#space riders fic

[power-up-girl]

another one shot on the great smiling critters space riders au created by none other than the one and only @onyxonline

inspired by this post

...Crafty and her fear of spiders...

Everyone was peacefully enjoying their evening on board of the critters spaceship,

kicken and hoppy were sparing, bubba was analysing some data they got recently, bobby and piggy were off baking cookies, dogday was peacefully laying on the sofa while catnap was taking a nap while defying gravity by floating aimlessly,

But wait, where's crafty?,

Oh she was in her room the last time she was seen, she said that she wanted to draw something ,

Everything was going perfectly until...

a scream echoed through the spaceship, snapping every rider from their peaceful haze ,

Dogday who was laying peacefully , sprang on his feet like lightning, and catnap who was floating a couple of feets of the floor fell but landed on his feet,

Huh, guess cats do land on their feet after all ,

Bubba, alongside hoppy and kicken came dashing over, after a few seconds piggy and bobby came, they had to make sure the oven was turned off, then dogday frankly asked,

" what's going on !?!, is everyone alright !?! "

He asked his crew,

" yes we're fine , are we under attack!? "

Asked kicken,

" I don't think so , the sensors would have picked if any object was around "

Said bubba,

" we all heard a scream right ?? "

Asked piggy,

" yeah ,but who was it ?? "

Questioned hoppy,

// guys , guys, where is crafty?? //

Signed catnap, everyone immediately realised that crafty wasn't with them.., then there was another scream, and a call for help,

" HELP !!, GUYS !!, HELP ME!!! "

Yup that was crafty, they didn't think twice before making a run for crafty's room,

When they arrived they heard

" STAY AWAY !!, DON'T COME ANY CLOSER!!, HELP!! "

They knew crafty was a very capable strong lady and she being in trouble was never a good sign...

' she's in danger! , we need to act quick ! ' dogday whisper yelled,

' on the count of three !, one... two... three! ' dogday again whisper yelled,

bubba quickly opened the door, dogday and catnap rushed inside energy beams on the ready in their hands, followed by kicken and hoppy,

the others stayed at door to block anyone from escaping,

Crafty was standing on her table and she was shaking, but there was no one other than the riders... Kicken then spoke lowering his defense,

" there's no one here , where's the intruder? "

He asked , looking at crafty's shaking form ,

" it's over there !! "

Crafty said as she pointed to the other side of her room,

" we don't see anyone here crafty ! "

Said hoppy her defense still up,

" careful, the intruder might be using some cama flashing device "

Dogday warned his team as they all were on high alert,

// I can't sense anyone here //

Signed catnap, feeling uneasy,

" me neither "

Said hoppy,

" crafty are you sure there's is something or someone here ? "

Asked bubba,

" yes! , it was right there ! "

Said crafty , covering her head with her hands ,

Then catnap went to the other side of the room and checked, but there was nothing,

" what did it look like crafty ?? "

Asked piggy,

" it was hideous! "

Said crafty loudly ,

" but there's nothing in this room! "

Yelled kicken,

" THERE'S A SPIDER IN THIS ROOM !! "

Crafty finally snapped,

And it was like everything stopped,

" wait so you're telling me, that you were screaming like you're gonna get killed, because of a spider?? "

Hoppy asked trying to remain calm,

" I was in danger!, there's a spider in my room!! "

// you mean this spider //

Catnap signed before picking up a small spider that was on the floor,

" Yes!!, look how big and hideous it is!! "

Crafty screamed,

At that moment no one could hold their laughter, well bubba facepalmed , bobby and dogday were trying to stifel their laugh because they are just so nice and kind, but they did laugh,

At least not like hoppy who fell on her knees laughing..

" WHAT'S SO FUNNY!?!, I WAS DIEING HERE!! "

Yelled crafty,

" it's - it's * wheeze * , we thought you were in real danger! "

Then kicken proceeded to continue his wheezing,

" who thought that the great crafty , whom everyone fears , is afraid of a little itsy spider !? "

hoppy was dieing cuz of laughter after she said that, crafty huffed angerly

Catnap took the spider to the garden they had and came back , still chuckling softly,

" come on cut it out guys, that's not very nice "

Said dogday, they did calm down after,

" sorry crafty, we found the situation funny "

Smiled piggy,

// yeah it's fine to be afraid sometimes//

Catnap signed, while floating slightly,

" we are sorry , here let me help you down "

Said hoppy as she extended her hand for crafty as she climbed down from the desk,

" it's alright, I think I did overreact by screaming like that .."

Sighed crafty,

" nah it's fine!, we all get crazy sometimes .."

Said bobby,

" come on everyone!, let's enjoy some cookies "

Said piggy,

" yes!, cookies! "

Kicken cheered,

" let's go ! "

Exclaimed dogday, the rest nodded and smiled in agreement,

They spent their evening watching some movies and just chilling in general

| The end |

Hope you enjoyed!

[sarafinamk]

Fallen Angel 50 Incorrect Quotes Special

The Smiling Critters Space Riders Au and the character Z belongs to @onyxonline

If you haven't checked out the Fallen Angel (Reader Insert) series, you can check out Part 1 and Part 2 here. You, the reader, will be referred to as both (Y/n) and Archangel.

Right now, I need to focus on writing my thesis paper, so I'm not sure when Part 3 will be posted. In the meantime, enjoy this crackfic as an Easter present. Some quotes will contain slight spoilers for future chapters. 😉 Enjoy.

----------

*During a training session*

Hoppy: Fight me, you nerd ass punk!

Archangel: At least TRY to sound sophisticated when you threaten someone.

Kickin: Dost thou wish to engage in a duel, my good bITCH?!

Archangel: *Facepalms* Somehow, that was worse...

----------

Bobby: Are you having another depressive episode?

Archangel: A depressive episode?

Archangel: I'm having a depressive series and we're just on season one.

--------

Z: What's wrong with you?

Archangel: Off the top of my head, I'd say low self-esteem, a lack of paternal affection, and a genetic predisposition for anxiety and depression.

----------

Crafty: How’s training going?

Archangel: Terrible. I want to stab everybody there.

Crafty: Okay, just don’t get any blood on your clothes.

Bobby: ...you shouldn’t be condoning this.

Crafty: Don’t tell me how to live my life.

----------

Archangel: Yesterday, I overheard the Captain saying “Are you sure this is a good idea?” and Hoppy replying “Trust me,” and I have never moved from one room to another so quickly in my life.

----------

Archangel: Helpful grammar tip: “farther” is for physical distance, “further” is for methaphorical distance, and “father” is for emotional distance!

----------

Archangel: raises eyebrows

Dogday: Put those back down!

----------

Archangel: Problem, I can't tell if this food is over-sauced or undercooked.

Kickin: Solution, just pop it back in the oven for another 10 minutes. There's at least a 50% chance that'll fix it, right?

Bubba: Result? Food has somehow become unpleasantly soggy and unpleasantly crunchy at the exact same time.

Hoppy: No better time than this to pull out my favorite word! Slunchy!

Picky: …put it away.

----------

Picky: One time I went to hand (Y/n) a bowl of soup. I wanted to say “Careful, it’s hot!”, and “Here’s your soup!”, so instead I blurted out “Careful it’s soup.”

----------

*Preparing for a mission*

Hoppy: Okay, who's turn is it to give the pep talk?

Catnap: It's (Y/n)'s turn.

Archangel: Don't die.

Kickin, wiping a tear away: Truly inspirational.

----------

Archangel: I can't take you seriously wearing that.

Kickin: Aw, you take me seriously at all?

Archangel: Fair point.

----------

Dogday: My level of gay has reached “sighing deeply whenever anything extremely heterosexual happens near me”.

----------

Archangel to Bubba: How do you tell someone politely you want to hit them with a brick?

----------

Dogday: If I say I love you, will you say it back?

Z: Yes.

Dogday: I love you.

Z: It back.

*Later*

Archangel: Why is the Captain crying face-down on the floor?

----------

*the Space Riders at Disneyland, in the teacups*

Crafty, Bobby, Bubba, and Picky: *spinning a little and talking*

Dogday, Catnap, Kickin, and Hoppy: *flying past them, spinning as fast as they can, screaming*

----------

Hoppy: I've done a lot of dumb stuff.

Dogday: I witnessed the dumb stuff.

Catnap: I recorded the dumb stuff.

Kickin: I joined you in the dumb stuff.

Archangel: I TRIED TO STOP YOU FROM DOING THE DUMB STUFF!

----------

Archangel: This is a bad idea.

Hoppy: Then why are you coming along?

Archangel: Someone has to get your injured ass home.

----------

Archangel: I feel awful about killing you.

Z:

Archangel: Even though technically you never even died, so I don’t know what you’re bitching about.

----------

Dogday: Hoppy, don’t go picking a fight with (Y/n). Don’t forget, they’re powerful, they could make life difficult for you.

Hoppy: Wow, I wonder what it'd be like to have a difficult life.

----------

Dogday: I’m so happy both angels are getting along now.

Catnap: Uh, Z and (Y/n) are not getting along.

Dogday: They’re not trying to kill each other.

Catnap: You may have a point.

----------

Archangel: The universe is cold and unfeeling. The only constant is chaos.

Picky: Was Kissy's place out of chocolate-chip pancakes again?

----------

Kickin: Yeah, I find it quite emotional. In like a cool way.

Archangel: Did you just say it makes you cry in a cool way?

----------

Archangel, proudly: I slept.

Catnap: Is that so much of a rare thing that you have to say it?

----------

Archangel: You're a lying piece of shit!

Hoppy: Oh yeah? You're the idiot that thinks you can get away with everything you do, WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD!

Dogday: I'm leaving and I'm taking Catnap with me!

Bubba, gathering cards: Aaaaand that's enough Monopoly for today.

----------

Poppy: It’s funny how well you and the Archangel get along. Didn’t they hate you at first?

Dogday: (Y/n) hates everybody at first. It’s their way of reaching out to people.

----------

Bobby: lifting weights

Kickin: Wow… She's so intense!

Archangel: I wonder what drives her.

Bobby, internally: Oh I am going to be SO good at giving hugs.

----------

*First two chapters of "Fallen Angel" summarized*

Archangel: I'm allergic to death.

----------

Archangel: Hoppy, I don’t think I can handle any more of your tomfuckery.

Hoppy: Oh yeah? Well I can keep going until you’re all tomfuckered out!

----------

Hoppy: (Y/n), what are you doing tomorrow?

Archangel: Having my day ruined by whatever you’re about to ask me to do.

----------

Archangel: Someone will die.

Dogday: Of fun!

----------

Something crashes

Hoppy: Shoot-

Bobby: running into the room in a panic WHAT FELL?!

Archangel: walking by the room calmly What died?

----------

Archangel: Can you be serious for five minutes?

Kickin: My record is four, but I think I can do it.

----------

Someone with a gun to Archangel's head: What happens if I pull this trigger? Heaven?

Archangel: Bold of you to assume I'll go to Heaven.

----------

Catnap: I like to play this game called nap roulette. I take a nap and don’t set an alarm. Will it be 20 min or 4 hours? Nobody knows. It’s risky and I like it.

----------

Z: When did you become a hero?

Archangel: Um… the moment I saved you from getting killed.

Z: You’re the last person in the galaxy I wanted to rescue me.

Archangel: Well… sucks to be you, don’t it.

----------

Bubba: It’s just that lollipop sticks last longer than the head, even if they’re less flavorful. I’m thinking of paper sticks, because you can peel off the layers with your teeth or leave it there until they fall off naturally, but plastic sticks can be chewed on too or left sticking out like a cigarette. Paper straws can be eaten layer by layer over time though, so they have the edge.

Hoppy, bored: Can’t we just leave while he's distracted?

Archangel, genuinely interested: But what about wooden sticks?

Hoppy: I hate you.

----------

Archangel: I am convinced the Captain and Catnap share a brain cell.

Archangel: And it's not in use very often, it seems.

----------

Archangel: Why am I the bad guy?

Kickin: I don't know, why am I the pretty one? We all have our thing.

----------

Archangel: We’re having a moment, aren’t we?

Z: If by 'a moment' you mean me not wanting to strangle you for the first time since we met, then I guess we are.

----------

Kickin: Dumbest scar stories, go!

Picky: I burned my tongue once drinking tea.

Crafty: I dropped a hair dryer on my leg once and it burned.

Bubba: I have a piece of graphite in my leg for accidentally stabbing myself with a pencil in the first grade.

Bobby: I was taking a cup of noodles out of the microwave and spilled it in my hand and I got a really bad burn.

Archangel: I have emotional scars.

----------

Dogday: What leaves a bigger memory than a passionate kiss?

Archangel: A stab wound.

----------

Archangel: I sense hostility.

Z: Good, because I hate you.

----------

Archangel: slams down an absolute doorstopper of a tome I checked this out weeks ago for a bit of light reading.

Hoppy: This is light?!

----------

Archangel: What’s up with the Captain? He's been laying on the floor for like….an hour now?

Bobby: He's just a little overwhelmed.

Archangel: Why?

Catnap: Z smiled at him.

----------

Literally anyone: Go to hell!

Archangel: Where do you think I come from?

----------

Hoppy: Just trust me. Have I ever put you in an unsafe or uncomfortable situation?

Archangel: All the time.

Hoppy: Then you should be used to it by now.

----------

Archangel: I’m so tired.

Bubba: Did you get to bed late?

Archangel: No.

Bubba: Did you do something strenuous?

Archangel: No.

Bubba: Then why are you tired?

Archangel: I’m alive.

Bubba: Sounds exhausting.

----------

Archangel: Dear Diary, my teen angst bullshit has a body count.

----------

A cult member: Didn't you die?!

Archangel: That was weeks ago. Things change.

----------

Archangel: I’d kill someone if you asked me to.

Dogday: I’m pretty sure you’d kill someone even if I didn’t ask you to.

[infinite-hearts-333]

MOVING.

After the events of meeting, Ouřa Thorn was suddenly dumped into the world of a Space Rider- much to their stress and horror. North Heat kept his promise, welcoming Thorn into his home with opens arms, but let’s just say not all of the crew are as enthusiastic about this sudden arrival.

Thorns soon to be bestie belongs to @moonspiritleaf ! (Who came up with the idea of Zane being cautious of thorn to begin with >:P )

Au belongs to @onyxonline !

Thorn stood before the door. It was sleek, smooth, almost a mahogany coloured wood. It was nothing like the plain, not properly smoothed oak door that was the entrance to their home for the last 5 and a half years.

The box in Thorns arms felt impossibly heavy in their scaled arms- although nothing but a few items of clothes, and their poster sat in the box, their little tool box sitting neatly on top. It was embarrassing, how little they have- but well Thorn was to busy working usually to worry about getting more things. And even if they did, where would they have put them?

I don’t deserve to be here.

Thorn swallowed faintly, still staring at the door. So much changed, so fast.

After Ouřa Thorn had woken, one thing was on their mind. To find the Rangers, and make sure they were okay. The memories of the fear and frantic running was mostly blurred, but apparently they broke a door in during their frantic searching.

North Heat, who.. was injured, one of his pearly white horns shattered because of Thorn- came to visit.

He’d been in a meeting- and Thorn only learned that it was about them though North. Apparently they were too dangerous to be left alone. But also too dangerous to be kicked out.

Ouřa Thorn wasn’t sure what was worst.

The cardboard started to strain under the lizard's grip, as they felt spines start to penetrate their neck.

Suddenly the door swung open, startling the Lizard out of there spiral.

They were expecting Sunny, Sparky, North, maybe even Zelda- but before them was a short dark navy wolf, who snapped his eyes up to Thorns in a squinting glare.

“Who are you?” He said shortly, crossing his arms. His eyes flickered down to the box in Thorns arms, before looking back up at them with a sharper look.

“Thorn- Ouřa Thorn, um- I thought that North briefed that I’d be moving in today?” Ouřa Thorn strangled out, panicking, making their spines stick out more.

The blue Wolf arched a brow before turning and walking back inside. “Your rooms the one in the back with the sign.” he muttered, watching as Thorn awkwardly ducked to make sure their spines didn’t hit the door frame, before they quickly moved past the wolf with a frantic “Thanks-“

Practically scrambling to the back of the hallway, Thorn took note of the layout of the house.

The front door led to a in between with the kitchen on their left and a lounge to their right. In the hallway they passed a couple rooms, all bearing their own marks on who they belong to. Thorn paused briefly at a door with a wreath of flowers hooked in the middle.

Sunny.

Thorn touched one of the flowers, admiring it a little, before feeling the glare of the wolf staring at them silently and quickly moving further down the hallway.

Thorn gave a quizzical look to another door with tiny roots and leaves peeking out from under the door, with an abundance of stickers plastered wonkily to the door itself.

Right next to the plant-sticker door was an open door with a little sign hanging to the knob.

Thorn assumed this was for them, grabbing the sign. There were a couple words, and thankfully Ouřa Thorn could read one of them; Welcome.

Thorn peered into the room, holding their box close.

There was a significant difference in space and cleanliness to this room then their old one- Ouřa Thorn actually blinked a couple times before hesitantly walking in.

No way all of this was for them?

They placed their box of items on a desk, next to a longer note that Thorn didn’t bother to read. There was a wardrobe that smelt of something dusty and old wood. Ouřa Thorn stood there for a while, bumping their head against the wood. It smelt like home, even though ‘home’ itself was such a complicated thing in itself for Thorn.

Then there was the desk, that Thorn’s box sat on, and a bed.

A proper bed. Not two mattresses stacked on top of each other on the floor. A proper bed. Thorn sat on it, their claws gently dragging over the soft fabric.

It almost felt wrong- in an extremely overwhelming way. It was too soft. They sunk into it too much, it was almost too comfortable.

Stop being ungrateful.

Thorn inhaled, quickly standing before they worked themselves up into tears over something as stupid as a bed.

Poking their head back out of their new room, they noticed a room right across from theirs, and Ouřa Thorn’s heart sunked a little at the familiar dark blue door with a light blue lightening bolt in the middle, plastered with small stickers on it.

That’s the wolf’s door. It has to be.

Thorn took a deep breath, closing their door quietly and leaning their back against it.

They stared at nothing for a minute, before gently putting their muzzle into their claws and sliding down the door to curl up.

……

I don’t belong here.

[lavendersartistry]

Family

Space Riders AU - @onyxonline Eve Ewe, Aurora, Felicite, Melanie - @lavendersartistry

This fic is more of a fun fic for onyxonline's Space Riders AU! This is mainly centered as the headcanoned sibling dynamic between Eve Ewe and DogDay! Please check Onyx out, their work is super cool!

DogDay felt emptiness. His mind was dulled as he tried to wake up. He felt like he was floating in the cosmos, the faint sounds of whispering angels ringing in his ears.

He then found himself at a magical place, something similar to Eden's outskirts. The sound of an owl echoed as it flew above his head and landed on the branch of a weeping willow.

"Captain DogDay. My, how you've grown."

DogDay flinched at the sound of his title as captain, quickly turning his head to whoever said.

A tall, roughly 11ft, woman sat in a bark throne made from the tree behind her. Her hair glided against no wind as her piercing teal eyes stared down at the captain. Owls perched around her like pets, waiting for her call to either attack or to befriend.

DogDay took note of the teal eyes and immediately bowed.

"Q-Queen Aurora!"

The queen lightly laughed and leaned forward, her finger under his chin. Despite her tall stature after death, she still had her benevolence.

"Now now, captain. No need to bow, not anymore. Save that for my little Eve."

DogDay nodded and stood up nervously. He didn't really know how to react, meeting Eve's mother like this in what seemed to be a dream to the afterlife.

The queen calmly scooped him up with her gentle hands, the captain being so small compared to her size.

"You have protected my little Eve very well after me and Lucien's passing. I give you my appreciation for it. But I have noticed something in particular."

DogDay went silent for a moment. He didn't understand what she was implying, it was almost scary. Yet he let her continue on.

"I give you my blessing, DogDay Solaris, to become my little Eve's older brother and my son."

