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kayewrite · 2 months ago

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..maybe that's why

(bsn ending #8)

jeongin x reader! i.n x fem reader!! wordcount: 2.2k

bsn alternative ending wherein jeongin doesnt want to call you 'noona' but you dont know why.

(an: last alternative ending. next to this will be the special chapter where a lot of yoou requested.)an: help! im dying! college is too hard.

an: i love jeongin!

part 1 and part 2 first

“Can you give me that spoon, please?”

Jeongin’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, and a teasing grin spreads across your face as you quickly hide the spoon behind your back. “Okay, if you call me ‘noona,’” you tease, already knowing the answer but still hoping.

He sighs, not even bothering to look up from his phone. “I won’t,” he replies, standing up to head towards the kitchen to grab a new spoon.

You shake your head with a small chuckle and place the spoon back on his plate. Was it really that hard to do?

Jeongin was just one year younger than you—a small gap, really. When you were nine, he was eight. That never felt like much of a difference. But then again, he had that same gap with Seungmin, and Seungmin got the honor of being called "hyung." So why didn’t Jeongin ever call you "noona"? The thought lingered in your mind often, and you teased him about it constantly.

But no matter how much you tried, he always brushed it off, never giving in.

You couldn’t help but wonder why he didn’t treat you like he did the others.

Everyone doted on him, hugged him, and treated him like their adorable little brother. He would roll his eyes and push them away half-heartedly, but it was clear they all adored him. And who wouldn’t? Jeongin was cute. The kind of cute that made you want to squish his cheeks and ruffle his hair.

But he never seemed to mind when you hugged him. Like now, for example.

Your arms wrapped around his waist while he sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone as if you weren't even there. He didn’t push you away, didn’t squirm or protest like he did with the others. He just let you hold him, completely at ease, even as your head rested against his shoulder.

You don't know why, but you are willing to know the answer.

You never had a younger sibling, and the thought of taking care of Jeongin stirred something in you. He was just so easy to dote on—so talented, smart, and capable. Yet, there was this small part of you that still saw him as someone you wanted to spoil.

If he were your little brother, he’d probably be the most spoiled kid in the world.

But no matter how much you treated him like a little brother, there was always that lingering question: why didn’t he call you “noona”?

“Can you tie this for me?”

His voice breaks your thoughts again, and you look up to see Jeongin standing in front of you, holding the ends of his necktie. He’s dressed for his presentation, and you don’t hesitate to set your notebook aside and move to him.

You start tying his tie carefully, focusing on the task as his eyes linger on your hands.

Maybe it’s because he’s taller than you now?

That thought crosses your mind as you glance up at him, only to meet his steady gaze. The teasing thought bubbles up again, and a mischievous grin tugs at your lips.

“You should say, ‘Please, noona,’ if you want me to finish,” you say, your hands pausing mid-tie as you look up at him playfully.

Jeongin sighs, his patience visibly wearing thin. “Just finish it, please. I’ll be late,” he says,

“Not until you call me noona,” you insist, stepping back with your hands on your waist, fully embracing the playful banter. You expect him to groan or roll his eyes, but instead, his gaze sharpens, and the room feels suddenly smaller.

His next move catches you off guard.

Without warning, Jeongin steps forward and pins you against the wall, his hands braced on either side of you. His face is close—too close—and your breath catches in your throat. For a split second, all the teasing falls away, replaced by a tension you can’t quite place.

“I. Won’t,” he says, each word slow and deliberate, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that leaves you speechless.

You blink up at him, your brain trying to catch up to what just happened. But before you can say anything, he pulls back, adjusting his tie on his own with a swift motion. “You can stay as long as you want. Just lock the door when you leave,” he says coolly, grabbing his bag without a glance back and heading out the door.

You stand there, heart racing, still pressed against the wall, wondering what on earth just happened.

Did you push him too far? Was he mad? Or… was it something else?

Days pass, but teasing Jeongin about calling you "noona" doesn’t feel the same anymore. There’s something different now, something unspoken lingering between the two of you. You can’t quite place it, but it makes your chest feel tight, and the teasing doesn’t come as naturally as it used to.

Even now, as the others gather at your friend's hideout.. which was Jeongin’s apartment, you find yourself watching him a little too closely.

“My favorite baby is here!” Chan announces dramatically as he bursts into the room, immediately engulfing Jeongin in a hug. Jeongin struggles against him, whining, “Hyung! I’m not a baby!” but Chan only tightens his grip.

Minho, who’s busy in the kitchen, glances over with a smirk. “He’ll always be our baby,” he teases, and you can’t help but laugh, even though a small part of you feels envious. They always get to smother him in affection.

“He’s my baby,” you chime in proudly, earning a playful glare from Jeongin as he squirms under Chan’s grip.

“I’m not your baby,” Jeongin mutters, his voice slightly muffled as he tries to push Chan away.

“If he doesn’t want to be your baby, I can be,” Minho jokes, causing everyone to laugh.

“Shut up, Minho, you’re old,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes.

or maybe that’s why Jeongin doesn’t call you "noona"—because sometimes, you act like the younger one.

“I want ice cream,” you announce, pouting dramatically.

Jeongin, ever the responsible one, shoots you a disapproving look. “You haven’t even had dinner yet. You should eat something proper before you have ice cream,” he scolds, sounding more like an older brother than anything.

You sigh dramatically. “But I’m not hungry for dinner. I want ice cream,” you insist.

“Are you a baby?” he asks, laughing at your pout. But when you straighten up and fix your posture, you say, with as much dignity as you can muster, “I’m your noona.”

He smirks, clearly amused, and after a moment, he gets up to leave. “I’ll be back,” he says.

A few minutes later, he returns with a gallon of your favorite ice cream, and you light up, but before you can grab it, he holds it just out of reach.

“Eat this first,” he says, handing you a bag of fast food.

You sigh but comply, because, well, he’s Jeongin.

…maybe he doesn't want to call you noona 'cause he hates you?

"Do you hate me?" you asked one time

"Why would I?" he asked back. As far as he can remember he told you he loved you in that restaurant where you treat him.

"'Cause.. I don't know," you don't know how to explain

He ruffles your hair affectionately. “Stop overthinking. I don’t hate you.”

Or maybe he doesn’t wanna call you noona ’cause… he loves you?

That one sentence played over and over in your mind. It was the answer you’d been searching for, though you weren’t ready to admit it at the time.

After the sticky note incident and that night at Changbin’s birthday, things started to make sense. All the little moments clicked into place.

He didn’t want to call you noona because he didn't want to.

A week after Changbin’s party, you found yourself wanting to talk to someone, and Jeongin came to mind. He’d always been the one checking on you, sending you messages even when you didn’t reply. In one of them, he’d said, “If you ever need someone to talk to, just call me.”

But you hadn’t called.

Instead, you went to his apartment. You knew the passcode, as did most of the group. Still, you knocked. When no one answered, you entered, your steps careful, almost hesitant.

The silence was comforting, in a way. You sank into the soft cushions of his couch and waited, hoping the familiar space would calm the chaos in your mind.

It was getting dark when Jeongin finally came home, guitar strapped to his back. He hadn’t expected to find you here, yet there you were—curled up on his couch, looking so peaceful despite the turmoil you had been feeling.

For a moment, he just stood there, his eyes softening as he took you in. All his worries, the small frustrations, the confusion—it all faded away when he saw you like this. His heart ached in ways he couldn’t explain.

Quietly, as if afraid even the sound of his breath might wake you, he moved closer, kneeling beside the couch. His fingers hesitated before gently brushing the strands of hair away from your face, lingering in that tiny gesture, his thumb grazing your cheek.

His smile was bittersweet.

You had no idea how hard it was for him to stay in the role of the younger brother. How much he despised the label, how much he longed to break free from it. You didn’t know how many nights he lay awake, wishing he could grow up faster, become someone you’d look at differently—someone you might want to be with.

When you stirred slightly, he jerked back, standing in an instant. His heart raced as he quickly slipped into his usual facade, moving to sit on the smaller couch across from you. By the time you opened your eyes, he had an upside-down book in his hands, pretending to read.

"Oh, you’re awake?" he asked casually, as if nothing had happened, like he hadn’t just been admiring you moments ago.

You stretched, sitting up, blinking away the last remnants of sleep. "When did you get home?" you asked, your voice still soft from sleep, your lips curling into a smile.

"Not long ago." He shrugged, placing the book down carefully, his voice neutral, though his heart was anything but calm. "You should’ve called me."

"And disturb your class?" You laughed softly, shaking your head. "No way."

He wanted to tell you that it didn’t matter. That no class, no distance, nothing could stop him from coming to you if you needed him. But instead, he just smiled.

"How are you?" he asked, his gaze searching your face, seeing through the mask you always wore.

"I’m fine." The lie rolled off your tongue with practiced ease, but even you could feel how hollow it sounded.

Jeongin’s eyes lingered on you a little too long. He wanted to push, to ask why you were really here, but he didn’t want to scare you away. He knew you wouldn’t open up until you were ready.

Then, out of nowhere, you asked, "Can you call me noona?"

Jeongin blinked, caught off guard. The request was so unexpected, it almost felt like a joke. He scoffed lightly, unsure if you were teasing him or testing him.

You bit your lip, looking down as if you were afraid of his answer. "I just… I want to confirm something."

His heart sank. He didn’t want to call you that. Not now, not ever. He had spent so long trying to distance himself from that word, from the idea that you’d always see him as just your younger friend.

"Just once…" Your voice was softer this time, and it broke something inside him.

He swallowed hard, looking anywhere but at you. "Noona," he said quietly, barely able to force the word out, his voice thick with emotions he tried so hard to hide.

The silence that followed felt heavier than anything he had ever felt before. You didn’t say anything, and it scared him. He finally dared to glance at you, only to see you staring at him, your expression unreadable.

"Now I know the answer to my question," you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

Jeongin’s chest tightened. He didn’t ask what you meant, but every fiber of him was screaming for an explanation.

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes glistening as you finally looked back at him. "Noona doesn’t feel right coming from you."

He froze, the weight of your words sinking in. He knew what you meant—he could feel it in the way your voice trembled, in the way you were struggling to keep your feelings contained.

"I don’t want to be your noona."

It wasn’t just a statement. It was a confession. A quiet, undeniable truth.

