease, the earlier tension long forgotten. Paige had a way of drawing you in, her attention unwavering and her presence magnetic. And as the night went on, you couldn’t help but notice how natural it all felt—like the two of you had been doing this for years instead of just navigating the uncharted territory of a first date.

**********

Dinner was… perfect. Not just because of the food—though each dish that arrived was better than the last, a delicate balance of flavors that you could still taste long after the plates were cleared. No, what made the night unforgettable was Paige herself. She had a way of making even the most mundane details captivating, her stories woven with humor, sincerity, and a touch of self-deprecation that made you smile more times than you could count.

She leaned back against the booth, her posture relaxed but her eyes alight with energy as she recounted her childhood in Minnesota. “We didn’t have much, but we had a hoop in the driveway. That was all I needed,” she said, her voice softening with nostalgia. “I’d be out there for hours, shooting until it got so dark I couldn’t see the rim. And even then, I’d keep going, pretending I was hitting buzzer-beaters in some championship game.”

Her gaze drifted to her glass, the condensation forming lazy trails down the sides as she toyed with the stem. “I probably drove my parents crazy. The sound of the ball hitting the pavement, over and over…” She chuckled, the memory warming her voice. “But I’d get lost in it, you know? Like nothing else mattered in those moments.”

You found yourself smiling, caught up in the vivid picture she painted. It was easy to imagine a younger version of Paige, her determination already evident as she honed her craft under a dimming sky. “Sounds like you were always destined for the big stage,” you said, your tone half-teasing but mostly genuine.

Her eyes flicked up to meet yours, and there was a flicker of something in them—gratitude, maybe, or acknowledgment. “Maybe,” she said with a small shrug. “But what about you? What got you into media? There’s gotta be a story there.”

You hesitated, the question pulling you back into your own memories. You reached for your glass, taking a sip to gather your thoughts. “It wasn’t anything glamorous,” you started, setting the glass back down. “I just grew up obsessed with sports. My first crush was a soccer player I saw on TV—I had no idea what was happening in the game, but I was glued to the screen.”

Paige grinned, a playful glint in her eye. “A soccer player? Scandalous.”

You laughed, nudging her foot lightly under the table. “I was, like, ten. Cut me some slack.”

She laughed along with you, the sound bright and infectious, but her expression softened as you continued.

“Anyway,” you said, leaning forward, “I realized pretty early on that I wasn’t going to be the one making highlight reels, but I loved the stories behind them—the moments, the people. So, I started writing. Got into broadcasting later. It felt natural, like I could connect to the games in a different way.”

Her brow furrowed slightly, as if she were trying to piece something together. “But… you almost gave it up, right? You mentioned that on the podcast once.”

You nodded, suddenly finding the edge of your napkin very interesting. “Yeah. There was a time when it felt… impossible, I guess. The deadlines, the pressure to be better, the endless grind of it all. I started wondering if I was even good enough to be in the same room as the people I admired.”

Her expression grew serious, and she tilted her head slightly, her attention locked on you in a way that made your chest tighten. “So why didn’t you?”

Her question was simple, but it hit somewhere deep. You fiddled with your fork, tracing its edge against the plate. “I guess… I just couldn’t imagine doing anything else. Even when it got hard, there was this pull, like I needed it. Telling those stories, being part of that world—it felt like a part of me, like letting it go would mean losing something important.”

Paige was quiet for a moment, her lips curving into a faint smile. “I get that,” she said softly. “Basketball’s the same for me. It’s not just a game—it’s everything. It’s who I am.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The restaurant’s soft lighting seemed to cast the booth in a bubble, insulating you from the world outside. You could hear the gentle hum of conversation around you, the clinking of glasses and silverware, but it all felt distant—unimportant compared to the presence in front of you.

You glanced at her, the sharp lines of her face softened by the warm light, and felt a strange sense of peace. The kind of peace that came not from the absence of noise, but from being seen—really seen—by someone who understood.

She shifted slightly, her arm resting casually along the back of the booth, her eyes never leaving yours. “You know,” she said after a beat, her tone lighter now, “I think we’re both just a couple of overachievers trying not to burn out.”

You snorted, breaking the stillness with a laugh. “Sounds about right.”

Her grin widened, and she tapped the edge of her glass against yours in a mock toast. “To overachieving, then. And maybe figuring it out along the way.”

You clinked your glass against hers, smiling despite yourself. “I’ll drink to that.”

And as the night stretched on, the conversation shifted back to lighter topics—favorite movies, embarrassing childhood stories, and the kind of idle banter that felt effortless. But the memory of that shared moment, the quiet understanding between you, lingered like a thread tying the night together.

After dinner, Paige suggested a walk. The air was crisp but not biting, carrying the faint scent of rain from earlier in the day. You strolled through the quiet streets, the usual city buzz softened under the golden glow of streetlights. The soft shuffle of your footsteps filled the pauses in conversation, and the occasional murmur of distant laughter or the faint hum of passing cars added a comforting rhythm to the night.

“This was nice,” you said, glancing at Paige out of the corner of your eye.

She turned to look at you, her hands tucked casually into the pockets of her jacket, the edges of her hair catching the light. “Yeah?” she asked, her tone warm, teasing but earnest.

“Yeah,” you replied with a small smile. “You definitely exceeded expectations.”

Her lips quirked into a grin, a flicker of pride dancing in her eyes. “Good. I wasn’t sure if I could top the coffee shop date.”

You laughed softly, the memory of that day sparking a familiar warmth. “This was… different.”

“Better?” she asked, her head tilting slightly, as if your answer really mattered to her.

You nodded, feeling the weight of her gaze settle on you like a gentle pressure. “Yeah. Better.”

The space between you seemed to shrink as you continued walking, your shoulders brushing occasionally. Every accidental touch sent a quiet thrill through you, a reminder of how your connection with her seemed to deepen with every moment.

At one point, Paige came to an abrupt stop, her sneakers scuffing against the pavement. You turned to face her, puzzled, and found her looking at you with an expression that was open yet uncharacteristically hesitant.

“Can I ask you something?” she said, her voice softer than usual, almost tentative.

You tilted your head, trying to ignore the way your heart picked up its pace. “Depends,” you replied lightly, though the intensity in her gaze was making it hard to keep your tone steady.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her hands still in her pockets. It was as if she was searching for the right words, the confident Paige you knew now replaced with someone more vulnerable, someone whose sincerity tugged at your chest.

“What are we doing here?” she asked at last, the question hanging between you like a delicate thread. “I mean… I know what I want this to be, but I don’t want to assume anything.”

You blinked, caught completely off guard by her sudden honesty. Her usual confidence, so steady and self-assured, now gave way to something raw and unguarded.

“Paige…” you started, unsure of what to say.

She didn’t give you a chance to fill the silence, her words spilling out in a rush. “I just—look, I don’t want to screw this up, okay? This, you, us… whatever this is becoming. I’m not good at figuring this stuff out, but I know how I feel about you, and I need to know we’re on the same page.”

You stared at her, the faint sheen of vulnerability in her eyes anchoring you in place. She wasn’t hiding behind jokes or bravado; she was laying it all out for you, her walls nowhere in sight.

Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers brushing against hers before curling gently around them. “You’re not screwing anything up,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the wild pounding of your heart. “This is… whatever we want it to be.”

She let out a slow breath, her shoulders easing as the tension melted away. “Okay,” she said after a beat, her voice quieter now. “Good. Because I really like you, Y/N. And I want to see where this goes.”

Her admission made your chest tighten in the best way, the sincerity in her voice wrapping around you like a warm embrace. You smiled, unable to stop yourself even if you tried. “I like you too, Bueckers,” you said, your words teasing but completely genuine. “Now, can we keep walking before I overthink this and ruin the moment?”

She laughed, the sound breaking the tension and making the streetlights around you seem a little brighter. “Lead the way,” she said, her hand still brushing against yours as you resumed your walk.

And as the two of you moved forward into the quiet night, the unspoken promise of something more hung between you, electric and full of possibility.

When Paige walked you back to your apartment, the crisp night air seemed to cling to your skin, amplifying the charged silence that settled between you. Every step felt deliberate, the quiet hum of the city around you fading into the background. Standing just outside your door, she lingered, her hands shoved into her jacket pockets as if she was holding something back, her gaze steady and searching.

“I had a great time tonight,” she said, her voice lower than usual, like she was sharing a secret meant only for you.

“Me too,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended, your pulse quickening under the intensity of her attention.

For a moment, it seemed like she might leave. Her weight shifted, her eyes flickering between the door and your face, a subtle war playing out in her expression. Then, almost imperceptibly, she took a step closer, her proximity making the air between you feel heavier, charged.

Her hand brushed against yours—a fleeting, deliberate touch. “Would it be crazy,” she asked, her tone both hesitant and daring, “if I asked to come in?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of her question settling in your chest. The tension that had been simmering beneath the surface all night now felt like a live wire sparking between you. Your breath caught for a moment before you answered, your voice soft but sure. “It wouldn’t be crazy,” you murmured, stepping aside to let her in.

Paige moved past you, her shoulder grazing yours in the process, sending a thrill up your spine. The door clicked shut behind her, the sound impossibly loud in the quiet intimacy of your apartment. She turned to face you, her jacket still hanging open, her hands now free and resting at her sides. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes—they were full of intent, smoldering with something that made your heart pound in your chest.