DogDay then went to a stunned state. Her son? But she was a demon, a demoness at a very high rank in her hierarchy. Was it logical? What if the council in Eden found out? All those worries filled his head.

"Your Highness, I don't get it. What of the council? What about the other demons? Is this all even safe?"

The queen giggled, a ghostly aura to her.

"My dear, Lucien does not tolerate such of that. If those old kooks decide to harass you for being my son, he will not hesitate to send a little lightning their way as a warning."

DogDay slowly nodded, trying to peace everything together. As he did so, Aurora comfortingly kissed his head.

"Go now, my little shining sun. Your sisters will miss you."

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

"DogDay! DogDay, this is no time to be napping! It's mission time!

DogDay suddenly woke up in his room, hearing the youngest sisters Felicite and Melanie in his ears as he was shaken mainly by Felicite.

"Wha- what do you two mean by a 'mission time'?"

Melanie lightly shrugged and plopped onto his bed.

"'Mission time' is when we go steal tarts from the kitchen. And you have to stand guard so we can steal them!"

DogDay sighed yet chuckled and shook his head.

"Alright, you rascals. But you have to eat only three. You two can't really manage sweets like that."

The little ferret and mink princesses groaned and ran out of his room for the kitchen downstairs of the palace.

DogDay looked out the balcony, the stars behind the forcefield that shielded Eden still glowed beautifully. As he smiled, a certain big and bright star twinkled in response.

Aurora was watching. His new family was watching him.

[lavendersartistry]

ONYX IM GRABBING YOU, IM SOBBING RN

I SEE MY DAUGHTER EVE AAAAAAAA

Space Riders, Episode 4, Down the Rabbit Hole

Catnap and Hoppy are assigned to find and detain Bunzo after he escaped jail, will they be able to complete this assignment or will they lose sight of the rabbit?

NEW EPISODE LETS GOOOOOOOO

and yessiree that is indeed Mommy Long Legs! Or Marie, in this case! And woah?…are those…ocs?….

[wheneclipsefalls]

heyy i love ur works sm, could u possibly write a fic like the one you wrote about Lo’ak in Unmoveable, but with Neteyam as the alpha and the reader as the bratty/dominant omega. (Preferably fem reader) Tysm!!

Pairing: Adult Alpha Neteyam x Olangi Princess Omega Reader

Summary: Princess or not, a spoiled brat like you needs to be put in her place. And since you have been given over to him now, Neteyam is more than ready to put that attitude in check.

Warnings: dubcon/noncon, explicit MDNI, aged up Neteyam, omegaverse, dom/sub dynamics. power imbalance, very talkative Neteyam, breast play, nipple clamps, anal, punishment, kidnapping/arranged marriage, swearing, etc.

A/N: Hi anon...you probably thought I was never going to fufill this request😆😅 Hopefully you are still online to see this

Adult Neteyam pic by Cinetrix

Unmovable for reference

“What are you doing?”

“Waiting.” You reply simply, folding your legs upon where you are perched on a nearby boulder. 

“Is that so?” One of Neteyam’s hairless brows curves upwards into an unusual expression as he places his hands on his hips. You shrug it off as morphed social skills he has picked up, a consequence of living with Sky People. You don’t let it ruffle your feathers. 

“Yes. Soon you will have left and I will finally have some peace before my clan comes to get me.” You supply the information with a tilted chin and confidence oozing from every pore even as the towering alpha closes in on your space. 

“Your clan has given you to me, princess.” 

You refuse to meet the gaze that somehow manages to penetrate your defenses with a heated fire, contrary to his poised posture that emanates a relaxed grace. 

“An oversight on their part.” Your fingers interlock together and place on your lap. If he wants to put on a tough bravado why shouldn’t you? “Once they come to realize their mistake they will come to retrieve me. Until then, I wait.” 

However, waiting here may take more patience than you care to admit. The Olangi clan are known for their expertise as pa’li [direhorse] riders but even they may require a day or so to catch up to the point where Toruk Makto’s son has dragged you to. It's the furthest you have ever been from home. Consequently the first time you have seen the beautiful rolling grounds of the plains slowly transform into congested forest. 

You can only see a portion of the sky with these interlocking trees in the way. It pushes in on you like the bars of your enclosure, yet another representation of how trapped you have become in Neteyam’s grip. 

“I’m waiting too, paskalin [honey].” You shuffle slightly when he comes to sit beside you. The rich essence of his scent wraps around you in a vice-like grip. It has your inner omega running restless but you maintain a serene exterior. It wouldn’t be the first time an alpha has tried to rope you into submission with drifting pheromones. “In fact, we all are waiting.’ He gestures to the handful of Omatikaya warriors that have made the journey with him. They pretend to busy themselves with loading up pa’li that are already prepared. “Waiting for you to stop this tantrum of yours.” 

“Tantrum?” The word feels foreign on your tongue. 

“It means a child throwing a fit when they do not get their way.” 

“I am not a child!” You seethe, lips peeling back to reveal your pointed fangs. “I am a princess and-”

“And I am a prince.” Neteyam shrugs, cutting you off. “Yet neither of those titles mean anything out here.”

You scoff, allowing your hair to act as a protective curtain from his searing attention. A prince. What a laughable thought. A true prince does not drag a female away from her home with bound wrists and promises of mating. He has no right to call himself such a thing. 

Then again, your father calls himself Olo’eyktan yet he was the one that handed you over to the alpha. All for the promise of protection against the RDA. The Omatikaya could have asked for anything to seal the alliance between your two clans in battle but all that Neteyam had come to collect was you. 

Your father’s decision, however, could be forgiven in your eyes. He was doing what he thought was best for the people. His greatest error was believing Neteyam would be a suitable mate for you, for thinking that any alpha would be a good match for you after all that you’ve expressed against such a union. You are a free spirit. Despite your presentation as an omega you were never meant to live in an alpha’s shadows. 

“Look at me.” His voice is soft but firm. Another scoff of refusal is traveling up your throat but this time Neteyam doesn’t wait for you to follow his command. He captures your chin and forces you to turn and feel the weight of presence. It feels as if his alpha pheromones not only bleed into the space between you but also cinch around your throat like a claws. “I am your alpha now, your mate. That is the only title you should be focused on.” 

Neteyam is a strange alpha, that you have come to quickly realize. Where other alphas often raise their voices in demand for respect and submission he delivers his commands in the form of smooth purrs traveling down your spine. He uses force when necessary but never done rashly or out of anger, simply a tool to get you back to where he deems you should be. Among the other males there is no passive aggressive commentary or puffing of chests to remind them of rank. 

Instead he converses with them as old friends do. He leads the group in every sense of the word but it’s done with almost a playful hand as they laugh and make jokes with one another. And yet, after all of this backwards messaging, there is an air of dominance that laces his every move. He walks and talks with a relaxed expression as if he knows there is no need to prove himself. His supremacy is something that would not dare to be questioned. 

And somehow that comes off as higher snobbery than any other foolish alpha you’ve seen wrestle for your hand. 

“I don’t have an alpha. Nor will I ever.” With a tug your face is whipped from his hold. You manage to conceal the rush of heat to your cheeks by smoothly shifting your hair and facing away from him once more. “I suggest you accept that fact and stop wasting both of our time.”

Not a single bat of your eyes in his direction as you stare confidently ahead at the strange tree in front of you and wait to hear the party’s retreat. Instead your ears only catch the sound of a small sigh and shuffle before Neteyam is standing before you. 

“Come now, princess. It’s been fun but we still have ground to cover.” He reaches his hand out to help you up but you only gamble casting a glance at it from your peripheral vision. As far as you are concerned, Neteyam does not exist in your world. And so you treat him as such. 

“Neteyam!” A voice bellows across the distance. “We are losing daylight, brother. Are we set to travel?”

Neteyam doesn’t hesitate to send the other male a small smile before saying, “She is coming along now.”

“No I am not.” Your instant response is tainted with a gasp of offense. How dare he speak for you! “I am not moving from this rock until my clan comes to get me.” You insist, slapping his hand away. 

Neteyam remains unperturbed, simply giving a shrug before murmuring, “Have it your way then.” 

You aren’t afforded a second for a sense of victory to settle in before the prince is tossing you over his shoulder. Strongs arms wrap around the back of your thighs to keep you pinned there and decrease the range of motion for kicking. It doesn’t stop the gasp of outrage and pure spite that emanates from you. Limbs swinging in every which direction to deliver damage, you quickly resent the way his strength greatly overpowers your own. 

“I am not some fresh kill for you to carry home. Set me down right this instant!”

“I gave you the chance to walk over with dignity, princess. What else am I supposed to do?” He tries to retort but you can detect the grin in his voice. Even more humiliating, from your upside down position you are still able to spot the other males squirming to not laugh at your compromising position. 

“You are a mongrel of a man!” 

The scratchy venom of your tone is morphed into a surprised squeak when you are let back onto your feet. Regardless, you remain trapped in Neteyam’s arms as you are wedged between him and a pa’li. 

“Don’t waste your energy, tiyawn [love]. It will be at least a few more days before we reach Omatikaya soil.” 

They are surrounding you from every side. The five other males may wear amused expressions and appear to be enraptured in conversations with one another but you are no fool. These men are under Neteyam’s jurisdiction. At the first sign of trouble they will be snapping into action. Running now will only get you dragged back and fighting against Neteyam’s hold may get you flung into a humiliating position again. 

“At least let me have my own pa’li. I know how to ride.” 

Neteyam's chest heaves with the responding laugh that awakens within him. White pearly teeth on display, his amusement rises higher. Several of the others try and fail to not join in. It heightens your blood pressure until your face is hot to the touch.

“That’s a very good try, princess.” He beams, patting your hip. 

Neteyam unfortunately is not the fool you hope for him to be. Nor the arrogant alpha that would make the mistake of believing himself capable of catching you once you’ve set off on a pa’li. You’ve been riding since you were barely able to walk. The Omatikaya may understand the concept, but they hold not near the same precision and skill that your years of training have granted you. 

It’s a fact he seems acutely aware of because he doesn’t let you saddle up first. All it would take is a few seconds for you to make the bond and leave them in the dust. Instead, he hands you off to another male as he settles himself upon the creature and only after he has made the bond himself does he have you lifted to sit in front of him. 

By the time you settle around a fire for dinner and begin setting up camp, you can feel your eye on the verge of twitching. This journey has been nothing but painful and slow. So exceedingly slow. Although every step is one step further from your home that doesn’t erase the annoyance you feel at their painstaking pace. The only thing that stops you from snapping at them to hurry up is the hope that this extra time will help you come up with some sort of escape plan. 

It’s clear that your father’s remorse is far too sluggish for you to solely rely on at this rate, so it seems it is once again up to you to meet them halfway. 

However hatching up plans is exceedingly difficult when you have an alpha sculpted against your back, his essence clouding your mind and his eyes constantly peeking down at you as if he knows every thought swirling in your head. Try as you might, there is no reasonable way to veer away from his touch while riding the pa’li, at least not one that keeps you from developing excruciating back pain. 

Trying to set your inner turmoil aside, you focus on using this time away from the Omatikaya prince to properly set your head right. However, it seems Neteyam has different plans as he settles to lounge by the fire. He thanks one of the other males for a drink he is handed before his attention lands on you. 

“Come sit, princess.” He pats the spot beside him. There may be a warm smile to accompany his words but you know that it is nothing short of a command. The steely undertone of an alpha’s call reverberates in his tone. 

It locks your spine into a ramrod straight position and your tail already tries to tuck itself the longer you wait to obey. It’s irrelevant, however. You’ve become quite adept at pushing down your omega instincts in favor of following your own logic instead. 

With a smooth stroll and a feigned innocence to your smile, you maintain eye contact while making a show of sitting next to a different male across the fire. He’s a beta and your proximity immediately has him twitching. 

Neteyam’s golden eyes take on a darker hue, but he remains where he is. You’ve challenged his authority, in front of his men no less, but somehow you escape the night unscathed from his rath. Or so you think. 

It’s hard to say whether these sleeping arrangements are usual for the Omatikaya or rather just a setup meant for traveling. Either way, it is the most bizarre thing to sleep in a roll of fabric high up in the trees. Netyam claims it’s safer to stay off the ground during eclipse in the forest. A silly point truly when it’s just as dangerous, if not more likely, to turn over in your sleep and fall to your death. 

Climbing up to the hammock is all the more painful and terrifying than riding with Neteyam. He patiently trails behind, waiting and giving unwanted direction for your climb until you have finally cocooned yourself in the fabric. Still trembling but refusing to voice any complaints that could be mocked, you take a moment to catch your breath. 

That moment is exceedingly short.

The hammock suddenly swings and you look up to find the prince lowering himself down carefully from a branch above. 

“No no, absolutely not. This is my bed. Get out.” He chuckles as you try to push and swat at his muscular thighs but it’s no use when he is settled in the fabric a few seconds later. 

“Technically it is our bed.” 

“Then I will take my chances on the ground.” Your stomach somersaults at the thought of enduring the climb down. 

Comment ignored, Neteyam coaxes you to lay down before slipping himself behind you. You’re tempted to kick when he wraps an arm around your waist but the hammock is still swinging to a point of nausea. Best not to make it any worse. 

“You’re trembling, omega.” It’s murmured against the shell of your ear. There is no need to look down in order to confirm his assertion. How do the Omatikaya sleep peacefully up in the trees like this? You’ve never considered yourself to have a fear of heights but today has you questioning that assurance all together. 

“You look like you need someone to calm you down.” The palm of his right hand runs up and down the length of your arm, as if the transferring heat there would diminish your shivering. 

“What I need is a break from your pestering.” 

“I already gave you one.” His tale tickles at the back of your knee just as his accented voice deepens. “A break that I have still not received a thank you for.” 

“I wouldn’t hold your breath waiting, my prince.” You sneer. It wasn’t his decision to have you sit away from him during dinner. It was entirely your own and he is not about to receive acknowledgment as if he had any control over what you do. 

“I hope you know what you’re playing at, princess.” 

Those are the last words he speaks of the night and consequently the same ones that leave you restless and twitching. Sleeping like this is impossible. When you’re not worried about falling to your death you become acutely aware of every point of contact between you and Neteyam. His toned chest is like a bustling fire against your back. His tail at some point wraps around knee as if it belongs there. Even his silky ebony braids tickle at your neck, almost as bad as where his face tucks itself behind your ear. 

There is no forgetting who lays behind you. Sleep seems to never come because you are constantly trying to calm your raging heart and control the pheromones that threaten to slip into the air. That would wake him up far too easily. 

His breath is heavy, heartbeat consistent and strong from where it pounds against your back. You’ve been sure for a while now that he is fast asleep. Now is the time to make your move, but frozen you remain. Eventually you look down to find that your fingers have begun tracing the veins of his forearm as an anxious tick. 

Thank Eywa he seems to not wake up from the touch. Or perhaps it is the smooth caress that has coaxed him further into sleep. Either way, you hold very little hope of not only climbing down the trees without splitting your pretty head open but also doing so unnoticed. 

Sleep comes and goes along with the hours until waiting has wound you taunt. It is only a matter of time before the sun rises again and you’ve lost the window of opportunity. So with sweaty hands and a heart threatening to come up your throat, you cautiously slide yourself out from his hold. 

By some miracle it turns out that Neteyam is the deepest sleeper you have ever met, because even as the hammock sways from your climbing out, he simply lets out a sigh and turns his head further into the fabric. 

Scaling down the tree is a test in vigilance and patience. Every smooth breath you force yourself to take is a practice in these arts. Stubbornly you refuse to look down, knowing it will only bring forth nerve ridden mistakes. So with the pace of a snail you inch further and further down the trunk. 

You just need to make it to a pa’li.

That’s it. 

So close. So very close, you tell yourself, even as you know it’s a lie.

“What are you doing?”

Your breath catches in your throat, thighs tensing as you remember to still keep hold. Your muscles relax slightly, however, when you notice that the voice holds an Omatikaya accent but it is not Neteyam’s. The beta from dinner sits up in his hammock, eyes squinting at you through the darkness. Say the wrong thing and he is bound to sound the alarm. 

“You should not be out of bed.” He sighs. 

“I must relieve myself.” Biting your bottom lip you steer your features into confident defiance. “Or am I not allowed to do that too?”

The beta lets out a sigh and a curse you do not recognize. It must be part of the Sky People’s weird language. 

“Alright, I will assist you just wait for a moment.” 

“I don’t require an audience.” 

“But you do require supervision.” 

It’s difficult to argue when you remain clinging to a tree for dear life. So when the beta helps you make it down the tree foothold by foothold, there is nothing left in you to protest. Instead, you simply shift gears. 

“Be quick.” The male says, gesturing to a secluded spot behind thick bushes.

“It takes as long as it takes.” Head held high, you walk past him and into the bushes. Luckily the sounds of nocturnal creatures are loud enough to excuse why you are so silent in the bushes. Furthermore, it’s clear that male has at least some respect for your privacy as a woman when he doesn’t question again what takes you so long.

Those advantages aside, running now would still do you no good. He has steered the two of you further away from the pa’li and running on foot will only get you lost in this entanglement of greenery. And with a beta, one native to the area nonetheless, there is no chance of getting far. 

Lucky for you, there is always one sure fire way to disable a man without violence. 

“What did you say your name is again?” 

The beta straightens when you walk past him. 

“Um, I didn’t.” He picks up into a jog to catch up with your sudden retreat. Not a foot of space is granted between you two. He has grown suspicious. 

Shifting your long glossy hair over one shoulder, you look over at him with a subtle pout. “Well I don’t see how that’s fair. You know my name but I don’t know yours.” 

The beta doesn’t immediately melt at your softened composure like most males at home do. Rather he seems to clear his throat in discomfort before muttering out, “Ke’ve”

“Hm, Ke’ve.” You repeat back, as if savoring the taste of his name on your tongue. He’s nervous. No doubt, devoted to keeping his distance from the prince’s intended. There are ways to relax him, however. “Well Ke’ve, not every male is noble enough to lend his help in the middle of the night. You must know your presence has brought me great comfort out here.” 

His eyes scrunch but he doesn’t respond, perhaps unsure of what response would be safe. 

“You see,” With a sigh, you come to a halt. “I’m not very accustomed to feeling vulnerable. We are so far from home in a place I have never been but I still do not enjoy being seen as weak. So I wouldn’t admit this to anyone else but I feel as if I can trust you when I say,” You pause for dramatic effect and will tears to your eyes. “I’m scared.”

Were it an alpha, the essence of your fear would be enough to swoop you into their arms and make an oath of protection. Ke’ve on the other hand is a beta, so his response is more subtle. Yet just as promising when his expression falters and he looks on the verge of sighing again. 

“You are safe with us.” And as sure as the sun rises in the morning, so does that inevitable flash of concern spring forth. 

“I do feel safer with you.” Just a gentle brush of your fingers against his elbow. So subtle in wake of your shining vulnerability that he doesn’t shrug it off. “I can’t tell you how much that means to me.” 

A few stray pieces of hair fall over your cheek to frame your depiction of soft spoken innocence. You are perfectly poised like a flower ready to be picked, a delicate beauty that deserves to be protected at all costs. The same disposition that has had beta men falling at your feet time and time again. 

They are always enchanted by your demeanor. So much so that when the Olo’ekytan’s daughter suddenly spins the table so she is straddling their waist and taking control, they can’t help but hand the reins over. 

“Yes well you…you don’t need to worry.” Ke’ve’s eyes don’t hold the same snare that Neteyam’s do but you can already imagine how pretty they will look rolling to the back of his head when you have his cock in your mouth. Pleasure has a way of rendering a man defenseless, therefore giving you the perfect opportunity to carry out your plans. 

With the stealth and precision of a predator stalking its prey you snake your hand up his bicep and over one broad shoulder. Consequently it has your own face inching closer to his wrist where you sensually let his pulse point rub over your throat. It will leave the trace of his scent there, igniting a primal side of him that can be molded perfectly into your designs. “How can I repay you?” You ask, batting your lashes up at him as you begin the slow descent to your knees. 

But they never hit the ground. 