You, who had once been so unsure, so careful with your feelings, were now looking at him with a clarity that left no room for doubt. You didn’t want to hide from it anymore.

And neither did he.

an; i saw vids of jeongin bowing on stays and it made my heart warm. jeongin was indeed raised right by his hyungs. so precious.

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octoberscigarettes · 8 months ago

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soemtimes I wish someone who isnt a romantic partner would have cared for Ian enough. like ofc mickey cares immensely and I don't wanna discredit the good he does for Ian. But there are so many things in Ian's life where he needed care and love and reassurance from someone he is not romantically involved with.

being groomed from a young age, and nobody cared enough to see what's going on with kash, and when lip did, he did nothing. when Fiona and Jimmy Steve found out Ian was sleeping with Ned, nobody cared enough about Ian to help him. Instead it was all about Jimmy Steve and his man baby feelings about his dad being queer.

when Ian was crying about the aftermath of s3ep6 and s3ep9, Frank was heading a gay rights movement purely for his own gain, while Ian's siblings feasted on a gift basket sent to their house. Nobody wondered where Ian was, so he was sobbing in his bed, alone.

when Ian ran away to the army, his entire family just accepted it, the fucking Milkoviches were more worried about Ian than his own family.

when in s6 Ian doesnt know what to do with himself, nobody cares enough to show him that his life isnt over bc of his diagnosis. nobody cares enough to tell Ian that he still has options, that he can survive.

when Ian is heartbroken, nobody cares enough about it to tell him anything but "good riddance".

when Ian has a crisis of faith and loses himself in religion and mania, nobody cares about him enough to talk to him until its to late. nobody sees him enough to know if he is taking his meds.

In the Gallagher household Ian doesn't exist. Fiona and Lip are bonding and supporting each other (no matter how angry and misguided sometimes) in their role as the eldest. Debbie and Carl are looking out for each other, and Fiona and Lip always have an eye on them bc they're younger. Liam gets raised by everyone. But Ian just kind of floats around in the void, and while they all may love him, they don't notice him.

Lip and Ian are close, but they aren't caring for each other properly.

As long as Ian contributes to the squirrel fund and doesnt make a fuss, they dont see him.

And once his mental state gets bad they all sit around wondering why they didnt catch it sooner. But they never look.

I just wish that someone would see Ian Gallagher.

#shameless #ian gallagher #gallavich #mickey milkovich #shameless us #shameless meta #i just feel so sad for him #why is nobody SEEING HIM #JUST LOOK INTO HIS EYES

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where-does-the-heart-lie · 1 month ago

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totally forgot what you think of shippy stuff but im gonna ask you anyway !!! do u think sabo n law would be friends ??! more than that ?! cause they have like . . . one arc together plus stampede and they dont seem to hate each other so !! im curious of your thoughts 🎤

Their dynamic for me is kinda just like “this guy is my little brother’s friend” kind of feel and thats really it for me. Like ifykyk what that dynamic is but for me they just,,,, theyre too similar to eachother to be much more than that in my opinion. I feel like Sabo naturally drifts to people who are very different than him, if that makes sense.

I think all the ship art I’ve seen of them is really funny though. Like they have a lot of comedic potential, I love people putting Law in Situations and that man is just doomed to be the StraightMan for the rest of his unintentionally sexy life.

And also like, to get into law’s world you really have to push and shove and claw your way in there, and Sabo is way too busy trying to get tf outta wherever he is to do that for law.

Now that im thinking about it though, i wish we knew how sabo and ace met. Cuz like luffy really had to push and shove and claw his way into Ace’s life, so i wonder if sabo had to do the same. Thats really besides the point though because i wouldnt really compare Sabo being completely alone and friendless when he was 5 and trying to find even a single friend in Ace, to Sabo in his adult years who grew up without a single memory of being alone and being constantly surrounded by people who love him.

Sabo isnt like Luffy is with making friends. Luffy has had multiple points in his life where hes had to really force people into friendship to have someone, anyone, in his life. This naturally is because he hates being alone, mostly stemming from just truly no one being there for him to connect with. He’s been woefully devoid of peers in his life. So for Luffy, having to brute force his way into people’s lives is just par for the course for him, which of course is how he became Law’s friend (self proclaimed)

But Sabo, with how he was raised post amnesia, he was never lonely. So in my opinion he wouldnt really have that drive to force his way into people’s lives like his little brother does. He wouldnt have that insecurity that Luffy has/had to make him like that.

And Law….. he’s had everyone he’s ever loved ripped away from him time and time again. To say being Law’s friend is extremely fucking hard is an understatement to say the extreme least. Sabo is also not the kind of guy to do things for people. Like for example Bartolomeo drowning in the colosseum as sabo destroyed the arena and just telling him “youre a man, do it yourself.” And then two seconds later to his woman friend he’s like “since when can you not take care of things yourself?” Like he’s very You Gotta Meet Him Halfway If Youre Gonna Meet Him At All. (‘Woman friend’ being koala, of course, but i just wanna emphasize those two points because truly it doesnt matter what your gender is or even if youre a close friend, that ‘do it yourself’ is rated E for Everybody)

Law needs to be broken in with a semi truck to be his friend, not even mentioning trying to be his lover and i really dont think sabo would put in the effort to do either of those things. I honestly think law shouldn’t be in any romantic relationship for a very long time because of how unbelievably traumatized and broken and ruined he is especially with certain recent events. So i really have a hard time shipping him with anyone even though theres lots of characters ripe for the picking.

TDLR: in my eyes, neither of them would put in the effort of trying to be anything with eachother and are kinda just on good terms because of a mutual friend.

By Every Means Necessary though, please keep shipping them and drawing ship art of them, i feel like the stuff i see with them is so creative and i encourage you to keep drawing those tragic men making out.

If you have any other thoughts or any ship/friendship propaganda for me though lmk please. This is kinda one of those ships where i really dont much understand it beyond The Bit. I’m just not the kind of person to really like ships without seeing a direct and canon dynamic between them I can pull from. Like even if its a negative dynamic i can still get into it but like these two truly have Nothing. So by all means, help me understand.

Thank you for coming my ted talk and thank you for the question, i really had to think hard about this and it was a lot of fun coming to the conclusion i came to.

#whery qna #@engaardeque

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thechaoticplayer · 9 months ago

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hihi <3 hope ur having a great day ! Seeing as your requests are open ... May I request Claude & shu using cock warming as a punishment :( I'm in love with your whole blog omg we need more niji writers </3

Author's note: OMAIGOSH TANK YUU 😭😭😭😭 real tho where u mfs at (stares at moots with a loving yet threatening gaze) I'm having a great... morning? I wrote this at 4 am chat go high or go low

Summary: aw shucks, you fucked up :[ COCK WARMING FOR PUNISHMENT FROM CLAUDE AND SHU 💥💥💥 (doesnt seem like a punishment tbh- I'll stop) Contains: nsfw, cockwarming, teasing, f! reader, Shu x reader, claude x reader, praises with a side of degradation, might be slightly ooc None of my works are proofread!

CLAUDE CLAWMARK

"Claude," you whine, squirming atop Claude's lap. "When can I-?"

The cleric quickly hushes you, leaving forward with your back pressed against his chest. "You decided to bother me during such a important time. It's your own fault."

Your core pulsates around his cock, walls fluttering as you roll your hips a bit. A groan, and Claude digs his nails into your thigh. Tears form in your eyes from the sting, as well as the torturous non-movement of his dick inside your warmth. However, his attention remains glued to the damn TV, one hand on the remote and the other pinning you down against him.

You feel so incredibly hot and bothered, Claude filling you up but not getting the sweet feeling of his length pistoning in and out of you like usual. His pre-cum covering your gummy walls, his rough chest against your back, legs spread wide for him for easier access, his whispers hot in your ear while he fucks you hard and slow. His sharp nails deep in your waist, not enough to bleed, but enough to leave a delicious sting and marks that are guaranteed to stay for a while. Your heat swallowing him each time he bottoms out, the squelching noises combining with the sounds of lewd moans and skin slapping skin. That string inside drawn taut inside you as your slick covers his pelvis, the stickiness from your legs proof of your arousal. Back arched, eyes rolled back, hands clenching the bedsheets, moaning the cleric's name like a whore. All the while he praised you for how good you're taking him, how you're being such a good girl for him while he fucks you relentlessly. His thrusts getting sloppy as he gets close as well, and you clamp hard around him. Claude tosses his head back with a drawn out moan as he empties his louds inside you, coating your insides with a white you always craved. You squirting hard around his girth, dripping down and all over the bed sheets. They'd have to get washed, but you didn't care. Not while he was making you feel so good.

But that wouldn't happen for a good while, not while Claude is playing this game. No matter how much you beg and plead for him to move, this is your punishment for not obeying him <3

SHU YAMINO

"So when you get this answer," Shu explains, circling an equation. "This is the y-intercept. So you'd plot down the points on the graph like so. And then you have to find the x-intercept, which is when you basically plug in the value for y into the equation to get x. Afterwards, you plot it down on the graph. However, we aren't done. To find the range and domain..."

God, he kept blabbing on and on. Don't get it wrong, you absolutely adored the sorcerer, but how did he think you were gonna focus with you on his dick? You could barely keep up with any of the numbers thrown about and letters... his veins throbbing inside you as you twitch here and there, your core searing hot. The head of his cock nestled against your g-spot as he had you at a certain angle, one that was slowly driving you insane.

"Hey," Shu says, slapping your thigh, making the area red. "Are you paying attention?"

"M-mhm!" You nod vigorously, squinting down at the paper. The words and numbers swirled around on the page as you tried to obtain your focus. "The... something about the horizontal asymptote? Right?"

"I didn't even say anything about that," Shu chides, thrusting up into your cunt and ripping a moan out of you. You grip the edge of the table, arms and legs shaking. "Now I see why you aren't doing so well in class. You don't pay attention. No wonder your classmates call you an idiot."

"Shu please..." You gasp. "Please..."

"As I was saying..." Shu continues on, as if he didn't hear your pleas. His cock deep inside you, unmoving, causing tears to brim your eyes. The redness on your thighs would continue to spread as Shu degraded you and slapped you, scolding you for not focusing. The few thrusts and rolls of his hips here and there barely offering you any kind of relief from the sorcerer. He was going to make you learn and remember.