“So,” she said after a moment, her tone playful but tinged with something deeper, more serious, “what happens now?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with possibility. Words seemed useless—there was no answer you could give that wouldn’t pale in comparison to the gravity of the moment. So instead of speaking, you closed the distance between you, your feet moving before your mind could catch up.

Her breath hitched when you reached her, and for a fleeting second, her confidence faltered, replaced by something raw and vulnerable. Her hands found your waist with an almost tentative touch, her fingers pressing into you as if testing the waters. But when you didn’t pull away, when you instead leaned in closer, her grip tightened, pulling you flush against her.

The world outside ceased to exist. It was just you and Paige, the heat between you building like a slow burn finally catching fire. Her lips hovered inches from yours, her breath warm against your skin as her eyes searched yours for permission, for reassurance.

You didn’t make her wait. Your hands slid up her arms, your fingers curling lightly against the back of her neck, guiding her down to meet you. When your lips finally met, it wasn’t tentative or hesitant—it was purposeful, a culmination of the tension that had been simmering all evening, maybe even longer.

Her kiss was soft at first, exploratory, but it quickly deepened, her confidence returning as she pressed closer, her hands slipping from your waist to the small of your back. Every touch, every movement felt deliberate, like she was committing the moment to memory.

When you finally broke apart, breathless but unwilling to let go, her forehead rested against yours, her voice a soft murmur in the charged silence. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” she confessed, a small smile tugging at her lips.

You laughed quietly, your hands still resting on her shoulders. “You’re not the only one.”

Her smile grew, her confidence now fully restored. “Then I guess I should’ve asked to come in sooner,” she teased, her fingers tracing idle patterns along your back.

Your only response was to tug her closer, ready to let whatever was building between you take its natural course.

#paige buckets #paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #wcbb #uconn wcbb #wlw fanfic #wlw post

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 10 months ago

Text

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 23] || [Chapter 25]

Pairing: 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.8K~ Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: just cute little moments w/ a lot of banter bc ofc

Chapter 24: Pokémon?

“So, yeah, now, even their Captain wants to…” You trail off awkwardly as you press your lips together, looking at the dropped jaws on the other side of the brunch table from you.

“Hun, I don’t- We might-” Leah starts as she stares at you, blinking away the surprise as she holds the utensils.

“Right?” Mia retorts as she stares at you. “The candle I lit for you worked too well, I reckon…”

“No, really, we girlbossed a bit too close to the sun… Manifested this too hard.” Leah adds, making Mia agree eagerly.

Your face warms up and you lower your head, taking a sip of your tea. You definitely shouldn’t be having this talk about your love and sex life inside this French bistro… but alas.

“Four? I mean… Four fwb would be understandable, you know?” Mia adds and Leah nods.

“But four boyfriends?” Leah adds. “And they’re all friends, and work together?”

“They’re not my boyfriends!” You retort as you say sharply, your face burning up a bit.

“Oh yeah? Are you seeing anyone else?” Leah retorts, ever the more logical of the three of you.

“No, but like, when would I have the time for that?” You retort and that earns chuckles from all three of you.

“Good point.” Leah concedes as she sips her own warm cappuccino.

“Regardless, they literally BEAT-” Mia lowers her voice when she realize she’s being too loud. “they beat Ethan’s arse for you.” She whisper shouts. “Fwbs don’t do that, boyfriends do!”

“Right!” Leah agrees and gestures at them. “They’re absolutely your boyfriends.”

“I hate you both.” You retort and shake your head, amused, which causes all three of you to break into giggles.

“So, which one of them is, you know-” Mia asks in a mischievous tone just as you just ate a bit of omelette, causing your eyes to widen as you stare at her.

“I feel like I’m being mocked.” You quip.

Once again the two of them erupt with laughs. “I’m sorry, hun, but we’ve gotta live vicariously through you!” Leah says, Mia nodding in agreement.

“Nooo, you’re taking the piss out of me!” You reply with a chuckle.

“C’moooooon! Gossip with us! We barely see you nowadays!” Mia begs as she puts her hands together in pleading.

“Oh bloody hell…” You retort. “I don’t know-”

“Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease!” Mia begs.

“Alright! Gosh, I was going to say ‘I don’t know because I haven’t been with all of them yet’!” You reply.

“You haven’t?!” The girls say with a loud gasp that attracts loads of side-eye from the other patrons. You’re probably going to get kicked out soon.

“Will you shush?” You scold them, eyes widened and lips pressed together. “No, I haven’t.”

“You’ve got to!” Mia tells you.

“We’ll get there, we’re taking it slow.” You reply.

“Babes, they beat up your ex-” Leah tells you. “They’ve all slept over at some point, they pick you up from work every day, as long as they’re in town-” She continues to list, counting with her fingers.

“Right, you’re skipping through all the loops. There’s no ‘taking it slow’!” Mia adds. “Hop on those cocks, bloody hell!”

“MIA!” You scold her with a dropped jaw.

“Oh, don’t play coy now! You’ve got four boyfriends!” Leah retorts and narrows her eyes at you, sticking her tongue out now.

“Right, collecting them like trading cards.” Mia adds, causing the three of you to laugh again.

“They’re like Pokémon, you’ve just Gotta Catch’Em All!” Leah adds, causing you to cover your mouth to hide a snort of a laugh.

“Fuck you both, honestly!” You quip playfully. You missed them, missed the laughs they’ve provided you.

“No, but really now.” Leah says once you’ve all calmed down. “They make you really happy, we can see it.” She looks at you with a warm smile on her lips.

“They do.” You confirm with a sheepish nod and smile.

“I really hopes it works out between you and them.” Mia adds. “It’s so nice to see you smile this much!” Her tone is sincere and sweet.

“Thank you…” You say softly. “I hope so too.” You tell them.

“It better, or I’ll go after them with my pipe!” Mia warns, referencing an inside joke between the three of you, a piece of rusty pipe a repairman left behind at her flat after fixing her bathroom sink, which she now uses as her ‘signature weapon’.

“Right, you’re gonna pipe four soldiers?” You joke a bit, sarcastically.

“Oh no, hun, they’re the ones piping you!” Mia adds and you all lose it laughing again.

“So when are we going to meet them?” Leah teases.

You shouldn’t have been surprised that Kyle would answer your texts so quick.

You also shouldn’t have been surprised that he brought Johnny in tow.

And yet you were.

You texted Kyle your location and in less than 20 minutes he was jogging up the pavement, Johnny hot on his heels. You could see them coming through the window.

“Bloody hell…” You mutter as you watch them turn to go through the front door of the café/bistro.

“What?” Leah asks and before you can say anything, they both turn to look at where you are, finding Kyle and Johnny strolling right in and in your direction, cute little smirks on their lips.

Your friends recognize them immediately, of course, you had shown plenty of pictures, especially when you had just matched them on Tinder… But seeing them in real life is always different.

Kyle’s pretty boy-ing as usual. White v-neck to show off his collar bones and defined chest, grey jeans, white Converse and a black denim jacket overtop of it. He has his cutest smile on, pretty lashes fluttering as he comes to stand by your side.

“Hi, lovie…” He greets you and leans down, kissing the top of your head, before turning to greet your friends. “Hey, I’m Kyle!” He says politely.

He barely has time to say anything else before Johnny, throws himself onto the free chair next to you, the last one at this table for four, his arms wrapping around your shoulders.

“Mo leannan, ye look so bonnie…” He says before gripping you around the jaw and stealing a direct, open-mouthed kiss from you. Your eyes widen the moment he does, causing you to carefully hold onto his beefy forearm, returning the kiss to the best of your (embarrassed) abilities.

Just as you’re pulling away, you can hear Kyle justifying the kiss to your flabbergasted friends. “Forgive ‘im, he was raised in a barn.”

“Haud Yer Wheesht! I was not!” Johnny retorts as he turns to look at your friends. “Hi, I’m Johnny.” He adds as a greeting, a lopsided smirk on his face, as he reaches forward to… shake hands with your friends.

Johnny smells strongly of deodorant. That Lynx body spray shite he always sprays on himself. It’s not bad, but it’s strong… You’re only lucky the leather jacket he’s wearing conceals it a bit.

It’s an old thing, maybe a couple of decades’ old, the leather starting to wear out over the shoulders, and he’s paired it with a light blue hoodie, dark jeans and black combat boots.

“Was too.” Kyle retorts, a bit childishly as he comes to stand by your side, his hands caressing your bare arms in the t-shirt you’re wearing. “You three been having fun?” He asks you and your friends. Ever mature and considerate, he is.

Your friends are still just staring. Sure, they knew you haven’t been lying to them as you told them about your relationship with these men but it’s one thing to hear about it, the other to see it.

“Yep, we had fun, Gaz…” You say softly, catching the way Johnny’s just serving himself to the dessert you haven’t yet touched on your plate.

“You really were raised in a barn.” You tell him. “Don’t even ask permission to eat my food?” You scold him, which causes him to smirk again.

“Either I stuff my mouth with food or with you. And I’m still civilised enough to know the last one is frowned upon to do in public.” Johnny retorts, then his smile grows into an impish grin. “Unless you’re into some… kinky things.” He winks.