Sharp pain erupts along your scalp as a hand abruptly grabs a chunk of your hair at the roots. That hold is used to veer you back onto your feet and fall back against a warm chest. “I can think of a few ways.” 

Your carefully crafted composure shatters into a hiss as you try to recover from both the shock of being caught and the unforgiving grip Neteyam has in your hair. Even more so, the tingling sensation that brutal hold sends down your spine. 

“Ow! Let go!” 

“Tell the others I will be having a little talk with my omega.” Neteyam commands, ignoring your useless struggling. “You are dismissed, Ke’ve.” The beta doesn’t need to be told twice, already scurrying to get away. 

“Now let’s get you sorted out.” Still keeping his hand tangled where you try to dislodge it, Neteyam drags you further into the mysterious forest. You note that the distance, however, is not quite far enough to completely conceal your whining from the others. 

Feet stumbling once that hold is released, you find yourself unceremoniously deposited onto a large boulder. You can spot the cliff’s edge where it drops down into a waterfall and beyond is the rolling landscape of Pandora’s forest. The glimmer of eclipse is slowly shifting into the first ray of sunshine to cast over the horizon. 

“You just had to prove me right, tiyawn.” Neteyam tutts, squatting onto his haunches so that he is at your level. 

It takes considerable effort to get your brain back online and position yourself into a pose more flattering and fit for a princess. No male has ever handled you so roughly. They wouldn’t dare. But the sting of Neteyam’s tug on your scalp leaves a strange ache behind that has your mind reeling. Trying to put your confident mask back on, you fuss with your hair to get every strand back into place. 

“And you just had to act like a barbarian.”

“Did you really believe it was that easy to sneak away from me?” 

Your throat runs dry when you meet his eyes. This wasn’t a near successful escape, it was planned. One look at his face and it’s clear that he knew exactly when you left and exactly who was assigned to deter you. 

“Can’t a woman pee in peace?” You fumble out, making your last attempt at defending your story.

“I suppose not when it ends in you practically nuzzling at another man's tewng [loincloth] like a little slut.” 

Your jaw drops before you can stop it. Eyes ablaze and tail pointed on alert, you are tempted to throw caution to the wind and slap the alpha’s pretty face. No male, in fact no Na’vi, has ever used such a vulgar term to depict you. You’ve had your share of fun among the betas in your clan, but that makes you no less glittering of a gem. And certainly not a slut. 

“No man of honor would even think of using such a term, let alone directing it at me.” When you rise up to your full height, Neteyam stands in suit. “Is this why you asked for my hand? Any normal prince, especially the son of Toruk Makto, should have half the women in the clan begging to mate with him. But maybe even they could not see past your arrogant disrespectful bravado, so you had to travel to another clan entirely to find an unknowing prospect.” 

“Is that your theory?” Tone deceptively calm, the deep drag of his voice washes over you like silk. 

“You may think that you’ve conquered and can now return home with a pep in your step but no matter what you do, there will always be one truth that will haunt you.” 

You gulp down the lump in your throat when one of his long strides closes the distance between you. Regardless, you refuse to retreat. 

“And what truth is that, princess?”

Your wild eyes shoot to pierce through him. 

“That you chose wrong.” You let that statement hang in the air for a beat, hoping it will press down on him in the silence. However it is disappointment that lays a hold on you when his unreadable expression remains in place. 

“Is that so?”

He’s close enough to nearly feel the beat of his heart. 

“It may be your experience that omegas in your presence bow in submission and shudder beneath that charming grin, but I am not one of them. I am not subject to swooning for or baring my neck to any alpha. I am too independent for your tastes.” 

His chest vibrates with a deep chuckle, one that ironically holds no jovial warmth to it. Instead, paired with the sinful curve of his lips, it wraps thick tendrils around you that act as the calm before the storm. 

“You’re not independent, princess. You’re a spoiled brat.” 

He’s undeterred by your scoff or bat of your hands when he forcefully grasps your chin between two fingers. 

“When my father finds out what kind of man you-”

“Your father has done you a great disservice.” Two steps forward and Neteyam has successfully backed you up against the cool stone. “He has given you everything you’ve asked for, let you go entirely unchecked. We can place part of the blame on him for turning you into a spoiled little thing that thinks it only takes a bat of her lashes to get what she wants.” 

When your lips part to sneer a nasty comment at him, Neteyam swiftly presses his thumb over them. 

“It’s because of this spoiled attitude that you have not properly learned the pleasure of submitting to your nature.” He’s not trying to hide the shadow of his scent over you now, it circles you into a clouded dome. Leaning his head down, his lips just barely whisper against your own that are still trapped beneath his thumb. “You don’t understand the ecstasy of being tamed.” 

A warmth pools at the pit of your stomach. You recognize that feeling and what it means. Putting your desire to win this argument aside, it’s clear that now is the time to bow out before this escalates too far. 

“Get off.” At first it’s just a whisper. Then when Neteyam’s body remains curled over yours, rock hard and unmoving, your voice rises. “I said get off! You egotistical pervert!” Your cries don’t stop and neither does the useless rain of your fists against his chest. 

But then he is snatching your wrists and hooking a hand beneath your thigh to slide you up onto the rock. The stone is cold against your exposed back and ass, your tail becoming trapped beneath your own weight. Neteyam crushes all hope of sitting back up when he cages your smaller form with his own bulking frame. 

“Always have to make it difficult, don’t you, tiyawn?”

You fight the urge to squeeze the muscles beneath your captured hands when they land on his chest to push him away. 

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so difficult if you just got off of my ass for once.” 

“Oh but princess that is exactly where I want to be.” That devilish grin is accented by a ray of sunlight painting his features. 

Without an inch of personal space it becomes aggravatingly obvious how gorgeous the man above you is. Neteyam is the perfect contrast of broad shoulders and a slim waist shown off by his beautiful woven battle band. His immaculate braids swing down across his cheeks and collarbones to frame his intense eyes, sharp jawline, and lips that were simply made to do sinful things. 

 Your reflection is cut short when a band begins to wrap around your wrists. Squirm as you might, Neteyam holds no sympathy for your protests as he expertly ties the appendages together. Empty threats. Cries for help. None of them make an ounce of difference. 

“Scream as much as you want if you’re that eager to give the others a show.” 

That shuts you up in an instant. It confirms your earlier observation of proximity and immediately has you playing back the conversation to guess how much of it that other males have already heard. 

“You’re a monster.” 

“Hm, and all yours, princess.” A wicked grin across his lips, Neteyam secures your bound wrists to a low branch over the rock. You’re left stretched out and trapped laying across the boulder beneath him. 

That cocky expression blanches its color once he draws his nose along your neck. The exact spot you had tricked Ke’ve to scent you. Your heart hammers on its own accord when Neteyam’s wicked smile drops. Mere seconds ago nothing had seemed more appealing than ripping apart the alpha with the lash of your tongue, but now something in you warns to stay still. To stay quiet. 

“I was going to wait until we reached Vitraya Ramunong [tree of souls], in light of tradition.” His breath is hot against your neck, a heat that travels like lava down to your very core. “But it seems my little brat can’t wait that long.” 

His teeth sink in without warning. It takes a moment for the shock to fizzle out and allow you to feel the pain. Neteyam’s teeth bite and capture the soft flesh there without mercy before his lips suck a dark spot directly over where Ke’ve’s scent used to be. 

Your spine arches, hips already bucking without your consent. The only response to your screams and squirming is Neteyam’s own hips pressing you back against the stone. He is ravenous. Biting, sucking, and licking at that one spot until the area has become desensitized to his ministrations. 

Your body has spiked from zero to one hundred in a matter of seconds. Your head reels with the whiplash of having the male reprimand you one moment and the next sinking his teeth into a mark terrifyingly close to your mating gland. 

“Better.” Neteyam finally murmurs against your neck. He seals the mark with a deceptively tender kiss as you are left short circuiting. Your instincts flare, that primal part of your nature climbing out from under the rock you’ve kept it trapped beneath. 

“Are…are you insane? Biting that close-” 

“I won’t mark you there tonight, tiyawn. Want to be able to feel you through the bond when that happens.” A curved knuckle runs down your kuru, making your toes curl. “Once we are under the spirit tree together. There are still some traditions I’d like to keep.” He says with a grin that you could almost associate with a charming gentleman, not the same male that just savagely ravaged your throat like a predator of the night. 

“But we will need to find a way to get you to behave until then.” You can’t mirror the ease he feels as he speaks. It becomes clear now how dire your circumstances are. You had thought Neteyam wouldn’t dare to put a hand on you without permission but now he has proven to be more than willing to not only touch but leave marks behind. There is no telling where he draws the line. 

And you’re scared, just as you should be, but there is something else far more terrifying that plumps into your bloodstream. A dangerous intrigue that borders excitement. 

“How do you suggest we do that, princess?” 

No matter how hard you try, no humble response willingly bubbles to your lips. Neteyam is still an asshole, gorgeous or not. Alluring or not. No matter how tempting he may be, that doesn’t mean it’s worth exploring the mysterious punishment he has up his sleeve. And you…well you’re still pissed. 

“My behavior is nothing in comparison to yours. You-”

A hand comes down on the side of your ass hard enough to have you choking on those words. 

“You hit me!” Neteyam simply tilts his head at your accusation. 

“Good observation, tiyawn.” Not a hint of apology present. This man is not remorseful, he is proud. “If you keep running your mouth like that I will be forced to do it again. Knowing you, it won’t take long for me to tan that ass red.” 

Your father never spanked you as a child. It would break his heart to see his little girl cry the tears it would inevitably provoke. And with your dating experience exclusively being betas, no man has ever tried to right that wrong. Thinking of riding on a pa’li with a red ass now has fear jumbling threats past your lips haphazardly. 

“I swear on my-”

His right hand clamps over your mouth. The pressure is hard enough to have you whining beneath his skin. 

“That’s enough from you for now.” 

There is nothing left for you to do but watch. Body rendered immobile and now your last weapon at your disposal silenced, you are at the utter mercy of the prince. A mercy that does not appear to be afforded any time soon as his other hand trails down to start undoing the knots of your top. 

It shouldn’t be as scary as it is, watching string be string get unlooped as your crystal top begins to fall slack. However, this particular intimacy is one you are not accustomed to. 

It had started out as just a silly game you had played when you first started dating. Men were often foaming at the mouth to get a proper glimpse of your subtle breasts. It had been an immediate source of amusement as you’d seen how far they were willing to go for only a chance. And even more rewarding when you noticed how easy it was to never follow through with satisfying this desire. 

So it continued. It became somewhat common knowledge among your lovers, and any future interested prospects that you keep that part of yourself private. However, you hadn’t meant for it to go on as long as it did. Eventually you would cave to a worthy beta and watch him go feral, but that was before you discovered simply how sensitive your nipples are. It only took a few times of playing with yourself, brought on by your interest in nipple piercings, for you to see how vulnerable that area of you is. 

And now it is ironically Neteyam that uncovers that part of you.

He can sense the shift of your scent the moment it happens. With every tug on the feeble strings your essence takes on a darker hue. Pleasure and pain. Arousal and fear. These combinations are ones you have not been properly exposed to. Perhaps were it not for him, you would never have been humble enough to try them. 

The last undone tie allows the strung crystals to slide over the curve of your chest before dropping to the floor. What pretty little things you adorn yourself with, yet they do very little to protect you. Because it’s clear to him that in your eyes, protection is never needed. You can not fathom how much you have truly gotten away with.

Prancing around in your little outfits. Torturing men with what they want but can’t truly possess. Expecting the world to shift whatever way you desire with the wave of your hand. It’s laughable how you never imagined to face the consequences of such actions. 

You’re a haughty little thing just waiting to be put in your place. 

“My brat.” Neteyam smirks, leaning down to place a kiss at the slope between your breasts. Goosebumps ripple over your beautiful azure skin. It’s a visceral reaction to the smallest of his touches and it drives him near insanity. How perfect this pretty body of yours will be as a canvas for his marks. A vessel for his heir. 

Fuck, you are beautiful. 

Perhaps he can’t entirely blame you for being so arrogant. Your beauty is enough to hold a man captive with just a simple glance. And you’ve taken advantage of that far too many times. 

He allows himself to fall captive to it now. Unlike the others, he won’t need to starve after you once you’ve decided you’re done playing with him like a toy. No, you will be bound to him. You will belong to him completely. 

“So pretty.” He coos, his lips just barely painting over your right breast. When his bottom lip hover over your nipple he watches in awe as it hardens. “But you already know that, don’t you?” 

You’ve gone silent, but he can feel the stutter of your breath beneath his hand. It would be unfair to neglect the other side, so Neteyam takes his time showing your left breast the same gentle attention that has your other nipple following in suit. He’s heard of your reluctance to reveal such pretty breasts to your lovers, but he never imagined it would be due to such sensitivity. 

It’s like watching a flower bloom for him. The way you squirm and whine at even the drag of his eyes over your delectable form. Neteyam lets his hand slip from your mouth, no longer willing to explore only with his lips. 

His fingertips start a trail down by your navel and ascend up over your stomach and towards your chest at a slow pace. When he finally reaches to gently palm at your right breasts he feels your heartbeat pounding like a drum under his fingers. So many nights he has dreamed of touching you like this, rendering you utterly speechless before he has even started. Now as your lips part and breath becomes labored from his simple touches, there is no sight more delightful. 

You are perfect. You have an attitude that is in major need of fixing but even that is simply a beautiful challenge Eywa has created for him. The way you fit in his hands, gently massaging that supple flesh, it’s clear She crafted your body specifically for him too. 

The sun has finally breached the line of the horizon and now it sparkles along your chest in a dazzling show. The white crystals woven in your hair remind him of the halos worn by the angels his father has described. 

He applies more pressure with his right hand until the plump flesh is spilling between his fingers, giving him the perfect presentation for his salivating mouth. What starts out as an open mouthed kiss a few inches above your nipple quickly turns into sucking that flesh into his mouth until you are writhing. He groans at the sounds you make and when he pulls back to see the purple mark rising along your skin, the sight is enough to have him on the brink of purring in elation. 

Neteyam bends forward and starts crafting his brand on the other side so they are a matching set. This time he takes care in placing it further below your left nipple, at the crease where your stomach meets your chest. It will be difficult for you to find a top able to cover up this claim wrought by his teeth, a purposeful decision on his part. 

“Tey…mmm… teyam wait!” 

He grins at the cute nickname you’ve already coined for him, but that only buys you a few seconds before he is finally puckering his lips around one of your stiff points. The reaction is instantaneous, spine curving and a screech barreling up your throat. He doesn’t start off sucking too hard, instead just enjoys the way you feel in his mouth. Eventually, though, the whines you make are too decadent for him to resist making them ring louder. So he sucks harder at the little point and groans around the sensitive area so that it has vibrations shooting through you. 

“Finally being so good to me, tiyawn, aren’t you?” He says, taking a moment to release your nipple with an audible pop. “Laying yourself out for me to enjoy. I knew you could be a good girl.” 

You haven’t come to earn this praise yet, but it’s important to leave an alluring snippet that exhibits what could come if you only behave. As much as you may want to fight it, your nature won’t let you escape how good such praise feels. You are a stubborn woman but your body wants to submit to him. There is a part of you, no matter how deep you’ve buried it, that yearns to please your alpha. 

He snaps you back into the moment by softly closing his teeth around your left nipple. It takes a hand against your stomach to stop you from rolling onto your side and away from his soft torment. 

“It’s too sensitive! Stop!” Your pouted lips beg but your strengthening perfume gives your arousal away. Just as he figured, you’ve yet to experience how beautifully pleasure and pain intertwine. He rolls that bud sensually between his teeth before carefully giving it a tug. 

He alternates between tormenting your nipples and savoring the plush curve of your breasts with his hands and mouth. The skin is soft beneath his calloused palms. It has him wondering how it would feel to have that velvety skin squished around his cock and as he fucks your breasts. Neteyam swallows back the pooling saliva on his tongue, a string of it still connecting his lips to where he laid his last mark on your tits. It’s almost tempting enough to forgo his plans altogether and sate his lust driven curiosity, but Neteyam shakes it away.

The two of you will have plenty of time to experiment later. 

“Teyam, please no more. It’s too much!” Your pleas have died down in volume. Now they are coated with your labored breath as you try to control the pounding of your heart. 

“Too much, princess?” He questions and guides his hand down south to rest over your loincloth. “Or not enough?” When he cups your pussy through the fabric you roll up against him and chase whatever friction he is willing to give.  

It’s not nearly enough, he can tell from your disappointed expression when he pulls away entirely. Pupils blown wide and chest heaving to catch your breath, you remain silent as he reaches for the pouch attached to his tewng. 

Neteyam pulls out a line of woven crystals, much like the ones you wear in your hair but these were foraged from the caves near his home. There are fastens on either end of the chain that took far too much time for him to craft. 

“Is that for me?” Naturally you ask, that pretty face already showing how quick you are to forget what he was doing to you mere seconds ago once a shiny gift is presented. Neteyam fights the curve of his lips and keeps his every from rolling. Always so predictable.

“Just for you, princess.”

He had crafted it after his last visit to your village. Far before the Olangi clan thought the threat of Sky People was great enough to require protection but him and his father had been there to spread the news regardless. He knew before you even spoke that you thought the world was at your feet. Even the way you walked, spoke of a spoiled elegance. And when he had tried to sate his curiosity towards you with a conversation you were nothing but rude and spiteful towards him.

He knew then that you were going to be his, one or another. 

And so he started foraging for the crystals that first night back. 

“So pretty,” you murmur, voice airy. Those golden eyes narrow as you squint to look at it. Despite your current position and already wrecked voice, a sneaky little smirk forms over your lips. “But you miscounted. My hair is much longer than that.”

He lets you have your moment, watches as you grin up at him as if you have finally landed a critical blow. All for that to sizzle out when he bends down to whisper in your ear. 

“Who said anything about your hair?” 

The confused scrunch of your features doesn’t last long when he begins running the cool metal of the clamps up and down your right nipple. Nipple clamps are not a traditional erotic tool for the Na’vi so he’s certain you don’t believe your first instinct as to where that is going until he starts to pinch the right one to prepare it. 

“Neteyam, no! Get that away-” He clasps his other hand over your mouth again. Always the demands with you. Sooner than later you will learn that begging gets you a lot further with him. It’s a little trickier to prepare with only one hand available but Neteyam manages. 

The alpha plants a knee across your pelvis to keep you place while his right hand tugs at your nipples to confirm they are pointed enough to clamp onto. When the first clamp goes on your right nipple, your screeching goes up an octave. You know what to expect better when the left one is attached but that doesn’t diminish your reaction. 

Lovely little drama queen you are, the fit that follows is inevitable. He’s tested the clamps and consulted with several Sky People before deciding to use them on you so he knows there isn’t any real damage being done. Still, you are going to squirm and screech and, were it not for his hand, probably shout every insult you can think of at him, because you have never been punished like this. And your tantrums are what has worked for you in the past. 

He lets you fight it out as he holds you down. Neteyam doesn’t mind as it gives him time to admire his handy work. The chain of crystal connecting the clamps hang exquisitely between your curves. Those stiff points have turned a new shade of purple as they peek out between the clamp’s teeth. 

“Enough.” Neteyam finally quips back, tugging at the chain. A mix between a moan and groan rumbles from your throat. Once his hand has retreated he can hear the sound properly. Keeping his pointer finger curled around the crystal chain, the prince raises a warning brow at you. “Are you done throwing your fit?”

He watches your pupils dilate and lips curl into a pout.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you like my gift?” 

“It hurts.” You whimper with a quivering bottom lip. It’s difficult to say how genuine the reaction is considering what a good little actress you are. 

He nods his head, mocking your pout with a feigned one upon his own lips. That only whips your stare into pointed daggers. 

“It’s supposed to, tiyawn. That’s why it is called punishment.” He kisses right above your left clamped nipple. “A term you may become very familiar with if you don’t fix your attitude.” 

Pulling back from where you glare, Neteyam settles himself beside you on his side. His left arm props against the rock to casually support his head while the right drags down your torso. The alpha’s ears perks at the little hiss you release when he just barely brushes the chain but he continues down south. 