#chaotic.text #nijisanji #nijisanji en #nijien #nijisanji x reader #vtuber #nijisanji smut #luxiem #Shu yamino #shu yamino x reader #shu yamino smut #claude clawmark x reader #claude clawmark #claude clawmark smut #Krisisis #Krisisis smut

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fictioonbanger · 1 year ago

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reader in denial a bit with bestie eren!

eren x black reader

sub eren hinted a bit, alcohol usage, rough sex, facd fucking, smut, profanity.

thinking about how you and eren fuck almost every night, and i mean every night when eren finally realizes you need him as much as he needs you. but you both dont have a title yet, now dont get eren wrong. he would love a title, he wants to call you his, and for you to do the same. you just don’t know how to take it, your bestfriend of childhood being your boyfriend. it was always what you wanted, but how would it seem to others around you both when you denied multiple times already. no one to blame but yourself for digging it deeper and now being a little werry of wanting to admit your feeling for eren.

eren doesnt let you both not having a title keep you away from each other. he loved you, that was a fact and obvious. on the other hand you might say no if someone were to ask if you and eren were dating. eren on the other hand tells the full honest truth.

“nah we not together, but she still mine as i am of hers.” eren spoke sipping his cup of alcohol at the bar him and his friends were at

“so she has you under a leash?” jean chuckled taking his last of alcohol fully and tilting his head back.

eren mean mugged him and spoke up glaring at his snarky comment. “no, she doesnt.. and if she did it wouldnt be too bad.” eren shrugged and his friends laughed he rolled his eyes and looked away. day dreaming about you and how he’d kill to be with you right now.

and thats exactly what he did, except of the killing part. he grabbed his keys off the stand and began getting off the stool. “where ya goin?” armin tilted his head to look at eren from over jean. “hes gonna see his little owner.” jean chuckled to himself at his own joke causing both them to roll their eyes. “its better than being with shitface over here.” eren stood and started to walk towards the door, jean scoffed rolling his eyes and ordering another drink.

you were in your room of your pretty decorated apartment, pink picture frames, gray marbled counters, stuffed animals on your couch and little lights everywhere was how you’d describe your apartment. eren, would say different “ ‘ts too pink, make my eyes hurt baby.” hed mock you and cover his eyes as you rolled yours, the “baby” word going completely over your head. it wasnt out of the blue for eren to call you petnames, i mean you’ve asked him before and all his response is. “what? you dont like them pretty?” of course you’re gonna say you do, thats how you felt and honestly hoped he didnt stop.

you were watching a movie on your laptop snacking on whatever was in the kitchen, getting distracted by a message at 11:12pm. you really knew who it was though, eren comes at this time. not everyday of course but only when hes been out or busy.

eren <3; im at the door ma

you; mhm here i come.

rolling out of bed and straddling through your living room and towards the front door you began unlocking it. finishing then opening the door to see erens slim figure in the doorway. he had already a cracked smile on his face, he couldnt wait to see you. its been awhile and it was his fault, he knew hed have to make up for it. he thought you’d greet him with a hug and a peck on the cheek, the usual. instead you stared at him for a bit before turning around and letting him. not saying a word eren sighed and closed the door locking it then began to walk behind you. he slid his hands on each side of ur waist and put his head on your shoulder from behind. “cmon y/n, im sorry you havent seen me in awhile..i havent been ghosting you honest.” he spoke softly in your ear, he sounded so sincere and pretty upset he hadnt seen you either. “been real busy..you know id rather be here.” he said as you stood in place as he rocked you both softly side to side as he held onto you.

“doesnt matter to me..not like we’re together right?” you looked away to the side, you knew your words were bad. and that they wouldnt effect eren, he listens to all your fits and upsets. doesnt bother him a bit, only about the situation that made you feel that way in the first place. other than that he knows how to get you out that state. “dont be so mean y/n.. you hurtin my feelings.” he said sarcastically removing away from you and fake grabbing his heart. “im serious eren-“ “how about we change that then?” you were shocked at his words, eyes widening and you quickly turning to look at him. “what?” you spoke softly eyes glistening a bit and gazed upon erens face. “can we please change it..” eren spoke up then got onto his knees infront of you, holding onto your legs with both hands. he put his face by your stomach and inhaled your scent he loved so much. “i really want you y/n.. want you to be mine.” he mumbled looking up at you. you were hot in the face, feeling your blood rise up to your cheeks. “i-i want you too ren..” you spoke softer, gazing down at how he held onto you.

and this just made eren so much bolder, your emotion changing quickly at how swift he moved to leaning over you. he held your waist again and peered into your orbs with his green ones, a snarky smile on his face. “you do?” he questioned tilting his head down at you reaching close to your face. your lips barely touching as you breathed in each others air. “badly.” you breathed out, thats all eren needed to hear before sweeping you off your feet. carrying you with both hands on your ass supporting your legs wrapped around him. walking you both towards your opened bedroom noses touching as eren goes in for a kiss. you took in his tongue and slipped past your own, moaning into it and squeezing around eren. he chuckled and laid you onto the bed, he was leaning over your body. humping his hard crotch into your clothed cunt in missionary. he groaned staring at just how your face looks when he makes you feel good.

eren didnt hold back the whole night, putting you in positions you didnt know you were capable of. he fucked you into a babbling mess under him. “ ‘s too much!! cant take i-it ren!” you squealed out as he pushed deeper hitting the spot he hit earlier making you yet orgasm again. your eyed rolled in the back of your head as you released onto him, cum dripping down and sliding his shaft wetting his balls. eren saw this and looked up to were your mouth was open. he smirked and quickly grabbed a fist full of your braids making you do a soft yelp that moved into a low moan. “how bout you clean your mess up hm?” with a handful he moved you up and towards his leaking dick with his precum standing pearly off the tip and your cum that covered it. you willingly took him fully into your mouth without another word, you let him into your throat and placed soft kisses on his tip. feeling your throat once eren couldnt get enough and forced your head onto him more, now guiding you. you loved when eren was like this, when he was in control. he liked when youd do it to, but pleasuring you more was his ideal choice. you licked him up and jerked him off while doing it making erens toes curl. he tried to move away at a point but was stopped by a hard hand on his thigh that kept him down. “m-m gonna fuckin cum..” he seethed out through his teeth as his hips started to move on his own fucking your face as you kinda took control. he was eager to nut and his hips had a mind of their own chasing his high. you took him fully one last time in your throat as erens hips buckled. he grabbed ahold of your head pushing it down one last time as he came into your mouth. moaning a loud mess and breathing ever so heavily, he caressed your cheek hand leaving your head, wiping away the tears that poured while he face fucked you.

“this means you’re mine now yeah?” eren thumb was still wiping under your eye, tilting his head he slowly moved it to your plumped lips parting them and making way for his thumb. you took it into your mouth and gave it a soft suck as you kissed it after

“mm yeah.” was your response, and it couldnt have made eren happier hearing this. causing you both to go into your 7th round? counting yes.

#black reader #black y/n #eren smut #eren x y/n #eren x reader #eren x black reader #eren x you #eren jeager x y/n #eren jeager x reader #eren x black fem!reader #eren x black y/n #eren x black reader smut #eren jeager smut #eren headcanons #eren x black yn

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toastnpretzels · 8 months ago

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home

relationships: crosshair x reader

masterlist

word count: 733

warnings: angsty, fluff, there's an unexplained relationship between the reader and crosshair, kinda left it up to interpretation whether you think they were together before or if it was just them having feelings for each other.

season 3 episode 4 spoilers

author's note: i have not posted a fic in so long. ive been so busy but that doesnt matter. the new episode had me feeling some type of way so here you go. its kinda short but i didnt want to expand without seeing hunter and wrecker's reaction to crosshair being back.

thank you for any support whether its likes, reblogs, or comments <3

“I had help.”

The last few months had been terrible. From losing Tech and then losing Omega to the empire. Spending everyday looking for her with no success. Nothing was ok. All of us were miserable. Our family was being torn apart and there was nothing we could do about it. It couldn’t have gotten any worse.

Getting the comm from Omega was one of the best things to ever happen to us, but seeing her running down from the ship was even better. Embracing her, knowing she was safe, felt better than anything had. Things were starting to feel right again. All it took was one hug from Omega.

But then he walked off the cargo ship and everything in my body froze. He looked so different. He had been gone for so long that I thought the feelings had disappeared. Seeing him there, I knew they never were.

I forgot what it was like to be near him. I forgot how my heart sped up and how my head felt dizzy. I forgot how he smelled and how warm he was. I forgot how much I loved him.

After Kaller, nothing was ever the same. He wasn’t the same. The chip had changed him. The Empire had changed him.

He let us go on Kamino. The same day you had told him you loved him. On the platform before we left, with tears in my eyes. I told him I loved him.

“You shouldn’t.”

“Crosshair, please,” you whispered. He could hear the way your voice was breaking. You couldn’t lose him again.

When he didn’t say anything, you turned to walk away. Typical Crosshair to not say anything. He grabbed your wrist as you started walking.

“I love you.”

You stared at him. Your tears threatened to spill out from his confession.

“But I can’t come with you. You deserve better. This is where I want to be. With the Empire.”

I should have dragged him to the ship. I should have done more. But what more could you do when he didn’t want to be there. He wanted to be with the Empire.

Why couldn’t he have just came with you that day?

No one moved. Everyone was just as shocked to see him. No one knew what he was going to do, how he was going to react. He had tried to kill us before, but he had also let us go. No one trusted him anymore. You chose to remember how he had let us go.

You were the first one to move. Slowly, I stepped out from behind Wrecker. Every step I took towards him was filled with anxiety. It had been too long.

He doesn’t want to see me.

Is he still him?

Why did he come then?

Why would he still be here if he didn’t want to be?

You stopped a few feet in front of him. I could see how tired he looked from where I was standing. I couldn’t stand seeing him like this. It hurt so much. He had been through so much since Kamino.

What did they do to him?

I couldn’t stand there anymore. I ran the few feet that were left in between us. I wasn’t sure if he would push me away. As I got close to him, I fell right into his arms. I didn’t realize just how much I had missed him until this moment. He wrapped his arms around me in the tightest embrace I’ve ever had. It had been too long since I had felt him. He was safe. He was here.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered after a few minutes, so quietly that you barely heard it.

I looked up at him. He had tears that were threatening to spill over. Your heart broke at the look on his face.

“Shh. Not now. Just let me hold you.”