That causes you to sputter and look away, grumbling under your breath as his ever-present tendency to make dirty jokes.

“I like ‘im!” Mia announces suddenly as she stares at Johnny.

“I knew you would. You two think the same.” You tell her and shake your head. “Which is why I only asked Kyle to come.” You add and stare at Kyle with a cocked brow, as if questioning why he didn’t come along.

“He was on his knees begging to come. What was I supposed to do? Leave ‘im behind?” Kyle quips, a playful smirk on his lips.

“Was not!!!!” Johnny retorts. “I just figured out he was coming to see you and joined in!” He adds. “Plus, my feelings are hurt you didn’t want me to come!” He tells you with a fake pout.

“Oh, piss off, it’s not that I didn’t want you to come!” You say simply. “It’s just that you’re…”

“A dickhead.” Kyle finishes for you.

“NO!” You scold Kyle. “I was going to say ‘Intense’.”

“Intense? That feels like a euphemism for something bad, mo leannan!” The Scot tells you as he pops a macaron into his mouth.

“That’s ‘cause it is.” Kyle replies for you.

“It’s not- Kyle!”

“And your friends already like me, don’t ye?” Johnny turns his attention to the girls.

“Yes, we do!” Mia replies and nods.

Leah still hasn’t shaken out of her stupor. “My God, there’s two of them.” She says as she looks back and forth between Mia and Johnny.

“I know… I know…” You soothe her in a playfully annoyed tone.

“So, Johnny, is it?” Mia quips and leans forward to whisper conspirationally. “Give it to us straight. How does it work?” She points vaguely at you and him and Kyle.

“Mia!” You scold her this time. “I thought we were past those topics?”

“‘Those’ topics?” Kyle asks as he lowers himself near you to listen in better. “And what topics would those be?” He adds, as if he’s not perfectly aware they mean you guys’ sex life.

“Oh my God, Kyle, not you too!” You whine as you look at him.

“Nae, it’s fine that they’re curious!” Johnny quips on the other side. “I’ll gladly tell ye all about it!”

“Johnny!” You scold him again, sounding ever the more exasperated.

“Oh, you wouldn’t have anythin’ to tell either way, you dickhead.” Kyle retorts. “I’m the only one that has all the tea to share.”

“KYLE!” You scold him too, your head going back and forth between the two men flanking you.

The banter continues, your friends seemingly absolutely engrossed in the two sergeants, the way they’re making you sweat, and almost begging for the side of the gossip you had swiftly evaded earlier in the brunch.

“God help me survive this-” You murmur to yourself, feeling crescently embarrassed as everyone on the table takes the piss out of you. “I hate you all… I should’ve just invited Simon…”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @cod-z , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark

@severenswife , @enarien, @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket

#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod smut #141 x reader

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c0smicst4rdust · 9 months ago

Text

Francis Mosses (Milkman) X Fem reader

🔞

TW!: Oral sex, cheating (slightly mentioned), minimal aggression/hardcore, use of y/n, dom partner, cum play, wall sex.

Word count: 1,221k

this took over a week enjoy😭

LEAVE ANY FEEDBACK IN COMMENTS AND MY ASKS ARE OPEN

“Can this job get anymore boring”. I think to myself as someone walks in. I sit up straight and look to find out who's there, it's Mia and something seems off about her appearance, but I can't pinpoint exactly what it is.

“I need your entry request and id, you're not on today's list”. She seemed to be zoned out on something behind me. “Excuse me, Ma’am” I say in a deep nasty tone, she looks at me blankly and I say “Sorry, that was so unprofessional of me. I'm tired, May i have your id and entry request”

. She keeps the same expression and hands me the stuff out of her purse without opening her mouth. And there it was, a typo and past expiration date right on her id. I lock the door without hesitating and call the D.D.D… “Protocol Completed”.

I sit back in my chair and feel a little vibration on my butt. It was my phone ringing from a text notification from my boyfriend. “Y/n where are you?”. The text seemed bolder than the rest and I feel as if I can almost hear him right next to me.

Another person walks in, i didn't even need to think twice that sexy walk and hot body told you all you needed to know. It was Francis of course, the sexy milkman everyone was simping over. I can't blame them, the man is perfect.

He walks up to me with 8 jugs of milk in his right hand, his left already handing me an id “Hello, Francis.” I admire his face right in front of me. “Hello Darling '' he says, shooting me a wink. I feel my heart drop and try to keep my jaw from hitting the desk. He could tell I was surprised, he then said “ Sorry, I didn't mean to make you shy, princess”. He said unbuttoning the first button on his shirt staring deeply at me with those hot tired brown eyes.

I literally couldn't speak. I didn't know what to reply to that. “Let me in, you wont regret it.” Without blinking I opened the door. “Good girl” he says as he walks out of my view. Why did I let him go like that? I feel so stup- my thoughts are interrupted by the office door swinging open. And there Francis was again leaning on the door frame.

He walks over to me and lifts my chin so my eyes meet his “be careful who you let it in '' he says before lifting me and pinning me to the wall. I then feel my heart racing, feeling as if it'll pop straight out of my chest. I then say “what are you doing to me”

I wasn't trying to get out of his grasp. I just struggled to find out why the hell this hot man has me pinned. “I'm going to make you cum” he says, kissing my neck up to my cheek and back down to my neck again. I couldnt believe what he just said, he wants to fuck me? No, I must have fallen asleep.

I feel my shirt get ripped off of me then I see it fly to the floor. Staring at my titties he starts unbuttoning his pants and pulling down his boxers, a large king size erect dick dripping with precum is there waiting for something good to happen. “Get on your knees fruit cup” Francis then says and without a second thought i was on my knees jerking him slow but tight.

Small groans are mumbled out of his mouth as he slowly spits out “Good… girl-” I then put the tip of his 11 inch cock in my mouth licking his slit as I play with his balls. He throws his head back and moans as I put it deeper in my mouth.

A thick line of cum then squirts out his throbbing tip “FUCK” he moans out of breath. I then get up, unbutton his shirt and take it off of him and pull him to the office chair. I sat down as he kneeled down in front of me lifting my legs above his shoulders. He chuckles at the sight of my wet panties and starts rubbing my clit with his thumb.

He lifts my ass off the chair to take my panties off. He puts two fingers in my hole slowly but hard, I then try and pull back biting my lip as he starts licking away at my pussy. “You’re not going anywhere my love. Sit back and enjoy yourself” he starts back at my clit as i start moaning. I'm losing my virginity to what seems to be a monster right now. What will my boyfriend think about this if he found out? What if he gets me pregnant? It's ok though, at least he's hot.

He starts speeding up and it forces me to roll my eyes to the back of my head and moan louder. “Baby. P-please stop.'' I beg softly. He chuckles and mumbles “why” as he continues to flick his tongue on my clit. “Daddy. Really stop, I'm about to cum… FUCK” i scream “babe i really cant take it any longer”

He ignores me and goes faster. I then start squirting all over his face. “BABY STOP I CAN'T-” “Ok, just because I'm ready to put it in”. He licked it one more time then kissed it and I stood up fast. I saw his face covered in my juices, he licked his lips while staring deeply at me “you taste very good babe”. “Mm yea i try to keep it that way”

I jump in his arms and wrap my legs around his waist. “Are you really Francis or am I just fucking a fraud?”. “Come on baby does it matter, we've come so far, and so much” he said with a big grin. Then slams me into the wall and positions his dick into my pussy. He then fucks me so hard it felt like my pussy was going to explode. He groaned deep but loud, as i was trying not to scream and push. “Fuck daddy harder”. “Oh you like that? Let's get this done with, I need sleep to work again in the morning.”.

He then speeds up a couple seconds later at inhuman speeds and it forces me to scream “FRANCIS BABY PLEASE DON'T STOP I NEED YOU TO CUM I DONT EVEN CARE IF YOU GET ME PREGNANT”. “Oh baby trust me I'm not stopping ‘till you're filled to the brim in my cum”.

A few seconds later another load comes out fast in me and on my stomach and titties as I wipe my tears away. he put me down and we start getting dressed. "you never answered my question, are you Francis Mosses or a doppelgangger?". he hands me a note with his personal cell number and says "I hope this answers all your questions. come to my place after work tommorow and we'll go again" he give me a kiss and walks out the door winking.

What the actual fuck just happened? I check my phone and to 10 missed calls and 17 unread messages from me boyfriend. i might end this relationship for my new sexy milkman.

#francis mosses x you #tnmn milkman #that’s not my neighbor #animation #smut #milkman #milkman smut #francis mosses #thats not my neighbor #thats not my neighbour milkman

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ch3rriiii-bunn · 11 months ago

Text

Little game

Paring: Hantengu's clones x Fem!reader

Synopsis: Karaku to you, "Let's play a little game i made," and now you're blind folded, on the couch trying to guess who's eating you out.

Content: Sub reader, Dom clones, blind fold, Bondage, oral sex (reader receiving), Orgasm denial, slight monster fucking? (Their able to grow their tounges long), manhanding, feedbag position (click the link to know what I'm talking about)

Word count: 2.6k

A/n: hi guys!🥹 sorry I was MIA but I'm back!

Saw this idea on Twitter by the user TimieTate and I just HAD to write that idea with the clones😍

"Who's tounge do you think it is pretty girl?" Said a familiar voice that was heard across from you. It was Urogi. You were sat down on the couch, leaning back with your lower half to the edge with your legs open, feeling one of their tounges lapping at your clit. Urogi sat next to you and his claw on your thigh. You felt his large claw grip your thigh, making your legs close on the clone between your legs.

"Get back here! You're going to distract hee from giving an answer. You know how dumb she gets at just our touch alone," Sekido said, thumping his staff on the floor. "Oh, she'll answer. You know it's not me, so hurry up and give your answer. I'm dying to hear your answer," Urogi said in such a dark giggle.

Sekido grunts and shifts his eyes away from Urogi and onto you. "This game is ridiculous. Hurry up and guess who's tounge it is," Sekido said with annoyance in his tone. You bit your bottom lip, moaning softly with a few whines. You never would've thought Karaku wanted to play a game like this and practically put you to the test to tell their difference between their head game.

Although you're blindfolded to guess, you felt all their eyes glued onto you. The clone that was between your thighs was eager. His lips were sucking on your pretty clit while his tounge slide between your folds. You had to make a decision quickly. It clearly wasn't Urogi, Sekido spoke to argue with Urogi across from you so that only left two options.

Aizetsu or Karaku. Although they always get pussu drunk from eating you but one thing you can tell differently is that Aizetsu and karaku never hold back. They'll always start slow and work their way up, and right now, you felt your time running out since you felt your orgasm coming. Sekido reached his staff towards you and poked your side. "You know the rules. Don't fucking cum until you give an answer, or I'll shock you." He firmly said

You whimper softly, knowing you're not allowed to cum but you also didn't want Sekido shocking you like how he would with a spank on your ass when you disobeyed rules. "It's karaku!" You quickly say, your legs flexing a bit, but as soon as you answered, the clone pulled himself away. You shiver, feeling your orgasm wash away but your pussy still leaking with your juices.

Your heavy breathing fills the room as it becomes silent. It was an awkward silence before you felt a hand tightly gripping your thigh and nails dragging down your skin. You groan from the slight pain and then hear a deep scoff from Sekido. Karaku and Urogi laughed uncomfortably like a duo of Hyenas at your answer.

For the moment, you didn't understand until it sunk in a bit after. Before you could say something, Aizetsu spoke. "It wasn't him. It's me." Aizetsu said, with such a soft tone, yet his actions were harsh. "I-im sorry I didn't -" Aizetsu wasn't hearing it and spanked your ass. "When we get our alone time, I'm going to make you tell the difference between me and him," Aizetsu said and got up.

From his tone, you definitely hurt his feelings, but at the same time, you knew a punishment was yet to come. "Aw, you think about me when you're with Aizetsu? I must be that good, huh?" said Karaku, shooting a smirk at Aizetsu. You could feel that tension in the air. You couldn't do much but lay their, hoping Aizetsu will have some mercy on you afterwards, but you doubt it.

You calmed down, and the room went back to silence as the next clone took his turn. He grabbed your inner thigh and held them apart to ensure you don't try and hold his head between your thighs. You moan once you felt a tounge back on your clit, this time your clit being more sensitive from before. You think for a moment through the pleasure but then felt a hand placed on your lower stomach. Four large fingers on your stomach and the thumb pulling the skin back on your clit to he exact.

Your clit throbbed on his tounge and grip your hands onto the couch cushions. The clone then uses his hand to press down on your lower stomach a bit, making you moan out loudly as if you felt your orgasm coming back in seconds. His motivation seemed to get you as close as possible, so you had to answer quickly. "Uro- n-no hah~ Sekido!" Once you answered again, the clone needed to pull back, ruining another orgasm.

"Was that my name at first?" Urogi teased, knowing you were about to say his name bit instantly corrected yourself. Sekido growled. "You're lucky you called the right name," Sekido said and went back to his spot across from you on the couch. You whine softly, "Karaku. You said if I guessed right I'll be allowed to cum" you pout softly.

"I did, didn't I?" Karaku laughed. "But I only said that. Who said to say they'd also listen?" He smirked. You can feel his smug smirk. You should've known better. They all love to tease you until you break. "My turn now," Urogi said, sitting down on the floor and pulling your body closer by your legs and throwing them over his broad shoulders.

"Urogi. Now she knows it's you." Aizetsu sighed in disappointment at Urogi's carelessness. "She'd find out either way. I am the one clone with claws." Urogi chuckled, inches away from your pussy. "Fuck.." you quietly said, just eager to be back on your high and cum. "Ready for me?" Urogi said as his tounge stuck out, giving your puffy pussy soft kitten licks.

You nod. "Then come here" Urogi said as his mouth opens more as you shift your hips further into his face, moaning as his lips make contact with your pussy. Your hand grips onto his hair as you move your hips up and down on his tongue. Urogi will always let you do this to his face. He just can't get enough, and he knows how wet you get from doing that.

Urogi digged his talons in your thighs as he sucks on your clit. It wasn't hard enough to draw blood, but it was definitely enough to leave a trail of scratch marks. Urogi chuckled as he felt your clit throb on his tounge and pulled away for a moment. "Yeah. You love pain mixed in with your pleasure, dont you? How delightful. C'mon baby, keeping going crazy on my tongue," Urogi said, still supporting your lower half.

"Urogi~" You gasped, moaning his name as you bring your hand to your mouth, covering it with the back of your hand and moans into it as your other hand grips onto Urogi's hair as you roll your hips up to grind on his tounge. "Don't cover your damn mouth," Sekido said, wanting to hear your desperate moans to cum.

"I'll handle it when Urogi is done. I'm the one who came up with the game, after all." Karaku grinned. You were getting close. Your breathing quickening, your hand gripping tighter on Urogi's hair and your inside tightening around nothing. Your mouth hung open, even with some droll running down your chin as you were so close but like the others, Urogi stopped just as you were about to cum and pulled away.

"N-no, please-" you begged, not wanting Urogi to stop, but he just laughed at your state. You whimpered softly and even dampened the blind fold with your tears of pleasure. Urogi's claw grabs his chin, "drolling already? Don't waste it. You'll need more of it when you're drooling on my cock later" Urogi said, giving you a kiss, making you taste yourself for a moment and then stepping away.

You felt a bit embarrassed. 3 orgasms were denied and especially in front of four clones. Your breaths hitched. The feeling of your orgasm felt blocked. You could feel it. You knew it was there but slowly fading with each passing second, making you grow sexually frustrated. "Wasn't that fun? Come on, tell me. "Now said Karaku, plopping himself right next to you on the couch as he put his arm around you.

You turned your head and whispered. "Please. Just make me cum" you begged as you rub your thighs together. "Pathetic." Said Aizetsu from across the room, not satisfied with your begs. "I can't hear you y/n. You'll have to speak up!" Urogi spoke loudly, making fun of your soft and shakey tone. "Beg better than that. You're just asking for us to leave you here and not let your finish" said Sekido.

Karaku pouted. Of course, you couldn't see it, but he did. "Oh no, looks like I can't make you cum if you're begging like that, but I can't just leave you here with a pussy that needs to cum can I?" Karaku said, showing fake sympathy for you before laughing and licking your cheek just to get a reaction.

They were so mean, but you couldn't wait any longer. "Please, please Karaku please" you say over and over. "I need to cum. I need you to make me cum" you begged harder to the point of more tears, dampening the blindfold. Karaku could see your desperation and then kissed you for a moment and then, pulling his lips away.

The clones shoot themselves a look, and then, Karaku spoke. "Turn around," Karaku said, and you did, slowly as you moan softly from your thighs, closing a bit just to turn. Your clit has become so sensitive to the point where any touch on it is enough to make you cum. Karaku removed the clothing from his shoulders and then used it to tie your hands behind your back.

"There. Now you won't hide those moans we love so much. Especially Sekido." Karaku chuckled and saw how Sekido turned his face away. Your hands weren't getting out of this. "Lay on your back, beautiful. Don't keep my waiting for my turn," Karaku said, growing eager for his turn after patiently waiting. Karaku didn't hesitate to grab your thighs and push them to your chest.

"Damn. They did a number on you didn't they? Your clit is sticking out so much~" Karaku moaned softly as the sight, smiling at your needy pussy. Karaku stuck his tongue out flat and licks your pussy and between your folds. "And you're so wet. And tasting so good for me. Let me hear how good it feels~" Karaku said though his tounge out as he licks and his lips kissing and sucking on your clit.

There's no way you could try and hide your voice, especially with Karaku keeping his word and eating you out so good and also your hands being bounded by his clothing. Your back arches and karaku only grips onto your shaking thighs tighter as he begins to eat your pussy out roughly.

"How noisy." Aizetsu commented with his usual frown. However, him, as well as his fellow clones, couldn't take their eyes off the site in front of them. If only you didn't have the blind fold on, you could easily see just how hard they've gotten and practically palming their throbbing cocks through their pants. "She'll be more noisy once she's jumping on my cock after this. Right, y/n?" Urogi laughed.

Sekido grunts. He was growing inpatient. He tried to keep his hands away from his crotch, not trying to edge himself through his clothing like Aizetsu and Urogi. Watching you whimper and moan, how your back arches from your hands being tied back and your thighs shaking in Karaku's grip was sending him over the edge already and made him want you even more.