Another time when the moon is still out he will kiss every little tanhi that dots your precious body until you cry for more. For now, he is only focused on one location. 

Neteyam can sense the heat of your core the second his fingertips slip beneath your loincloth’s waistband. You are soft and wet, just like he had imagined so many times. Flared nostrils greedily inhale your scent as he pauses to cup your entire pussy. Much like before, you can’t help but react to his touch. With a little more pressure in his firm hold, a trickle of wetness drops onto his palm. 

Fuck, you are inescapable!

You may believe he is to blame for this arrangement but the truth is you are the one that has trapped him since the moment he caught a whiff of your essence. It is him that has been utterly destroyed by his constant thoughts of you. 

“But I know that isn’t all there is to it, is there?” He continues, softly kissing your shoulder. “It’s not just pain you feel. There’s something else.” 

Your poor bottom lip has been utterly abused by your sharp teeth. Whatever sacrifice it takes for you to keep from admitting the truth to him. He discards your tewng with one hand. 

“A unique sense of-” He spreads your folds to suddenly massage your peeking clit with his pointer finger, stealing a gasp from you. “Pleasure.” Neteyam finishes with a grin. 

You turn to putty in his hands. The tension riddled along your muscles unravel as he rubs circles along your clit with just the right amount of pressure. When he clasps the chain between his teeth and tugs your eyes fly open, taking in your surroundings as if the pleasure has made you forget where you are entirely. 

“Can’t space out on me yet, princess. We still have more to discuss.” 

Talking appears to be the last thing on your mind, hips already rolling to hump against his hand. So close to the edge already that it causes a burst of pride to warm in his chest. Warm thighs bracket his hand as if afraid it will pull away at any moment. Smiling softly at the display, Neteyam smoothly covers your upper body with his own, nose to nose in a matter of seconds. 

There is nowhere for you to hide now, every microreaction bared for him. Those vibrant eyes remain locked on his own, but he catches the way they occasionally dart to his lips before returning. 

He doesn’t need to be told twice. 

Your lips against his are like decadent chocolate, the swirl of his tongue around your own is another burst of flavor he simply can not get enough of. And so the prince swirls the kiss into a languid roll of passion that leaves your lips ruby red and breaths coming out in puffs once he pulls away. 

His hand is drenched in your juices. So much so that when he switches to his thumb rubbing your clit and pointer finger tapping at your entrance, those soaking walls capture him at the first sign of intrusion. Your tight heat sucks in the first digit, pulsing around him greedily as your eyes roll back. 

Another tug to the chain and he has your attention again. 

“Let’s start with an easy question, tiyawn.” He starts. “What were you going to do to Ke’ve?”

Smart little thing that you are, or perhaps manipulative is a more accurate term, you act as if the pleasure has completely swept you away from understanding him. Beautiful little whimpers rumble in your throat and a look of pure lust crosses over your deceivingly innocent features. 

Neteyam isn’t willing to wait to see how you act your way out of this. 

His finger stops curling and thumb halts before his other hand pushes your thigh upward so that he can land a crackling spank to your ass. 

“Princess,” Neteyam drawls out in a mocking sing-song voice. “I’m running out of patience.”

The charade drops but your body trembles from the sudden lack of stimulation. 

“I was going to distract him.” It’s spoken so softly that his ears twitch and strain to make sure he hears you correctly. The finger inside of you restarts, curling up against your g spot while his thumb torments that bundle of nerves from the other side. 

“That’s a nice way of putting it.” He slots his face against the slope of your throat. The fragrance that is so uniquely you is especially strong here so there is no stopping the way his tongue naturally flicks out to draw a wet line from your collarbones to jaw. “Let me be more specific. How were you going to distract him?”

The context clues were clearly enough to put two and two together, but he still demands that you say it out loud. The first step to developing remorse is acknowledging what was done. 

When you take your time thinking up a strategic answer he cruelly pulls his finger out and jams a second one back with it on the thrust. Your toes curl and your face is turned to bury in your hair. 

“Princess.” 

No response, just a small whine as he scissor his long digits to stretch those velvet walls. 

“Were you going to suck his cock?” 

Your silence is rewarded with his hand stilling. The disappointment has your lips parting to no doubt say something far outside of a good girl’s vocabulary, but one raised brow has you falter in that decision. 

He twirls the middle of the chain around one finger so it is shortened and with each word he tugs it back sharply. 

“Were. You. Going. To. Suck. His. Cock.” 

“Ah mm Yes!” You gasp, eyes squeezed shut but pussy wildly pulsing around his fingers. 

“That’s what I thought.” He revels in the naive relief you exhibit when he begins his ministrations between your thighs again. How cute of you to think that a little truth would forgive your earlier sins. 

Neteyam prowls down your body, savoring the slide of your skin against his own until he is settled between your thighs that are now pushed over his shoulders and he has an unobstructed view of your greedy cunt. While diligently pushing you closer to an orgasm, the alpha takes special care to decide where his next visual claim will be laid. He decides on two spots. 

The first one is atop your upper thigh where it will be in clear view of anyone you come across and the second is harshly sucked into the sensitive flesh of your left inner thigh. 

“You will never walk upon Omatikay soil without my marks.” 

You don’t appear to hear him.

“Oh mm Neteyam…feels so good.” 

It might just be the first good thing you’ve said all day and his inner alpha purrs in deep satisfaction. Unfortunately for you, punishment comes before rewards. 

Retracting his hand entirely, Neteyam swipes the remnants of your sticky arousal over your inner thighs, painting his beautiful canvas. There is no time to complain at the loss before he is running the flat of his tongue from your convulsing pussy up over your clit and even navel. 

That wet muscle dances along and between your folds in practiced precision. Your essence tantalizes his very tastebuds until he is producing so much saliva that it is difficult to say how much of the wet mess at your apex is made from him versus you. He supposes in some ways he is responsible for both. 

The prince’s lips shine with the evidence when he pulls back to speak. 

“Do good girls do that?”

“Huh…what?” 

“Do good girls try to suck cocks that are not their alpha’s?” He reiterates, weaving a firm steel into his voice. 

“I…uh…no,” Comes your timid response. 

Those thick lashes flutter when he returns to feasting on your delicious cunt. It only lasts for a second, however, before he is speaking against the soft skin of your thighs. 

“That’s right, tiyawn. Good omegas know who they belong to.”

Your body jolts as if stung by lightning when his thumb rubs at your sensitive nub again. He can see it in your face now. His omega is just barely tipping on the edge of release. 

“So what do you think you should do about it?”

Breath borderline erratic the muscles in your legs tense in anticipation of that wonderful release. The same one that he roughly rips away when you don’t respond, not daring to even breath across your cunt. 

“No no please! I’m so close! Just a little longer. I wanna come!” 

“What do you think you should do about it?” Neteyam repeats, tampering down the smirk that threatens to cross his lips when he sees the way you whine and tugs at your bonds. 

“For…for what?” You’re so genuinely confused he has to hold back a coo at how adorable you look. 

“What do you think you should do to make up for trying to suck his cock?”

That little head of yours is working overtime to craft an intelligent response. It becomes all that much harder when he starts playing with your clit again, keeping you tantalizingly close to the edge but never over. 

“I…I could…I..”

“Yes?” Neteyam considers himself very patient but he is forced to halt his touch when you take too long to respond and get far too close to coming. 

“No wait! Why did you stop?” Your foot stomps against the rock like the spoiled brat that you are, so utterly confused and crestfallen at being denied for the first time. Has any male ever even tried to edge you? If your response is anything to go off of, it’s clear that he will be the first to teach you the joys of orgasm denial too. 

“Answer my question, oeyӓ tiyawn [my love].” 

Frustrated tears run from the corner of your eyes and this time Neteyam is positive they are genuine. Your little pout is broken by sharp teeth torturing your bottom lip again while you try to get a hold of yourself to respond properly. 

“I…I could suck your cock.” It comes out almost as a question but the prince is eager to take it. 

“There you go.” He hoists himself up to deposit a kiss on your lips before shrinking back down and continuing a very special kiss between your legs. Your pretty thighs immediately clamp around his head, shaking so hard he can feel the vibrations. As much as he wants to taste your release properly he can’t pass up the opportunity to see your face for the first time as you come.

So the alpha escapes the cage of your thighs and replaces his tongue with skilled fingers the fuck up into your pussy and play with that precious bundle of nerves. He kisses his way up your body, this time being mindful of the crystal chain, until he is nuzzling against your cheek. The woodsy essence of his own scent will integrate there, letting everyone know that you have been claimed. 

“Such a smart girl my omega is. So good for her alpha.” 

That is your undoing. Like a woven tapestry he watches you unravel into an explosion of pure ecstasy. All of this time you’ve denied yourself the wondrous caress of an alpha’s praise. It’s left you with no defenses once finally showered with his sweet words. Neteyam groans deeply beneath your whiny scream, savoring the way his hand is now properly drenched as he rides you through the orgasm. 

You don’t register when Neteyam pulls away. In fact your head is so high above the clouds that it’s only when your hands drop like a dead weight against the boulder that you realize Neteyam has cut your bonds. 

It feels as if the world is a hazy blur of color, everything so vibrant and wondrous as you come down from that high. Even the simple kisses Neteyam gives to each of your wrists feels like drinking sunshine. In fact it is so incredible that you instantly crave more. 

More of him. 

More of this electric pleasure.

Anything and everything that has brought you into such a happy state. 

However, when the prince comes to carefully help you off the boulder and back onto your feet, it’s suddenly clear what it will take to get another taste of cloud nine. And in this case, that means tasting him. 

Neteyam hardly needs to prompt you onto your knees. Whatever is brewing inside of you is now your new addiction and somehow being at eye level with his crotch has never seemed more appealing. Your alpha wants you to atone for your sins, perhaps then he will grant you another orgasm. Well if taking him down your throat is redemption then you are going to be good at this game. 

Past experience is the foundation of your confidence. 

Hands still shaking with aftershock, they fumble to get a hold of his tewng. You’re about to catch hold of the waistband and simply rip the fabric down when strong hands catch your wrists. You look up at him in bewilderment. What type of man stops a woman on her knees second before he is about to get his dick sucked?

“We’re not going to do this your way, princess. If you want to make it up to me then you will learn to follow my instructions.” 

In some ways it’s borderline insulting. What is wrong with the way you suck a male off? No man has ever complained. And if they did, how would Neteyam even know? He’s never experienced nor witnessed what you do. But of course as an alpha he must believe he knows best. 

Typical.

Those thoughts don’t bubble into words, however, because as much as you would like to prove how fucking fantastic you are all on your own, you don’t want it more than another orgasm. Preferably by the means of his skilled tongue.

When he drops your wrists you shift uncomfortably, both impatience and the tight press of the clamps around your nipples creates the undeniable need to squirm. All while Neteyam simply watches you from above, perfectly calm and entertained by your position. 

That is until you go to shift the clamps and your wrists are immediately snagged again. 

“Did I say you could touch that?” He asks, that smooth voice taking on a smoky edge. Just when you are about to pout, however, Neteyam pulls your hands to place them along his upper thighs. You don’t need to be told twice. Running your hands along the smooth skin and squeezing the corded muscle there is a nice enough distraction to silence your objections. 

That is, until a new distraction presents itself. 

His long fingers carefully start to undo the ties of his tewng. Done at such a leisured pace it’s obvious he is determined to torture you, even pausing at one point to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before finally lets the cloth fall away. 

Excitement quickly mingles with apprehension when you see what you are faced with. 

Beta males have always satisfied you with their size, just enough to make you choke a little and hit that special spot inside of you. However, you’ve forgotten entirely what it means to be with an alpha. Neteyam’s cock curves up against his lower abs, fully hard and already sporting a drop of precum. But even the thought of fitting your mouth around that bulbous head, let alone trying to get the massive length down your throat makes your ears begin to twitch. 

All confidence quickly drains from your face. 

“Are you ready to listen now?” 

Finally peeling your gaze away from his twitching cock, you look up at him to see him staring down at you with the same intensity. 

“Yes.” You whisper, suddenly grateful for promised instruction now that you’ve been properly thrown for a loop. Perhaps you should have branched out to fucking with alphas at least once, just to know the difference properly. Because now you feel like a proper virgin waiting for their first lesson on giving a blow job. 

Surprisingly there is one feeling that rises higher than your trepidation.

Curiosity. 

Somehow the challenge before you sparks a further interest. A need to map out every part of his body until it has become less mysterious. Until it feels familiar beneath your hands.

And as if Neteyam can read your thoughts, he says, “You can explore now, tiyawn. Take your time.” 

Take your time. Not the direction you would expect from a male whose cock is fully hard and jerking against his lower stomach. You had thought all alphas to be forceful, wanting to claim and fuck in a quick and dirty fashion. But Neteyam stays true to his word when your hands slowly travel up his thighs. 

You are given more than enough time to familiarize yourself with the area. You start small, running the pads of your fingers down his muscular abdomen to feel each and every muscle there. Then once a little bit of confidence has been regained they come to rest around his base. 

The dark blue shade of his skin elegantly bleeds into a beautiful purple the closer to the tip it goes. All to then end on a subdued shade of pink along his head and balls. Even without the moonlight you can make out the small tanhi that dot along his skin. They lead along the side, creating a trail beside the thick vein lacing the underside of this cock before fanning out around the tip. As if they were perfectly crafted to entice your eyes towards the prize. 

Neteyam’s tail lashes the first time you run your fingers over him. His arousal is an essence that infiltrates the very air around you like a thick cloud. Surely he must be anxious for you to hurry up, but the prince keeps his body strictly in place for your exploration. 

It is only when he catches your tongue swiping over your bottom lip that he speaks up. 

“You can use your tongue, tiyawn.” With an inaudible gasp you pull back in surprise, practically forgetting he was there. An amused grin shows off his pearly white teeth, never faltering as you hesitate for a moment. “Are you feeling shy, princess?” 

“No.” You bite back even as your stomach does a somersault. 

“Remember, I will guide you. No need to stress.” His fingers run through your scalp and in spite of how good that feels you rear back and glare at him. 

You don’t need help. And you sure as hell are not shy. So what if you are a little caught off guard? That does not give him the right to treat you like an omega virgin ripe for the picking. 

So you draw forward and boldly draw the flat of your tongue slowly from the base to tip. Much like he had done between your own thighs. Because much like him, you are not afraid and you are not one to hand the reins over easily. 

What you do not anticipate is how the taste of him blossoms over your tastebuds. It sends a thrill through you that is difficult to conceal as you go in for another taste. It gets sloppy very quickly. The moment you try to take the head into your mouth, your nerves get the better of you and that ends up making you draw back. 

Just in time as Neteyam slots a hand in your dark locks and grabs hold of the roots. “Why are you rushing, omega?” 

“I am not.” 

“Follow my directions. No need to prove yourself.” He says, but he already wears a crooked smirk. 

It continues like this back and forth until you are finally tired of having your head yanked back by your hair so you wait for his instructions. Neteyam is meticulous in the way he has you explore, the way he forces you to taste him before even giving you the chance to take him into your mouth. 

But when you do finally take in the first few inches your inner omega springs forth without reserve. You feel every ridge and vein of his cock as they slip past your outstretched lips. And that stretch, that utterly deniable feeling of being stretched full, is what has you drawing in for more. 

Before now being on your knees has always felt like a place of power. You’ve riddle men down to whimpering messes just by the skilled trace of your tongue. You’ve swallowed everything they’ve had to give while they’ve sung curses to the sky. It is them that is rendered entirely insatiable as you hold their pleasure in the palm of your hand. 

It doesn’t feel that way now. 

It’s hard to determine what he awakens within you but every time you are pulled off of his cock and told to take a moment to breathe, it is you that feels insatiable. You figured it would get better once Neteyam fell deep enough into his own ecstasy but somehow the evidence of his pleasure only escalates your own addiction. You can never get enough of him. 

Never will you tire of seeing his magnificent neck on display when he throws his head back with a rumbled groan. Never will you suck down the taste of him enough to satisfy your carnal desires. And never will there be a more magnificent feeling than the wash of his praise over you as your throat contracts and you gags around him. 

It is him that leaves you ravenous. 

“All the way down now, princess. That’s it, you can take it.” 

You’d take just about anything this man says at gospel at this point. A fact that is evident by the way you no longer hesitate to sheath him down your throat when commanded. And when those sinfully gorgeous hips start to move, you fight every need for breath and simply let him fuck your throat without complaint. 

In fact it is you that complains when you are given a chance to breathe, tears streaking down your face and drool coating your chin. 

“No whining.” Neteyam tsks, wagging a finger playfully. It would normally piss you off but now it only registers as the absence of praise. So when he continues to the pattern, moaning and bucking his hips only to pull off seconds later, you bite back the urge to cry and beg for his cum. “Just get me wet, princess. Tongue out. There you go.” 

It makes no sense, but then again that seems to be the theme when it comes to Neteyam. He demands you suck him off only to deny you the pleasure of feeling him shoot down your throat. Your pretty face is nothing but a mess of tears and spit when he finally rears you back for the last time. For a moment it seems possible he will jerk himself off and finish across your face or pinched nipples but his next direction has your tail tucking. 

“There’s my good girl. Now stand up for me.” 

“Neteyam.” You whine but he is quick to grab hold of that crystal chain and force you to your feet as your nipples ache. 

“Are you still wet for me, omega? Spread your legs.” He slides a hand between your thighs to inspect the evidence of just how aroused you truly are. “Very good girl.” He grins against your ear, as if he didn’t already know how desperate he has made you. 

It’s only a second of attention to your clit before he is taking your hand and dragging you through the forest. 

Neteyam has always been known for being meticulous. Or in Lo’ak’s words, obsessive. He has lived his life with a plan and great attention to detail. So when he has you following him, your hand in his own, he can’t help but look for the perfect spot to take you. The ideal place where he can admire you spread out for him and finally experience what it is to be inside of that sweet little body. 

He’s pleased to find you put up no fuss when he coerces you onto your stomach with your face down and ass up. In fact, your spine curves as you look back at him, a seductive gleam in your eyes that says you are still not above playing games to get what you want. 

“M’ready.” You sigh against the grass, tail curling upwards to give him access. It may as well be the equivalent of snapping your fingers in a fetching command. Regardless, Neteyam decides to let you off this time, especially when you are creating the most gorgeous display for him. 

Your pussy clenches around open air, your cunt an absolute mess that has dripped down between your thighs. There is no mistaking what you want. 

But that doesn’t mean that is what you’re going to get. 

You don’t immediately react when he uses both hands to knead and spread your plump cheeks apart, but when he begins to push a finger at your tightest hole, you squeak and draw back. With a stern hand gripping your hip he pulls you back against him where he kneels. Tentatively you trust him once more only to squirm when he only sticks his fingers into your pussy in order to collect your slick arousal and spread it between your cheeks. 

“Neteyam!”

“Mawey, princess. You’ll like it, I promise.” And you will, despite your better judgment. 

“No, not there!” Were it not for the hazy glow he has you in now you surely would claw his eyes out for even suggesting such a thing but with his thumb reaching down to rub at your sensitive clit, your defenses are greatly weakened. 

“And why not, tiyawn?”

“I want you to fuck me.” You drawl with a whine. 

“And I am.” Neteyam slinks up so his chest is pressed against your back, pushing away your hair so he can whisper in your ear. “I am going to fuck my spoiled brat until the only words she can manage to utter are thank you and my name.”

You sputter at his sensual words, pussy trying to clamp around the finger that swirls through your juices. 

“But that’s…t-that’s not what I mean.” 

“Are you nervous, tiyawn?”

“N-no.”

“No male has ever tried to stretch this little hole before, have they?” 

You simply attempt to tuck your face away from him as it turns a lovely shade of red. Neteyam grins and kisses your cheek. 

“I am going to take every first you have left, princess. I will fuck all of your holes over and over again, including this naughty little hole.” A shudder ripples through your trapped frame. “Your greedy pussy too but the first time I do that we will bonded beneath Vitraya Ramunong so until then…” He grips your hip to keep you in place when his lubed finger finally starts pushing past that clenching rim.