You stood there for what felt like an eternity just holding each other. Quiet tears were spiling from both of your eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered into your hair. His arms tightened around you again, as if he was afraid you would disappear.

It would be hard to forgive. Hard for everyone, not just you. So much had happened. But for now, all that mattered was that him and Omega were safe. Omega was home. Crosshair was home.

“I love you too.”

#crosshair x reader #crosshair imagine #the clone wars imagine #star wars imagine #clone force 99 #clone x reader #the bad batch #bad batch #crosshair tbb #the bad batch crosshair #tbb crosshair #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch imagine #star wars the bad batch

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mars-syndrome · 3 months ago

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sooo if ur somehow stumbling across this randomly nothing about this post will make sense unless youve read this fic https://archiveofourown.org/works/57909193

but hey, that promised bingge pov post! (full disclosure i am writing this before ive written the sqh scene so some info may be repeated!)

binghe was aware of sy’s nature from the very beginning. he knew it was demonic, but meng mo was the one who let him know about the concept of demon dolls and how theyre created. when he chose sy for qing jing, he was fully convinced it was actually a demon doll with sqq’s exact soul/copy and wanted to get ahead of whatever revenge he and/or yqy may be planning.

meng mo also told him that since sqq’s been dead yqy had probably used his own soul to help ‘create’ sy so both of them were hesitant to use their dream manipulation incase it let yqy know something was up since they could be spiritually linked and lbh’s half demon status was unknown plus he’d be the first person yqy would want to blame. while he wouldnt use dream manipulation since it was spiritual based, he would use the blood parasites as insurance since it was fully physical.

upon meeting sy, he began to have doubts about whether it was sqq’s soul. hence the fungi mission. he used that mission to judge just how human or demonic sy’s body is and also gauge his reaction to not being affected by the spores if his body was demonic to tell how “in the know” he was. when sy was genuinely confused and just accepted whatever explanation lbh gave him, he concluded sy knew absolutely nothing at all and shifted his focus to actually making sy care for him.

his confrontation with yqy after the fungi mission was basically yqy and lbh trying to psych each other out about how much the other knew. it ended with lbh implying he knew what was up, that he could reveal yqy for colluding with demonic cultivators and/or demons, and that he wouldnt let sy get found out unless yqy does some shit bc hey, thats his disciple. so up until now (chapter whatever this is linked on) they’ve operated under a strained truce that yqy stays away from sy and lbh wont reveal them.

for lbh getting close with sy was just a fun little side project. after all, a little sqq who adored him more than anything in the world? sqq would be seething and rolling in his grave. it doesnt hurt that sy was so earnest and cute either and him being on the peak made nyy happy so he was fine with getting some revenge like that.

in the fic’s og pidw, this grows into lbh desperately craving affection and validation from the kid who looks so much like his shizun who withheld it. he’ll grow codependent with sy, but the relationship stays very much master/disciple. on some level he’s aware that though sy does genuinely care for and admire him, hes playing out a role to receive lbh’s protection.

but in the fic our sy, earnest and naive, found the jade pendent.

this is bingge, two decades removed from the abuse he suffered. he’s had two decades to get stronger, to realize the world bends to his whims. to realize no matter where he goes he’ll have women falling over themselves to get into his bed but none of them will ever truly love him and what they give him is shallow. to realize he’ll have men envying him and wishing him harm just for being better. this bingge doesn’t have mobei-jun or any wives to share even the illusion of closeness or companionship with. he has nyy yet she’s been relishing in her role as da-shijie and hes happy for her truly, but he’s been alone in the bamboo house for 20 years.

when bingge meets sy!sqq in svsss who shows him just two days worth of normal domestic kindness, he immediately wants to leave with him. so how would our bingge feel with our sy, who he’s had unrestricted access to for 2 years, who holds genuine affection for him with no ulterior motive, who admires him openly and unashamedly, when he returns the very symbol of his happiness and the last bit of true love hes ever felt?

“precious fake jade indeed” he said

this fake sqq, this flawed copy of the man who tormented him, gave him back this fake pendant that he held most dear, that he lost hope of ever getting back again.

was that not symbolic? did that not make shen yuan his as well? did that not make shen yuan another symbol of love for him? did shen yuan not hand himself over to binghe when he handed over the pendant?

he begins objectifying sy almost. this was his person. obviously if sy was defective for yqy’s purposes, then wouldnt it make sense for sy to have been made just for lbh? after all, who else could cherish and protect sy like he could? yqy let him out of his sight long enough for him to becomes lbh’s so he wasnt fit. sy cant look after himself. only luo binghe could.

the mission he took just after sy’s 16th birthday was to track down the demon clan responsible for sy’s creation and learn more about it to see if he could sever and/or work around yqy’s connection. as soon as he learned everything, he returned and used dream manipulation (after he figured out it was safe) to walk through sy’s memories like svsss bingge did to sqq. he realizes sy’s memories are gone, he and meng mo conclude it was probably an error in the connection to body and soul bc of the nature of demon puppets. but hey, a wins a win. sy has no affection for yqy and the fact sy is loyal to only lbh remains unchanged.

speaking of, he should probably make sy his head disciple officially so yqy cant make any accusations about lbh’s inappropriate closeness to his disciple, no matter how true they are.

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cherubispunk · 10 months ago

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CHERUB (PART III) - Dealer!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: the devil has a funny habit of making you want your own suffering.

a note from Lucy: Well, this is it folks. The third and final instalment of the unholy trinity that is cherub. The fic that i had no idea would get this amount of traction. The fic that gave me my username, blog theme, the majority of my mutuals and the freedom to explore more taboo areas of writing that I never felt comfortable with doing before. I just wanted to thank you all for all the kind words you’ve shared with me. Comments, reblogs, messages, they all mean the utter world. But i also want to specifically thank @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin who was such a huge help for motivation when wrting each of these. She's been there since the first day of cherub and always let me obsess over dealer!joel with her. Ange, i love you baby. Out of all my fandom experiences, this has definitely been one of the best. I know this sounds a lot like a goodbye completely, but it's not i swear! I just never really knew where this was going, but I think this is a pretty good way to end the series and I hope you agree too. Part of me isn't ready to let go after such a short run, but I honestly have no idea where to go from here so I think I did it as much justice as I could. Regardless, Cherub and Dealer!Joel will forever have a place in my heart all thanks to you lovely lot! Your love means the world to me and you are all so easy to share this with, you've given me an environment to flourish creatively and I'm eternally grateful for that. I wish you all the love, hugs, kisses, and angel wishes in the world!

playlist

wc: 5548 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! Unedited for now, no outbreak, no use of y/n but joel calls the reader ‘Cherub’, plot? what plot? we all know we're here for the porn anyway, bombastic age gap (reader is in her early 20’s and Joel is in his late 50s), gore imagry, religious imagry, Smut, very dubcon in theory but both want it bad, grafic smut, P in V sex (unprotected — pleaseee don’t do tis irl i beg of you), teasing, sort of edging? (idk what to call it but he doesnt fuck you until you beg for it lol). nipple play, biting biting biting!!!!!, references to domestic violence, use of pet names, manipulative! joel, stupid stupid cherub, stockholm syndrome, oral (f receiving), cum eating, pussy slapping, Joel being foul mouthed, cursing, dirty talk, overstimulation. Again, some of the most animalistic, disgustingly wretched and vile vile vile porn I have written thus far…with so little plot that this earned me my place in hell, i have my own circle now. Big Dick Joel Miller comes as his own warning.

series m.list | m.list

The danger didn't lie in his hands. It didn't sit in his closed first to be suffocated. Choked out until the life of it was compressed. Until its face was blue, then purple and its eyes were bloodshot and streaked with red. The danger lay in your heart. And it thrived off the beating.

What is ‘it’, you ask? Mania.

The Greeks had it nailed down when they split love seven different ways. To the crucifix through its punctured and bleeding palms. All equal, but different. They understood that one love is different to the other. That love can be either obsession, or lingering in the quiet parts of a person's mind. You cannot hold up a mirror to one and deceive into believing it is another. No matter how sweet the lie seeps into the ear. They don't work that way. You were not Lucifer, you had no forked tongue. And your mania wasn't Eve. There was no apple to devour. Only the strong arm of Joel Miller to cling to like a noose.

Some love passionately. Find it in the scathing friction of flesh upon flesh. The heat two bodies make only in sex. You were no body anymore. Merely a corpse for him to dig up and breathe life into whenever he needed relief. So it was not Eros. Some love playfully. In the back and forth of a conversation that makes the mind and heart float in the clouds among the soul. Entwine them together until you are too sedated to know the difference between the three pillars of personal holy trinity. There was nothing lighthearted about Joel Miller. So there was no Ludus. Affection. The subtle, it-is-there-even-when-it-is-not weight of lovers hand in lovers hand. Joel clutched your throat with his heavy hand. He didn't lace your fingers in his like tapestry threads. And he was anything but friendly. So it could never be Philia. He was not unconditional. Familial. Constant. Committed. Long lasting. Selfless. He crept in through the backdoor and took. Then slipped back out. So the thick blood red line was drawn through Storge. Agape. Pragma. The love you had was not for yourself. Without him you hated yourself. Hated how you didn’t feel needed. Or wanted. So Philautia was buried six feet under hot earth, the final nail in the coffin that was lowered into the rotting, thick-with-decaying-mulch, stenching ground. By none other than Mania.

This was something you came to realise as you stumbled from his truck back to your room. His come dribbling down your leg. Luke asleep on the sofa. Months passed of the same thing. He’d take you home from work, only letting you go once he'd had his fill. Played out the sick fantasy from mind to matter, let it bleed through his fingers into fruition. You let it happen for mania. It was the thing inside you that kept you going. Before you thought mania fed off your heartbeat. But now you realised mania fed your heartbeat. The kick it got every second fired the next muted pulse. That's what kept it alive. Energy for energy. You were never one to bite the hand that feeds. That’s a sinner's duty.

—

The usual sight of Luke slumped in his lazy boy, guzzling beer was what you expected. The liquor once again swigged past his lips and dribbling down his stubbled chin. Wiry greying hair greasy on his head, balding. Thinning. Residue from a line on the coffee table. You were never tempted by it before. And you were determined never be a Angel dust statistic like him.