"Hurry up and make her cum already." Sekido said in angered yet almost desperate tone just wanting to be inside you. "Wow look at that. You've managed to get all four demons in heat just from eating you out. Do you think you can handle all of us at once?" Karaku said, sucking on your clit and folds, then stops, making a pop sound. "Or would you have us pass you around like the good whore you are?" Karaku chuckled and gives your thobbing clit a kiss.

Before you could even come up with some kind of answer, you felt something a bit off. Karaku has always put his tongue on your entrance, but you feel his tongue slide between your folds and inside you a bit too easily, almost like his tongue grew. Karaku pulled back for a moment, letting out a sensual huff. He wasn't tired at all, his tounge was still going to work but even he too wanted you cum and taste it all.

Karaku pulled your body by your thighs towards him and then put you in a feedbag position. You gasped, bracing yourself with your arms behind your back. You felt Karaku's breathing against your clit and his hands on your ass as he uses his thumbs to spread you open, watching your wet folds open up with a slick line of your wetness and then disappearing.

"Oh... there's an ability that demons can do," Aizetsu spoke, as if he felt sorry for you. Before you could understand Aizetsu's words, your body shivers as you feel Karaku's tongue again. This time, his tongue licks your thighs and then eventually moves its way inside you. "O-ooh my god~!" Your breaths quickly as you felt his long tongue inside, already beginning to tounge fuck you like it had a mind of its own.

"Demons are able to make our tounges longer." Aizetsu said as he watches you're reaction. "Wh-why haven't any of you done this - aah!~" you say though moans and cries. "I would've done it. If you guessed the right name," Aizetsu said with some petty. "I'm sorryyy~" you whine as your walls clench down on Karaku's tongue, making him moan in response.

"At least she has something to clench on. Your pussy was just acking to be filling wasn't it?" Urogi asked and watches your mouth hangs open with loud moans. "Y-yes! Yes, yes~" you answered through moans as karaku continues to tounge fuck you, watching you with his emerald green eyes.

Aizetsu sighed. "You're so cute when you apologize," Aizetsu said, stepping towards you. "Aizetsu! Wait, your damn turn," Sekido said, but Aizetsu ignored him. "It is fun to watch. Look at how she reacts to her tits being touched." Urogi grinned and bites his lip watching you.

Aizetsu sat down near your head and leaned down, using his hand to grope your tit while using his finger and rub your sensitive nipple. "Gonna cum?" He asked and watching you nod your head quickly. "Yes, yes yes!~" you said, feeling the orgasm coming as you moans get Louder. Your voice was swallowed by Aizetsu, kissing you deeply and even lengthing his tounge to go down your throat.

You choke slightly from the feeling, making out with Aizetsu until your thighs slam shut around Karaku's head as you moan with a soft groan, cumming on Karaku's tounge. Karaku felt your insides throb, holding his tounge in pace until you relax from your orgasm. Karaku pulled his lips away and slides his tounge out of you, reverting it to normal size.

"That felt so fucking good" Karaku said and slaps your ass before putting your body down. Aizetsu soon too pulled his lips away from the kiss and reverted his tongue back to normal and then, pulling the blind fold over your head and watched your eyes flutter.

It took you a moment for your eyes to ajust to the lighting. You blink a few times and sighed in relief to see again, but soon enough, you saw the room shift as you were quickly picked up. You gasped. It was Urogi. His claw held you by the thighs as he held you over his shoulder. "You can't take all of us on the couch. Let's go to the bed, yeah?" He asks for your approval and looks back at you with a smirk.

"Okay~" you respond as Urogi takes you to the bedroom with the others quickly following behind.

The night was still younge, and you had many more hours to spare to entertain them a little more.

Part two? With the foursome?👀

#demon slayer smut #kny smut #aizetsu x reader #karaku x reader #sekido x reader #aizetsu smut #karaku smut #urogi smut #sekido smut #yn

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poeticallyspiteful · 2 months ago

Note

Hi hi can you do a Luke x reader fic where Luke falls in love with a human reader like one day he had to go out from camp and sees her and it’s like love at first sight and so some days he visits her but then disappears for like what seems like months and reader gets tired of it cause she feels like she barely knows anything about him and confronts him abt it but he doesn’t know what to say cause he can’t tell her he’s a Demi god?? Can you make it super angsty and you can decide how it ends sorry if this was confusing🙈🙈

soulmates, right?

luke castellan x reader

angst

summary: you and luke are supposed to be soulmates, but for demigods, good things can never last— or live.

cw: sad ending, kinda graphic descriptors, vomit, mentions of unintentional self harm?? (scratching and bruising in one’s sleep), so much angst dude

notes: so i went MIA and left this in my drafts cause i thought it was bad but i guess it’s not actually that bad. enjoy 💗

“i don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

luke’s heart stopped— stopped beating, stopped pumping blood, stopped keeping the rest of his organs functioning as he felt himself shut down.

“w-what?” he stammered, clambering towards his girlfriend, his love, his everything, on a hardly working pair shaking legs.

she sat— beautifully, might he add— on the edge of the cliff where he’d first met her and she looked just as perfect as she did back then.

wild flowers gathered around her, so carefully and which such individual purpose that if he didn’t know better, he’d think she was a daughter of demeter herself.

as much as he hated being a half blood, he found himself wishing she somehow, secretly was.

that would make everything so much easier.

“you’re hiding things from me.” she didn’t even seem fazed yet every word you said, every second she spent looking out at the forest instead of at him, was like a knife to the gut. “you haven’t been honest with me, luke, and i don’t like liars.”

luke felt his jaw creak from the way it hung on its hinges, and he found his knees finally giving in as he sunk to the ground just behind her.

“no, no, no, i’m sorry,” he whispered, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her hand. “please, darling, you have to believe me. i’ve never wanted to keep anything from you, i don’t have a choice.”

because how could he ever explain it?

she’d think he was insane.

son of hermes.

greek gods and monsters and dead girls turned into trees.

she’d think he was absolutely out of his mind.

she laughed softly, shaking her head. “i really, really wish i believed you.”

she pulled yourself up off the ground on slow and steady feel and before he could think about it, luke was wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back towards him like a life raft in a stormy sea. he sat on his knees, cheek pressed against the soft flesh of her stomach, his tears slowly bleeding into her shirt.

“i’m sorry, i’m so, so sorry,” he whispered, clinging to her for dear life because for all he knew, this was the last time he’d ever see her. the last time he’d get to touch her or hold her or hear her voice.

but that wasn’t right. no, she was his soulmate, and weren’t soulmates supposed to stay together forever?

“luke, please let me go.”

he felt his gut wrench, like something was trying to crawl out of him, and he choked on a sob.

“please, i’m so sorry,” he begged, holding onto her tighter as he felt her shift. he knew he should let her go— that it was her choice and that he deserved this— but he couldn’t help but hold on just a moment longer.

he wanted to memorize the way she felt too soft and pure for the world, the way she smelled, like honey and fruit. he wanted to memorize every part of she before he lost it all.

“luke—”

“i love you,” he blurted out, finally looking up and trying desperately to find her gaze. “i know i am so wrong to keep things from you and i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, but i love you more than i’ve ever loved anything and i can’t just let you go.”

when she fell silent, it almost gave luke hope— that was until he felt her hands firm on his shoulders, pushing him firmly, yet carefully, off of her.

“i’m sorry, luke, but i can’t see you anymore.”

luke didn’t leave his cabin for three weeks after that lovely afternoon, when she ripped his heart right out of his chest and threw it off that cliff.

he sat on the cliffside until the sunset, and he cried and cried and cried until the sky started crying back at him, pelting rain drops mixing with the tears. it was almost cinematic— something he might have appreciated if he wasn’t so broken.

he felt a pain in his chest that he’d never experienced before, and while he had to assume is was from the gaping hole she’d left behind after her sudden departure, it was unlike anything he’d ever imagined before.

finally, with swollen eyes and a soar throat, he stumbled back to camp half blood and into the hermes cabin. he fell into his bed and laid there, motionless, until the morning came.

over the next three weeks, he only got up to use the bathroom, choke down some food, or to give chris a short explanation of his behavior.

“there’s a mortal girl,” he muttered, struggling to swallow a bite of porridge. “i love her— she left me— and i’m here.”

chris sympathized with his brother, but he learned very quickly that luke did not want to talk about her.

so he didn’t.

until a month later.

“luke, buddy— i have to tell you something,” christ said lowly, looking oddly grey for such a nice day.

luke hummed, absentmindedly folding laundry, seeming completely devoid of life.

“they— uh— they found a mortal girl in the woods this morning,” chris whispered, approaching him slowly from behind like a rabid animal he was scared to startle for fear of being attacked. “they said she must have been sneaking around the camp’s border and some sort of monster got her.”

lukes hands stopped, the orange camp shirt sitting limply in his hands.

“no,” he replied, sternly, refusing to glance up at his brother. he just stared at the shirt, burning holes in the fabric with his eyes, like maybe if he burnt the shirt it would burn the half blood out of him too. “that’s—that’s impossible, why would a mortal girl be snooping around that close to camp?”

he knew why. of course he knew why, he just didn’t want to say it.

“she… she had something in her hand,” chris choked out, reaching out with a shaking fist, and dropping something in lukes lap.

if luke thought he’d given up before, that was nothing compared to what he felt when his camp necklace, which he’d given to you 9 months prior, fell back into his possession with a rattle.

he couldn’t even check to see if those spots were dirt or dried blood before he felt his vision growing fuzzy, and suddenly, he was scrambling off of his bed and to the nearest trash can.

he hurled up the breakfast he’d barely even eaten, but his body kept trying to reject something that was inside of him. he thought he might actually puke up his guts.

you were trying to find him.

you must’ve followed him.

right to the camp.

right to your death.

it was all his fault.

“luke, you have to breath.” it was chris at his shoulder, wrapping a strong arm around his middle to pull him back to the bed. luke didn’t even realize he’d been crying until he saw chris grabbing the tissues and sitting down across from him on the bed.

“she can’t— it can’t be her,” luke whispered, glancing between chris and the bloodied necklace. “she can’t be gone, chris. she can’t— she— i love her, she can’t leave me.”

chris bit his tongue so hard he thought it would bleed; he couldn’t tell him. he couldn’t look his brother in the eye and tell him a truth that would result in an unraveling that would never end.

he couldn’t bare the news that left luke a torn up heap of flesh and bone with no heart or soul.

he couldn’t bring down his brothers world with just a few words about a girl that he had never even met alive, that he couldn’t ever grieve the way luke undoubtedly will.

he couldn’t.

but he did.

“she’s gone, luke.”

another month later, luke started having strange dreams.

for the longest time after her death, luke had nightmares about the monster that killed her; they said it was difficult to say, since her body was mangled and worn by the elements, so his mind just made up a new one every time.

a minotaur.

a fury.

a hellhound.

a harpy.

his father— that one had some kick to it.

every night was another rerun of her death.

the only part that was never rewritten was that luke was watching, helpless at the sidelines, unable to save her. he screamed, he cried, fought so hard against invisible restraints that he’d wake up with scratches and bruisers from head to toe, but it never changed.

you died, he watched, and he woke up.

that was, until, one night when a deep voice broke through her screams and his cries, and the forest disappeared in a sea of darkness.

there was only him.

and that deep, looming voice.

#fanfic #luke castellan requests #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson tv show #charlie bushnell #luke castellan angst #luke castellan x you

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soulofapatrick · 1 month ago

Text

Fighting for Control - Rhysand x female reader

Summary: Rhys finds you training and you challenge his insufferable ass

Words: 3.9K

Notes: I am alive, sorry for being MIA for so long - I've been down with the flu for a week or so 😭

Y/N's POV

The late afternoon sun bathes the training arena in a golden glow, the heat sinking into my skin and mixing with the satisfying burn of exertion. Each punch I throw lands with a solid thud against the padded dummy, and I imagine it’s an Illyrian male with one too many smug comments. The mental image fuels my strikes, sharper, harder, faster—until I finally step back, breathing heavily, and shake out my arms.

I shift my weight, readying myself for another go, when the faintest prickling sensation tickles the back of my neck. Someone’s watching me.

I turn, slowly, scanning the empty terraces above the arena. Empty—except for the male leaning lazily against a stone pillar, silhouetted in the sunlight like some arrogant statue come to life.

Rhysand.

His midnight hair stirs in the soft breeze, and even from here, I can see the smirk tugging at his mouth. He looks unfairly perfect, his tailored shirt rolled up to the elbows, exposing forearms I stubbornly refuse to admire. His violet eyes lock on mine, and there’s a distinct, infuriating glimmer of amusement in them.

“Enjoying the view, High Lord?” I call, resting my hands on my hips.

“Immensely,” he replies, his voice carrying effortlessly over the distance—low, smooth, and laced with wicked humor. He pushes off the pillar, sauntering toward me with all the grace of a panther on the hunt. “Though I’ll admit, it’s much more entertaining when you’re scowling. You have this adorable little furrow in your brow when you’re frustrated.”

My scowl deepens on cue, and his laugh rings out, warm and rich and utterly maddening. “See? There it is.”

“I could arrange for you to see it up close, Rhys,” I say sweetly, though my tone drips with challenge. “Say, by smashing your face into the dirt.”

“Such violence.” He presses a hand to his chest as if I’ve wounded him, but that grin of his only widens. He’s close now, close enough that I can see the faint stubble on his jaw, the mischief practically oozing from every pore. “But if you wanted my attention, darling, all you had to do was ask.”

I snort, brushing a strand of sweat-dampened hair out of my face. “Please. You couldn’t keep up with me if you tried.”

“Bold words for someone who just spent five minutes attacking a dummy,” he counters, his voice teasing, though there’s something sharper lurking beneath it.

That spark of competitive fire ignites in my chest. “And here I thought the great Rhysand didn’t need to inflate his ego any further. Tell me, High Lord, do you actually have the skill to back it up? Or do you just rely on your magic to make up for the lack?”

His grin sharpens, wolfish. “Are you challenging me, sweetheart?”

“Depends.” I step closer, tilting my head as I eye him. “Are you scared?”

“Scared?” He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head like he’s indulging a reckless child. But there’s a gleam in his eyes now—bright, electric, and entirely too dangerous. “You’re either incredibly brave or terribly foolish.”

“Guess you’ll have to find out.” I shrug, deliberately casual, though my heart is already pounding. “No magic. No wings. Just you, me, and good old-fashioned hand-to-hand.”

Rhys takes another step, and suddenly he’s looming over me, all dark power and infuriating smugness. His voice drops, low and velvety. “You really think you can take me on?”

I meet his gaze head-on, refusing to back down even as his scent—night-chilled air and cedar—threatens to fog my mind. “I think you’ll find I’m full of surprises.”

He studies me for a moment, the corners of his mouth curling into a slow, wicked smile. Then, with a lazy flick of his wrist, he shrugs off his jacket, tossing it onto the stone floor. “Alright, darling. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

I don’t give Rhys time to settle. The moment he’s rolled up his sleeves, I’m already moving, throwing a sharp jab aimed directly at his perfect, insufferable face. He sidesteps with a grace that borders on casual, like he’s stepping out of the way of a falling leaf rather than dodging a strike meant to wipe the smirk off his face.

“That’s cute,” he drawls, his voice rich with amusement.

I grit my teeth and pivot sharply, aiming a kick toward his ribs, but his hand shoots out faster than I can track. His fingers curl around my ankle with maddening ease, holding me in place like I’m a kitten trying to swipe at a lion.

“Careful, darling,” he murmurs, tilting his head slightly, as if to study my form. “We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself. I’m rather fond of your legs, you know.”

Heat rises in my cheeks, though whether it’s from anger or the way his thumb brushes lightly against my ankle, I can’t say. I twist my leg free with a growl, spinning back to put distance between us.

“You’re insufferable,” I snap, rolling my shoulders to shake off the tension coiling there.

His grin widens, the sunlight catching on his teeth. “And you’re predictable. Shall we try again?”

I don’t answer. I lunge forward again, trying to be faster, sharper, unpredictable. I throw a series of punches, each one aimed to force him back, to make him work for his victories. For a moment, it seems like I have him; his weight shifts, his footing adjusts—but then his hand snakes out, seizing my wrist mid-swing.

“Not bad,” he murmurs, pulling me off balance. Before I can recover, he’s behind me, twisting my arm gently but firmly behind my back. His chest presses against my shoulders, solid and unyielding, and his breath ghosts against my ear.

“But not good enough.”

The low rasp of his voice sends a shiver down my spine, and I don’t even bother to suppress the snarl that escapes me. I stomp down hard on his foot, grinning in satisfaction when he hisses through his teeth. His grip slackens just enough for me to wrench free, spinning to face him once more.

“That’s more like it,” he says, shaking out his foot with an exaggerated wince. His eyes sparkle with mischief, a flicker of heat simmering just beneath the surface.

He’s toying with me. I know it, and he knows it. But I can’t help myself; the challenge in his gaze stirs something reckless in me, something that refuses to let him win.

We fall into a rhythm then, strikes and blocks, feints and counters, the sounds of our movements filling the space around us. His laughter rings out every time he dodges or counters me, a low, infuriating melody that fans the flames of my frustration.

“You’re quick,” he says, effortlessly deflecting a punch. “But you telegraph your moves. Like that little shift in your shoulder just now.” He ducks beneath my next strike, adding with a wink, “You’re giving me too much time to admire the view.”

My cheeks burn, my temper flaring hotter. I push harder, striking with all the strength and precision I can muster. But no matter how fast or clever I think I’m being, he’s always a step ahead, always one movement away from sweeping my legs out from under me.

And sweep them he does. Again.

I land flat on my back with a grunt, dirt clinging to my skin and hair. Before I can move, his boot hovers just above my chest—not pressing, not pinning, just a reminder that he’s still in control.

“Need a break, darling?” he asks, his voice laced with mock concern. “Or shall we keep going? I’m happy to wait if you need a moment to—”

I slap his boot away and scramble to my feet, my breathing ragged, my pride thoroughly bruised. “I’m going to wipe that smirk off your face, Rhysand.”

His grin deepens, a slow, deliberate curve of his lips that sends my pulse skittering. “I’d like to see you try.”

I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reply. This time, I focus, letting my frustration fuel me without clouding my mind. I circle him slowly, watching every subtle shift in his stance, every twitch of his muscles. When I strike, it’s deliberate—a feint to the left, a sharp kick to the right, a series of rapid punches meant to disorient him.

And for a moment, it works.

He moves to grab my wrist, but I twist out of his grip, using his momentum against him. My hands find his shoulders, and with a surge of strength I didn’t know I had, I shove him backward. He stumbles, his balance faltering just enough for me to tackle him.

The world tilts, and the next thing I know, we’re both on the ground. Dust rises around us, the faint scent of earth and sweat filling my senses. My thighs bracket his hips, my hands pinning his wrists to the dirt above his head.

For a moment, everything goes still.

His chest rises and falls beneath me, his dark hair spilling messily across the ground. Those violet eyes, usually so full of amusement, are wide with something else now—something sharper, hotter.

“Well,” he says after a beat, his voice rougher than before, “this is new.”

I lean down, close enough that my hair brushes against his cheek. “What’s the matter, High Lord?” I murmur, my breath ghosting over his lips. “Not so smug now, are we?”

His gaze flickers to my mouth, his eyes darkening with a heat that makes my stomach tighten. His wrists shift beneath my hands, testing my grip, but I press down harder, refusing to let him regain the upper hand.

His lips curve into a slow, wicked smile. “Careful, darling,” he whispers, his voice low and dangerous. “You might start something you can’t finish.”

The tension between us crackles like lightning, the air thick with the heat of the fight and something far more dangerous.

And gods help me, I don’t think I want to stop.

I stay there for a beat longer than I need to, straddling his waist, my hands firm on his wrists, holding him down. His chest rises and falls, brushing against mine with every labored breath. The moment hangs heavy between us, the fight draining away and leaving something far more dangerous in its wake.

I lean closer, so close that our noses nearly brush. His eyes are dark now, the violet swallowed by endless, stormy depths. His lips part slightly, as though he’s already anticipating what I’ll do next.

I let my gaze drop to his mouth, deliberately slow, watching as his tongue flicks out to wet his bottom lip. My own lips curve into a wicked smile as I lean even closer, until our breaths mingle, the heat of him sinking into my skin.

“You’re all talk, Rhysand,” I whisper, my voice low and taunting. My lips ghost against his, so faintly it could be an accident—or a promise. “For all your big words, I don’t think you can handle me.”

His breath catches, the smallest sound slipping from him—a soft, needy noise that makes satisfaction curl deep in my belly.

His hands tense beneath mine, his body taut like a bowstring, and for a moment, I think I’ve won. He looks at me like I’m the only thing in the world, his focus razor-sharp, his chest heaving with the effort of holding himself back.

But then I pull back, dragging my lips away before they can touch his.

I start to shift, moving to stand, intending to let him stew in his frustration. “Better luck next time, High Lord,” I toss over my shoulder, my voice dripping with mockery.

But I’ve barely lifted myself off him when everything shifts.

A startled gasp escapes me as his hands break free from my hold, his movements faster than I can react to. The world tilts, and suddenly, it’s my back hitting the ground, the air knocked from my lungs.

And now it’s him above me.

He looms over me, his body pressing me into the earth, his weight deliciously warm and solid. His hands pin mine on either side of my head, his fingers wrapping around my wrists with a firmness that sends a shiver racing down my spine.

“Was that supposed to rile me up?” he growls, his voice low and dangerous, but there’s a raw edge to it, a crack in the smooth facade that tells me exactly how much I’ve gotten under his skin.

His nose brushes against mine as he leans closer, so close that his hair falls around us like a curtain, shutting out the rest of the world. His scent surrounds me—crisp night air, cedar, and something uniquely him, intoxicating and overwhelming.

“You think you can tease me, taunt me, and just walk away?” His lips hover just above mine, so close I can feel the warmth of his breath. “Not a chance, darling.”

I swallow hard, my chest rising and falling against his, every inch of me hyper-aware of the way his body fits against mine, the heat rolling off him in waves. His eyes are locked on mine, dark and intense, like he’s daring me to look away.

But I don’t.

Instead, I smirk up at him, letting the smallest hint of challenge curl my lips. “What’s the matter, Rhysand? Losing your composure?”

A low, guttural sound rumbles in his chest, his grip on my wrists tightening just enough to send a thrill racing through me. “You’re playing with fire,” he murmurs, his voice a velvet threat, his lips grazing my ear as he speaks.

“Maybe I like the heat,” I shoot back, my voice breathless but steady, even as my pulse races like a wild thing beneath his touch.

His head dips lower, his mouth brushing the corner of my lips in a touch so fleeting it makes me ache. “Careful,” he murmurs again, his tone dark and laced with promise. “You might just get burned.”

The tension between us is electric, a live wire that hums and sparks, pulling us closer and closer until it feels like I might shatter beneath the weight of it.

I could stop this. I could break the spell, laugh it off, pretend this is still just a game.

The charged silence between us cracks like a dam breaking. I’m not sure who moves first—whether it’s his lips crashing against mine, or mine claiming his—but suddenly we’re kissing, and it’s anything but gentle.

It’s fierce, raw, and hungry. The kind of kiss that steals the air from your lungs and sets fire to every nerve in your body. His mouth moves against mine with an urgency that borders on desperation, like he’s been starving for this—starving for me—and finally has permission to feast.

I arch into him, my body instinctively responding to the weight of his pressing me into the dirt. His hands still pin my wrists above my head, but I’m not about to make this easy for him. I tilt my head, deepening the kiss, and then bite lightly at his bottom lip, earning a low, guttural growl that vibrates through his chest.

And just like that, the balance shifts.

I buck my hips up, trying to twist out of his grip. He’s strong—unbelievably so—but I’m nothing if not determined. I manage to wrench one hand free, my fingers tangling in his dark hair as I yank him closer, kissing him deeper. My nails graze his scalp, and he groans into my mouth, his control faltering for just a fraction of a second.

I take my chance, twisting us sideways. The momentum carries us over, and suddenly I’m the one on top, straddling him once more. His dark eyes flash with something between frustration and amusement as I grin down at him, my breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

“Not so easy now, is it, High Lord?” I tease, my voice breathless yet triumphant.

His answer is a feral smile, and before I can fully savor my victory, he surges upward. His hands find my waist, and with a smooth, almost predatory movement, he flips us again.

The ground is rough beneath my back, but I barely notice. All I can focus on is him—his weight pressing into me, his hands sliding down to grip my hips as his lips claim mine once more. This time, the kiss is slower, deeper, but no less consuming.

I refuse to surrender.

My hands roam over his back, my nails dragging lightly against the taut muscles beneath his shirt. He shudders above me, and I take that as my opening, wrapping one leg around his waist and using the leverage to push him off balance.

We roll again, the world spinning around us as we grapple for control. Dirt and grass cling to our skin, and the cool evening air brushes against the heat of our flushed faces. I end up on top once more, my knees pinning his hips, my hands braced against his chest.

“Yield,” I demand, my voice rough with exertion, though my lips twitch into a smirk.

His gaze locks onto mine, dark and blazing. “Never,” he growls, and then his hands are on me again, one gripping the back of my neck, the other sliding down to press against the small of my back. He pulls me down, and our mouths collide once more.

This kiss is different. It’s not just hunger or passion—it’s a battle. A clash of wills as much as it is a meeting of lips. He kisses me like he’s trying to conquer me, and I kiss him back like I’m determined to prove I can’t be tamed.

Our breaths come hard and fast, mingling in the space between kisses. His hand slides up to cradle my jaw, his thumb brushing against my cheek in a touch that’s almost tender—almost, but not quite, because his lips are relentless, drawing me deeper and deeper into him.

I break away first, gasping for air, but before I can say anything—before I can even catch my breath—he flips us one last time.

Now it’s me beneath him, pinned and breathless, my wrists captured once more in his iron grip. His face hovers inches from mine, his lips curved into a smug, infuriatingly gorgeous smile.

“Do you yield now?” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, his thumb brushing against the inside of my wrist in a way that sends a shiver down my spine.

I meet his gaze, defiance burning in my chest even as my heart races wildly. “Not a chance,” I whisper, my lips brushing his as I speak.

His answering laugh is dark and full of promise, and as he leans down to kiss me again, I know this battle is far from over.

Rhys’ mouth descends on mine again, stealing what little breath I have left. His lips are softer this time, his movements slower, more deliberate. He’s not trying to conquer me now—he’s savoring me. His tongue brushes against mine, coaxing a sigh from my throat, and his grip on my wrists tightens just enough to remind me who has the upper hand.

But I’m not about to admit defeat, not even with the ground cool beneath my back and his weight pressing me into the dirt. My leg hooks around his, trying to gain some kind of leverage, but all it does is bring him closer—too close. His chest is flush against mine now, his body an unyielding wall of heat and strength.

I bite his bottom lip lightly, pulling back just enough to catch my breath. “You’re insufferable,” I manage to whisper, my voice shaky but laced with playful defiance.

“And you’re irresistible,” Rhys counters smoothly, his eyes dark and glittering as his lips trail from my mouth to my jawline. He takes his time, teasing a path down the column of my throat. My skin burns under his touch, every nerve alight, and I let out a sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan.

I arch against him, and he groans, the sound low and rough like it’s been dragged from the very depths of him. His lips hover just above my collarbone, his breath warm and tantalizing, when a familiar voice slices through the air.

“Training fields,” Azriel says dryly, his tone flat and unimpressed, “are for training. Not… whatever this is.”

My entire body stiffens, and I freeze beneath Rhys, mortified. I manage to tilt my head just enough to catch a glimpse of Azriel standing a few feet away, his arms crossed and his face impassive—though I swear there’s the faintest twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth.

Rhys doesn’t move immediately. Of course, he doesn’t. If anything, he looks even more infuriatingly relaxed, propping himself up on his elbows as he turns to glance over his shoulder.

“Whatever this is?” Rhys repeats with a smirk, his voice utterly unbothered. “I think it’s quite obvious, Az. Would you like a demonstration?”

I groan, my cheeks burning so hot I’m certain I could melt the dirt beneath me. Without thinking, I grab the front of Rhys’ shirt and tug him down, burying my face in the fabric to shield myself from Azriel’s gaze.

“Don’t you dare,” I hiss into Rhys’ chest, though it comes out muffled.

Rhys chuckles, the sound rich and deep and maddeningly pleased. “What?” he says innocently, though his hand slides to my back, holding me securely against him as though he has no intention of letting me hide anywhere else. “Azriel clearly interrupted something very important. He should be properly educated on the consequences of such rudeness.”

“You’re impossible,” I grumble, my voice still muffled.

“And yet, you can’t seem to resist me.” His voice dips lower, teasing, and I know without looking that he’s grinning like the cocky bastard he is.

“Rhys,” Azriel says again, this time with a sharper edge to his voice, being the only one who can talk to him like this. “Get up. Now.”

“Fine, fine,” Rhys sighs, finally releasing my wrists and sitting back on his heels. He doesn’t move away, though—no, of course not. Instead, he leans down, brushing a kiss against my temple before murmuring, “We’ll finish this later, darling.”

I swat at his chest, still too embarrassed to meet Azriel’s gaze, but the traitorous part of me—the one still reeling from the heat of Rhys’ kiss—wonders if he means it.

Rhys stands, offering me a hand, and though I’m tempted to refuse, I know there’s no escaping this without his help. As he pulls me to my feet, I finally dare a glance at Azriel. His face is a mask of calm indifference, but the faint quirk of his lips betrays his amusement.

“If you’re done rolling around in the dirt,” Azriel says, his wings flaring slightly as he turns away, “some of us actually came here to train.”

I groan again, burying my face in my hands. Rhys’ laughter follows me as I stalk toward the nearest bench, determined to regain some semblance of dignity—even if my heart is still racing and my lips are still tingling from his kiss.

ACOTAR Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

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wannabespacesmuggler · 9 months ago

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D.D. | Shane's Girl [6]

Part Six | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee | Check out the playlist

Summary: Daryl Dixon knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you when he’s alone at night in his tent. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you throughout the day. You’re not his. You’re Shane’s girl. But Daryl doesn’t like the way Shane treats you. And he certainly doesn’t like how you’re forced to play ‘loving girlfriend’ to a man with eyes for another woman at the camp.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x female!Reader

Warnings: Shane Walsh sucks, unedited (I will get to it later, I promise)

Word Count: 1.2K

Author’s Note: Oof—alright, it's been a hot second, everybody. Apologies for going MIA for a while (life, y'know?). I haven't forgotten about this fic and I know that none of you have forgotten about it based on the amount of notes and messages I get (which I appreciate greatly). Thanks for sticking it out with me guys. Excited for you all to see what I have planned in the coming chapters. In the meantime, let me know what y'all think of this one & let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.

“Fuck!”

The expletive escapes your lips before you can think twice about it. You nervously look around the camp, searching for Carl and Sophia. The last thing you need is for Lori and Carol to get on your case because you accidentally taught the children swear words. After realizing that neither of them is in earshot, you let out a sigh of relief.

You look down at the garment in your lap. Shane had thrown a pair of his cargo pants at you earlier this morning, grumbling about a hole in one of his pockets. You had woken up earlier than him, probably because he had returned to your shared tent far after everyone else in camp had retired for the evening. This was becoming somewhat of a routine for the two of you: Shane sneaking around in the middle of the night thinking you’re asleep; meanwhile, you spend the restless nights in your tent waiting to see if he actually comes back. You never ask him where he was in the morning—knowing that Shane would brush you off by saying he was on watch as if you don’t understand that the shifts rotate every night. Another sigh escapes your lips as you defeatedly throw the pants onto the table before you and turn your attention to your finger, which you had clumsily stabbed with a needle while attempting to fix the garment.

“You ‘lright?”

The sound of Daryl’s rough southern drawl makes you jump. You look up and see Daryl standing a few feet away with his raised hands. He takes a few careful steps toward you—his movements are slow and calculated. Your brow furrows at the sight—did he think you’re afraid of him?

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle ya.”

“It’s okay, Daryl. I was just a little distracted.”

Daryl nods at your words before taking a seat beside you at the table.

“What’d ya do to your hand?”

He leans toward you slightly to get a better look, his concerned eyes raking over your hands, looking for any sign of injury. A small smile spreads across your face as Daryl continues to worry about your well-being. You raise your hands to show him that you’re perfectly okay.

“It’s nothing. Just pricked my finger—Shane has a hole in his pocket, and I was never good with a needle and thread.”

You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly as you speak. Daryl chews on his bottom lip as he looks at the cargo pants on the table. It’s ripped along the seam, an easy fix—he’s done it numerous times for his own tattered jeans.

“Give it ‘er.”

You look at Daryl’s outstretched hand in disbelief for several seconds before handing him the needle and thread. Daryl snatches the pants off the table and gets to work. You watch him curiously—his brow furrows as he focuses on the task at hand. Daryl momentarily lets his attention drift to you; he awkwardly shifts in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable with how intently you’re watching him.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?”

His tone is defensive, but it doesn’t make you back down like everyone else.

“Just surprised, is all.”

“What, Shane doesn’t know how to sew?”

He meets your incredulous gaze and can’t help but laugh. The sound is still foreign to his ears, even though it’s becoming somewhat of an ordinary occurrence when he’s with you. He’s much more used to the sound of Merle yelling, music blaring, old motorcycles' roar, and the forest's peaceful ambiance.

“Well, you shouldn’t have to do everything for him.”

His genuine words should comfort you, but instead, they nag at you. You shouldn’t have to do everything for him. You shouldn’t have to turn a blind eye to your boyfriend’s nightly habit. You shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells around him. You shouldn’t have to make yourself smaller for his convenience. And yet, here you are.

“You have a cigarette?”

The question catches Daryl off guard. He’s only seen you smoke once—that night at the campfire, and he swore it was his fault. Your words from that night still rattle around in his head. You’re a bad influence, Dixon. He completes his final stitch, bringing the thread to his mouth so he can rip it off with his teeth. He places everything back on the table before pulling out his pack of Marlboro Reds from his pocket and offering it to you. You take one from the pack, twisting it in your fingers before placing the cigarette between your lips. Daryl notices your hesitation as he hands you his old lighter, so he waits until you’ve lit your cigarette before pulling out one of his own. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, but something about this doesn’t sit right with Daryl.

“What’s goin’ on?”

You furrow your brow at his question, feigning confusion, but Daryl doesn’t relent. He simply raises a brow at you as he takes another long drag of his cigarette. You let out a defeated sigh before answering his question.

“It’s just Shane…”

You trail off thinking that since it’s relationship drama, maybe Daryl wouldn’t be interested. But he doesn’t try to change the subject or brush you off, instead, he gives you his undivided attention. He watches you quickly look around camp, scooping the area and taking account of who is around. A frown pulls at the corners of Daryl’s lips as he realizes that you’re once again looking over your shoulder for Shane.

“He wasn’t always like this. I mean, he was always a hothead, but he wasn’t always so cruel.”

“Hey…”

The softness in his tone catches you off guard, and you look up at him. A part of you wants to cry at how attentive Daryl is at this moment. It’s been so long since someone has shown you this kind of care.

“You ain’t gotta defend him to me.”

Daryl watches as a single tear falls down your cheek at his words, and he begins to panic. Did he upset you? Was he out of line? Had he gotten the situation between you and Shane wrong? This isn’t his forte. He wishes he was a different man—a better man, a softer man. He wishes he was more like his mother and less like his father. That she could have lived long enough to teach him a few more life lessons—like how to comfort someone you care for.

Before he has the chance to spiral completely out of control, he feels your fingertips find his, and his heart damn near stops. He involuntarily pulls away from your touch, and it makes him wince. He sits in the shame of his response to your touch. A better man would have been able to return your affection. Finally, he meets your gaze, expecting to see the hurt he caused by his reaction. Instead, he’s met with a smile so warm and tender that he can practically feel the shame in his body melt away.

“Thank you, Daryl.”

A small, affectionate smile pulls at the corners of Daryl’s lips.

“It was nothin’.”

You shake your head at his words. What he did for you today was far from nothing, but you let it go, opting to turn your attention back to the cargo pants on the table before you. As you admire Daryl’s handiwork, you can’t help but hope that Daryl knows that Shane’s pocket isn’t the only thing he stitched back together today.

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