“Breathe oeyӓ tiyawn.” He hushes your whines. It takes considerable effort to coax you into relaxing for him but Neteyam finds that the right amount of praise and gentle kisses seems to get the job done. 

Fuck, you are so incredibly tight! It feels as if you are trying to cut off the circulation in his fingers as he adds another. His heart races at those pulsing walls around his cock. You do nothing to aid his patience as little pants filtering from your lips and soon your eyes are fluttering closed. 

You won’t want to admit it, but this new pleasure has you entirely hooked. A strange sensation no doubt, and even uncomfortable at times he can tell as you struggle to take a third finger but so too do you eventually start pushing your hips back against the intrusion. 

Holding you in place is no longer required, allowing his other hand to slip to the front of your body and resume strumming your clit. Grass becomes intertwined with the sparkling crystals in your hair due to the way you keep turning your head to whine and squirm. 

“I wish you could see how perfect you look like this. Sweet little ass sucking in my fingers like it was made for this. I knew I’d see you like this someday, my pretty brat learning to behave.”

“F-fuck you.” You sputter.

Neteyam can’t even find it within himself to be mad when you are clenching around him like this. He’ll take care of that naughty mouth soon, but for now he is content to focus on making your body fully submit to him. 

“As you wish, omega.” 

The prince pulls his fingers out and makes sure to spread more of your natural lube over his cock. He feels like he could bust any moment just looking at your hole clenching at the loss. The gleam in your eyes when he lines the head of his cock up to your tightest hole gives him all the information he needs to know. 

“Teyam!” You gasp just before his head makes it past the entrance. 

“Doing so good for me, omega. Stay nice and relaxed.”

“It’s not going to fit.” The protest is greatly undermined by the way your pussy leaks juices down your thigh. 

“Don’t worry, princess. I’ll make it fit.” 

And true to his word, Neteyam patiently rears forward and rubs sinful circles over your clit until his pelvis is cushioned by your plush ass. 

“Oh my Eywa!” You quiver, thighs no longer doing the work to keep you up. 

“What was it you said about getting off your ass?”

“You fucking…Oh…asshole.” Your insults are barely tangible as he begins with shallow thrusts. “Oh my…oh…aahh.”

“Different than you thought, isn’t it?” He smirks, but even he has to close his eyes and take a moment to breathe. Your walls cinch around him so tightly it feels as if you're trying to strangle his cock. Even his shallow thrusts take considerable effort, even more difficult not to prematurely fill you with his seed every time those gummy walls pulse. “Deep breathes. Let yourself enjoy it.” 

“M-more.”

His ears perk, wondering if he has misheard you.

“What was-”

“More! Move now! Move fucking now I swear-” The air is punched from your lungs when he harshly rears back to the tip before plunging himself all the way inside again. The noise that escapes you is one he has never heard before and he knows for a fact that it rings loud enough through the trees for the others to detect. 

Grasping a handful of hair he pulls you up onto your knees so that your back is flush against his chest. From this vantage point he can see the crystal chain sparkling in the sunlight. 

“Is that any way to ask for what you want?” He rumbles against your ear. 

The sound of clapping skin echoes through the forest as you eagerly push yourself back against his now brutal pace. 

“Teyamteyamteyam,” Comes your endless spew, head thrown back against his shoulder. He’s too lost in his own ecstasy to chew you out for not answering his question. Instead he roughly manhandles you off of his cock and pushes you to lay down on your back. 

“But-”

Legs thrown around his waist he sinks back inside to the hilt. “You need to learn some fucking patience, princess.”

“I’m sorryyyyy!” You drawl but those little hands are already grasp at his biceps, demanding that he slots himself closer. Looking down he swears he can practically see his cock moving in your stomach. 

“How are these pretty tits doing, hm?” Swooping down, he leaves sloppy kisses around your secured nipples, groaning when your fingers claws at his hair to pull him closer. “Tell me the truth now, princess. Tell me how much you love me my cock in your ass.” 

He knows you're far gone when a response comes back without any fight. “I love..ngh..ah…I love your cock in my ass. Don’t stop, alpha. Pleasepleaseplease.” 

“Take a breath for me.” He commands softly and the second you comply he undoes both claps in tandem. In some ways he has heard that taking them off is more painful than putting them on. If that is true, you must have a secret love for such pain because you bare down on him so hard that it takes everything within him not to bust inside of you. 

“Fuck!” You curse, yanking him down impossibly closer. “Neteyam!” 

“Good girl, princess. My good girl.” He murmurs between sloppy kisses laid on your chest. He licks gently over your pointed nipples in efforts to soothe them. 

Neteyam’s own patience is quickly unraveling but he wants to come in time with you. He wants you to squirt across him as he paints your walls white. So with his own breaths coming out in pants and hips ricketing at a desperate speed, he reaches between you and assaults that little bundle of nerves. 

“Come on, brat. Do as you're told for once and come for me.” 

You steal the very air from his lungs. Your silky walls milk him dry as you come around him. Stars dot his vision and his abdomen flexes at the pure pressure of his own release. He spills himself inside of you as your nails dig into his shoulder blades. 

When he finally does come down from that high, your grip won’t release. His name is a whispered mantra on your lips as you pull his heavy body atop of yours. He falls without resistance, crushing you beneath him. 

You’re overwhelmed. It makes him both proud and spiteful that no other male has truly managed to get you into this floaty state before. From the way you claw at him as if he is the very oxygen you rely on, it’s clear you don’t know how to handle such new intense emotions. To think you’ve gone so many years without truly satisfying your omega. 

“I’ve got you, omega. Your alpha’s here.” He tries to prop himself up on an elbow to relieve some of his body weight from you, but that has your panic rising. With an endless draw of sweet nothings he presses himself back down just in time for your lips to demand his. 

That anxiety gradually smoothes away the longer he indulges the impromptu makeout session. When his tongue swirls around yours, your movements become more leisurely. Even the very nature of the kiss becomes lazy while you softly play with his neat braids. 

“Teyam…”

“Yes princess?” He checks to make sure your breathing has finally turned back to normal after pulling away. 

“I’m ready to sleep.” You say as a matter of fact. 

“No tiyawn we still-” It’s too late. Chest somehow managing to rise and fall beneath his weight and eyes fluttered closed, you are dead to the world. Very typical fashion for you to simply state your wants as reality without waiting for any protests. 

He rolls his eyes fondly before carefully situating both of you onto your sides. His legs feel like thin vines walloping in the wind. Neteyam has to hold back a groan when he finally manages to slip out of you. Bathing in the sunlight with you tucked against his side, he allows himself one moment to recover and bask in the feeling. 

And when that moment is gone, he does everything in his power to dress and clean up both of you without disturbing your slumber. Your hair is still tangled and the echoing screams are sure to be enough evidence of what has happened between you two but when he walks out carrying you bridal style, he playfully glares at the other males who are anxious to make their teasing comments. They will beat him up about it later, for now it is important that you sleep. 

With narrowed eyes and a hiss he demands their silence before he situates you in front of him on the pa’li. Facing sideways on the horse you snuggle closer in your sleep, body shivering. You only wake for a second so that he can slip his thick poncho over the both of you. This way you are kept warm and eyes are shielded from the sun as you sleep.

“Well?” Tak’nal, his second in command, asks with a raised brow. 

“Problem solved.” Neteyam says simply. “Let’s go home.”

Writing this felt like a fever dream😂🫠 Please don't be shy, let me know what you think😚💗

Unofficial Taglist: @pandoraslxna @ikeyniofthetayrangi @plantgirliewholovespandora @nakedinthetrees

[b1rds3ye]

Can you make a fic / short headcanon of how the COD men reacts to reader riding those bull mechanical? Their usual bar/pub has installed a new attraction which is that bull mechanical. Either they dared reader or reader wanted to try to ride, depends on the character. You know how those bulls move makes the rider look like they’re grinding?? Yeah I wanna know how the guys reacts to that 👀

OHOHOHOHO GOT IT thank you for sending in the request!! This is the first one this blog has gotten 🥳🥳 I hope you enjoy~

Ride On

The local bar has installed a mechanical bull for an extra activity among the drunk and whimsical. One day off duty, you decide to give it a go and have some fun, and it seems the boys are enjoying it just as much as you.

Characters: Captain John Price, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, König

GN!Reader w/ no physical descriptions (except you're shorter than König)

Word Count: 2.5k (~500 each)

Genre: Fluff, Spice, established relationship

Warning: Spicy (but no smut), 18+/MDNI,  awkward dialogue (it’s the cutest thing during flirty time fight me)

A/N: I don’t even write stuff that’s mildly spicy so I hope I did a decent job - also apparently mechanical bulls can do some real damage oh my god???

Captain John Price

On duty Price may be your direct superior but off duty you were more than free to do as you please even in his presence, he had always been clear about that. So he knew you were up to something when you sauntered up to him asking him for permission to go on the mechanical bull in the middle of the bar

He could only stare at your deceptively innocent smile for a moment before repeating the mantra that you could do what you want, his free hand automatically reaching into his pocket for a smoke as you strutted to the mechanical bull. You were going to be the death of him

He’s sure this is what emperors felt like in the days of old. Food, drinks, some very enticing entertainment and Price feels like he’s on cloud nine. Sitting by a table, he lounges back, thighs spread as he takes up the entire space of his seat and then some, feeling like a king as he watches you on the mechanical bull. He does not move, save for the occasional shift as his pants tighten

When you’re done riling him up, Price stays put as you approach him again. He can’t hide the incredible smugness he feels when the hungry eyes of strangers trail you, only to look at him in envy when they realise you’re already taken. He isn’t bothered by any of their stares, he can easily give any of them a piece of his mind

“You’ve got guts, love,” Price huffed out a puff of smoke. He remained seated by his table while you stood beside him, his face directly in line with your torso. His gaze travelled along every line and curve of your body that was so tantalisingly close, he could feel the body heat emanating from you. He stifled the urge to lick his drying lips.

“I did a good job though, right?” You beamed. He quirked an eyebrow at your sickeningly sweet voice. So you were going to keep up this charade, as if your face was only flushed from the physical exhaustion of remaining upright on the automaton and not from being so close but so painfully far away from him. Even in the darkness, he could see how your pupils swallowed your irises but he chose not to comment on it - he wasn’t faring any better.

“Passable. You’ve got two choices, sergeant.”

You swallowed, a shiver travelling down your spine as Price tilted his head down, idly extinguishing his cigar against the ashtray.

“Either you go back on the bull for some further training, give everyone here a sight for their sore, miserable eyes…”

Price regards you again, head up so that you could finally see his full face. Like a man lost for days in the desert, he gazed at you as if you were an oasis. Eyes lit up in awe, full of reverence, yet glazed over in carnal hunger.

“Or we leave this pub and you give me a private encore.”

Simon “Ghost” Riley

The instant he saw the new attraction he instinctively groaned under his breath. He already knew that you, Soap and Gaz will be provoking each other for some sort of competition. He’ll interfere if anyone seems uncomfortable but if it’s all smiles and laughs he’ll just quietly watch on with a mirth in his eyes reserved only for you and the task force (he will make a quip about you lot behaving like muppets though)

That being said, he already knows how suggestive a mechanical bull can look. When it’s decided that you’ll give it a go, Simon can only exhale slowly out of his mask, mentally preparing for an unexpected trial of restraint

He slinks back into the darkness of the bar, one with the shadows. His eyes shine like jewels as they reflect the treasure that is you. He drinks in the sight, committing it to memory. If from the bull you manage to see him in the gloom, his gaze is so intense it can single-handedly throw you off the automaton

Even off duty, he’s good at keeping his composure. When you return to him, you almost mistook him for being completely unfazed by your little stunt on the bull. But his voice is a little gruffer, the muscles in his throat straining with every syllable. He shows his neediness through his presence, you won’t be alone for the rest of the night as he accompanies you for even the smallest of errands

Rubbing your shoulder that was bruised from falling off of the bull, you beelined for the rest of the task force, only to get unexpectedly pulled towards the corners of the bar where the lights could not reach.

“Simon?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you feel his hand splayed across your spine. He was never big on public displays of affection, he was possessive in that all of his love will be seen by you only. Daring a move like this has you turning to him in concern, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable in the slightest.

“We’ve got a problem.”

“And that is?”

Simon doesn’t reply, not verbally. He takes your hips in his hands, you can tell he’s trying his best to be gentle but his fingertips dig ever so slightly into your skin. Guiding you back to stand just in front of him, you grunted as you felt a hefty weight against your backside. Now that is a big problem indeed.

“Need you,” he rasps, voice so thick with air they were barely discernible words. You allowed him to pull you further against him, a guttural groan escaping him. “Fuck, didn’t know you could ride like that.”

“I’m a soldier of many talents,” you replied. He huffs against his face mask, digging his face into the crook of your neck. “I suppose I could go again. Just, not on the bull.”

Simon’s lips curved into a smile that warped the mask against your skin. His hands on your hips tighten, you won’t be escaping him anytime soon.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

When Johnny’s eyes settled on the mechanical bull, he then took a brief glance at you and his mind went places. This absolute menace is conjuring up a million and one ways to get you on that bull ASAP (with your wholehearted consent, of course)

He’ll do anything, making a dare, teasing you, trying to make a bet, just so he can see you mount that thing. He’s a dedicated man, once he has a goal he’s seeing it through, no matter how many playful slaps and lighthearted glares you give him. He’ll even set an example and go first - he’ll be flattered as hell if he can get you out of all people riled up

Johnny thinks he can handle it, but he’s always overestimating himself when it comes to you. He can’t play off how you’re bothering him as your hips slide forward and back against the saddle. He can only clear his throat uncomfortably and choke out a fake laugh when the rest of the 141 comment on how quiet he’s become

He bit off more than he can chew, he thought he was the smooth one for being blessed with such a sight but he’s finding himself more bewitched by you by the second. When you get off the bull he gives you a feeble punch on the shoulder, trying to act like he’s alright but really he’s completely at your mercy, hovering around you near begging you to give him attention

You didn’t even have time to greet him as Johnny pulled you away from the rest of the task force, down into a quiet corridor of the pub. His silence was unnerving, you asked him if something was wrong but his only response was his lips against yours. When you reciprocated, the Johnny you knew was back with you, smiling into the kiss with an exhale of eagerness into your mouth as he traps you against the wall with his body. His weight against you, it was already hard to get a breath in as he claimed your lips again and again and again. But what truly made you gasp was the hardness that brushed against your thigh. It was initially so brief, you could credit it as a phantom of your own lust, but as Johnny got bolder, it rested permanently against your upper leg.

Now that he made his predicament clear, he reluctantly pulled away from you, just enough for him to speak. His heaving breaths burned against your skin, no more than his azure eyes that bored into yours.

“I got another thing you can ride, aye?”

You burst into laughter as you gave him a playful shove on the chest. It did nothing push him off of you, his smile widening at your countenance.

“Johnny, that was awful.”

“I ain’t lyin’. My li'l MacTavish needs some help.”

“I swear to god I’m leaving you.”

“You know you love me. Now are you gonna help me or no?”

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle has a playful streak, when he sees you eyeing the new attraction he’ll approach you with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he slides some cash to you. “This twenty says you won’t last five seconds on that.”

And with that, a light-hearted competition started. Kyle’s intentions were genuinely innocent, he just wanted to have some fun beyond drinking the night away. After you gave the bull a go he was wholly planning to try after you to show you how it’s done - and possibly impress you with superior balancing powers

It started off fun as you laughed at the odd movements of the bull under you and Kyle smiled with you. He’s willing to give up that twenty as you were clearly having fun

What he did not expect was how as the mechanical bull became more erratic, bucking indiscriminately in all directions that the sight seemed more… suggestive. A yelp of surprise from you has him situating himself behind a table, ensuring no one can see the growing issue below his hips

He dares a look at the rest of the task force who are taking in the sight innocently. Soap is shouting encouragements like a battle cry, Price pulls a face that’s a mix of amused and impressed, Ghost offers a single dip of the head in respect and now Kyle feels dirty, guilt mixing with arousal into a sinful concoction that drips down his tightening pants

As you returned back to the task force, Kyle immediately came up behind you. His arms wrapped around your waist, he sat his head on your shoulder, cheek against yours. With his entire body smothering yours, his whole being moved with every inhale and exhale of yours as you tried to recollect yourself after that exhausting ordeal of the mechanical bull.

“Getting touchy’s not going to make me forget about that twenty, Kyle,” you chided with a smile. You hear a little hmph as one of his hands dip into your pocket, resting over your hip bone. He slips the note in but his hand stays there, his thumb tracing over the wrinkles in your pants.

“You looked real nice up there, you know,” he mumbled into your ear before giving it a peck, arms tightening around you possessively.

“Feels like you enjoyed it,” you whispered, voice disappearing as you noticed something firm pressing against your ass. Your laugh came out far too weak. “Is that a pistol or are you happy to see me?”

He chuckled, husky and restrained, too distracted to reply. His hand in your pocket was becoming more animated, rubbing at your skin. Even through the fabric, you can feel how hot he is, only getting warmer as he gets more antsy, his free hand now tugging and teasing at your shirt.

Kyle spares a look at the rest of the task force, clearly distracted with their own drinking and antics.

“Do you think they’ll notice if we leave?”

“... No, let’s go.”

König

König will never ask you to go on the mechanical bull because he’d never go on it himself. Putting on a show for a whole lot of strangers in a pub? Potentially embarrassing himself in front of said strangers, his allies and you? The thought already fills him with dread and he is empathetic to never ask for such a thing from you. That being said, when it’s established you’re more than happy to give the bull a go, he’s not going to stop you

He knew how suggestive a mechanical bull can look but he figured he could handle it; he did not reach the rank of colonel by giving in to every temptation. But he should have known better when it came to you, your mere existence making him feel like he lost all composure and combat experience

Upon noticing the lustful stares of others, König doubles as a bodyguard. He slowly stalks around the bar, using his hulking figure to strategically block the view of you for others. He also takes note of anyone who seems a little too fixated on you, not hesitating to send a glare their way

Once you lose to the bull, he waits by the edge of the ring, taking your hand to escort you back to your friends. He does it both to be a caring partner for you, but also he’s preening as onlookers visibly deflate upon realising that if they want to get to you, they have to go through him

König’s hand was tight around yours, you could feel it occasionally twitch, aware of his own strength and trying to loosen his hold on you.

“Entschuldigung, mein Schatz,” he grumbled. “You wanted the night here, but I must leave.”

“Why?”

König turned his head away in embarrassment, but you noticed his eyes dipped lower for a split second. When you followed his gaze, you took a moment to pride yourself for getting your partner so riled up. It was only broken when he gently took your chin with his free hand, tilting it up - or just anywhere away from his growing predicament.

“It is embarrassing,” he muttered. “You were just having fun, but I am here… needing.”

“Not at all,” you smirked. “I wanted you to notice me.”

“I am always watching you, Schatz,” König whispered. He was getting bolder - or perhaps more desperate - with every word, the hand on your chin moving down to settle on one of your hips. You tilted your hips into his grip and the consequent breath he emitted was forceful and ragged. “I did not think such a machine could be so… crude.”

“But you liked the sight, right?” Your voice was smug as you pulled his face down to be in line with yours. You now had a perfect view of his eyes that were alight with lust, pupils blown so wide you could not distinguish if it was the gaze of a predator or prey.

“Zu viel.”

Call of Duty Masterlist

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Down Home 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The world's most famous heroes walk into a small town diner and change your life.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Note: Because of this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all to Jupiter and back. Take care. 💖

It’s a slow day. Every day is slow out in Tumble Down. The township’s name tells the whole story. Everything there is in decline. It’s hard to imagine there was ever a time when the people weren’t tiny and forgotten in the hubbub of the bigger world. Since the mines closed and the canning factory was outsourced, it feels even smaller. 

Smaller isn’t so bad. It’s simpler. You all know each other’s names and faces. You say hi and how are you and do what needs to be done. Simple is, simple as. 