Instead, you opened the flimsy door of your trailer to see him hunched over a small collapsible table. His hand running over his sunken eyes, dragging purple eye bags down with his fingertips in shame. Cards in his other. It had your breath catching in your throat like a hare in a wire snare trap. This time around the small collapsible round table. Cards in his hand. And two other men shared a knowing glance and a grim smile of satisfaction. Him.

Joel Miller.

The tension was thicker than molasses in the room. You only wished it was as sweet. You swallowed it down thickly. It stretched your throat. You watched in morbid fascination when he lay his hand on the table in a fan for all to horror at, a sly smirk slithering over his lips and curling the one corner of it up like a scorpion's tail.

“Full house.”

“Fuck!” And Luke’s hand slapped the tabletop as he folded.

The door clicked. All three looked up to see you. Luke, Joel, and the man who held a familiar resemblance to your own personal devil. With eyes on you, you felt more like that hare in the snare than ever. Clapping eyes on the hungry wolf as mutton dripped bloody from his sneer. Cruel and hungry. You imagined him as that wolf, hyde thick and bristled under your soft fingers as he led you to some deep, dark, thorny place. A place only lit by the eyes of owls who observed while he had his way with you. Ripped your stockings to get to sweet fruit.

“Great, the cunt is home.” Luke spat to the room but you, looking over the table again as he bit his thumb nervously to the edge of the hangnail. “Get me a beer.” Your nostrils flared in defiance at his demand, knuckles pale as fingers furled into a fist. An army of goosebumps had stood to attention all along your arms and the back of your neck. A shiver shattering down your spine. Your heart had enough of its prison of your ribcage in your anger, ramming into it over and over in a frantic hammering. And when that wasn't enough, you felt it in your throat. Among the tightening of your airways. “You hear me girl?” He asked, looking at you. He stood, chair scraping against the floor and you staggered back to the point your shoulderblades hit the door. While he was a thin, wiry man, he had a vicious backhand that stung. Like a vengeful aftertaste. “Y’need me to beat some sense inta ya girl, huh?!” You dared to spare a glance at Joel who was too busy collecting his winnings. You soon to be among them.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, looking to the floor and cowering off to the kitchen to get him his beer.

“Y’short, Luke.” You heard from the doorway, straining to hear the tail end of the conversation. Something about your uncle having it by monday. And then Joel telling him he shouldn’t raise a bet he doesn't have the dough to cover.

It took a second to catch your breath. Tears strung in your eyes and your chest threatened to split in two. Your sternum felt like it was cracking down the middle into clean halves under the weight of your chest. A hand clasped over your quivering lips to bite back a horrible sob and muffle it. Only your palm could know you were crying miserably. So you took a beer from the fridge, heard the hiss as the lid gave way and popped off. It clattered to the linoleum and you bared your teeth at the grating sound, picking it up and tossing it in the bin.

“Here.” You mumbled, placing it unceremoniously on the table in front of Luke.

“Y’got any spare cash on you, girl?” Luke asked, beady eyes staring you down as he raised the bottle to his lips and took a drink. You grimaced inwardly at the sight of his yellow teeth when he made a satisfied sigh.

“No.”

Joel’s brow raised. You should know by now not to lie to a man who can read you like a book. That's the thing about narcissists. They have a way of being able to understand you like a one word sentence on paper. A quick glance and you’re unravelling with concealed meaning and connotation.

“C’mon, Cherub…gotta have something from workin’ this late in that diner of yours…” You dared to challenge Joel with a look. A look that retreated soon after the advance of the glare of his eye. The same glare of the hungry wolf. Of the cheated man. It was unkind, and unyielding, and did not hold mercy upon the souls of the enthralled, the damned, or the harrowed. You might try to cross through the sentence, or turn the page. Or shut the book entirely. But the truth is still the truth even when you chose not to look. This was the man that knew your mind. Knew your body. And coaxed his will out of you each time. His word was all it took to cave, so you took the folded bills from your apron, flicking through them with a bitten back scowl,

“How much does he owe you?” Joel smiled with amusement, counting through his winnings to see what was short.

“Ninety-eight.”

‘What?” you asked, eyes wide, hurt. Disheartened. Fingers stilling halfway through the small stack. And Joel smirked.

“You heard me, Cherub.”

“Give Joel his money.” Luke warned.

“But it’s not his money! And it’s not yours to give!” You tried, and saw the warning tick of your uncle's narrow jaw. It was always set on edge before he threw a hand. Cast a palm across your cheek in a brandishing. It had you cowering. Relenting. Tossing the money in front of him. If it fell to the floor in its flurry he could pick it up and grovel about it. But Joel never grovelled. Only relished. Then reminded Luke of the money he still owed for the drugs.

And you walked back to the kitchen, biting into your lip again. With the devil and your demon in the next room over, you were sure this could be hell. A buzz filled your ears. Like the constant thrum of flies over roadkill. In festering flesh wounds where broken white of bone poked through gaping, bleeding holes. Blood matted in the hyde of the animal helpless and scattered across the road. A leg here, smashed teeth there. You were the roadkill. Joel was at the wheel of that which mowed you down. Luke was howling in the passenger side.

His boots thumped clumsily over the linoleum and he let out a huff through his nose while he adjusted his low slung jeans in the doorway.

“Cherub?” He asked, clearing his throat huskily — a consequence of the smokes he used religiously. You stood with your back to him, palms flat to the countertop and head hung low to fight the sting of tears simmering from within.

“He threatened to hit me.” You whispered, not turning to face him. If you mattered his ears would strain to meet you halfway. “And you did nothing.”

“Come on, Cherub…don't be like that.” he sighed, and you imagined him pinching the bridge of his hooked nose.

“He took my money. You took my money. How am I gonna get out of here without it?” You croaked, your tired eyes seeing faces of gaping mouths and slate black eyes in the speckled linoleum of the counter.

No reply came from the door. And when you turned it was empty. He had left. The other man had left. The tv was on again with the scream of a woman murdered. And Luke fell asleep in his lazy boy.

—

Another day, another shift. And more horror ensued. At first, what set the nerves thrumming was there was no sign of Luke. His truck was gone from its spot. No drunk slumped on the worn leather settee. No scream or grotesque image on the TV. Merely an empty bottle on the coffee table.

You swallowed, shutting the door cautiously with a muffled click of the latch. You didn't dare call his name. Just pushed it down into your stomach for it to churn the thought up in acid. But the horror jumped back up your throat into a lurid scream at the sight of your mattress tossed to the side. The moth bitten pillowcase on the floor, void of money. Your money. Gone. Someone had rifled through your belongings. Turned your only space into a mess. Strewn clothes, bed sheets, pillows in their haste. All your work. All the nights of living off bitter coffee from the pot at work, scrounging together tips. It made you seethe. The heat was an inferno at your fingertips, nails embedding crescents into your palms. You searched all over for it. But to no avail.

When Uncle Luke came home, he smelled of hard liquor. It was a miracle – or curse – he hadn't wrapped his car around a tree. He gloated, and sneered, and shoved it down your throat in his intoxication that he’d found it under the mattress. Joel had called him, told him you planned on leaving. And he connected the dots. Ransacked your room. Oh, how the man would hate his loose lips when you gave him hellfire.

You expected Luke’s reaction. You knew if he were to ever find out he’d snatch it up in his greedy, grimy hands and take it for himself. He spent all of it. Paid his debt to Joel, gambled some on bad luck bets, drank with the rest. Slugged liquor down his throat and got drunk off your labour. And then left you on your floor with tear stained cheeks and a heart of heavy lead.

You wanted your money. But would you take from the man who gave you your everything? Your sense of being. A religion and faith. You believed in nothing more than the way he held your name between his teeth. You forgot what your real name felt like in the same place. And it occurred to you that he had never said it. Did he know it? You weren't them anymore. You were Cherub.

The sweet and mourning lamb in you wanted to go over just to be his again, and not carry out the plan of taking back what was yours. That which he would see as sin. You felt guilt claw up your throat at the thought alone. It seemed blasphemous to conspire against him. Why do you insist on protecting yourself. You who was the sacrificial lamb?

If you did go – and you let him have you again – you were whole. But at what cost? Could you stand another night of temporary hell under the guise of heaven. Of touch so cold, like ivory or black ice. To have him thumb your skin with blunt endearments and the croon of ‘cherub’ past his chapped lips. Definite like black and white. No escape. What he’d do and how. Whispering them in the stone deaf shells of your ears like they were a sculpture. Pygmalion’s Bride. He’d made you all you were today. Took chisel to marble and carved out his masterpiece. Cherub.

You were soft, and pliable. Wax heated by his flame. You kissed back. You moaned for him. Begged him for his release and not your own. Bruised with his handprint. The warmth of life under flesh. But without him…you returned to marble. Another pretty thing to be gawked at. He tempted you with it because he knew more than anyone, more than god himself who watches these exchanges, that you can't live without him. It was like telling a child not to slip off to the woods in the dead of night. That was a pointless warning. You knew what lay there anyway, what threat it would be. That wolf in his thick bristled hyde. Curled up in his den. You would see it as innocence and vulnerability if you weren't so scared. But you knew when he woke up the teeth would shine again. And they’d tear flesh. Let blood. Gnash bone. Dripping from the glaring white once he finished with your carcass. Your matter between them and your crimson lacing his gums. Who knew being eaten alive could be so pleasurable.

But then again, how could bering alone really be hell if the devil wasn't there?

There is mania in your body. But you can't get it out. It rattles in your head and lungs and glues to the backs of your gnashers. No matter how much you wish to spit it out. It infects your tongue. It welds itself to the matter of your bones. Melts into the cracks between your teeth. Claggy against your tongue. All to show the sweetest of words have the bitterest of tastes. You can feel it swell underneath your skin. In the gap between muscles where it festers and heats you up. Like fever it burns, like the fire that consumes and the pillars that hold the temple up crack, the ground shakes, and the beast rears its ugly head at you. You’re losing your body to him. It's a fight you try to win. You dare to. You give your all, tooth and nail each time in the gaps between. In the silence and hollow that nestles in the middle of the meetings. In the quiet, where no one is around but the cracked plaster of your room. You stopped caring who fired the gun first. You were always the one who got shot down in the end. Right in the stomach. Blood gurgling up your throat in a grotesque plea for help.