You here there isn’t much to do in most small towns. Not for fun or for work. You’re one of the lucky ones. You got a job down at the diner in your sophomore year. It helped pay for your daddy’s new engine and since then, it keeps you all afloat in the rising waters of disparity as they close in on Tumble Down. 

You hum to the old radio that sits on the shelf you make sure to dust. The speakers crackle from time to time and the signal gets wonky in storm season, but the music’s never bad. It’s the classic stuff that always played in your mother’s kitchen. 

You wipe down another table. Not because it needs it, just because it’s something to do. The day has been long and listless. Even the breakfast rush was lower than usual. 

Darnell, the cook, whistles along from the back. Everyone knows he isn’t as mean as he looks. He just likes his space. 

As you go back to the counter and lean on it, staring at the ticking clock, a roar cuts through the distance. You blink and look up, narrowing your eyes at the dusty country road outside. Wind rustles through the tall wheat in the field opposite and the noise rumbles closer and closer. 

A man pulls in a motorbike. He’s going so fast that he has to circle the gravel lot before he can slow down. It’s not Lenny and his prized Harley but another man on a more modern-looking mount. Not far behind, another motorcycle zips through and the riders straddle their bikes as the survey the restaurant. 

You narrow your eyes. You probably need glasses but you make do. The last time you got your eyes checked, you didn’t have enough for the frames. 

The one man wears blue and red, an odd helmet on his head. Not a helmet at all but a sort of mask. The other man has dark hair to his chin and a beard to match. He’s all in black but his left arm shines with gold ripples. Not a sleeve, an arm, made of metal. 

“Oh my lord,” you murmur in shock, “Darnell!” You holler over your shoulder, “you’re not gonna believe this.” You turn to the window as he pokes his head around, “not sure I do myself. Tell me my eyes aren’t lyin’.” 

He looks above your head, an easy task for the mammoth cook. He hums and swirls around his spatula. “Thems those boys on the news. The one that was in the old war. Grandad’s battle.” 

“I’m not going crazy with boredom?” You bubble. 

He snorts. It’s as close to a laugh as you get from him. You spin back and hurry around the counter to grab a pair of menus. Still, you don’t want to seem too eager. You put down the menus and fiddle with a napkin holder instead. 

The bell over the door jingles and swipe up the menus and turn. You really can’t believe it’s them. Yet, as Captain America removes his cowl, you’re certain. They look just like they do on the TV. Even with your sight, you can tell. 

“Hello, fellas, how are you doin’ today?” 

The dark-haired one, the Winter Soldier, glances at the other, his cheek dimpling, “well... we’re... uh...” 

“We’re doing great,” Steve Rogers answers brightly. “Starving. You guys serve bacon? My buddy’s dying for some.” 

“Um, yes, sirs, yes. Can I sit ya down?” You ask, hugging the menus closer. 

“Please,” the Captain accepts as the other man stays silent and pensive, his eyes wandering down to the coffee stain on your apron. 

“Just here,” you sweep away and wave them on with you. You stop beside the nicest booth and lay down a menu on each side, “have a seat.” 

They do just as you bid. The blond puts his cowl on the table and unhooks the shield from his back to lay on the far end of the seat. He smooths back the sweaty strands of hair as his companion stretches his metal fingers. You sway nervously by the table, twitching as you remind yourself how to do your job. 

“Well, can I get ya started with coffee? You look beat from the road.” You beam with the smile Mr. Welk says could outshine the sun. 

“Not just the road,” the dark-haired one mutters as he rolls his shoulder. The one that connects to his real arm. “I’ll take one, please.” 

“Can I get an orange juice, please,” the Captain asks. 

“Course ya can. I’ll be right back. You have a look at the specials and give it a think,” you bounce and spin around. 

You go to pour the orange juice and a cup of black coffee. Darnell lingers by the window. He only ever really appears to put a plate up but he watches the new arrivals. 

You bring their drinks and step back, clasping your hands behind you. 

“Did ya need cream or sugar for your coffee, sir?” You ask. 

“Black’s fine,” he assures. 

“No need for the sirs. Steve, Bucky,” Captain America insists, “we’re off duty.” 

“Right, sorry about that, ssss...Steve,” you correct yourself. “You need some more time?” 

“Think I’m decided,” Bucky intones, “what about you?” 

“Set,” Steve confirms, “I’ll have the sunny side up with toast and sausage. Can I get some fruit on the side as well, please?” 

He hands over the menu and you take it as you hold your smile. Your cheeks ache. Not because you have to force it but because you can’t stop. This is the most exciting thing to happen in Tumble Down ever. If Darnell wasn’t there, no one would believe you. 

“Overeasy, bacon, extra bacon too, and some french toast, and uh... home fries.” Bucky offers up the second menu, “please and thank you.” 

“Alrighty,” you preen, “I’ll put your order in.” 

“Got it,” Darnell growls over the empty diner. 

“He’s got good hearing,” you giggle nervously as you look between the men. “Ummmm, sorry, I’ll leave ya be.” 

“You’re not bothering,” Steve assures. “I can see you’re dying to ask.” 

He gives a gentle smile. 

“Nah, oh, gosh. I’m sure ya get it all the time. I don’t wanna be one of those,” you put your hands up. “Really, you all look like you could use the peace and quiet.” 

“Well, actually, I’ve been stuck with this meathead for days,” Bucky scoffs, “so please, I’d love to hear someone else’s voice.” 

You laugh again. They’re funnier than you expect. They always look so serious on the TV. 

“What... what are y’all doing here in Tumble Down? It’s a bit far from... anywhere.” You ask sheepishly. 

“Tumble Down? Is that what it’s called?” Steve scratches his neck above his stained collar. “Well, we couldn’t get a signal so we’ve just been riding through. Saw the sign down the way and figured we’d get a bite.” 

“He’s lying. He was falling asleep on his bike,” Bucky teases. 

“Sure,” Steve shakes his head. “Only ‘cause I’m tired of you.” 

You giggle again, “I thought y’all were friends.” 

“Friends, partners, cursed with each other, have your pick,” Bucky snorts. 

“He’s playing,” Steve says. “Look, we’re boring. Despite what you think. We’re a couple of old men bickering with each other. What about you? What about Tumble Down?” 

“Ah, nothing really, sir. Steve,” you squeeze the menus tight at the edges. “Nothing going on since the coal law and that. Everyone’s all but run out. All but us.” 

“Just you? Your family?” Steve wonders. 

“Jesus, Steve, nosy much?” Bucky says over the brim of his mug. 

“Sorry. He’s right. Like I said. Crotchety old man. I talk to the pigeons.” 

You laugh again, “oh my, you are a hoot!” You slap your thigh emphatically, “I’m still my ma and pa. It’s just the three of us. They need help with the animals and that.” 

“Animals?” Steve wonders, his posture shifting towards you. 

“Chickens, cows. They got a farm. Was my grandpa’s. And his ma kept it going after he didn’t come home from... well, you’d know more about that time than me, I think.” You give a forlorn look to the floor. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry about your grandfather. Great grandfather,” he corrects himself. 

“Lotta good men gone,” Bucky mulls grimly. 

“Yeah, my great granny said as much. I wouldn’t know though, but I heard the stories,” you dare to look at them again. “Sorry to bring up the bad memories.” 

“Nah,” Bucky waves you off casually. “I got this nifty arm outta it.” 

“And I got a shield so, you know, not all losses,” Steve chuckles. 

“I s’pose,” you agree. “I’m gonna check on that food for ya. You good with your coffee?” 

Bucky raises the mug, “delicious.” 

You nod and turn with a swish of your skirt. You go up to the window and look over the ledge. “How’s it going, Darnell?” 

“Going. I’m happy it ain’t Raylene here. She’s got a mouth on her, don’t she? Them sort don’t deserve that trouble,” he tisks. 

“They’re nice. And Raylene is too. She’s just... Raylene,” you say, “can I help with anything?” 

“I don’t wanna be rude but I’m tired of tellin’ ya to stay outta my kitchen. You know the grill likes to spit,” he shakes his head. “You go, I’ll let ya know when it’s ready.” 

“Alright,” you back away and turn back. 

Steve and Bucky lean over the table, their voices low as they chat. As you move around behind the counter, they both sit up and the former clears his throat. You smile as you take the cloth from your apron pocket and wipe the already clean counter. 

As the radio buzzes, you hum without thinking. Stevie Ray Vaughan’s smoky voice mingles with the emotion plucked through electric strings. Your dad’s a big fan. He has old tapes with concerts on them and even went to one himself. 

The bell rings and you nearly jump out of your shoes. You turn and scoop up the plates as you thank Darnell. He grumbles that he’s going out to have a smoke; his code for having a Tootsie Pop by the backdoor. 

You bring the meals over to the table and set them down before the men. Their gazes make you sweat. It’s all a little more intense with no one else there. 

“Thank you,” Steve says and Bucky echoes him. 

“Not at all. Anything else? Water? Ketchup?” 

“It all looks great as is,” Steve says, “you got a nice voice.” 

“Oh, really? Ha, I was just humming out of tune. Sorry if I was too loud.” 

“Not at all,” Bucky picks up his fork as he leans forward. He tilts his head. “You know this one?” 

“Sure do. It’s Fleetwood Mac,” you answer. “One my all times.” 

He grins and nods as he looks at Steve. Steve watches you with a smile of his own. 

“Do you sing?” He asks. 

“Me? Only in my shower or to the chickens. They usually hide in the henhouse then.” You tinkle with laughter. 

“Ah,” Steve nods. 

“But if... if ya really wanna suffer, I could try it,” you smile, “but uh, you know, Stevie Nicks, she’s one of a kind.” 

“I’ve had worse,” Steve says. 

You look between him and Bucky. You chew your lip and think. You follow the song as you try to recognise which verse it is. You squint and perk up as you catch your place. 

“You just let me know when you’ve had enough,” you say before you start. Not only can you tell your pa that you met the super soldiers, you can tell him you sang for them. It’ll be a nice bit of excitement for the dinner table. 

[dollfacefantasy]

Cool Rider

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon gets you ready for a ride on his motorcycle

word count: 1.4k

a/n: just a little fluff drabble i've been thinking about while i go back and forth on my other longer fics. imagine this to be a little bit after vendetta when leon's starting to get better. hope everyone enjoys, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus @luniaxi

“Quit joking around or you’re not going anywhere,” Leon grunts as he continues to mess around with the tire pressure on the rear wheel of his motorcycle.

“I’m just saying-” you chime before being cut off.

“You’re saying nothing more or I’m changing my mind,” he says and gives you a warning look.

Despite his attempt at being stern with you, affection clouds his eyes. You play along for him and mime zipping your lips. With a sharp exhale and shake of his head at your antics, he returns his focus to fidgeting with the pressure gauge hooked to his bike. But you’re happy just because you saw him smile.

You’d been begging him for months to take you for a ride on his bike. Every time you’d asked, you were met with “no” or “in your dreams.” You’d always ask him why, and he’d just brush it off. Too dangerous. It’s something he does alone. You eventually just gave up. He deserved his space, and you knew he’d seen so much pain and death in his life that he was probably a little overprotective by nature. It came as an absolute shock to you when he approached you last week and asked if you’d wanna go for a ride this weekend. He’d said it so casually, like he hadn’t shot you down time after time before. You weren’t sure what had changed, but a win is a win, right?

Now sitting on the stool by the bench where he kept all his motorcycle stuff, you swing your feet back and forth. As much as you’d been teasing him for the last thirty minutes about taking forever and a half, it was fun seeing him so locked in on his task. You studied his face, the way his brows furrowed and his eyes hardened, his lips curling a little with dedication.

“Hey stalker girl, instead of staring me down, maybe you should finish getting ready,” he teases as he finishes up and starts putting the tools away.

“I am ready,” you say.

“No you’re not. Where’s your helmet?” he asks while walking to you.

“Mmmm… you don’t wear a helmet,” you playfully point out.

You were just being difficult because he was so easy to mess with. You weren’t dumb, and you had no desire for your brains to splatter across some pavement. In general, motorcycles kind of scare you to be honest. If anyone but Leon was driving it, you wouldn’t even consider hopping on the back. So there was absolutely no way you were gonna get on that thing without a helmet strapped on.

“I didn’t ask you if I wear one. Where’s yours?” he says.

He stands between your thighs and looks down at you, taking in your pretty eyes, pouty lips, the face he couldn’t get enough of. His fingers run along your jaw, his thumb stroking over your chin. Every detail had him enraptured. He made fun of you for staring, but truth be told, he was just as guilty. The only difference was he hid it much better than you did.

“I’ll get it in two seconds. You were just taking so long, I figured I had some time to relax,” you joke with a quick peck to his lips, hopping off your seat.

“You better get it. I want your pretty little head kept in one piece,” he murmurs and lays a kiss on your hairline. He lightly swats your ass as you walk away, drawing that laugh from you that he loved to hear. He’s smiling while grabbing the keys, not that you could see it with your back to him. You were easy to mess with too.

“I just don’t think it’s fair that I have to wear one if you don’t,” you say as you lift the helmet up and inspect the one he’d bought for you.

“Too bad. I know what I’m doing. You don’t. God forbid I actually let you do this, and you end up with a concussion or something,” he grumbles while grabbing the keys.

“If we get in a crash though, your experience won’t matter. We’ll both go flying all the same. Then you’ll be the one with the concussion or worse, and I’ll be flat outta luck having to take care of you,” you explain while fidgeting with the straps on the helmet.

“Here, gimme that,” he says, taking it from you. He fixes the straps and gets them where they should be. Yeah, you’re being intentionally stubborn, but you had a good point and he knew it. “If it’s so important to you, I can wear one too.”

“It is important to me. I always want you safe,” you say, taking a moment to be genuine between all your teasing.

“I know, baby,” he says softly. It’s all he could say. Obviously, with the life he had, he couldn’t “be safe” all the time. But god, you made him want to try.

He gives you one last kiss before putting the helmet on you. He fastens it into place, making sure it’s nice and tight. Tilting your head around, he inspects it thoroughly. Has to be certain this shell of hard plastic is gonna do its job and protect his precious girl. 

After he’s done examining the efficacy of the helmet, he pulls back to give you a once over. Really look at you.

“Does it look good?” you ask, voice slightly muffled.

He chuckles and nods. “Yeah, it looks good. Pretty cool,” he confirms.

Of course you looked more than good. The sight of you completely melted his heart. He just didn’t know how to say it. He’d never been too good with words when you were involved. You made everything foggy, hard to think.

He couldn’t see the grin on your face right now, but he could just about feel the excitement radiating off of you as you pulled him into a hug, the shiny dome covering your head resting over his heartbeat. His palm runs up and down your back before you pull away and head to the motorcycle.

“Are we ready to go?” you ask.

He could hear the anticipation in your voice too. It was infectious, made him want to get on and speed off without looking back. But he still had a little hesitation left. Rationally, he knew he’d done everything he could to make sure this would go smoothly. In all likelihood, you would just have some fun and then come back home and everything would be fine. The irrational part of him just wanted that to be 100% guaranteed. He’d lost so many people. He couldn’t survive losing you, especially to something as trivial as a motorcycle accident.

But he was stalling now, and he knew it. You deserved this. Deserved to have the fun he’d offered you. You’d been so good to him for the last several months, putting up with him when it would’ve been reasonable to leave him in your rearview mirror. He swallows his doubt and nods.

But as he sees you start to look at it like you’re gonna get on, he stops you.

“Wait a second,” he says, starting to shrug off his jacket, “It’s cold out, and with the wind and everything. Just put this on.”

He can’t see how you lovingly roll your eyes at this which is probably for the best anyways. Knowing him, he’d probably get all huffy and defensive about it. Argue the practicality of his decision rather than just admitting he’d gone soft for you.

Regardless, you let him wrap the leather around you, sliding your arms into the sleeves. You give him a thumbs up, and he pulls you close to him, thoughtlessly planting a smooch on the cool helmet like he’d normally do to your head.

“You better hold on tight. This isn’t a video game. You don’t get extra points for riding with no hands,” he teases before grabbing the extra helmet he had and putting it on.

This time you give a mock salute and watch him swing his leg over the seat. He waves you over and you gladly get on behind him. The warmth of your front presses against his back. He looks down, admiring the way your hands lock around his waist, your arms adorned in the white stripes of his jacket.

He wheels the bike out of the garage, taking a deep breath as checks to see that the street is clear. One more sigh and mental reassurance later, he’s speeding out onto the road. He knows it’s all worth it as soon as he hears your laughter and feels you clinging to him even harder.

[master-of-stupidity]

Thread of Httyd rants from twt to here cuz I'm too lazy to space em out properly lmaoo (ignore the fact it's like all snotlout that book is evil man)

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

Genuinely needed more of Snotlouts softer side being shown ngll, the fact he enjoys sewing, cares for baby dragons, an absolute mama's boy (canon he gets letters from his mom), would rather quit being a rider all together than replace HookFang LIKE HES SO SOFT EXPLORE IT MORE 🗣🗣

Trans snotlout is something so real to me i wish there was like, any fics about it lwkyy 😞😞 Like the possibilities would be so good the way he'd tell no one n be so insecure about it omgg I NEED THIS WRITIN IM ON MY KNEESSS!! IDCC EITHER FTM OR MTF JUST MAKE IT HAPPENNN 😭😭🙏

Insane to think the most amazing symbolism I've personally ever read is like, a star pupil (with n obvious comfort/ties to a star) dying in a way that's described as a fallen star crashing n burning...like all that fcking symbolism n its like..damn this is frr just snotlout huh 😭

"Hey I have an idea, let's have a running gag of Snotlout being lit on fire, for funnies! 😊" Said the most sick n twisted writer behind the Httyd series 😭🙏

Ikk their cousins but y tff do Hiccup n Snotlout have the exact same energy as "older sibling tossed aside for the younger sibling" in the books broo..like Hiccup ain't deserve any of it ofcc but nahh the crashout valid i fearr cuz dude was born to fail omgg 😭😭🙏

Me live throwing the Httyd book 11 into the sun 4k 😃😃

I still think about often how snotlout n hiccup managed to gain the theme of "older sibling tossed aside for more favorited younger sibling" but like cousins trope in the books (ikk he's a runt still it's more so the expectations they had) like ooohhh that stings in a special way...like gonna sound like a broken record but yeaa wish this was explored more not only in the series but movies too cuz movies focused too little on the riders imoo this woulda been a good plot at least (cuz it's a huge focus they have in the books too)

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

Also I'm being nice n not including my Hookfang live action crashout (cuz tjat was definitely a mess) that's for twt viewers only 😁

[sarafinamk]

Fallen Angel (Reader Insert) Incorrect Quotes Part 3

The Smiling Critters Space Riders Au and the character "Z" belongs to @onyxonline

If you haven't checked out the Fallen Angel (Reader Insert) series, you can check it out here. The reader will be referred to as both (Y/n) and Archangel. Enjoy!

Warning: Cursing

----------

Bobby: Don't break someone's heart, they only have one.

Archangel: Break one of their bones instead, they have 206 of them.

----------

Crafty: Do you guys ever have a civilized conversation that doesn't require insulting each other every time you get a chance?

Z: No.

Archangel: No.

Crafty: Didn't think so.

----------

Archangel: I've invited you here because I crave the deadliest game...

Hoppy, nodding: Knife Monopoly.

Archangel: I was actually going to play Russian Roulette, but now I'm really interested in whatever knife Monopoly is.

----------

Archangel: I found a note in one of my old logs that said Note to self: Get revenge on Captain Dogday.

Archangel: Except I couldn't remember what I was supposed to get revenge for.

Archangel: But I trusted my own judgment, so I went with it.

Dogday: Hmm... I don't know what you were supposed to get revenge for, either.

Archangel: I can only assume you got what was coming to you. Not 100 percent sure, though.

Dogday: Well, whatever I did, I guess I deserved it.

Archangel: Let that possibly be a lesson to you.

----------

Archangel: The only thing keeping me from running away and hiding from society for the rest of my life is spite. I could disappear forever, but there are some bitches whose downfalls I have yet to witness, and I wanna be around when that happens.

----------

Poppy: Your archangel was in a fight.

Dogday: Oh no, that's terrible!

Catnap: Did they win?

----------

Dogday: Did Z just tell me he loved me for the first time?

Archangel: Yeah, he did.

Dogday: And did I just do finger guns back?

Archangel: Yeah, you did.

----------

Archangel, watching Hoppy do something stupid: Kickin, you're officially only the second highest risk here...

Kickin: Hell yeah! I'm gonna-

Archangel: Don't finish that sentence, you'll move back up.

----------

Archangel: How do ethical philosophers feel about murder?

Bubba: Well, it's frowned upon.

Archangel: Okay, but what if the reason you want to murder someone is to make your life easier?

Archangel: That's okay, right?

----------

Bobby: And now for a gay update with Captain Dogday and Z.

Dogday: Getting gayer.

Bobby: Thank you, Captain.

----------

Bubba to Archangel: We call that a traumatic experience.

Bubba, turning to Catnap: Not a "bruh moment."

Bubba, turning to Kickin: Not "sadge."

Bubba, turning to Hoppy: And DEFINITELY not an "oof LMAO."

----------

Archangel: Why do you look like that, Captain?

Dogday, laying face-first on the floor: Like what?

Archangel: Like you're dead.

Dogday: It's because I'm dying. Leave me here to perish.

Catnap: Dogday accidentally called Z "babe" in front of everyone today.

Dogday: *sobs into the floor*

----------

Archangel: What's this?

Bobby, hugging Archangel: Affection!

Archangel: Disgusting.

Archangel:... Do it again.

----------

Kickin: You know, (Y/n), when you generalize, you tell general... lies.

Archangel: ...

Archangel: Are you trying to teach me moral lessons through puns?

----------

*One of the many, MANY fights before the events of Fallen Angel*

Dogday: You tricked me!

Archangel: I deceived you. 'Trick' makes it sound like we have a friendly relationship.

----------

Archangel: Here's a fun Christmas idea. We hang mistletoe, but instead of kissing, you have to FIGHT whoever else is under it.

Dogday: (Y/n), no.

Hoppy and Catnap: Mistlefoe.

Dogday: Please stop encouraging them.

----------

Archangel: I have a plan.

Dogday: No murder!

Archangel: ...

Dogday: ...

Archangel: I no longer have a plan.

----------

Archangel: If I die, you can have what little I own.

Bobby: Wait. What do you mean "if" you die?

Archangel: My unending existence is fueled by pure spite, that of which the painful experiences of life have rendered me full.

Bobby:

Bubba, sighing: Let me call your therapist again.

----------

Archangel: I'm bored, any suggestions?

Catnap: Sleeping is nice.

Archangel: I acknowledge your suggestion, and I'm deciding to ignore it.

----------

Hoppy: You think you're smarter than everyone else.

Bubba: I don't think I'm smarter than everyone else. I know I am.

----------

Kickin: So, I MEANT to say: "Oh crap, I left my phone my car," but what I ALMOST said was "Oh no, I left my cone in my phar," and damn, wouldn't that have been embarrassing, but I caught myself, and what I ACTUALLY said was:

Kickin: "Ah, my fart cone."

Kickin: So, anyway...

----------

Archangel: I know you don't have to listen to me...

Z: Glad we agree on something.

----------

Dogday: Do you have any skeletons in your closet?

Archangel: You mean literally or figuratively?

Dogday: Honestly, the fact that I have to specify...

----------

Dogday: (Y/n), I am questioning your sanity...

Hoppy: I never questioned it. I knew their sanity was missing from the start.

----------

Catnap: Why is Hoppy rolling on the floor laughing? And what happened to Kickin's head?

Archangel, sighing: Kickin was about to hit his head on the door frame, so I told him to duck and he quacked at me.

Archangel: And then he hit his head.

Catnap: *wheezes*

[saccharinesatoru]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy (preview)

Pairing: Gojo x reader (afab)

Genre: cowboy!gojo x bandit!reader + smut

Word count: uhh like 1.7k (haven't finished the full fic yet lmao we'll see what the wc gets to)

Summary: how does the strongest fare in the wild, wild West as the newest sheriff? we're about to find out!!

a/n: shout out to whoever made this fanart bc jesus fucking christ. i have more written for this fic so I'll post it in the next day or so I just wanted to give a preview lol this isn't proofread my apologies

xx Jay

---

You were fucked. And, fuck, did you know it. 

“You idiot!” you cursed, “Do you wanna die? How could you be so stupid?”

Your partner in crime (literally) turned to you with a crazed grin on his face, high on the rush. “What? Don’t tell me you’re scared of some little sheriff.”

The sheriff, in question, is none other than Gojo Satoru. Not only was he the youngest sheriff in the region, but he was an incredible shot and phenomenal horseback rider. The man was known all throughout the west for his strength, wit, and impeccable skill as a marksman. And he just so happened to be the man hunting you down as you speak.  

“Am I scared? Am I scared?” you yell in disbelief, “Hell fucking yeah I’m scared! You just had to rob that bank, didn’t you? Toji, this is insane. We’re going to die, and it’s all because you wanted a little extra cash to blow at some saloon since you’re shit at cards and are always too drunk to make a reasonable gamble!”

His eyes widened at your statement, “I’m just down on my luck that’s all!” 

You roll your eyes and continue pacing around the small room, almost internally counting down the minutes until you're inevitably caught and thrown in a cell to rot. Maybe Toji could tough it out in jail (assuming he wasn’t hanged for his crimes), but you knew you weren’t cut out for that kind of life. It’s not like you meant to get caught up in this life, after all. A few bad decisions led to this nightmare of a reality, and now you were about to ride this sinking ship with the buffoon in front of you who was pushing 40 and still thought it was a good idea to devote the little cash he had on reckless gambling instead of caring for the adorable, perpetually scowling son he left behind to pursue a life of crime. 

“Don’t give me that look, doll,” his tone is sickly sweet but showing no real affection or warmth. “Don’t forget that you’re an accomplice in this crime too. Who was in the carriage waiting for me when I ran out of the bank with the cash, huh? Oh, that’s right! It was you!”

Running your fingers through your hair, you sit down and rest your head in your hands. “Don’t remind me, asshole,” you spit out, tone equally as harsh. “You think I wanted this? I didn’t know you were gonna do that shit! I owed you a favor- one favor, Toji! What, you think because I owed you one, I wanted to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder for the most feared sheriff in the west? Believe it or not, but I don’t want to live this way!”

He huffs and sticks a cigar in his mouth, lighting it and letting out a puff of smoke before meeting your eyes again, “Well, tough shit, doll. This is the hand you were dealt, and now you’ve gotta decide whether or not you’re gonna fold.”

You roll your eyes, sensing a migraine coming on. “Shut the fuck up with your poker references, Toji. You’re not good enough at any card game to warrant that kind of talk.”

“Bitch,” he mutters under his breath.

You turn around and are about to rip into him when you hear the sound of incoming horses and a voice call out, “They’re just up ahead!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Toji curses as he puts out his cigar and stands up hastily. He looks around the room frantically and meets your eyes before darting out of the shared space.

“Fuck! Toji, come back!” you shout as you rush after him. You’re not all that well-versed on running from the police given you’ve literally never had a reason to do so. To say you’re relying on Toji to get you two out of this predicament is an understatement. After all, that man has committed more crimes than interacted with his own son. 

Running out of the room and following his footsteps, you exit out the backdoor. Your jaw drops to the ground at the sight in front of you. Toji’s sat on top of your very own horse, grabbing her by the reins and turning to you with a devilish smirk on his face. “Sorry, doll, I gotta cut ties here. ‘Can’t afford to get caught, you know? I’m sure you understand. Let me borrow your horse, yeah? I owe ya one.” 

You can’t even fully process his words, you’re seeing red with the amount of rage consuming you. Frozen in place, you watch Toji ride away on your horse, effectively abandoning the house that was about to be raided by police. 

Toji gets a fair distance away from the house before you hear the same voice yell, “There he is! You lot track him down. I’ll stay back and search the rest of the house. He had an accomplice. I’m sure they’re hiding out here somewhere.”

As soon as the man is done speaking, you hear multiple horses run off in Toji’s direction. You’re scared shitless of what’s to come. You just know the man about to search the house is the famous sheriff you had just been professing your fear of to that backstabbing bum who stole your fucking horse. Even though you know you’re thoroughly, laughably, undeniably fucked, you can’t help but laugh internally at the thought of Toji being captured by the sheriff’s men. You hope they don’t hurt your horse, although you doubt she’ll be yours much longer since you’re about to be sent off to jail. 

Cutting your losses and acknowledging defeat, you walk back into the house, ready to face the renowned sheriff. Walking back into the kitchen, your footsteps alert the man of your location, and he makes his way into the room. 

If you weren’t scared out of your mind at what’s to come, you might have started drooling, honestly. If this man weren’t known for his near superhuman abilities, he would have been known for his looks alone. You had never seen or even heard about a man that looked like him. He had bright white hair that peaked out from his hat. His skin was so fair and beautiful you swore he was made of porcelain. His lips were a pretty pink that somehow had a glimmering shine to them. He wore black denim with a black button up, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his large hands and delectable arm veins. For a reason unknown to you, he wore a blindfold over his eyes. You could only wonder what his eyes looked like, although you imagined they were as beautiful as the rest of him. 

He looked unreal. This whole situation felt unreal. You still hadn’t wrapped your head around the fact that you were about to be arrested let alone the fact that you were standing in a room with a man that looked like that.

“Well, well,” Gojo chuckles, “Here I was thinking Toji’s accomplice had to be some ugly brute with a tobacco addiction. But here you are instead.”

You rocked on the balls of your feet out of nerves, “I- I’m sorry to disappoint.”

He laughs fully this time. “And a sense of humor, too? What did Toji do to get you roped into this in the first place, huh?”

Your eyes widen slightly at this. It’s like he could see right through you. Was it that obvious that you didn’t live a life of crime? You suppose it’s times like this where your naturally expressive face and body language actually benefited you, as Gojo must have known about the true nature of your involvement just by the way you reacted to his presence. 

“I, um…” you tried to pick your words in a way that made you look the least guilty of committing a crime. “I only agreed to help him since I owed him a favor…”

This seemed to pique Gojo’s interest. “Oh? And what did the lying, deceitful, manipulative, gambling addict do to earn a favor from a pretty girl like you?”

Your face flushes when you process his words. Warranted and accurate insults about Toji aside, the human embodiment of perfection called you pretty. 

You must have been frozen in place for a second or two because when you blink again, Gojo is standing closer to you and leaning inward, “Are you with me, sweetheart?”

Eyes widening, you nod your head vigorously and elicit another chuckle from the man. 

“Well,” you sigh after being able to mentally calm yourself, “he helped my family in a tough situation. My mother was very sick, and Toji just so happened to have the proper remedies to heal her…”

Although you can’t see his eyes, you can tell that Gojo raises his eyebrows in curiosity, and his silence prompts you to continue.

“Believe me, I never wanted to help him out. Or, at least, when I agreed to help him, I had no idea he was gonna drag me into this mess. But I couldn’t just walk around my house and pass by my mother without thinking that, if it weren’t for that lunatic, she wouldn’t be with us anymore.”

Gojo hums and brings his hand to his chin as if in thought. “I bet your family would be pretty disappointed to see you now though, right? Doing all this for your mother is admirable, but you still committed a crime… What kind of sheriff would I be if I just let you off the hook because you told me some sob story and batted your eyelashes at me, hm?”

You didn’t know how to react to his words. Sure, he’s right, your family would be disappointed to see you in this position. You’d never gotten into any sort of trouble before- certainly never done anything illegal. 

“You thought you owed a simple favor, sure… But last time I checked, the pathway to heaven wasn’t paved with good intentions.” he tuts. “But jail time seems a little harsh, no? What do you think we can do to solve this little problem?”

Your heart is beating so hard that you wonder if Gojo could hear it from where he stood. “Please, I’ll do anything. I’ve never broken the law before, and I can’t afford to leave my family and go to jail.”

“Anything, huh?” Gojo smirked and pulled down his blindfold to reveal the most striking, beautiful eyes you have ever seen in all your life. “Well, how could I turn down an offer like that?”

---

i want him on me and in me I need him carnally I want him in my guts, so deep in me that I feel him in my throat okay bye I'll release the full fic soon lmao <3

[lavendersartistry]

So-

2 fics in order:

Saved AU fic (dunno what it'll be about)

Space Riders AU fic (Koi and Z interactions)

Saved / Space Riders AU - @onyxonline

[niallerspayno]

With You Always (Zayn Malik x reader) - Fic Request

Anonymous request: My idea is Zayn Malik x reader (female/gender neutral) , where the reader is an equestrian (aka horse back rider) and she ends up taking a bad fall off her horse and need to go to hospital. Like how would Zayn react to that whole situation, and then maybe reader makes him lay down to hold her on the hospital bed after getting fixed up?

Masterlist

You’ve always known that horses were more than just animals. They were your escape, your partners in a world where the connection between rider and horse could feel almost magical. From the moment you were old enough to ride, you knew this would be your life. Raised by two trainers, you learned early on that success in equestrian sports came from a balance of hard work, trust, and, above all, a deep respect for the animals you worked with. As a professional horseback rider now, you’ve made a name for yourself in the industry, but the path hasn’t always been easy. Every day, you push yourself and your horses to new limits, striving for perfection, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your world has always revolved around horses. But on one fateful evening, everything shifts.

The invitation arrives for a charity gala in support of animal welfare. At first, you’re hesitant to attend—another night away from the barn, another night of dressing up and mingling. You’d much rather be spending the evening in the stables, practicing with your horses. But a close friend convinces you that it’s for a good cause, and you eventually agree to go.

You expect the usual gala—polished people in suits, forced conversation, and a general sense of formality. But as you walk into the venue, something feels different. The music is soothing, a live band playing soft, acoustic tunes in the corner. You find yourself drawn to the melodies, allowing the rhythm to wash over you as you scan the room, taking in the familiar faces.

That’s when you see him.

Zayn.

He’s standing by a small group of people, but you can’t help but notice him. He doesn’t seem like the typical gala guest, the starched collar and stiff demeanor you’ve seen too often. Instead, Zayn is relaxed, his eyes thoughtful, his demeanor calm. He’s wearing a simple black shirt and jeans, effortlessly blending into the crowd while still managing to exude an undeniable presence. His attention is on the animals—there’s a small group of rescue dogs roaming the space, and Zayn is gently petting one, his focus completely on the animal, as if nothing else matters.

You’re not sure why, but something pulls you toward him. You approach hesitantly, struck by the soft smile he gives you when your eyes meet.

“Hey,” you say, almost shyly. “You’re into animals too, huh?”

Zayn’s smile widens, a warmth in his eyes that makes you feel instantly at ease. “Always have been,” he replies, his voice calm and inviting. “Animals are… well, they just get it, you know?”

You laugh softly, nodding. “I do. Horses are like that for me. They’ve always been the one constant in my life.”

The conversation flows easily from there, the two of you sharing stories about the animals you’ve loved and cared for over the years. You quickly discover that, like you, Zayn’s love for animals runs deep. While he’s not involved in the equestrian world, his passion for rescue work and animal welfare is unmistakable. He’s been involved in various animal rights initiatives and has an undeniable love for all creatures, big and small.

But there’s something else that catches your attention. It’s the music.

Zayn mentions offhand that he’s always found solace in music, too. You learn that he’s a musician—one of the most successful in the world, actually. He’s used music as a way to connect with people, to express emotions and experiences. You mention your love for music as well, your appreciation for the way it can evoke emotion, the way it can tie together moments in life.

“It’s funny,” he says, his voice growing more animated. “I’ve always thought animals and music share something. There’s this connection, like they both have their own rhythm.”

The spark between you is immediate. It’s a mix of shared passions—animals and music—that forms a bridge between your worlds. The way Zayn talks about his career and his art, his ability to see the deeper meaning in the things around him, resonates with you in a way you didn’t expect. The more you talk, the more you realize how much you have in common, how much you both understand the need for connection, whether through animals or through the universal language of music.

By the end of the night, there’s no doubt in your mind that something has shifted. You didn’t expect to meet anyone who would make you feel so seen, so understood. But with Zayn, there’s a quiet confidence in the way he listens, the way he speaks. There’s no pretension, no barriers, just a shared love for the things that matter most.

When the evening wraps up, Zayn asks for your number, and you give it to him without hesitation. As he walks away, you can’t help but smile to yourself, knowing that tonight was only the beginning of something unexpected—and possibly extraordinary.

...

The arena is alive with excitement. The rhythmic pounding of hooves against packed dirt, the hum of the crowd, and the crisp tang of morning air fill your senses. This competition is one of the most prestigious of the season, and you’ve worked tirelessly to be here. Every jump, every stride, every moment has been meticulously prepared for.

Zayn is in the stands, a quiet yet unwavering source of support. He’s come to several of your competitions now, but it still makes your heart flutter to see him there, even if he tries to blend in with his baseball cap and sunglasses. Earlier, he had kissed your forehead, his hand lingering on your cheek as he murmured, “You’re going to crush it out there. Just don’t forget to breathe.”

As you mount Thunder, your trusted partner and cherished horse, you feel that familiar rush of adrenaline. You pat his neck gently, whispering, “Just you and me, boy. We’ve got this.” The crowd fades away, the world narrowing to just you, Thunder, and the course ahead.

The first jumps are seamless. Thunder glides over each hurdle with precision, his power and grace unmatched. The crowd is electric, cheering louder with every successful leap. You catch a glimpse of Zayn in the stands as you round a corner—his body is tense, his hands clasped tightly in front of him, his eyes never leaving you. His belief in you is palpable, and it fuels your determination.

But as you approach the final, most challenging jump, disaster strikes.

Thunder’s stride falters at the last second, a miscalculation that sends both of you tumbling. The world spins as you’re thrown from the saddle, hitting the ground hard. The pain is immediate and excruciating, radiating from your side and leg, leaving you breathless. Your head slams against the dirt, and the metallic taste of blood fills your mouth.

A sharp cry escapes your lips as agony surges through your body. The crowd gasps in horror, the cheers turning into murmurs of alarm. Everything feels distant, muffled, as if you’re underwater. Thunder scrambles to his feet nearby, unharmed but clearly distressed.

Zayn is on his feet instantly, his heart dropping into his stomach as he watches you fall. He doesn’t think—he just moves, pushing through the crowd and vaulting over the barrier with an urgency he’s never felt before.

“(Y/N)!” he shouts, his voice breaking.

He’s at your side in seconds, dropping to his knees, his hands hovering as he takes in the sight of you—your face pale, your body trembling, and your leg twisted at an unnatural angle. His chest tightens at the sight of blood on your temple.

“Baby, I’m here,” he says, his voice steady despite the sheer panic flooding his system. “Don’t move, okay? Just stay with me.”

Your eyes flutter open, the pain almost too much to bear. “Zayn…” you whisper, tears streaming down your cheeks. “It hurts so much.”

“I know, love,” he says, his hand finding yours and gripping it tightly. “I know. You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

The medics rush onto the field, their voices urgent as they assess your injuries. A fractured femur, possible rib fractures, and a concussion—they’re rattling off words that make Zayn’s stomach churn. He refuses to let go of your hand, his presence an anchor in the storm of pain and fear.

“Sir, we need to move her,” one of the medics says firmly.

“I’m coming with her,” Zayn replies immediately, his voice brooking no argument.

As they lift you onto the stretcher, you cry out in pain, your grip on Zayn’s hand tightening. He leans down, his forehead brushing against yours. “I’m not leaving you,” he whispers fiercely. “Not for a second.”

...

The sterile white walls and fluorescent lights of the hospital blur as you’re rushed through the hallways. Every jolt of the gurney sends another wave of pain rippling through your body, and though the medics are speaking in calm, measured tones, their urgency is impossible to miss. You’re slipping in and out of consciousness, the world fading in flashes of light and muffled sound.

But Zayn never leaves your side.