All these weeks you had shrunk yourself to the size of a bird in his hands, sang a sweet sweet song of his name, until the squeeze of his first closest off your throat. And the sound stopped altogether. Laid there after the warning. Patient while you had your wings clipped and your freedom taken. And he took more. Took the beating of your heart with his teeth. Took the will to want. The will to love. The will to need anything else, as well as the need to have better. Below you were the foundations. Only now you saw them for what they were, a decaying mess of fragments, the stench of wood rot hot in your nose. A musk like no other. His musk. So in your anger you took an axe to a willow to see how it would weep. You slipped past the sleeping drunk you call Uncle Luke. Out the door, over gravel, past the truck he coaxed you to without the need of a sweet treat. You’d yank the axe from the bark of the weeping willow, its sob echoing in the wind that rustled its drapery of lush green leaves. Leaves that will wilt as sap bleeds from its severed trunk. Take the axe to the wolf. Cut him. Scrotum to throat.

Take back what was yours. And leave those woods skipping.

—

Your knocks descend upon his door in quick raps until he opened it with a grumble. Then a smirk. “Evenin’, Cherub.”

No salvation. No going back. No space among the clouds. Just the fall. You pushed past him into his front room. “Where is it?’ You hissed, tossing the cushions of the couch up. Nothing there. So you left them on the floor and did the same for the airchair. Nothing there either.

“Woah, calm down, girl!’ Joel huffed, reaching for your arm, which you tugged back from him in a new found strength surging you forward, out of his arms. “Where’s what?”

“My damn money, Miller!” You bit back with venom laced spit. A hunger for revenge making you salivate like a bad dog.

“The fuck you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I'm talking about, dickhead!” And he recoiled at your bared teeth, your verbal assault and battery, but went in for his own.

“Watch your damn foul language, girl!” He warned, reaching the end of his already short tether.

“You know how much he stole from me? Three hundred dollars of my hard earned chash. Forget my fucking ticket out of this shithole, I ain’t even paying rent now! And for what? Your god awful drugs!” His nostrils flared, and you watched the vein in his neck bulge under the sweltering heat of his own anger. Coiling inside him. Wounded bitch about to bite back.

“You didn’t have much of a probelm with my drugs after I fucked that pretty little hole of yours. All dumb and needy f’me, Cherub.” You grimaced at the sneer. But the feeling made your knees buckle. The name again. Cherub. You were Cherub. His cherub. “You want ya money back, huh? You can have it.”

That made you stutter. Thoughts skidding to halt at the sight of a brick wall. Crumpled matter as it smashed into it anyway. “What?”

“I ain't giving it to you for free though.”

“You're sick! It’s my fucking money!”

“Not in the eyes of the law its not.” And he folded his great oaks of arms over his chest in satisfaction. Once again one upping you.

“The eyes of the law? Says the fucking drug dealer. I bet you got way worse than coke in duffel over there. Wonder what the law would say about that?” It was said dismissively over your shoulder as you turned to leave. Alas, once again his large hand encompassed your wrist and squeezed. Pulled you back flush to his broad chest. His breath was hot on your neck as he whispered sweetly into your ear.

“Come on now, Cherub. You wouldn't do me in like that would ya? Not when I love ya…”

The way he said it…it didn't seem real. It was false. Comforting but not real. You knew it was a lie. This wasn't love. He didnt love. If he loved you he'd ask for your number then call you. Take you out. Let you cry on his shoulder and drive you home after. Kiss you in the dark for only the walls to see. Let you stay a night or two, or a whole damn week. Give you your damn money back. Stand up to Luke with a closed fist to the face. Leave swelling and a deep bruise on his cheekbone as a first and final warning.

“You love me?” You asked, voice small and hollow in your chest.

“Yeah, Cherub. I love you too.” He cooed, as if he knew you loved him already. All this and nose running over the curve of the side of your neck, tongue trailing hot in pursuit, it had you keeling over in confession at his feet. “You’re so cute when you're angry. Come on now, lemme make those tears go away…and you can have your money back, and we can forget this ever happened.” That tone…it was patronising. It made the sense in you rattle the cage of your ribs. Claw at the bars of bone and run into them like a caged animal. Because that’s what it was. A caged animal. But your heart was holding its hand over its mouth in a trance as it let his words ebb deeper. Somewhere between desperate and divine. But what was his motive?

God, Jesus, all above that is holy, you didn't care! After all this time, it was still no secret, or hushed uttering that Joel Miller was now everywhere in you. Scraping the backs of your teeth, festering like a virus in your bloodstream. Melding to the marrow of your bones. The walls of your cunt.

He still had a devastating habit of seeping through the cracks of your closed lids. Still ready to pillage and plunder his way through your head in its numbed state of sleep. When you could have finally— finally stopped and not felt. But he ebbs deeper. Always would. Always will.

It's what got you here. It would end you if it could. Snuff out your heartbeat and the fire inside of you. All he need do was lick his fingers and press them to the wick. And leave the smoke to string out and curl. You thought you were hungry for love before. But now you realised you were just hungry for the sight of your blood on his lips. The gnashing of you between his teeth. The curl you made of his brow. If it wasn’t devastating, reaping its agony in your silly little fractured chest— you didn’t dare need, nor crave it. You came for the pleasure but you stayed for the pain. And he took again, and again.

So you let him ‘make it up to you’. Let him claw at your clothes until they were scraps on the floor. Tore your stockings. Showed you those gleaming teeth. The wolf. And you, his sacrificial lamb. His Cherub.

“Feel that?’ He asked, with the slow drag back and forth of him inside you, parting you. This wasn’t fast, or rough. This was slow. And it made you need more. Need it faster. Need him hurtling you towards the edge of harrowing oblivion. He knew that. It’s why he took his time with it this time around. “Yeah. You do.” Joel answered for you. You never had to answer. But often he made you say it from your own quivering lips. Just to have the taste of the words from your tongue bleed into his. The neverending praise. “Why would you wanna leave that Cherub?” You couldn't answer, only let out a soft sob. “Huh? Answer me, Cherub. Why’d you wanna fuckin’ leave that?” And he punctuated it with pulling out to the bulbous head of his clock, then slamming back in with one sharp thrust. And then he was still.

You whined a shallow gasp into his mouth. But he didn’t kiss you. Joel never kissed you. His teeth sinking into your bottom lip shut you right up before his tongue delved deeper into it. The thumb of the hand that slithered between your legs rolled over your clit, making you mewl over the buzz of electricity causing you to clamp down on his thick, full cock. You were so eager for more. Anything more than what he was giving you. He smirked into your mouth when he felt your hips buck forward, trying your damn hardest to push his cock deeper into you. Silly little cherub. You should know better than to defy God. “See? Felt good didn’t it?” You nodded as much as you could in your current piston.

“Mhm.”

“See what you can have if you stay. Why fight it cherub?”

“Yes, Joel.”

“You gonna listen then, Cherub?”

“Yes. Yes! I’ll listen, just-” You shuddered at the thought of it, tears brimming at the the threshold of your eye. ”Please.”

“Say it.” He waited, wanting you to beg for it in the pretty way he knew you could. The choir voice. The songbirds hymn. The whole time his eyes did nothing but stare you down hungry at the sight of you falling apart from nothing but a hand to your throat and a single his throbbing dick buried in your aching cunt. It all pooled down into your centre, creating a rush your head had trouble keeping up with. “Tell me why you wanted to leave.”

“I dunno-” You stuttered, once again rolling your hips up. His hand at your throat pressed into your skin again, harder. It choked you. It had you drawing in a sharp, meagre breath. And he pulled out, running the underside of himself through the hot, drooling seam of your cunt. You shivered when the tip brushed up to your clit momentarily. The bead of precome at his slit smearing into your sex, mixing with your slick. “I dunno, Joel. I- I just wanted my money. I just wanted out. I hate it.” You babbled through closed eyes, chest heaving with sobs, and hot tears ran thick down your flushed cheeks.

“You hate it, huh?” He mocked and crooned, still catching your clit with the tip of his cock, hips waxing and waning in a slow roll. “You hate me too?” He knew the answer. But again, it was the satisfaction of knowing you were wrapped around his finger. Ready to bend over backwards for him. Him seeping into you through the cracks of your ribs, the gaps between your teeth. The opening of yourself to the twisting knot of denial within you. Your back arched like the lofty roof of a chapel, legs parting like its heavy doors. He followed you with hunger. You opened your mouth to speak but he squeezed momentarily on your throat again, oxygen starvation and the smell of him dizzying you. He relished in the whimper that he garnered from you. That and how he left you breathless just from his cruel touch.

“No.” You garbled as his thumb unhinged your jaw. Saliva in your mouth pooling while his thumb pressed your tongue down, bitter with a smokers telltale tobacco staining. It slipped past your lips, dribbled down his digits making a sticky mess at the curve of his thick wrist. He drew up a glob of saliva in his throat, watching as it drooled thickly, gluttonously, past his lips into your waiting mouth. He watched as you gagged on it, and then he let your jaw go so you could close your mouth. You swallowed eagerly, savouring the taste on your tongue. For what did it matter anymore? One day, you’ll be nothing but dust. Bronchioles in lungs will mimic roots. Navels will copy trunks. Organs will feed worms. Ribs will fossilise and lips that are kissed will mould back to Mother Nature. It's all you have ever been. Quick. Convenient. Easy to please, eager to help. Waiting lips, wanting cunt. Warm, never warm enough. But he kept you like a butterfly in a glass jar. He let you see freedom but never experience it. Why need it when you had the stretch of him inside you. The feeling of him, heat to heat with your sex.

“You want this, cherub? Wanna be stuffed full of me again?”

“Always wanted it, Joel.” You mumbled into his mouth, sniffing back the last this spurt of tears, hypnotised. His hand wrapped around his cock, the large splay of his palm did nothing to dwarf its size with he jacked himself once, twice, three times to the sight of you. He squeezed the base with hiss, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth after cursing under his bated breath. He was thick, flushed, the tip swollen and leaking, drooling greedily with a rivulet of precum down the underside of his length. He trod a path with his hands down to your breasts, kneading each one between his palms with a pinch before guiding himself back into the mouth of your heat, your cunt swallowing him down to the base. The needy roll of your hips into his showed just how desperate you were. He groaned at the start of the friction between you, and slowly dragged back out of you, moving just as slowly back inside. He repeated this twice, and then he let loose. The motion turned into a needy clash of his hips to yours. Again. Again. Again. Somewhere along the sting of passion and heat, his hand wrapped around your throat, feeling the flex of it as you swallowed under his palm. He bit down into your neck, reaching out from you as his hips slammed erratically. His heavy balls slapping against your ass with each rut forward of his unrelenting. The way he fucked you, was like holding a knife to your throat. It grounded you in the most harrowing way to each of his breaths. His panting in your ear. It swallowed you whole. Mad your legs wrap around his waist and your hips keen up into him.

Your cunt drooled down his shaft, down to the base, down the sensitive skin of his cock. He growled and hissed in your ear, teeth closing around your earlobe, his hand dragging back up and grip tightening around your neck. Getting off on the feeling of your pulse under his thumb.

You felt the knot tighten. And tighten. Right in the pit of your stomach, deep in your sopping wet cunt where the mouth of your cervix met his fucking. The walls of your cunt sucking him back in as the angle of his hips snapped up into the spot that had you seeing entire constellations. They darted to and fro across your vision. It blurred the edge, spots of dark matter, deep black, the colour of oblivion slinging over the back of your eyes that now burned with tears of pleasure. His fingers dug deeper into malleable flesh, gripped tightly at your hip with his free hand, thumb brushing over your hip bone down your mound to toy with your clit after a slap to it. And it was the action that sent you spiralling, babbling his name nonsensically among a string of curse words. So pretty and fucked out beneath him. Joel couldn’t help but stare smugly as your eyes rolled back into your head when your orgasm hit like a freight train. He came undone soon after, his climax hitting a crescendo with a growl bitten into your shoulder, bruising and brandishing you with his mark again.

He pulled back, leaving you to the mercy of the cold. Watching was his hips moved again to fuck his release back into you. Your hole quivered in protest, and you squirmed under him. “Don’t be fucking ungreatful now, Cherub.” You relented, going still and boneless on the mattress. Limbs unfurling from their tension. “That's it. Take it. Take it all.” He groaned smoothly. Just like the roll of his hips. He fucked it slowly back into you. And you took his release inside you to keep. “Good girl, Cherub.” He whispered, kissing your lips in a tender dichotomy. Not letting you rest until he was satisfied you took every drop of him. Afterall, it was all you’d have left of him until he next chose to pick you up. All the while, he trailed his tongue back down to your breasts, pressing the flat of it to your nipple, drawing it with a sharp suck into his mouth. Pressing the blunt of his teeth into your flesh. Letting the taste melt on his tongue. Salty with your sweat. He did the same to the others. When he went soft inside of you, and his hips stilled. He slipped out of you with hitched breath, the pad of his fingertips tracing your abused, used sex. Your legs twitching when he rolled your clit under two fingers. “I said stop squirming.” He grunted, landing another slap to your pussy. It made an obscene wet sound. His come dribbling out slowly.

“Open your mouth.” Joel commanded, and you did. Waiting for whatever he had planned. He licked a hot strip from your asshole to your cunt, pressing his tongue in to drag out some of his release. And he climbed back up to spit it into your mouth. A hand clamping down on your jaw. “Don’t swallow. Close your mouth.” And you did with the side of his thumb clamping it shut for you. “Taste that?” You nodded in response. It was hot, heavy and thick and salty to taste. Divine. “Show me.” You opened again, his creamy spend diluted amongst your saliva and he smirked. Clamping your jaw shut again. “Swallow.”

Joel watched in open mouthed amusement as the delicate column of your throat rippled under muscle contract. “Good girl, Cherub. Remember that taste next time y’feel like leaving again.” He warned in a growl. And you nodded, swallowing your pride. Your fear. Your mania aiding in shoving it down your throat to dissolve in acid. Once again you were in those deep dark woods. The one where the wolf lay. Remnants of you in his teeth. The willow is still weeping, slashed in half. The axe free of his bloodshed by the entrance of his den. The owls' eyes still lit the scene of sin where overhead the starlight was snuffed out by the tangle of branches thick in their black greenery.

You never got your money back. Maybe one day you'd get out of this town. But the devil has a funny habit of making you want your own suffering. Even angels can’t resist a slice of that heaven. Fallen angel. Wounded bitch. Cherub.

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youngyoo-apologist · 7 months ago

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When it comes to OG!Cale ships I like both OG!AlCale and OG!ChoiHan but it really depends on the scenario

For example, I like OG!AlCale in both regression aus and TBoaH adjacent timeline things because I think a huge thing I like in their dynamic is how mysterious they both are to the other party. The fun of their dynamic is them discovering more about each other and the various miscommunications they have cause of their own personalities, and I think that works very well no matter the universe.

But with OG!ChoiCale, I feel like I can really only enjoy it in TBoaH adjacent things or if they both have the memories of the first life.

To me, a big thing about OG!ChoiCale is about the life they lived together, how they hated eachother, how they both didn’t know eachother for years, how they could have spent time together during the war due to unfortunate circumstances(there not being enough people left)

Like, I think OG!ChoiCale can be such a cool dynamic, such a sad, but comforting one at the same time. It’s a little bitter how the man you thought you would hate forever became a close companion, how he’s more similar to you than your younger self woild have ever thought, but do you really hate it?

Can you really hate having a person who understands you, when so many people have died? When so many are gone?

Something about the sadness of it all, how it was tragedy that brought them against each other at first, but now it brings them together. How they could only ever grow to understand eachother because of the pain they face, the pain that they shared. At some point, can you really hate him, even until the end? After all those years? After coming to understand him? No, you cannot.

Like, it adds in extra layers when they both care about each other at some point mid-way through the war, but they still can’t really talk to eachother properly. They care, but they frustrate one another, anger each other. Choi Han doing increasingly more risky and self sacrificial things because ‘I’m a hero’ ‘I have to do it.’ ‘It is justice to save people’, despite the fact that it’s at the expense of himself

And Cale’s frustration at Choi Han’s attitude. He can never wrap his head around the fact that Choi Han destroys himself for the sake of other people, and believes it’s heroic(He knows Choi Han doesnt, he know Choi Han hates it too, but he doesn’t know what else to say to himself other than the fact that ‘it’s for the greater good’, because he will go crazy if he doesn’t)

He’s mad, but there’s some twisted sense of understanding in there too. Cale understands, because he became trash for his family, he became trash to protect them, he had to do it.

But that’s only what he thought.

He was older now, he had lost them all, and he had seen how his trash act hadn’t done anything to protect them. It only distanced him from them, and now they were gone, and he could never see them again, he could never make amends.

Cale is mad at Choi Han for sacrificing himself because while Choi Han is hurting himself, the people who he loves, and the people who love him, watch him do it over and over again and he doesn’t listen to their worried cries.

He’s mad, but he understands. It was frustrating to be on the other side, watching someone destroy themselves for the sake of others when the people who cared about them wanted the exact opposite. The only difference between him and Choi Han was that Choi Han was never a good liar, he could never hide how much pain he went through.

In a way, Cale thought it was better that way.

At some point, there is love that is there. Love that follows them, and it’s so painful because they both know the tragedy edy to it that is how they are doomed, how they can never be happy in the first time line where they knew each other.

Because as Cale and Choi Han, they can’t be happy. Not when so much has been lost, not when the world is falling apart, they may love each other, but loving each other as they are means being in a world where everything else they love is gone.

It is a cruel kind of love.

Like let’s say they do pursue these feelings, even though knowing those two I don’t think they’d ever say anything in that scenario. If they did it would probably be Cale going like:

“Choi Han, do you love me?”

Choi Han doesn’t say anything, but his silence in place of adamant refusal is enough of an answer.

“Do you love me, Cale?”

Cale doesn’t say anything either, only smiling at Choi Han with his signature, cynical and bitter smile.

He didn’t deny it either.

It was a confirmation of feelings, but unlike the confessions from romance novels and stories, the main character and lead do not end up together and live happily ever after.

They stay together, but the world around them is not happy, not at all. They are together, but not as partners or as lovers, but two people who live in their suffering because all they can do is live.

I feel like anything they do together would always have an air of melancholy to it. Maybe they kiss, once, and no more, because there is no point in making it a regular thing. Not when everything in their world will end, even if they keep on fighting for it to not be that way.

They kiss, and it’s short, but in that short moment, the world is nothing but Cale and Choi Han.

Isn’t that selfish? If it’s like this, then they could ignore how everything has gone so badly. But that is exactly why they cannot be together, there is no ignoring the reality of their situation, no matter how sweet it would be to live in a false dream and never wake up.

I like my OG!ChoiCale a little doomed.

#I LOVE DOOMED YAOI!!!!!!!!#I can only like OG!ChoiCale when they’re different from TCF ChoiCale #actually that’s something I don’t like in a lot of things #where it’s just TCF copy and pasted but Roksoo is gone and OG Cale is in his place #it’s something I don’t prefer personally #because I like OG Cale as he is #and not as KRS’s replacement #I like both of them and they both deserve their own stories #not to say that OG AlCale is similar to TCF AlCale #they aren’t really similar #but I guess I’m more particular about how I feel on OG ChoiCale cause they’re my favorite ship 😭#yes the ship with zero screentime is my favorite #I know #it’s tragic #but yeah I like OG!ChoiCale as doomed old man yaoi #I think there is a lot of potential in their dynamic #because of how doomed the TBoaH universe is #tcf #lcf #just rambling #trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #tcf novel #lcf novel #og cale henituse #choicale

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a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire · 10 months ago

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Made it to chapter 16 today which means Feyre and I have both had our first impressions of Rhysand's Inner Circle and ohhhhhhh boy

Its hard to pinpoint why exactly, but theres something so discomforting about watching them interact. I think the main thing is that for all their "casual-ness", theres still clearly a rigid hierarchy between them and they all seem to 'know their place' so to speak, its not at all like Lucien and Tamlin's relationship in the first book which genuinely felt like a friendship that was unburdened by their status or positions. Like, theres this one moment where Mor and Amren are like kinda bickering with each other i guess, and Feyre remarks that Mor is probably super powerful if she dares talk back against Amren (in an incredibly minor matter Im pretty sure but I already forgor ngl) and because this is the book where Feyre's perspective starts being Objectively Correct all the time, I guess that's true, I guess the only reason someone would dare voice their opinion on something to this friend group is if they were physically more powerful because otherwise you just level a fucking mountain during an argument

Anyway, Im gonna switch topics for a short moment but I promise this diversion is relavant to the point above. So, sometimes when I go into the anti-tags on here looking for criticisms or complaints of the books, I instead find anti-ship posts that are mainly just about trash-talking some ship, mostly ones relating to that whole Elucien/Elriel/Gwynriel shipwar, which I already have thoughts on but I'll save those for later. In any case, one day I stumbled upon this pretty long anti-elriel post about how the gifts Elain gives Azriel on winter solstice arent actually cute and it describes how she gave him like, herbs that help with headaches "because his friends are always giving him headaches" apparently. And then that post went on a whole rant about how insensitive that was of her and that she doesnt actually understand Azriel's dynamic with his close friends, but honestly, judging from this chapter Elain was absolutely spot on

And I usually wouldn't say this because yknow, its only one chapter and we're probably gonna get the nuances of their relationship later, but this is a book written by Sarah J Maas, her characters and their relationships are rarely particularly deep and, more importantly, her writing is incredibly unsubtle. If Azriel was in any way fond of his friends shenaningans I wouldve noticed it, because Feyre wouldve noticed it like 15 times during that whole dinner. But she didnt.

Its especially bad for Cassian and Azriel because it feels like Cassian thinks they have this great rapport but Azriel just genuinely kinda dislikes him. Not to mention that whole fucking mess with Azriel and Mor and Cassian and Mor having sex so she wouldnt get married off or whatever, good god how is every conversation between them not insanely awkward

Even beyond that, idk man, theyre all just so insufferable. I dont understand how Amren, ancient eldritch being trapped in a fae body that she is, can stand to be around them, I wouldve left them 5 centuries ago if I was her. I guess the explanation is that she finds the government position interesting but its like, youre SECOND to the most boring and annoying man on the planet only kinda ruling over a court that you dont even actually care about from everything Ive heard. Again, if I was in Amren's position I would not be hanging out in an APARTMENT in a boring ass city at the behest of a quartett of stupid bozos, I wouldve weaseled my way into being the personal advisor of Beron or some shit so I could watch the Vanserra Family Drama unfold live

There was one good thing about this discomforting dinner though, and that was how inexplicably gay Cassian was for Rhysand. He was really out there, looking at him with such love, calling him pretty twice in like two minutes being all "I knew I wanted a piece of him the moment I first saw him, the high lord's pretty son" like okay. I know what you are

#istg the most entertainment Ive gotten out of these books so far are the crumbs of homoeroticism #anti acomaf #anti sjm #anti rhysand #anti inner circle #flames and darkness liveblog

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teyamloving12 · 2 years ago

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can we get another lo’ak/tsireya x reader?

maybe reader is close friends with both of them, and has a crush on them. yet after lo’ak and tsireya become a couple reader begins to avoid them bc she’s jealous (little does reader know that they both want her too). reader tries to focus her attention on other clan members to try and get over them.

lo’ak and tsireya goes to look for reader to try and confront her about ignoring them. finds reader with another boy in the clan being extra flirtatious. they drag her off and maybe angry jealous smut with dom! lo’ak and tsireya ??

(sorry i’m not good at putting my thoughts into cohesive sentences lmao)

Revengeful Thoughts

Warning: threesome, degradation, f x m x f, angst, dom!Lo'ak, soft!dom!Tsireya, mentions of jealousy,etc.

Pairing: Lo'ak x reader x Tsireya

Synopsis: You love them both but they loved each more, so you took matters in your own hands.

You always wanted to believe Lo'ak looked at you lovingly but reality would always bite you on the neck. It clearly wasnt you, it was Tsireya. You thought it would be the same like the forest. Where he loved you and only you. Where he would push away any girl that dared to flirt with him. You missed your Lo'ak. The Lo'ak now was different.

He became different and Tsireya too. It was as if Lo'ak was her breathing supply, if she didnt talk about Lo'ak for just a second, you would have been shocked. Tsireya pushed you away when he was around as pulled you close when she was sad or wanted to talk about how sweet he was. Sweet? The Lo'ak you knew wasnt sweet, he was rebellious, troublesome.

You even imagined spending the rest of your life with him. But Tsireya was always on your mind too. Who knew a Na'vi could so beautiful? Yet the jealousy of seeing them together made your eyes burn with tears threatening to spill. You had to find someone to ease your pain and frustration. You were angry. You were sad. What happened to Lo'ak only loving you? What happened to Tsireya saying she would be by your side?

Until your light bulb of thoughts shone bright. You whipped your head to the side only to see a boy weaving a net. Bingo! You've seen him around before. His eyes always locked with yourself but he looked away shyly. This is perfectly fine. After all, Tsireya and Lo'ak clearly abandoned you.

The truth was Lo'ak and Tsireya truly loved you. They wanted to talk to you about their stuation but you pushed them away claiming they were a couple and you didnt matter. "Lo'ak what if she disagrees and we lose her forever!", Tsireya exclaimed. "Tsireya have some hope. What if she doesnt disagree? Hmm. Calm down, m'kay?", he said rubbing her cheek. Her distress fell off her shoulders and they continued to walk on the shore.

Lo'ak was surprisingly calm at the moment but Tsireya, on the other jand, was panicking. Tsireya pulled Lo'ak's hand harshly over to the section of the beach you normally were. You weren't there. "Thats weird, she usually stayed right here.", Tsireya started to look around. Loak spotted you with one of the hunters of the clan.

Tsireya's eyes widen as Lo'ak's anger began to built up. He stormed over to you. He could hear how you were complimenting on his muscles and her tattoos. Lo'ak had tattoos too yet you never compliment how great he looked. You were too busy flirting with the boy that you didnt even see Lo'ak fumed towards you.

Loak cleared his throat. Your eyes widen under Lo'ak's deadly glance. "Lemme borrow her for now.", Loak stated with the fakest smile you have ever seen. He harshly grabbed your hand and began to pull you towards his marūi. You were confused. You thought ignoring the two would resolve the fact your feeble heart only beat for them and them alone.

Loak threw you down on the mat. "Be gentle with her Lo'ak!", Tsireya yelled. Lo'ak rolled his eyes. His girlfriend's words didn't matter right now. The problem was you were prancing about the village flirting with a boy who barely glanced at you. You crawled away from the couple that stood in front of you. What did you even do?

"So that's what you are? A slut! A whore! Going from boy to a boy riding their cock when no one is around!", he hissed his harsh words at you.

You feel ashamed to be called such names by Lo'ak of all people. You were on the urge of breaking down. Tsireya noticed how hurtful Lo'ak's words were. Your eyes were bloodshot red from holding back your tears. Tsireya kneeled down beside you and rubbed your shoulders. "Don't baby her Tsireya! It's the truth, the truth hurts!", he barked. Tsireya glared at her boyfriend and huffed, going back to comfort you. "It's ok, it's ok tìyawn.", she whispered in your ear.

Lo'ak began to untie his loincloth as he walked over to your shivering body. His length and girth were more than impressive. Tsireya pulled your head onto her thighs and smiled. "It's okay baby but you must take your punishment like a good girl, okay?", she said. You nodded shyly. Lo'ak glared as he lined up his huge cock with your cunt. "Wait, please! I'm not ready!", you squealed. Tsireya peppered your face with kisses before her fingers ran down your stomach down to your clit.

She slowly increased in speed, and you feel shock waves of pleasure overtake your body. Your hands grabbed Tsireya's thigh as your back arched in her lap. Lo'ak trusted his entire length inside of you.

"Oh—oh fuuuuck!” You moaned, your ass slapping against Lo'ak's thighs as he thrusted in a quick pace. Lo'ak's large hands were on your hips, gripped you, and helped you on and off his cock. He stretched you perfectly, the head of his massive cock sending shivers down your spine when he pressed on your cervix, delivering much pleasure to your small frame.

“Your pussy feels so good.", Lo'ak groaned. "Need to feel you come around me. Going around fucking all those boys, hmm?”, Lo'ak panted as he fucked up into you, grinding you against him on his member. "Noo, i dint fuck themmm!", you whimpered. Your puffy and sensitive clit was grinding against his pubic bone.

Your cunt was sticky and messy, sloppy all over Lo'ak's cock with a mix of your juices which splattered against your thighs, staining their mat below you. Lo'ak's cock churned into you, wet squelches echoing in the room, almost overtaking your moans.

“Oh shit! Oh, my great mother! I’m gonna come, fuck fuck fuck, I’m gonna come, please! Lo'ak let me come!”

Your walls fluttered and clenched, Lo'ak was moaning loudly and his hips stuttering up against you.

“Eywa, this pussy — you’re drippin’ all over me baby. Want you to come for me, yeah?”, Lo'ak's hand slid over the plush of your ass, forcing you to grind down on him while he reached between your legs and bullied your clit until your thighs shook almost violently. "You're taking him so well, syulang! Even better than me!", Tsireya praised you through your moans.

Loak pushed his thumb inside of your mouth. “Eywa, you’re so fucking beautiful f'me, and the way you’re suckin’ on my thumb like it’s my cock — fuck Y/n, you’re so sexy.", you licked the tip of his thumb as he began to remove it from your mouth.

You shifted your hips, Lo'ak's cock slid inside of you again until it was pressed against the tip of your womb. You moaned as Tsireya's hands traveled along your now sensitive nipples. “Oh, fuck, Y/n, the way you’re squeezin’ ‘round me — fuuuck , so fuckin’ tight for me, baby.”

You tried to respond, but could barely even focus on Lo'ak's face, eyes filled with lust. “That was so fucking hot, Y/n. Looked so pretty comin’ like that, going to pound you ‘n make you come again, baby,” he moaned into your ear, he fucked you so hard into the mattress, his weight on your body, you were very sure an imprint would be left behind when he was through with you.

You should have been begging him to stop, to let your body have some peace, but you was horny. Your pussy was fluttering around his cock as he whispered praises and curses into your ear, pounding into you, using your pussy as his own, until he finally came again, filling you with so much of his seed that it spilled immediately out of you and down your thighs.

Lo'ak pulled back, breathing heavy, eyes so dark as he watched the way his cum slipped out of your abused pussy, fingers already scooping it up from your plush and abused thighs, trying to push it all back in.

“I promise I'll never do it again.,” You mumbled, Tsireya smiled at you, toothy and wholesome as if she hadn’t just watch his boyfriend fuck the life out of you.

You fell asleep in Tsireya's lap knowin you would wake up to see the two Na'vi you loved most by your side.

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