He’s there, running alongside the gurney, his hand still clasped tightly in yours. His face is pale, his dark eyes wide with fear, but he keeps whispering reassurances, his voice steady and unwavering.

“You’re strong,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You’re going to get through this. Just hold on, love.”

When they wheel you into the trauma bay, a nurse gently tells him he has to wait outside. Zayn hesitates, his hand tightening around yours, as if letting go will mean losing you.

“Please,” he says, his voice cracking. “Take care of her.”

The nurse nods, her tone gentle but firm. “We will. I promise.”

He lets go, his fingers slipping from yours, and it feels like the ground is falling out from under him. Left alone in the hallway, he paces back and forth, running a hand through his hair as he tries to steady his racing thoughts. Every second feels like an eternity, the worst-case scenarios playing on an endless loop in his mind.

Finally, after what feels like hours, a doctor steps out. Zayn is at her side in an instant.

“She’s stable,” the doctor says, her expression calm but serious. “She’s suffered a fractured femur, two broken ribs, and a concussion. She’ll need surgery to repair the leg, but the prognosis is good. It’s going to be a long recovery, but she’s strong.”

The weight on Zayn’s chest lifts just enough for him to breathe. “Can I see her?”

The doctor nods. “She’s being prepped for surgery, but you can see her briefly.”

When he steps into the room, his heart twists at the sight of you. You’re lying on the hospital bed, pale and fragile, your leg immobilized in a temporary brace. The beeping of monitors fills the room, and an IV drips steadily beside you. But your eyes flutter open when he walks in, and the faintest smile touches your lips.

“Hey,” you whisper, your voice weak but filled with relief.

Zayn moves to your side, his hand finding yours again as he sits in the chair next to your bed. “Hey, love,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, tears welling in your eyes. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Shh,” he interrupts, brushing your hair back gently. “Don’t apologize. None of this is your fault.”

You squeeze his hand weakly, your eyes searching his. “Thunder… Is he okay?”

Zayn smiles faintly, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. “He’s fine. A little shaken, but unharmed. He’s being looked after.”

Relief washes over your face, and your eyes close for a moment. “I was so scared…”

“So was I,” he admits, his voice breaking. “But you’re here, and you’re going to be okay. That’s all that matters.”

Before long, the nurses come to wheel you to surgery. Zayn presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering as if he’s willing his strength into you. “I’ll be here when you wake up,” he promises. “I’m not going anywhere.”

...

The fog of anesthesia clings to you as you slowly drift back to consciousness. The world feels heavy and blurred, a haze of distant sounds and faint sensations. Gradually, the sterile light of the hospital room comes into focus, along with the rhythmic beeping of monitors and the faint hum of voices outside the door.

And then there’s him.

Zayn’s voice reaches you first, soft and full of quiet strength. “Hey, love… It’s me. I’m right here.”

You blink slowly, your eyes adjusting to the light. When you finally focus, Zayn is sitting at your bedside, his fingers wrapped tightly around yours. His face is etched with exhaustion, his dark eyes shadowed but filled with relief.

“Zayn,” you whisper, your voice hoarse and trembling.

He leans closer, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’m here,” he murmurs, his voice raw with emotion. “You’re awake. Thank God.”

Pain tugs at your body when you try to shift, and you let out a soft whimper. His free hand immediately moves to your shoulder, steadying you. “Don’t move, love. Just take it easy. You’re fresh out of surgery.”

Tears blur your vision as the memory of the fall rushes back. “I thought I wouldn’t make it,” you admit, your voice breaking.

Zayn’s jaw tightens, his grip on your hand firm but gentle. “Don’t say that,” he whispers. “You’re here now. You’re safe. That’s what matters.”

Tears spill down your cheeks, and he leans in, wiping them away with tender fingers. “It hurt so much,” you choke out, your body trembling. “I couldn’t stop it… I couldn’t—”

“Shh,” he soothes, his forehead pressing softly against yours. “I know, baby. I know. But you’re so strong. You fought through it. And I’ll be here to help you fight through the rest.”

You squeeze his hand weakly, grounding yourself in the warmth of his touch. “I’m so scared, Zayn.”

His voice softens, and his eyes meet yours, steady and unwavering. “You don’t have to be. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll face this together.”

For a moment, the room is quiet except for the beeping monitors and your ragged breaths. Then, through the haze of pain and exhaustion, you whisper, “Will you… hold me? Please?”

Zayn’s eyes widen briefly, but his expression softens almost immediately. “Of course,” he says without hesitation.

He glances at the narrow hospital bed, his brow furrowing. “We’ll figure it out,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

Carefully, Zayn slips off his shoes and climbs onto the small bed beside you. He maneuvers himself with the utmost care, mindful of your injuries. When he finally settles in, he wraps an arm gently around your shoulders, pulling you against his chest. His other hand cradles yours, his thumb tracing soothing circles over your knuckles.

You let out a shaky breath, the warmth of his body immediately easing the tension in yours. “This… this helps,” you murmur, your head resting against his chest. The steady beat of his heart is more comforting than any drug.

Zayn presses a soft kiss to your temple. “Good,” he whispers. “Then I’ll stay like this as long as you need.”

His presence is a balm, the weight of his arm around you grounding you in a way nothing else could. For the first time since the fall, you feel safe—truly safe. Despite the pain, despite the uncertainty of what’s ahead, you let yourself relax in his embrace, your breathing evening out as sleep starts to pull you under.

“I love you,” you whisper, the words soft but full of truth.

Zayn tightens his hold just slightly, his lips brushing against your hair. “I love you more,” he murmurs. “Rest, love. I’ve got you.”

And with that, you drift into a peaceful sleep, his arms your shelter from the storm.

[lavendersartistry]

ONYX IM GRABBING YOU

MAKE HER THE BAD BITCH OF THE CENTURY

now im evil plotting

Crafty enjoyers get to juice

Anyways after staring at my lab’s computer screen for 30 minutes I’ve come to the realization that I could make Crafty the baddest bitch ever in the crew, like sure Hoppy is a bad bitch what with her electrical powers and can do attitude, but her biggest flaw is that she doesn’t think before acting! And it can compromise the mission if she’s not too careful

But crafty? Crafty is an artist, and one of the components of an artist is persistence and patience. Hence in point, missions requiring infiltration? Crafty is your gal. Being artistically inclined allowed her to learn many different mediums of arts and one of those is costuming and acting. She’s the team’s masquerade, a mistress of disguise.

I also saw this pic and I thought it fit Crafty lol.

[navybrat817]

Jump Scare

Pairing: Motocross!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You get quite the jump scare during a movie night with Bucky. Word Count: Over 2.8k Warnings: Implied sex, scary movie (violence), jump scare, prank, scary vibes, slight feels, established relationship, swearing, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Fic #9 for Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense! A bit further down the line for Hothead and Spitfire. @tavners, @maskedmistress87, @drabblewithfrannybarnes, this did NOT go the way I wanted it to, but that's okay!❤️ Edit: Also submitting for @witchywithwhiskey's Horror Movie Hoe-A-Thon with "What's your favorite scary movie?". Not beta read and written on my phone​, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The sound of the basement door creaking open permeated the air in the otherwise silent house, fear paralyzing the soon-to-be victim who hid under the staircase. Terror mounted with each heavy footstep, as if they were a countdown to her impending doom. The masked assailant surveyed the dark space with his sharp knife in hand, still stained with the blood of the girl’s boyfriend who tried and failed to protect her. She covered her mouth as the killer got closer, her nostrils flaring as she desperately tried to keep from making any sounds. Maybe there was a chance he wouldn’t find her.

Her prayers were seemingly answered as the killer began to walk back up the steps, daring her to crawl out from her hiding space once she thought it was safe.

The bloodcurdling scream she let out as the knife plunged into her chest a heartbeat later was the last sound she ever made.

You stifled a yawn as you stared at the television, red light from the screen illuminating the darkened room as the killer stabbed his victim over and over again. “Why do people in horror films immediately pop their heads out when they think the killer’s gone? Do they just think they gave up? Or that they outsmarted them somehow?”

Bucky chuckled as he threw an arm over your shoulder. “I think that’s one of the rules of those films.”

“Which part? Running into a terrible spot where the killer is inevitably going to find you or thinking the coast is clear when it isn’t?”

“Both,” he replied.

You huffed and grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl in Bucky’s lap. You had to hand it to him. When he asked you over for a movie night, you figured it was an excuse to get in your pants. So when he invited you in and took you to the living room instead of the bedroom, it both surprised and disappointed you. It wasn’t that you wanted sex to be the main thing between you two. You enjoyed talking to him.

But, fuck, was he amazing in bed and you were only human.

Your new boyfriend, which was both exciting and nerve-wracking that it was official, had set up a few blankets and pillows on the couch so you’d be comfortable while watching the films. He shut off the lights to create, in his words, a spooky ambience. There was no reason not to indulge him. He even had a couple of your favorite snacks nearby so you wouldn’t have to get up and go to the kitchen.

Who said motocross riders couldn’t be a little bit romantic?

Bucky took your hand after you finished your helping of popcorn and slowly licked the salt and butter off one of your fingers. The cheeky little shit smirked when you sharply inhaled. “What’s your favorite scary movie?”

“You’re really asking me that right now?”

“Just curious,” he said, gently licking your middle finger when you held it up in his face. It was difficult not to feel aroused with his amazing tongue lavishing you with attention. “Are you giving me the middle finger to insult me or is that a promise?”

“It’s both. Fuck you and fuck you, Hothead,” you said, gasping when he lightly nibbled the tip.

“That can be arranged,” he smirked.

He isn’t romantic. He’s horny just like me.

“See? I knew there was a reason other than movies for having the blankets out here,” you smiled. You knew deep down he wanted you to stay the night. The man was a cuddler. “As much as I joke about some of the cliches, I like a lot of scary movies. The jump scares are always fun, especially when you don’t see them coming.”

“Name one movie,” he said, finally allowing you to take your hand back as he shifted to face you more. Neither of you were paying attention to the movie on the screen now. “Just one.”

“Okay,” you said after a moment, one recent film you watched popping up in your mind. “I like ‘Ready or Not’.”

His brows pinched a bit. “That’s the film about the bride getting hunted down by the groom’s Satan worshiping family, right? Why that one?”

You lifted your chin and looked back at the screen momentarily. “Grace was kind and caring, but also determined and resourceful. She was a survivor and I found it easy to root for her,” you replied, avoiding Bucky’s gaze when your voice softened. “At the root of her character, she just wanted to be part of a family.”

It was one of the reasons you moved to town. There was nothing for you back home. Friends didn’t stick around, some wrote you off because of your outspoken attitude, and things went south with Frank. Bucky was aware of all of that. It almost sounded like you ran away, but you didn’t see it that way. You made a choice to change your path for the better.

And thanks to Natasha, you not only met Bucky, but made other friends as well.

A soft kiss to your temple made you jump a bit. “You see yourself in Grace, don’t you, Spitfire?”

You swallowed, not wanting to get emotional. It was almost unnerving how Bucky could take down the bricks of the inner wall you sometimes built up. “I guess I do,” you whispered, clearing your throat. “But if you marry me one day and you try to sacrifice me so you can keep winning races or whatever, I will haunt your ass forever.”

Bucky’s nose scrunched as he laughed, bringing a smile to your face. “Listen, we both know if I’d try to sacrifice you that you’d knock my ass in the dirt,” he joked. You were glad he went along with the humor you shifted to instead of delving into a deep discussion. You could save that for another day. “And I wouldn’t do that anyway because I’d fight beside you.”

His declaration spread warmth from your chest as you snuggled close. It meant more to you than he knew. “Keep saying sweet things like that and we won’t make it through the next movie.”

“I’ll say all the sweet things you want,” he promised, resting his head against yours. “I actually did have an ulterior motive for movie night.”

I knew it.

You narrowed your eyes even though you directed your gaze at the television and not him. “Well, you have to tell me what your motive was.”

“I wanted to watch scary movies with you in the hopes you’d get a little scared and cuddle in my lap,” he admitted, the screams from the speakers not affecting either of you in the slightest. “But I should’ve known you don’t scare that easily since you’re a badass.”

It was so endearing that you couldn’t help but smile. “Being a badass doesn’t mean I don’t get scared. I’ve just seen most of these films. I know what’s going to happen,” you said. You weren’t usually the type to jump out of your skin, especially since they were movies and nowhere close to reality. “Would you like me to pretend I’m afraid? I can do that.”

He sighed and you could easily picture the pout forming on his stupidly handsome face. “It isn’t the same when I know you’re faking it.”

“That’s what she said,” you said, making him snort as you moved the bowl of popcorn from his lap and scooted closer. “And I can easily pretend that you’ll keep me safe from the scary masked killer who isn’t actually here because he’s on television.”

“Now you’re just making fun of me.”

“He’s walking slowly and he’s managing to catch up to the girl running at full speed because of reasons. Wait! She tripped over nothing. He’s going to get her! Oh, no!” you cried before you hid your face in his chest, which rumbled when he began to chuckle. You didn’t lift your head immediately since the whiff of cologne you caught distracted you. He always smelled so good. “See? Easy.”

“That’s not very believable, but thank you for trying,” he teased before the room got quiet. “What the hell?”

“What is it?” you asked, turning to look at the television. The screen was black now, leaving the room darker than before. “What happened to the movie?”

“I don’t know,” he said, glancing behind him. “Maybe something happened with the connection. I’ll be right back.”

“You know you’re never supposed to say that. One of the horror movie rules,” you said, moving back to give him room to stand and checking your phone for messages. The light from your screen gave you a chance to catch a glimpse of his abs through his shirt when he stretched. It tempted you to pull him back down beside you. “But I’ll send a search party if you don’t come back in ten minutes.”

“How generous of you,” he said, tilting your chin up as he leaned down. “I’ll be right back,” he whispered against your lips.

You barely brushed your lips back against his in a kiss before he left you alone. “You said it twice. I’m not responsible for anything that happens to you!”

A minute passed by as you mindlessly scrolled through an app. You felt a little bad about your teasing, even if Bucky didn’t say it bothered him. You didn’t scare easily, but you could’ve allowed yourself to be a bit more vulnerable. All he wanted you to do was turn to him. When he got back, you’d do just that.

But a few more minutes passed and he still hadn’t returned.

“Bucky? It hasn’t been ten minutes, but I’ll send the search party,” you said, looking behind you when you didn’t get an answer. You still couldn't see much of anything. “Bucky?”

THUD.

It sounded like Bucky fell to the ground in another room. At least, you thought it was him. “Are you okay?” you called out, using your phone to light a path as you got up and left the room. “Do you need help?” you added, flipping the switch for the hallway light.

Which didn’t turn on.

If this were a horror movie, his body would either fall out of a ceiling somewhere or he’d be the killer.

“Of course,” you mumbled to yourself as you slowly walked down the hall. You were familiar enough with Bucky’s place, but it almost felt empty and cold as you searched for him. The wind picking up outside only made the unsettling feeling grow. Why wasn’t he answering you? “Bucky, come on. We can just watch a movie on my phone.”

BANG.

You jumped when the office door slammed shut, a nervous laugh bubbling up as you took a step toward it. “Well played. You got me to jump,” you said, hesitating as you reached for the doorknob. There was something red smeared on it. No way was that blood. It couldn’t be. “Bucky?”

It’s just a prank, right? He’s fine. He’s perfectly fine.

You pressed your ear against the door to listen for any noises before something slammed against it on the other side, making you jerk back. Your heart admittedly leapt in your throat. You wished Bucky was beside you to hold your hand.

“Okay, Bucky! You win! I’m officially creeped out!” you announced, hoping it would get him to jump out before something hit the door again. “Fine, asshole! Ready or not, here I come!”

The door flew open before you could twist the knob. You held up your phone with a shaky hand and spotted a large figure in the light. He wore what you guessed was a dark robe and a Boogeyman mask, the eyes and mouth completely blacked out. That wasn’t the thing that made your mouth fall open with a scream.

It was the bloody machete in his hand.

Your eyes scanned the darkness for Bucky, worried more about him than yourself. “Run,” the figure whispered, lifting the weapon over his head.

Fight or flight kicked in and you chose to fight, though you didn’t have anything to use as a weapon. “Fucker! What did you do to my boyfriend, you piece of shit?!” you yelled, kicking him as hard as you could in the shin when he got close enough. He hardly budged, but you hobbled back and grabbed your foot as pain shot through it. “Ow, fuck! Are you made out of pure muscle?!”

The Boogeyman dropped the machete immediately. “Shit, are you okay?” he asked in a normal voice as he took out a phone and pressed the screen, the lights in the place coming on a moment later.

You recognized that voice.

Bucky. Fucking. Barnes.

“Bucky,” you said through your teeth when he removed the mask and brushed his long hair from his eyes. “What the actual fuck?!”

“I'm sorry. I was trying to scare you a little, not hurt you,” he said, going to look at your foot. You almost kicked him again. “Is it okay?”

“It’s fan-fucking-tastic, asshole!” you hissed as you hit his right arm with a ringing slap. “Shithead!” you added, smacking his arm again as he laughed. He was laughing at you. “Fucker!”

And to think I felt bad for not acting more scared during the movie.

You tried to get another hit in, but he grabbed your wrist before the blow landed. “Easy, Spitfire. Okay, I deserved a couple of hits. It was a stupid joke.”

“So stupid,” you snapped when the corner of his lip twitched. If he laughed again… “How did you shut everything off?”

“App on my phone for the lights and streaming service. I got ready and hid here until you went to look for me. Though I had to make a loud noise for you to do so,” he said, the humor in his blue eyes almost outweighing his worry. “I really am sorry.”

“And where the hell did you even get this?” you asked, tugging on the robe.

“Remember, all the guys are helping out with that haunted hayride this weekend? We each got scary costumes for it,” he reminded you. All the riders planned to help out, followed by a party once it wrapped up “Are you really okay?”

Your heartbeat returned to a slower pace as you took a breath. There were tons of films where boyfriends pretended to be killers to scare their girlfriends. It was somehow oddly endearing that Bucky did the same thing.

“I’m fine,” you said, even as unshed tears burned your eyes. “But I did think for a moment something may have happened to you. And it isn't like watching you at the tracks when I know there's an element of danger or watching a movie. This was different.”

And that scared me.

“Hey. I'm right here and I’m okay,” he whispered, touching your cheek. “I just wanted to scare you so I could comfort you. I'm sorry.”

Stupidly sweet logic.

“That’s such a guy thing to do,” you said as he gave you an abashed smile. “Okay, I’ll let you comfort me. You’re also going to rub my foot,” you added, which actually felt perfectly fine now, but he didn’t need to know that.

“I’ll give you the best foot massage,” he promised. “You really tried to beat the ‘killer’ up for thinking he did something to me. I’m touched.”

“Well, I didn’t have a weapon, but I’ll aim for the crotch next time,” you teased a little, giggling when he winced. “I guess I’m just as dumb as some of those horror movie victims.”

“You’re not dumb. You’re a badass. And I would’ve done the same thing if I thought someone hurt you,” he smiled, making your heart race for a good reason this time. “And I’m still your boyfriend after this, right?”

You smiled softly, but poked him in the chest for good measure. “Yeah, but I’m not sorry for kicking you in the shin, you can fuck yourself tonight, and I’m telling Nat what you did.”

Because if anyone is scarier than an angry girlfriend, it’s Natasha Romanoff.

“You know, you’re hot when you’re pissed off. Very hot,” he smirked. The vicious glare you gave him didn’t sway him as he gripped the back of your head. “And let’s see if I can convince you to let me fuck you.”

“It’s going to take a lot of convincing.”

You opened your mouth to accept the slide of his tongue against yours and allowed him to press you against the hallway wall. Nat would surely give him a piece of her mind tomorrow for scaring you. Tonight though, you’d let Bucky convince you to snuggle again and sleep with him. Because you had to hand it to him.

He delivered a worthy jump scare.

Motocross!Bucky was sharing a brain with lumerjack!Steve, wasn't he? Love and thanks for reading! 🧡

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi