#we know why he has big hands 😏
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starmocha · 5 months ago
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Not me staring at his hand intensely 🫣
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latenightdaydreams · 6 months ago
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Crazy thought… but konig with a shy fem ready that’s insecure about their coochie 🫠 I got too much cooch for those cute Victoria secret panties bruh 😭 phat coochie a man we have the meats
From on phatty to an other, I understand😏
König x Shy!Reader (fem)
MDNI🔞
Master List
>cw: fem/afab, insecure, phat pussy, oral
1.3k word count
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You’ve been with König for five months now and things have recently gotten sexual between the two of you. His body is perfect, his cock is huge, and the sex is perfect. The only thing is you don’t let him finger you, eat you out, or see you without pants with the lights on. Your pussy is thick, fat, puffy…it’s big. You’ve always had trouble finding cute panties that could fit and have always been embarrassed by the mound they make in leggings and other tight pants.
You’re too embarrassed to tell König why you don’t want him to touch you or see you. He is of course upset; he loves you and your body. He wants to touch your clit and eat you out, finger you, but you won’t let him. So, he has a plan to get you to let him.
Since he has a key to your apartment, he got there before you got home and set up a romantic date night for the both of you. He spread rose petals from the front door to the bathroom. Inside the bathroom he has candles set up along the counter and around the edges of the bathtub. He found your favorite scent in a bubble bath as well as finding soft and pillowy his and hers robe set for you both.
He sees on your phone’s location that you’re almost home so he rushes into the bedroom and takes off his shirt and pulls off his pants. He looks at himself in the mirror and checks himself out, making sure he looks good for you. Leaving the bedroom, he goes to the kitchen and fills two glasses with wine. He waits by the door for you to come in.
You open the door to see König standing there with a big smile and wine in his hands. Your eyes travel over his body, appreciating his form. Closing the door behind you, you kick your shoes off and walk closer to him.
“What’s the special occasion?” You ask with a giggle in your voice.
König hands you one of the glasses and leans down to kiss you. His pale blue eyes looking at your sweet face.
“I wanted to have a special evening with you, Liebling.” He reaches out for your hand and walks with you, following the trail of red rose petals.
You follow them to your bathroom, a warm bubble bath and candles all around the room. You couldn’t help but to smile and feel all warm and bubbly on the inside, no one has ever done something like this for you before. No one has gone out of their way to make you feel special.
“This is beautiful König…” You walk in and sip some wine.
“Also,” he closes the door to show you the robes hanging behind the door. “They actually had my size.” König says with a big smile.
“You did such a good job babe!” You wrap one arm around König and hug him.
“Let's undress Liebling.” He takes the glass from your hand and puts it on the sink counter.
You begin to peel off your top and König’s eyes drop down to your breast. He watches closely as you pull your bra off next, he can’t help but to smile. You begin to pull down your jeans, but you turn away from König. He frowns watching you do this.
“Liebling, don’t hide from me,” He walks up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder.
“You know I’m shy.”
“But why? Can you help me understand? It felt… normal on my cock, so what is the issue?”
“There’s nothing ‘wrong’ with it, just…aesthetically isn’t pretty.”
König looks visibly confused and moves back. He turns your body to face him, his eyes drop to your breasts before looking up to your eyes.
“I’ll love your body no matter what.”
You shrug and look away, feeling embarrassed.
“Please let me decide how I feel about your body.” His hands cup your face and bring your gaze up to meet his.
His eyes look so sweet and genuine. You take a deep breath and then nod your head. König smiles and kisses you.
“Ja?
“Yeah…”
König steps back and lets you finish undressing. He watches with anticipation and you pull your pants down and expose your purple cotton panties. His eyes glued to the mound underneath the fabric. You take a deep breath and then fully pull your panties down. My god. You’re absolutely beautiful. König’s boner is rock hard and undeniable under his boxer. He reaches for his waist band and pulls them down.
You stand slightly embarrassed as he looks at you, his face full of lust. He walks towards you and puts your hand in his, pulling him towards you. His arms wrapping around you.
“Are you ready to get in, Meine Liebling?”
You nod and smile up at him. Both of you are walking towards the tub. He gets in first and makes room for you on his lap. You step in and König watches as your legs part to see your beautiful labia and he just thinks about burying his face in that soft looking pussy.
You rest your body back on his and he wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly against him. You rest your head back on his chest and allow yourself to melt into him. His hands move up and begin caressing your breast and playing with your nipples. His hard cock is pressed up against your rear.
.
.
Once you both step out of the bath, he grabs your robe and wraps it around you, your eyes glued to the way his cock bounced as he walks. He wraps his around himself as well, grabbing the wine glasses and hanging you yours. He watches you take a sip as he takes one himself.
Grabbing your hand, he leads you out of the bathroom and to the bedroom. “Lay down.” His voice is low and sensual.
You do as he says and lay down in bed. He walks over to you and slowly unties your robe, exposing your soft body to him. Instinctively you reach down to your pussy and place a hand to cover it.
König gently moved your hand out of the way, “I think it’s about time I teach you to love this beautiful pussy Schatz.”
“But it’s so fat.” You say with a nervous giggle.
“That’s what makes it so yummy. It’s thick and juicy…just perfect.”
He grabs your legs and moves them over his shoulders as he gets on his knees in front of you. You look down and feel bashful as you see his eyes stuck on your cunt. He begins to kiss the chubby mount of your pussy before kissing down. You started to let out tiny sounds of pleasure and it excited him.
The feeling of your soft pillowy pussy on his face is godly. He presses his face into it and takes a deep breath but sliding his tongue up your folds. It’s a shame that you’ve hidden such a precious part of you from him for so long. He is instantly obsessed with your smell, taste, and look. He pulls back to look at it, pulling apart your folds to see your tight little entrance that stretches so perfectly to take his cock. Fuck.
“Such a beautiful fucking pussy.” He says quietly as he moves one hand to the top and squeezes the soft fat mound.
König leans in and begins to kiss you before lapping like a thirsty dog at your cunt. Your body trembles as you look down at him, your chubby lips surrounding his lips as his eyes are closed just enjoying you.
“Oh god König, too much.” You try to wiggle away but König just grabs your arms tighter and pulls your legs back, bringing your ass into the air as he shakes his face back and forth, coving himself in your slick arousal.
König has missed out on months of giving you the attention you need and deserve, he will be here all night.
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finniestoncrane · 6 months ago
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HELLO I'm in love with the way you write for Cooper 😩👏💝fix idea: I was thinking he's DEFINITELY somebody who doesn't care who he looks anymore, but is still aware that he's got that CHARM yano, but maybe the reader is just "wow your eyes are so pretty" and he fuckin BLUSHES (Mr cooper Howard aka Mr ghoul cowpoke absolutely keels over cus somebody said he was puuuurrtty) 💥💥💥🔫 just all "shut your pie hole girlie" and shes 😏😏😏 ok handsome
Can Ghouls Blush?
Cooper Howard x GN!Reader, word count: 1k aaaaah thank you ;-; also i love this, i love the idea of flustering that horrible boy omg 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: some threats (imean it's cooper), guns, mostly fluff though!
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“I know time means very little to someone who has been around for two hundred years, but how much longer are you gonna be?”
Cooper’s voice echoed out from the main room of the abandoned building you had slept in. From the bathroom, you could hear the frustration, despite his attempts to soften it up. He had no time for fun, no time for relaxing. It was survival and sweating, or nothing at all. But you could tell he had tried to soften it up a little, just for you. His irritation was still so obvious however, even as he offered you a playful roll as he approached the door, catching your eye in the reflection of the cracked mirror.
“Just a sec, then we can head out.”
The old hairbrush you had found by the sink was a well-received miracle. A little bit of normality, a chance to tidy yourself up somewhat.
“I just think it’s a waste of time is all. Preening for the Wasteland. I mean, who are you trying to impress out there? You already got the best catch.”
He flicked the brim of his hat with his gloved fingers, grinning wide, yellowed teeth bared at you as he ran his tongue along his bottom lip.
“That’s exactly the problem. I have to make sure I look good to keep up with you, handsome.”
Your hand stroked along his cheek, a brief moment of eye contact as you walked past him towards the door of the bathroom and back out to the front of your temporary shelter.
“Handsome, huh?”
His voice seemed so much lighter now, more so than you had ever really heard before. And as you turned, you noticed the slight smile on his weathered lips, cheeks pulling up at the corners, eyes glinting as he stared straight back at you.
“Uh… yeah. You’re a very handsome guy, Coop.”
You almost had your fingers on the door knob, ready to leave for the start of your day, when you realised that you couldn’t feel Cooper’s presence behind you. Turning to see what was holding him up, you caught something in his eyes. A look of confusion, almost. Surprise. Disbelief. And a little bit of what you could swear was embarrassment. All this time together. Sleeping in each other’s arms, protecting each other from danger. Had you really never expressed to him your attraction? You had just assumed he knew. You spent long enough staring lustfully at him, it was surely a given. So you worried there was something else to it.
“What’s wrong, Cooper?”
“Nothing, I just… I was used to being called handsome, long time ago… not so much these days.”
As you stepped back towards him, closing the short distance, you could make out his expression much better, realising how astute your previous observation had been.
“Oh my god… Coop, are you blushing?”
He raised one finger, narrowing his brows as he tried to hide the endearing glee, offering you a forced stern look as he spoke.
“Don’t start playin’ stupid with me, you know I am not.”
Biting your lip, a mischievous smile forming, you gripped the lapels of his duster, teasing him as you stroked your thumb along one of his ridged, warm cheeks.
“Why, I didn’t even know big tough cowboys could blush, especially not the more ghoulish ones.” Can they blush? I'll need a closer look."
His fingers were tight around your wrist, gripping you fast and firm. He was trying so hard to maintain his tough exterior, but you could tell there was something softer in there that longed to come out, or at the very least, was desperate for someone to notice it. It was so obvious, even as he lowered his voice and growled at you.
“You turn around right now and start walkin’ out that door.”
Cooper took a step forwards, an attempt to regain his control of the situation, to push you towards doing his will, but you brought your hand up and laid your palm against his chest.
“Wait, just a second…”
It was nice to see him in this light. His confidence was always the dominant feature in his peronality, and it rarely wavered, if at all. But to know there were aspects of himself that he wasn't as sure of, and to know you could render him a little flustered just by complimenting them, made you smile. A grin that was returned by Cooper as you gazed into his warm, brown eyes.
"What is it you're lookin' for now, huh? You find it?"
"Yeah... turns out they can blush."
You turned quickly from him, practically skipping back towards the door of your temporary shelter, ready for another day of survival, this time tinted with a little more joy than usual. Your smile only grew wider as you heard Cooper, catching up with you, still trying to cover his embarrassment with the strained, empty aggressive threat that he chased you with.
"Now I will shoot you, you know that? You're pushing your luck today and we ain't even done anythin' yet."
But when he was certain you weren’t going to turn back around, he let himself smile a little. A soft glow in his eyes as he allowed himself to remember who he was, really. The kind of man that resided deep down inside, buried by years of solitude in the deep, dark ground, of struggling to adjust to the world. And struggling to adjust to himself. Even just a tiny reminder that, despite his charms and the charisma that tended to pull people in, that there was a bit of his old self left. That despite everything, despite who he had become, both physically and emotionally, someone might look at him with something other than fear first. With kindess, or lust. Or even love. That was enough to help him cling to the memories and look to the future with just the tiniest bit of hope, something he hadn’t felt in such a long time.
“You comin’, handsome?”
He smiled, biting his lip to curtail the spread of the easy grin.
“You bet.”
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acourtofwhatthefuck · 1 year ago
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Practice On Me — Part Two — Azriel x Reader.
Summary: Azriel comes back for a little more practice. But this time, he wants to learn more than just kissing.
Word count: 7k.
Warnings: Some violence, injury detail, mention of blood. Smut 🌶️ some touching and fingering 😏
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“Is that painful?”
“A little. Keep going.”
Rhysand’s hands are gentle when, a week later, you lay face-down on his couch, naked from the waist up. You wince as his fingers skate over jagged, poorly healed scars. You can picture the look on his face without needing to glimpse it; pursed lips and a furrowed brow and barely contained rage.
But he doesn’t let that rage seep into his hands as he smooths a pleasant, cooling salve into what remains of your wings. Which isn’t much.
“Sorry,” he murmurs at your slight jolt. “Almost done.”
There are very few people you will trust with touching your back. It’s too personal for you to visit the camp healer for such treatment, however trained and skilled he may be. But Rhysand—
“I swear to you, Y/N.” His voice is deep, stoic, warm breath fanning your shoulder. “When I’m High Lord, this will be outlawed. Females will not go through this under my rule.”
He promises it every single time he helps you with this. And he means it. Which is why you trust him implicitly with the act.
“I know.” You murmur against a couch cushion. “Thank you.”
“All done.”
As he wipes his hands on a rag, you ease yourself into a sitting position, clutching your shirt to your bare chest. As always, a crackling fire breathes heat into Rhysand’s mother’s home, and the feeling is pleasant, soothing.
“I haven’t seen your mother recently.” You mention, waiting for Rhys to turn around so you can slip your shirt on. It’s not that he hasn’t seen more private parts of your body over the years, nor that you particularly care, but he does you the courtesy, anyway. “Is she well?”
A soft, loving smile curls at his lips. “She is.” And then the smile widens into a full-blown grin. “My father wants her closer to home. She’s with child.”
“Seriously?” You blink, and then you’re throwing yourself at Rhys, sheer happiness and excitement filling you. “Rhys, that’s amazing. You’re going to have a brother or sister.”
“Sister, I hope.” He snorts, squeezing you, and yet also minding your still-bare back. “We need more girls around here.”
“Well, boy or girl, you’ll be the most incredible big brother. I just know it.”
And you absolutely do. Rhys has always been that sort of presence in your life; caring and loving and protective. Stern sometimes. A shoulder to cry on. A giver of warm, much-needed hugs.
You lean into one of those hugs now, not caring nor thinking about the fact that your top half is naked and pressing against him. That is, until the front door opens behind you, sweeping a gust of icy air indoors.
You turn just in time to see Azriel kick the snow from his boots. And then he pauses in the doorway, staring between you and Rhysand.
There’s been no mention of the kiss that night a week ago. Things haven’t been strange nor awkward. Just…normal. As if it never happened.
You’ve combed over it in your mind a little, though. Maybe more than a little.
“I told her the news.” Rhys announces, pulling away from you. A beaming grin still lights up his face.
Azriel’s mouth immediately tilts up, matching his enthusiasm as he smiles at you. “Exciting, isn’t it?”
“Oh, incredibly.” You shrug your shirt on. “I’m bound to get far more stimulating conversation from a newborn babe than I do from you three idiots.”
Rhys swats you and Azriel snorts, and then you’re pushing to your feet and heading towards the small kitchen area. “I’m making tea. Do either of you want some?”
“No, I’m heading out to visit my mother.” Rhys stands. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, though.”
“Give her my love.” You tell him.
Azriel dips his head. “And mine.”
With a chipper goodbye, Rhys is dipping out of the cottage. Shutting the door behind him seals the heat inside once more, and already you have some soothing release from the pain in your upper back.
“Tea?” You offer again over your shoulder.
“Please.” Az approaches you from behind, stopping mere inches away to tie the strings at the back of your tunic. “Cass won’t be joining us. He ran into Sacha on the way here.”
You snort. Cassian’s most recent fling is coming up to a week-long stint, now. It won’t be long before cracks begin to show, and the whole thing is called off, and another female or male takes Sacha’s place. Rinse and repeat.
“I wonder which one of them will break it off. My money’s on Sacha.” You ladle a generous helping of sage tea into two cups and hand one to Az. “How are things with Kaeda?”
You can’t lie — you’ve wondered it a fair few times over the past week. Which is only natural, right? To question if the…help…that you gave Azriel was of any use. But so far, he hasn’t mentioned a damn thing.
He takes a long, pensive sip of his steaming drink. And then shrugs. “I’ve not really had the chance to see her.”
Immediately, you cock an eyebrow. Because Az seems to have had plenty of time for you and Rhys and Cass over the last seven days. Even spared one of those days to fly you to the local market to pick some things up for your father. It hasn’t been a particularly busy week for any of you — slow, even — and you’re almost positive he’s had a spare few minutes to land a kiss on his romantic interest.
Leaning your back against the wall, you shoot him a look. One that says, that’s not going to fly with me, Shadowsinger. “Wanna try that again?” You say. “The truth this time, please.”
He sighs, pressing back against the opposite wall. It must be so annoying for him that you can read him so well. Azriel doesn’t like being read. At all.
“I’m just…not confident enough yet. So, I’ve been avoiding her.” He admits. “I think I need more practice.”
You stare at him. Study him. You’re not sure if he’s implying what…what you think he might be implying. “You’re a good kisser, Az.” You tell him. “Trust me.”
The firm, truthful tone of your voice has his cheeks reddening slightly. He lowers his gaze to the floor. “But I don’t feel like one. And that’s the key to it all, isn’t it? Confidence. I’m just not there yet.”
Fair enough, you think. He’s not wrong. But the direction in which this seems to be going has your heart doing a strange, anticipatory flip in your chest.
“So…” You drag the word out. “Are you asking to practice on me again, or? Because I can totally steal one of the sparring dummies from the training ring and guide you that way—”
“Forget it.” He cuts your teasing off with a roll of his eyes.
“No, wait, I’m sorry.” You bite back a laugh. “I’m taking it seriously, I promise. Tell me what you need.”
He purses his lips, eyeing you for a long moment. You allow him to do so, even if it makes you feel a little naked.
“All I know,” he says, “is that I’m comfortable with you.”
The words are…strangely heavy. Vulnerable. He means them, and you know that, but they’re so weighty that for a moment, you can’t speak.
You suppose you’re so accustomed to your friendship with him — the familiarity and comfort of it — that you don’t think too often about how good it feels to be such a support for somebody. It makes you feel good. Useful. You want to always be able to help him like that.
So, you know you’d offer him anything, do anything he needs.
“If you need to practice on me some more, Az...” Your voice is strangely raspy. “I’m right here.”
He swallows. “But I don’t want it to seem like…like I’m using you.”
“It doesn’t.” It really doesn’t. You keep it to yourself that you need this in your own, little way. “I’d tell you if I felt like that.”
His eyes scan your face, and he seems satisfied with the truth that’s displayed there. He licks his lips and swallows and shifts from foot to foot. And then he says, simply, “Okay, then.”
And you guess this is happening right now, like it happened right then a week ago. So, you place your mug of tea on the counter and push away from the wall. Azriel does the same.
He steps a little closer. Pauses. “Do I need to do anything different to what I did before?”
“No.” You answer, probably a little too quickly. “No, you were great.”
He blushes again, and he seems to be fighting the urge to look away. But he maintains the eye contact like a champ and closes the space between you.
His scent, his warmth, is like a blanket that’s draped over you. You want to wrap yourself inside it, build a fort out of it, hide in it.
Azriel’s hands tremble as he lifts them to your face. He seemed to enjoy that last time — the feel of your skin beneath his. You enjoyed it, too. You tilt your head up just a little.
His thumb makes contact with your cheekbone, brushing a gentle sweep over the area. He leans down—
But then the door flies open, and a snow-covered, pissed off Cassian stomps in.
“Sacha and I are finished.” He announces, not seeming to notice yours and Azriel’s compromising position. “Let’s go to the mead hall.”
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚
The mead hall is packed and noisy, exactly how Cassian wants it. He’s in a foul mood, and so a higher volume of people means he has a good choice of who to pick a fight with.
When he gets like this, there’s not really any stopping him.
Luckily, your father isn’t there tonight, so you’re comfortable sitting wedged between Az and Cass without his paranoid, judgemental stare. But you don’t want to be here — the males are too drunk and boisterous, and you seem to be one of very few females present. It makes their leering gazes far more apparent.
“It was a total misunderstanding.” Cassian says from beside you, leaning over you a little so that Az can hear, too. “Yes, I might have called her the wrong name—”
“I would have thrown you out on your ass, too.” You cut him off, rolling your eyes. “At least know the name of who you’re fucking before you dive between their legs.”
“I do know her name. I just got confused—”
He stops mid-sentence and looks up as, from behind, a pair of rough, meaty hands land on your shoulders and squeeze. You immediately recoil at the touch, turning to glimpse the mammoth of an Illyrian male whose name you think is Tanin. Not that you care.
He stinks of ale and sweat as he leans down and smells your hair. You tense. Cassian tenses. Azriel tenses.
“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.” Tanin slurs. “When are you going to let me dive between your legs?”
And there it is. Cassian’s excuse for a fight.
He’s out of his seat and on him quicker than you can even register, slamming Tanin down on the adjacent table amidst plates of food and goblets of ale. Blood goes flying as he pummels his fist into the bastard’s face, and then he’s grabbing a goblet of ale and pouring it over Tanin until he’s coughing and spluttering.
“How about you wash your filthy fucking mouth out?” Your friend snarls, diving in to land another punch. “Piece of shit.”
You turn to Azriel in mild alarm. Usually, he would have jumped in by now, pulled Cassian off before he can do too much damage. But the shadowsinger merely watches the affray with something akin to satisfaction on his face. You sigh in exasperation. This will quickly get out of hand.
“Cass.” You stand, reaching for your friend. “Cassian—”
But your voice is barely heard beneath all the yelling and jeering, and then Tanin is fighting back, landing a hit on Cassian so hard that he stumbles backwards — falls into you and knocks you to the floor, right amongst the gathering, boisterous males.
There’re feet everywhere in all directions, catching you in the side and stepping on your hand and knocking you back down whenever you try to get up. Suddenly, the fight is no longer between Cassian and Tanin. Males are punching each other for the sake of it, and more and more of them join in, not even knowing why they’re brawling. It’s the Illyrian pastime.
Just before another foot can swing into you, you’re aware of strong arms lifting you and plucking you straight from the centre of the chaos. Azriel shoves a drunken lout who backs into you, and then he’s dragging you away, his eyes fierce and blazing.
“You’re alright?” He asks over the shouting, his gaze roving your dirtied, creased tunic.
Your hand is throbbing from being stepped on, but the ache is already dulling. You nod. “I’m fine. Where is Cass?”
“Here.” Cassian suddenly appears behind you. His hair has mostly escaped the knot he’d tied it into, and his lip is badly split, blood gushing down his chin. He spits some onto the floor, and his words are thick and almost unintelligible as he cups his mouth and says, “Pieth of thit got me good.”
You scowl, knocking his hand away to grip his chin. “Serves you right. That fight was completely unnecessary.”
“I dithagree.” His eyes glitter, but then he grimaces and pulls away to spit more blood out. “Dammit. I think I need thitches.”
He definitely does. The gash in his lip is deep and pouring. And with the fight still merrily going on around you, it won’t be long before someone tries to drag him back into it. And Cass will happily oblige.
“Go to the healer and get that seen to.” Azriel tells him, not unlike a stern parent. He grips him by the shoulder and steers him out of the door, dragging you with him by the other hand. “And then sober up. I’m taking Y/N home.”
“And apologise to Sacha.” You add.
Cassian grumbles, but the fact that he doesn’t protest is a positive. He can sometimes be so stubborn that it makes you want to split his lip yourself. It would seem he’s had enough drama for one night.
“Fine.” He spits blood onto the dirt path. “Maybe Satha will take pithy on me.”
The fact that neither you nor Az agree is downright hilarious. But nor do you correct Cassian’s drunken, skewed thinking. Nights like these are a common occurrence, and to some degree, you just have to let your friend get on with it.
Cass turns, and you catch him quickly by the hand. “Thank you.” You tell him, because he was defending your honour, after all. “Love you.”
He grins a bloody grin, and then winces as it tugs at the wound. “Loveyouthoo, thweetpea.”
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・ You don’t feel like going home and facing your father tonight, and with Rhysand’s mother’s cottage at your disposal, you don’t have to. It’s not unusual for you to spend nights away from home; usually he doesn’t care enough to even question it. But if he does, you always tell him the same thing — you spent the night with one of your many female friends. No males present. Such a little liar, you are.
But you’re content with that lie as you sink into the couch, your eyes flicking over to Azriel in the kitchen. He stirs a cup of tea silently, pensive as always. He’s asked about your wellbeing at least seven times since you stepped through the door.
You’re fine, you’ve answered each time, and it’s true. With him, you’re always fine. It doesn’t stop him worrying, though.
His footsteps thud against the floor as he approaches you, and he holds out a steaming mug. “Drink this. I put plenty of honey in it.”
Your lips twitch into a fond smile, and you accept it, taking a warm sip. “I was on the floor for a matter of seconds, Az. I have a bruised hand, that’s all.”
He knows this, of course, but trying to get him to stop fussing would be like beating a dead horse, and you really don’t mind being taken care of, anyway. Azriel settles into the space beside you, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. You lean into his side.
For a few moments, it’s comfortably silent. And then he snorts softly. “Cassian’s going to have a hard time apologising to Sacha when he can barely form a legible sentence.”
You laugh, tipping your head back against his shoulder. “Maybe she really will take pity on him.”
“If only she’d been there to witness his gallant display of coming to your defence. It might have impressed her.”
“Or put her off him for good.”
“The heartbreak would drive him into someone’s bed, I’m sure.”
The two of you share another laugh, and then silence blankets the small cottage. You’re always content like this, just…existing with Azriel. No need to be a certain way or do a certain thing, like you have to in your own home. With your closest friends, you have the freedom of being yourself unapologetically.
You finish your drink, and then Az is pulling you down with him, his wing draping around you. You’ve fallen asleep like this countless times — with all three of your friends at least once — and it’s one of the few places you feel truly safe.
But as you lie there, basking in Azriel’s warmth, your eyes don’t grow heavy. Rather, they continuously creep over to that spot in the kitchen you stood in with Az earlier, your bodies inches from each other, your lips very nearly meeting but not quite touching thanks to Cassian’s abrupt arrival.
A strange sense of disappointment hits you. Disappointment that you didn’t get to feel that heated kiss a second time.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” you murmur, knowing Azriel is just as awake as you are. “That we got interrupted.”
He turns his face slightly, chin brushing the top of your head. “It’s not your fault that Cassian has terrible timing.”
Your shoulders shake as you give a little laugh. No, no it isn’t. But amongst your disappointment — which is selfish, really, because the kiss was never for your sake —you feel guilt, also. Guilt that you didn’t get to help Az, despite that being what he needed.
You tip your head back enough to look up at him. “I’m still happy to help, you know. The offer is still there.”
For a couple of seconds, he merely stares down at you. His fingers absentmindedly twiddle a strand of your hair. And then he says, a hue of pink colouring his cheeks, “I still need the help.”
And in that moment, he looks so genuinely perturbed by his own inexperience that you can’t bear it. You’ll do anything, say anything, to put him at ease. To help him realise that these things are different for everyone. There’s no time frame he should be keeping to. Twenty years of age or thirty or forty or fifty, he could have come to you with these things worrying his thoughts, and there would never be any judgement. Only understanding. Only what he needs.
So, you slowly sit up, folding your legs beneath you and turning so that you’re facing him. “Would you like to practice now?”
He eyes you and swallows. And then he nods. “I would.”
You offer him a reassuring smile. “Come here, then.”
Just as you had, he pushes himself up into a sitting position. You can tell he’s tense by the way his wings fall about him; his shoulders squared. You reach for his hand and squeeze it gently.
“We already did this once, Az.” You remind him. “Just do what you did before.”
He nods — more to himself than to you. And then he’s scooting closer. His palm settles at your jaw.
He doesn’t go in for the kiss immediately. You allow him to do whatever he needs to do, whatever feels right. He seems content, for the time being, with dancing his fingers over the skin of your cheek, your jaw, your neck and the shell of your ear. His hand, scarred and callused, climbs and falls, explores each area with rapt attention. He takes note at the way your eyes momentarily flutter closed — an inadvertent reaction to his fingers skating over the pulse point of your throat.
“Is that pleasant?” His voice is deep, husky.
“For me, yes.” You clear your throat. “But I suppose not for everyone. Everybody has sensitive areas. That’s one of mine.”
You’re shamefully disappointed when, after a moment, his hand moves back up. It finds its place at your jaw again, and Az cups your cheek.
“Okay,” he whispers, and leans in.
There’s no chance for you to utter a word as he dips his head and presses his lips to yours. This time, there’s no quick, chaste peck to test the waters. Azriel dives straight in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that robs the breath straight from your lungs.
His mouth paws at yours, and you give yourself to the sensation, submitting fully to the practice. You want Azriel to take what he needs — to get a desired result from this — but as you kiss him back, you can’t help noticing the stiff, tense set of his body.
He’s not relaxed, not at all, and it shows. Something about this is bothering him, holding him back. Nerves, probably. Maybe even second thoughts. Whatever it is, you want him to communicate it, be honest about it.
So as much as you really, really don’t want to, you pull away, your face hovering a mere hair’s-breadth from Azriel’s. He seems to blink, and he licks his lips and stares at you with unguarded concern in his eyes. You know he’s already thinking a million things at once, wondering if he put a foot wrong.
“What is it?” You ask, making a grab for his hand. “You’re…tense. This is no different to what we did last week.”
Your friend stares back at you, conflict a war on his face. And for a split second, you start to think that he is having doubts, that he’s regretting having gone along with this.
And that…that would hurt. You’d understand, of course, because he’s your friend, and this is simply about helping him — but it would definitely hurt.
You don’t want to think too much about why that might be.
Rejection is never pleasant, you suppose.
“Az…” you chew your lower lip. “You can tell me. Whatever it is. If you want to stop this and just…talk…or do nothing at all…then that’s fine, too—”
“Kissing isn’t the only thing I’ve never done.”
The words leave him in such an abrupt gust that you’re stunned into silence.
You stare at him wordlessly.
Of course, it’s not that you haven’t considered that over the past seven days. Up until a week ago, you’d simply assumed that Azriel must have had a whole wealth of experience when it came to kissing people. And you’d turned out to be wrong. It wasn’t unusual to question whether there was more you didn’t know.
But you also knew perfectly well that sex didn’t require kissing. Az could have slept with a whole host of different people, and yet chosen — for whatever reason — to not kiss a single one of them.  He could have built up knowledge and experience in plenty of other areas without ever having explored what many would consider to be the first step.
You’d considered that Azriel might not have any sexual experience. And then you’d surmised that he most likely had.
That, it would seem, is not the case.
He looks more uncomfortable than ever, lowering his gaze and rubbing at the back of his neck with his hand. You want to tell him that none of that matters, that it’s nothing to be embarrassed about, but the words simply will not come.
“I’m just…completely inexperienced. In every way.” He admits gravelly. “I’ve come close to doing things, but…I always overthink it. I don’t know how any of this is supposed to…to progress.”
Makes sense. It’s a daunting thing to explore, and even more so when you don’t trust easily. It’s perfectly reasonable that Az has protected himself from that pressure.
“Have you…” You clear your throat, desperate to make sure you’re handling this correctly, decently. “Have you ever done anything at all?”
His eyes flick up to meet yours. “I’m completely well-versed where my own pleasure is concerned, Y/N, trust me. It’s with another person that I have no fucking clue.”
Right. Got it.
Swallowing down a ridiculously huge lump in your throat, you give a slow, pensive nod. “Alright. Well…these things just…evolve naturally. One thing leads to another. The absolute worst thing you can do — with kissing or anything else — is overthink it. Do that, and it’s over before it begins. You just…follow your body’s lead and do what feels natural.”
Good fucking advice, if you do say so yourself. Azriel’s still-unsure expression is the only thing that stops you from giving yourself a well-earned pat on the back.
“Right. Follow my body’s lead.” Az sounds like he’s trying to convince himself. He clears his throat. “Can we continue?”
“If you want to continue, Az, we’ll continue.”
A small, soft smile lifts his lips, and it melts your heart a little. He’s genuinely grateful for your patience and understanding; you wonder if he truly knows that you’d give him, his kind heart, the entire world if you could.
But before you can sink too far into your mushy thoughts, Azriel’s hands are at your face once more, and he’s angling it up towards him.
You wait. Allow him to make the first move. He does.
He kisses you like your lips might disappear before his very eyes if he doesn’t. His mouth slants over yours, and that coiled tension is no longer making his body rigid and unnatural. He’s heeding your advice, relaxing into it, and this time, he doesn’t hold back.
His thumb sweeps your cheek, and his tongue sweeps your lip, and you’re opening up for him, allowing him to slip it inside to meet yours. At once, his taste is overpowering you, mixed in a little with the mulled wine he drank at the mead hall. It’s a song to your senses, and you’re desperate to hear it, feel it, from start to finish.
Perhaps that’s why you’re not really aware of the way your bodies move. Az is shifting on the couch and so are you, and while one of his hands remains at your face, the other moves down and slides gently to the scars on your back. It seems, for a moment, that he might tug you closer, but in one swift movement, he’s laying you down, and he’s tucked between your legs and hovering over you so closely. He cushions the remains of your wings, always concerned about your comfort.
Kissing him like this feels wildly different to kissing him sat up. It feels…intense and yet tender. Fast and yet slow. Like this could go anywhere and everywhere all at once. And part of you wonders if it should go nowhere. Perhaps you should stop. Helping Azriel gain confidence is one thing, but he’s your closest friend, and never before have you had your closest friend more or less lying on top of you, his body moving against you, while his mouth dances over yours.
Bizarre, really.
But you still continue to kiss him back.
Your hand moves up to cup the back of his neck, and you kiss him harder, graze your tongue over his lower lip—
He pulls his face away from you abruptly. Perhaps that was a step too far—
But something in the way he stares down at you, panting heavily, tells you it wasn’t.
“Where do you like to be touched?” He asks you, so gutturally that the words vibrate through you.
And they damn well catch you off guard.
You blink up at him, flustered, not sure you heard right. “I…what?”
Azriel then licks his lips. “I mean…where do you think Kaeda would like to be touched?”
Kaeda.
You’d forgotten about her. The reason that Az is even kissing you in the first place. Because he wants to be good for her.
The thought stings a little. You try to shake it off. “That…that’s something you’ll have to learn from Kaeda herself.”
He stares back at you. Studies your face. And he looks so…so genuinely daunted, that you search for something, anything, to put him at ease.
“But me…” You clear your throat. “I like to be touched in lots of places.”
He’s still staring at you in that strange, intense way. After a beat, he asks, “Will you show me?”
It’s your turn to stare at him then. You’re starting to think that perhaps the world has been turned on its head. You and Azriel, to each other, are familiarity and comfort. You’ve seen each other at your best and at your worst, been there for some damn near humiliating circumstances. This is the male who has bathed the blood of your own cycle from your skin and held your hair back when the cramps have turned your stomach. He’s listened to some of your most embarrassing stories without humour or judgement; just understanding. To him, you are an old, well-worn, well-loved pair of boots.
And he wants you to show him how to touch.
Never, under a million fucking sunrises, could you have predicted this would happen between you.
But you’re not recoiling from the request. You’re just…surprised. You’re not balking from it, nor running out of there screaming.
Nor has Azriel ever balked when you’ve asked for his help, his guidance. Not once.
You angle your body up slightly, just to get a better look at him. And you study him a moment longer. “…Az, are you…”
“I know what I’m asking, Y/N, and I’m sure.” He says without pause. “Show me how a female should be touched.”
Suddenly, you feel like the nervous, inexperienced one. You can totally say no, of course — Azriel would put a stop to it immediately if you did. But you don’t want to.
You want to do this. Want to help.
Your hand cups the back of his neck once more, and then you’re tugging his face down, pulling his mouth onto yours.
The kiss starts out slow and soft. There will be no rushing this for either of you. It’s an exploration, a way to trace the maps of each other’s mouths. You’re both desperate to know more, feel more, before this goes any further.
So, you follow your own advice. You told Azriel to trust in his body, follow its lead, and you now do the same. You want this to progress naturally, like…like it isn’t a transaction. Isn’t something that you agreed on beforehand.
There is no breaking from the kiss this time, even when you’re panting into each other’s mouths. Azriel’s hand is firm and pleasant at your jaw, and your tongues are intertwined, and you’re kissing like you want this specifically with each other. A fact you will not ruminate on,
You nip gently at Azriel’s lip, and this time, he does not pull away. He hums quietly — seemingly unaware of doing so — and applies a little pressure to your mouth. Kisses you harder.
And it’s then — then that you reach for the hand that’s settled at your jaw. You curl your fingers around Azriel’s wrist, and slowly, you drag that hand down.
You think you might be shaking a little, but you don’t give the nerves too much thought. Azriel allows you to guide him. His fingers brush over your neck, content to explore the soft skin there, but you keep that hand moving. The warmth of his palm permeates the fabric of your tunic, and the feeling is pleasant against your chest.
When you finally close his hand over the swell of your breast, you break away just to whisper onto his mouth, “I like being touched here.”
Azriel’s eyes bore into yours, heated and blazing. He swallows.
Clothed you might be, but there’s no undergarment between your shirt and your breast. The weight of Azriel’s hand falls heavy over the swell, and there may as well be no barrier of clothing with how delicious it feels.
His gaze remains on yours as he cups you in his palm. And then his thumb inches in, grazing over your nipple. You suck in a short breath at the contact, your back arching a little.
Azriel pauses. “Is…is this okay?”
“Yes,” you say, a little too quickly. “It’s more than okay, Az.”
A soft smile appears on his lips. You smother it with yours, pulling his face closer once more. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to kiss him again, or what you’re supposed to do amidst any of this, but it feels like the right thing.
This time, there’s no hesitation. Your kiss is hot and needy, and you find yourself bunching the fabric of Azriel’s shirt in your fist as he begins to more confidently explore your breasts.
He squeezes them, palms at them, traces the turgid peaks of your nipples, and you happily arch into it all. But then, without any guidance from you, his hand is leaving your breasts. Travelling down.
And you don’t breathe a word. You figure if he has a question, needs direction, he’ll ask. You kiss him as if you were always made for kissing him, and his fingers are dancing over your stomach, down and down.
“What…” he tugs his lips from yours, his fingers now at the waistband of your breeches, “what about here? Do you like being touched here?”
You stare up at him. And you’re supposed to be guiding him, aren’t you? So, panting, you fold your hand over his and move it down. Away from the waistband. Between your legs.
You fold his hand over the very centre of you. And you wonder if he can feel your heat through your breeches. It feels blazing to you, and torturously so. Like a fire has been lit between your thighs. You’re growing wetter by the second, and your scent must be filling the room.
“Here.” Your voice doesn’t sound like yours. It’s deep, smoky. “Right here.”
Azriel watches you closely. Watches your face as he applies pressure to your heat. His thumb presses down.
And you’re not thinking about his intense stare as a soft moan falls from your mouth. Your brow is furrowed, lips parted, and you want more.
“There?” The shadowsinger murmurs, repeating the action. Your moan is louder this time.
“Can you…” Already, you’re panting, but he’s not…not close enough. You grab his hand again, and you’re moving it back to your waistband. To the button on your breeches.
His eyes meet yours. He doesn’t need to be experienced to know what you’re asking from him. Sure, he could probably do this through your clothing, but surely skin-to-skin is better for his experience.
That’s what your selfish mind is telling you, anyway.
“You don’t mind?” Az asks. “I appreciate your help, but…I want you to be comfortable. I don’t want you to feel you have to do anything—”
“Azriel.” You clasp the back of his neck. “I really, really do not mind.”
For him, it will always be about making sure that you’re positive.
Your needy expression must tell him that you are.
You capture his mouth with yours, and this time, the moan comes from him. Kissing seems second-nature to him already. This one is fast and passionate and desperate, and yet he leans into it, gives himself to it entirely.
You don’t know how long you kiss for, but it’s possible that Az needs the time to build up to the moment. To get the nerve to actually cross that line.
You don’t push him or rush him. If he decides that this can’t go any further, you’ll stop immediately. You can see to the ache between your legs yourself.
But then, as his tongue rolls with yours, you feel his fingers at that button. Azriel pops it open. Your breeches part.
You lift your hips a little — a small encouragement. Az follows it. His touch is warm against your skin. His fingers slip past the waistband.
He pulls back to look at you. And he rasps, “Tell me what to do.”
“You can’t do anything wrong,” you pant. “Just…explore.”
He nods. Nods again. Draws in a slow, steeling breath.
And then he explores.
Not once does he look away from you. Not once, as his fingers slip between your folds. You bite down on your lip, not wanting to startle him. This is about him. This is about him.
His fingers dip tentatively through your damp heat. He drags them upwards, drenching himself with your wetness.
“You’re soaked…” He seems surprised by the fact. As though it’s unthinkable that your body would react in such a way to him. He explores more. “Really soaked.”
“Yes, Az.” You breathe. “That’s a good thing, trust me.”
He pauses his movements. And he’s entirely serious as he says, “I always trust you.”
And fuck, the sentiment makes you want to kiss him again, so you do. You yank him closer and slide your mouth onto his, and then his fingers are moving between your folds again.
They inch upwards with ease. And then one of those fingers is brushing over your clit.
You have no control over the way your hips jerk, bucking up into Azriel’s touch, or over the noise that rips from your throat.
Azriel pulls back to study you yet again. And repeats the action with more intent. “There?” He asks, and then adds, “Your scent reminds me of…of pears.”
“I don’t know whether I should say thank you, but yes, gods, there.”
Once more, his finger presses against your clit, and you’re gasping. His head cocks slightly, like he’s genuinely intrigued by your reaction. He watches you closely as he begins to circle the sensitive little nub.
You’re not wholly aware of the fact that you’re tipping your head back — not until Azriel is guiding it forward with his free hand and fastening your eyes on his once again.
“Can you look at me?” He clears his throat. “I just—want you to look at me.”
You swallow, and you nod. And you stay looking at him.
Even as his finger circles your clit again, and you feel the sensation like a lightning bolt through your entire body.
The pleasure is shocking. Your hips buck up into the sensation, and it seems to reward Azriel with confidence. His hand moves into a steady rhythm, his palm seeming to cup you and rub against you as his finger works at your clit.
You will not last like this. You never do. The stimulation is far too much, and you’re writhing beneath him, already feeling that tight, warm coiling in your lower belly — the sign of imminent release.
“Fuck,” you pant, rocking against Azriel’s hand. “Gods, Az, I’m gonna—”
Your words are lost, swallowed by his mouth closing over yours. Azriel kisses you, and he begins to move his finger in quick, flicking movements, and you’re gone, gone, utterly fucking gone, your body a swirling, weightless form as stars burst behind your eyelids.
The climax hits you so thoroughly that you shout into Azriel’s mouth, and you're grabbing at his shirt, simply needing to hold onto something as your hips undulate, desperate for more of the sensations he’s wringing from you and yet so incredibly sensitive that your body is already beginning to tremble.
And the second Azriel notices that you’re shaking, slumping back down against the couch cushions, his fingers cease their movements. He tears his mouth from yours and drinks in your expression.
“Are you okay?” He breathes heavily. “Was that…good?”
Good did not come close to describing what it was. There’s something magic about those fingers that still linger between your folds. You’re sure of it.
“More than good.” You gasp, your head falling back. “I just…need a moment.”
He pauses, before slowly, gently, tugging his hand out of your breeches. You think a whimper leaves you at the loss of contact. It’s an effort not to grab his hand and put it right back where you want it.
But instead, Azriel moves it up to your face. He brushes a strand of hair from your eyes, and his chest is heaving as much as yours as he leans down and brushes his lips over your cheek — an affectionate gesture. One he’s done a thousand times before.
It kind of…rips you from the moment, just a little. Reminds you that this is your closest friend who’s hovering above you. Who’s just made you come so hard, you saw stars. Who’s only doing this to learn.
You open your mouth — to say what, you’re not sure — but you’re stopped in your tracks by the door bursting open behind you.
You and Azriel move away from each other just as Cassian waltzes in. His lip is stitched up, but there are fresh marks at his neck; ones he seems incredibly proud of. You quickly fasten the button on your breeches before he can notice.
“Sacha and I worked things out.” He announces with a shit-eating grin. And then he pauses. Frowns. “Why does it smell like pears in here?”
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azriel tags: @hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere @audie-writes @aaronwarnerswifereal @starxqt @lulufairbank @laurzwrites @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden
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babyjakes · 11 months ago
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〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉
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event | kinkmas 2023
prompt | sex shop
pairing | sex shop owner!andy barber x innocent!reader
warnings | age gap (reader sees andy as a total dilf.) reader is very innocent and also so scared to be there (understandably.) soft!andy, comforting vibes, he talks her through everything. humiliation kink is strong in this one. no real smut, just suggestive themes (sex shop, toys, talks of solo and guided masturbation.)
word count | 987
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an | this little story is dedicated to andy's #1 girl, @worksby-d 🥺 dest i super hope you enjoy our favorite dilf here!! i tried to make him the big warm teddy bear we know and love, with a little hint of naughtiness shining through at the end hehe <3 happy holidays to you friend!!
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imagine going to a sex shop for the very first time, aalllll by yourself, and meeting a very handsome dilf who helps you pick out your very first big girl toy 😏
parking as far away as possible (it’s at the end of a little strip mall in a tiny little town you’ve never been to before, you wanted to make sure you wouldn’t bump into anyone you knew!) spending like 10 minutes just sitting in your car hyping yourself up, you’re so nervous but you’ve wanted to do this for so long 🥺
eventually you build up your courage and make your way up the parking lot, to the front door of the place. a little silvery bell rings as you enter. you’re surprised at how clean and neat the place is. you weren’t sure what to expect, but this is better than you had been hoping. it’s not too big, a single large room with a counter in the middle. at first glance, you're alone, no other customers or employees in sight
the store has different sections with hanging signs directing you where to go. you can feel heat rising in your cheeks as you pass the racks of lingerie and intimates. just as you make it over to the toys for her section, you hear something from across the little shop. looking over, you see someone has entered through a doorway in the back. a man, but you don’t get too long of a look. your eyes quickly drop to the ground as you feel your embarrassment worsening
please don’t come over here. please don’t come over here. please don’t-
your silent prayers are ignored as footsteps approach. you take a step back from the wall of products, forcing yourself to look up at the stranger. your jaw almost drops at the sight of him, oh god, you’re thinking to yourself, why is he hot 😭
there andy stands in all of his glory, the epitome of dilfy deliciousness with his worn navy t-shirt and scruffy beard. scratching his head a bit awkwardly, he greets you, “hey, sorry. didn’t meant to startle you. can i help you find anything?”
your heart’s pounding in your throat as you look around stupidly before your eyes return to the absolute unit of a man before you. you blink like a deer in the headlights. oh my god. he works here, you’re a little slow to put things together
andy sees your surprise, letting out a gentle chuckle. “i’m the owner,” he explains. “you okay, honey? you look like you’ve seen a ghost”
a part of you knows this is an extremely sketchy situation. you’re alone in a sex shop with a dude probably twice your age (who apparently owns the place), out in a town you can’t remember the name of, with nothing to defend yourself except your two bare hands (which are now shaking)
but there’s something about the man before you that you just find so… warm? disarming? (…attractive? 😳) the gentle smile on his face, the way he softens his voice when he senses your nervousness...
you’re a little ball of conflicting feelings, half nerves and half head-over-heels for this unknown man. again, you blink, unable to find your voice to respond
“you’re alright, just take it easy,” he tries to help you relax. “this your first time in a place like this?” all you can manage is a nod. he gives you an understanding smile, “that’s perfectly fine. i’m here to help. can you tell me what you’re looking for, sweetheart?”
your eyes glance quickly back at the wall of toys in front of you before returning to him. he must see the increasing humiliation on your face. “u-um…” you’re finally able to stutter, “i-i don’t… i’m not… i guess i'm…”
he’s so patient and attentive it’s only making the butterflies in your tummy worse 😭 “not sure where to start?” he finishes for you. when you nod, he hums thoughtfully, “that’s okay, honey. do you have anything already that you like? is this for you to use on your own?"
you grit your teeth, nodding through the waves of embarrassment. “d-don’t have anything, sir. looking for something to start out with”
“i see,” he nods, looking over the selection on the wall before the two of you. “a bullet is a great beginner toy. simple, quiet, different levels of intensity to fit your needs. do you like clitoral stimulation?”
you have to fight yourself to keep from rubbing your thighs together right then and there 😩 something about the way he’s talking you through everything is sooo 🥲🥲 a feeling of dread hits as you realize you’re already getting wet
you force out a nod. he looks at a few options before picking out a small, discreet box. offering it to you, he explains, “this one’s my favorite. it’s nice and smooth, hard to hurt yourself with. rechargeable, medical-grade silicon. six levels of intensity. and the pink matches your nails,” he says sweetly, nodding at the shiny polish on the tips of your fingers
you clumsily accept the box, looking it over briefly. “there are instructions on the inside. the internet can be helpful too,” he suggests. the burning in your tummy worsens as he sees right through you, sniffing your complete innocence and inexperience with ease
“o-okay. this looks good. thank you,” you agree
“of course,” he nods with a sheepish smile. “once you get comfortable with that, we can work you up to something more sophisticated” you never implied that you’d be returning to him, but now that he’s said it, you know you couldn’t refuse. “and if you have any trouble, you can always come see me. i got a room in the back, we can take some time and find what works for you”
i might have to write that follow-up visit someday this is making me 🫠🫠
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angellayercake · 5 months ago
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RITE HERE RITE NOW RANT
Where were the other Papas??⁉️? It isn't right that they had a combined thirty seconds of screen time!! 😡😡 If it wasn't for them Then copua wouldn't even this opportunity would he?🚫?
ANd to make it worse🤬 it was lonG‼️So there should have been more time.to. honour papas of the past🙌 but I have already made this point. I had to go to the BATHROOM🚽two times 2️⃣ because it was so long. also who wants tolook at him that long anyway👹
why??????❓❔⁉️ does he get so many outfits! Designer outfits twenty of the same jackets in different colours??🔵🔴🟡⚫🟢 some papas just wore their robes(boring) and some papas were forced to have their shirts sewn into their jackets with very improper tailoring just because ""if you INsist on white gloves that need To be changed every day we have to cut costs elsewhere👿"* but cooia gets two robes ANS everything else???
Papa Iii is much more handsome 🧛and would look much better in the hd4k surroundsound big screen then HIM SO papa iiI deserves a film more and they should bring jim back just to show everyone this😏 and go show the people what its like to see songs sang. Properly!!! you have not been ciriced until you have been ciriced by papa 3💜💜💟 or so I have heard snyway...
YHE ONLY THING that is good is that it accurately shows what a rude SELFish self absorbed man this cOPis is(although the old man deserves no respect 👍🏻👍🏻) just tonight he ate the last cannoli without offering to aNYONE!!! ELSE‼️‼️ SO this i do think the film does right
BUT....
The door slams open and he almost drops his phone in surprise. He was sat where he had been sat all evening, collapsed into this chair in the clergy commons after his disappointing dinner, thinking. His expression soured even further now it seemed another one of his brothers was here to ruin his day.
"Are you reading reviews of the movie again, frattelino?" Secondo asks, squinting at him across the dark room. "There is steam coming from your ears."
"I am not reading them no," he smirks a little, pushing the glasses he usually pretends not to need up his nose before continuing to tap away at his phone with his pointer finger. Secondo flicks on the light switch disrupting him once again with the blinding light so he shoots him a quick glare before resuming his somewhat frantic yet stilted typing.
"I do not like that look," he accuses, pointing at him as he crosses the room. "What are you doing then?" He circles the armchair in which Terzo is slouched, leaning around to look at the screen over his shoulder.
"None of your business," he pulls the phone to his chest to hide the screen. "Why must you stick your big old nose where it is not wanted eh?"
"Let me see!" He tries to wriggle away from his brother's seeking hand, tustling each other like they used to when they were children. He almost slides free but his escape is thwarted but his stupidly large brothers hand clamping onto his shoulder and pulling away his phone with the other.
"Give that BACK!" He struggles out of the squishy chair pushing his glasses back up into his hair so he can glare uninterrupted at his brother who is now scrolling through his review, shaking his head and tutting like a stupid old chicken.
"Terzo this isn't very nice," he says it so patronisingly he has to resist stamping his foot in frustration. Why should he be nice! He never got a moment like this and if he had he knows he would have done more, done better. And shouldn't Secondo be mad too?
"I stand by what I said," he huffs crossing his arms indignantly. "Aren't you annoyed? That we barely got a mention? Just that we were dead?"
"Well I would say I got about twenty of the thirty seconds we were on screen so how can I complain?" He expects the typical reaction he usually gets when he teases his brother but when Terzo instead, visibly deflates before flopping back into his chair he realises this might be a bit deeper than he thought.
"Terzo, come now, what is really the matter?" He moves to perch on the arm of the chair, handing him back his phone. When he doesn't respond straight away he reaches over to mess with his brother's habitually pristine hair, ruffling it into a birdnest as he used to before whenever Terzo got in his head and needed a distraction.
"Ay!" He shouts batting at his hand but at least he is glaring at him again instead of pouting dejectedly.
"I am happy for Copia, I suppose," he starts hesitantly smoothing his hair back into place. "It's just, we all worked hard too, and yes we may have not been as successful but without us to lay the ground work whose to say he would be 'rite here, rite now'." He waves his hands around, air quoting the title of the film dramatically.
"You are not wrong frattelino," he pauses before continuing trying to decide how to best console him. "But that is not what this story is about. It is about truly experiencing the moment you are in now, and not letting the times of the past or the what ifs of the future ruin it." His shoulders drop with a sigh so he wraps an arm around him squeezing him firmly.
"I just never got to..." He trails off but they both know what he was about to say.
"I know," he squeezes him again. "And none of that makes what they did to you right but that is in the past. People still love us no? We still have many praising us and screaming our names no matter what Copia does. We all have a place. Ours was over there, back then but who knows what the future will bring?" He stops when he sees his brother finally perking up.
"You are right I suppose," he shoots him a sideways glance. "This time at least." He picks up his phone and repositions his glasses on his nose. "I better delete all this then" He starts to tap away at the screen but Secondo stills his hand.
"I didn't say that," He says with a smirk. "You should add one about how his wig looks terrible."
"But Copia doesn't wear a... Oh!" They are far too old for this, Secondo thinks as they giggle like children coming up with more and more ridiculous complaints about the film. But right here, right now, he doesn't care.
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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 25 days ago
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Hold it.
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Pairing: Joel Miller x AFAB!reader
Words count: 1384
Rating: +18, absolutely NSFW and please mind the tags
Warnings/tags: pi$$ kink, masturbation (f receiving), reader has breasts and vagina, no other description of her is given, bad at feelings Joel and kinda soft!dom if you squint, kissing, dirty talk, smut without plot, this is just something entirely written with my cunt so you’re warned lol, it came out totally unplanned, I’m ovulating and I’m feral🔥 and it’s October so I thought it was the right time of the year to experiment a little bit heheheh it’s not heavy but it’s something *cough* I could do it again if it works.
Please just skip it if this is not your kind of thing.
No beta reader, barely edited, English is not my first language so please, be patient with me. I hope it makes sense and that you’ll enjoy, my dirty little friends with similar kinks as mine 😏
Thank you very much to anyone who read this!
You and Joel are lying on the bed kissing. You don't know how much time has passed, it could be an hour or five minutes, when you're with him the clock doesn't exist and besides, you end up feeling like you can't get enough of him. You've been seeing each other casually for a while, no one brings up the question of "what are we" not even you, too scared of losing him.
You just take what he gives, eager and willing to have him rolling in your bed with you.
Tasting his mouth, intertwining your tongue with his, salivas mixing, teeth touching, lips biting and the best sex you've ever had, you don't care about anything else.
“I’ll be right back,” you tell him breathlessly. You start to get up, but he pulls you by the arm. “No, stay.”
“Mmm I have to go to the bathroom.”
“No, you don’t, come back here,” and he wraps his arms around you completely, bringing you back to his chest.
“Joel, I have to pee,” you whine.
“Hold it,” he tells you in a firm voice.
“I can’t! We've been kissing for hours, I need to do it and I’ll be there again in 30 seconds, let me go” you plead, looking at him with the best angelic look you can pull off.
“It could be fun…” he suggests and your jaw instantly drops “What? Wet myself?”
“Uhm…let’s take it one step at a time, miss”
You're surprised that he's engaged you in such an intimate conversation, he usually says a few words, grunts, kisses you like crazy, fucks you like an animal and is out the door before you can ask how his day was.
“Woah, so we’re starting sharing fantasies here?” you smirk “I like that”
He nods “why not” with a slight smile “let's spice it up a bit”
You bury your face in his chest, giggling, “Mmm ok, mister kinky, tell me what you have in mind.”
“Just hold it” he gently orders.
“I’ll try”
“Good girl. So now…are you wet?”
“Yes,” you coo, “Of course.”
You see a spark in his gaze, “Does your clit know how wet you are?”
You laugh, “I think so.”
“I don’t think she knows enough, let me feel her”
He lowers a hand to your panties and you’re grateful that you have nothing on but those and your bra, you couldn't move further to take off more clothes without feeling the urge to pee.
You stay still in his arms as he maneuvers his way past the hem of your panties.
He looks at you ferally, while his fingers get wet “mmm baby, we can do better. Just hold it for me and let me work”
He lies down on the bed, bare chest, in his boxers, and pulls you on top of him “come here”
“Won't I weigh on you?” you ask confused as to what he wants to do.
You've lost both contact with his eyes and fingers and he's holding you on top of him by your hips as if you weigh nothing.
“Don’t be ridiculous” he chuckles “just trust me, I’m sure you’ll like it”
Your bladder is full, it’s starting to bother you, but you can’t say no to him.
However, the situation now intrigues you, you want to try whatever he has in mind.
So you stay there, like a puppet leaning against his body and wait, hungry for him.
He’s big enough to make you feel tiny and it’s such a turn on.
His fingers return inside your panties and you immediately moan at the contact.
They are thick, a little calloused, deliciously scratchy on your clit.
“Here we go, baby, you’re good?” he asks you while caressing you with circular movements and then gathering your cream up to your bundle of nerves.
“Yes” you moan.
He continues this until he feels your clit hardening, then he places two fingers in a V shape resting on your outer lips, just jerking off your clit like that.
“Fuck, it feels so good” you breathe
“Yeah, I know, you’re all nice and drippy now. You’re still holding your pee like a perfect girl for me right?”
You whine, you can’t do anything else.
His lips roam your neck, licking and kissing everything he can.
His other hand kneads your breast, taking a nipple between his fingers and gently tugging. This new stimulation is almost too much to bear.
He dips his fingers between your folds, on either side of your clit, and moves them up and down, wetting them completely with your juices.
He suddenly takes them away and you cry at the loss.
He brings them to your mouth and orders “taste yourself” and you obediently let his fingers enter your mouth up to the knuckles, licking them greedily. “You like it, huh? You taste good, baby, I know”
“Did you leave some for me?” he asks before putting them in his mouth and grunts “just enough” he hum “Now let’s get back to business, I’m not done yet with your pretty cunt”
He starts rubbing your clit in circles again, faster than before, almost frantically and you feel delirious at this point, you’re not sure how much longer you can take his teasing “Fuck- I can’t”
“Yes, you can, baby, keep holding it”
The hand that was on your breasts moves down to your belly, he press there and release “Do you feel it?” A tingling sensation radiates to your pussy, as he repeats again and again, presses and releases.
A gentle, steady strain on your bladder, as he continues to stimulate your clit.
“Answer me, hun, can you feel it?”
You whimper a chocked yes.
“Is it good?” he growls
“FUCK - yes. It’s so good - so good, Joel, please don’t stop”
He presses down a little more and releases, rubbing so hard on your bud you feel like you're losing your mind.
“Yeah, that’s my good girl, just sink in it”
You’re overwhelmed, you hadn’t the slightest idea that it would be so good to let him masturbate you while you hold your pee.
You can't explain exactly in words but the feeling of your bladder full, on the verge of letting go as he touches you like that makes you feel like you've never taken full care of your clit before.
You close your eyes, letting yourself go with that feeling as he urges you with his hoarse voice “yes, my perfect little slut, take some more” and presses even harder and releases, now in small repeated jumps on the bottom of your belly.
It doesn't hurt, it's just too much.
You come, writhing above him, a devastating orgasm taking over every cell of your body.
“Let it go now” and you whine “no, I can’t!”
“Give me something baby, let me feel it. Pee”
“I can’t! I can’t pee on you!” your voice breaks through your peak.
And then he whispers “please”
He never begged for anything before.
He just takes, gropes, licks and bites whatever he wants and you’re fine with that.
But now it’s different. He whimpers another “please” and you just do what he asks.
You pee.
All over him.
The warm liquid slips out of you while he's still rubbing you, wetting your thighs, sliding down his legs, soaking the sheets.
He growls loudly in your ear, breathing heavy, his hard cock pressing into your ass through his boxers and your panties.
You feel empty, physically and mentally, only surrounded by an electrifying warmth.
He pulls you off of him and hugs you, both of you soaked from the waist down.
He kisses your forehead and then your lips “thanks, babe. Did you like it?”
“I- yes.” you pause for a moment, trying to process your thoughts “it was weird. Pleasantly weird though”
“We don't have to do it again if you don’t want to, though.” he murmurs moving his lips to your jaw leaving a trail of kisses there.
It's like a new complicity has been created between you, now that you share this dirty little secret.
The edges of his bad temper seem to have been smoothed out, his voice is kind, almost tender.
You look up, smile mischievously at him and say, “Who says I don’t want more?”
Part 2
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runninriot · 3 months ago
Text
Damn You, Capitalism!
inspired by and written for @sidekick-hero , hope that helps getting through the day 🖤 because work sucks (i know!) - but eddie sucks harder 😏
1.231 words | cw: contains smut, nsfw, mdni
also on ao3
Steve has been drowning in work lately, it's a nightmare.
Eddie tries his best to support him, to make things as little stressful for him at home as it can possibly be.
He keeps the guitar unplugged when he's working on new music, to keep the noise at a minimum.
Always makes sure there's some meal ready for Steve to grab and microwave when and if he remembers to eat.
He reminds himself to do the dishes as soon as he's done with them because he knows how much Steve hates when the sink is full of dirty plates and forks and mugs.
Eddie even finally figured out how to use their new washing machine - he's not stupid, just lazy, and- why does that damn thing need so many buttons?
So, yeah. He's trying, really, because it breaks his heart every night when Steve comes home from work, looking one moment away from collapsing. Always tired, always moody, just- miserable.
Eddie wishes he could do more. Wishes he could take some of Steve's stress away, help him relax. Ease his mind just for a while.
And- look, he knows what would probably, most definitely help, that's not the thing. The problem is, Steve can barely even stay up long enough to kiss Eddie goodnight as soon as they're in bed. So any attempts of trying to have some one-on-one quality time with his husband aren't really up for debate right now.
Right?
Right.
He'll just have to wait for this massive project to be over and done with.
---
As Eddie crawls into bed shortly after Steve, he finds him quietly snoring, already fast asleep with his face mushed uncomfortably against his pillow.
Even in his sleep, he looks exhausted and it makes Eddie mad how much that job is demanding of Steve.
He pictures himself in front of the corporate building that holds his husband's soul captive, angrily stomping up and down the pavement while waving a sign that reads Damn You, Capitalism! and the thought makes him laugh.
He realises too late that he's been making an awful lot of noise, instantly shuts himself up with a hand over his mouth when Steve stirs awake and looks at him through bleary eyes.
   "Is everything okay?"
Steve sounds knackered (he learned that word from his British co-worker) and Eddie hates himself for ripping him out of his well-deserved sleep.
   "I'm sorry, baby. Everything's good. I didn't mean to wake you up. Just go back to sleep, okay? I'll see you in the morning."
Eddie leans down to kiss his forehead before he turns off the light and lays down next to him, trying to be as still as he can to let Steve drift off peacefully again.
But the damage is already done. Even without looking he can sense that Steve has trouble falling back asleep and it’s confirmed by the heavy sigh Steve lets out.
   "Can you-" His voice flitters quietly through the room, "Can you suck my dick?”
    Oookay, what?
Eddie can’t help but snort at those words.
Steve must be dreaming. Maybe he did fall back asleep after all.
   “I’m being serious, Eds!” Steve sounds almost offended.
He then rolls to the side and even in the dark, Eddie can see his big eyes staring straight at him.
So, not sleeping, then.
   “Babe, are you sure? I’m just asking because- well, we haven’t done anything for weeks and I miss it. God, do I miss it. But you’ve been completely out of it not even 5 minutes ago and-“
What the hell is he even going on about?
His perfect, beautiful husband wants him to suck him off. Why the fuck is he still babbling instead of using his mouth to do exactly that?
   “I just think it’d help me sleep?”
Steve uses that honeysweet voice of his, the one he knows Eddie can never say no to, the one he always uses to get what he wants. And- like, what is Eddie if not a very devoted, very helpful, very loving husband that would quite literally do anything for his man?
---
Steve’s boxers are gone as quickly as the blanket before Eddie makes himself comfortable between his husband’s spread legs.
It’s almost embarrassing how much he’s already drooling just thinking about the perfect weight of Steve’s glorious cock on his tongue but- excuse him for not keeping his excitement in check when he’s literally been suffering from Steve-withdrawal for weeks now!
Still, he tries to take his time, not wanting it to be over too quickly. He can hear in Steve’s pleading moans that he won’t last long, can taste Steve’s desperation in each drop of precum that hits his tongue as he licks the tip.
It’s heaven.
It’s so good Eddie wants to cry.
    Fuck, he missed this. Missed the familiar stretch of his lips when he takes Steve in, the familiar sound of Steve’s husky voice, the scent of freshly showered skin, the feeling of sinking deeper and deeper on his lover’s cock as he swallows him down like he’s starving for it.
His hips can’t seem to keep still, wiggling and rubbing against the sheets where his own cock is searching for friction. But his focus is on Steve, he can take care of himself later. This is just for the beautiful man that is the light of his life – he deserves it. Deserves to be worshipped like the divine creature he is.
   “Ed- Eddie, oh God! Oh fuck!”
Steve’s words spur him on. He finds the perfect rhythm, uses one hand to pump Steve’s cock while his tongue curls around the tip. His other hand strokes the sensitive skin on his inner thigh, dragging his nails up and down, knowing too well that it drives Steve just a little insane.
   “Babe, I’m- I- fuck! Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop. I’m so close!”
Eddie wouldn’t dream of it.
Not when it makes him so happy to hear and taste and feel his husband slowly falling to pieces. When, with every staggering breath, Steve crawls a little closer to the edge.
Until finally, Eddie is rewarded with a mouthful of Steve’s love; a sweet gift, despite the bitter taste, he swallows with pride, not wasting a single drop of it, taking it all in.
Beneath him, Steve’s trembling through his orgasm, legs shaking and breath uneven. He stops Eddie with a hand in his hair, tugging just lightly to make him look up.
   “Com’ere, baby. Wanna kiss you.”
A little reluctantly, Eddie leaves the perfect place between Steve’s thighs and crawls on top of him to comply.
They kiss slow and soft, no hurry, just their lips finding each other in the dark with gentle pressure.
   “Love you so much, baby,” Eddie whispers against Steve’s lips as he feels his movements slow down.
And as he kisses his way from Steve’s mouth to his cheek, to the tip of his nose, his closed lids and his forehead, Steve’s breathing eases into a steady, calm rhythm.
He’s asleep again, hopefully dreaming of beautiful things as he sinks deeper into Eddie’s embrace, lets his husband's warmth envelope him where they’re lying side by side.
Steve deserves it.
Because tomorrow, he has to fight his way through the constricting clutches of capitalism again.
Man, capitalism really sucks.
But, Eddie laughs to himself, he can suck harder.
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theostrophywife · 1 year ago
Note
Hey! I love your work! I was wondering if you could do a Azriel x reader fic where reader doesn’t know a lot about males and so az (maybe he already has a thing for reader) offers to give her lessons? The more NSFW the better 😉
innocence.
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author's note: sorry for being m.i.a. please accept this as my apology gift. largely inspired by this song. you can't tell me that az doesn't have the biggest corrpution kink 😏
it started out innocently enough.
one winter evening after a particularly rowdy wine night, you and azriel laid in a heap at the house of wind, giggling at nothing as the warmth of the alcohol lowered your inhibitions and loosened your lips.
"never?" azriel asked incredulously, his brows creasing in the most adorable way. "you've truly never kissed anyone?"
you pouted, crossing your arms. thanks to cassian and his big mouth, the shadowsinger now knew the true extent of your naivete. growing up in the high priestess's temple in the dawn court, you had devoted much of your life to duty and training, which left little to no room for encounters with the opposite sex.
it never bothered you before. until you moved to the night court and met the shadowsinger. azriel was beyond gorgeous and smart and funny and probably well-versed in the art of seduction, which is more than you could say for your inexperienced self.
"don't tease, az." you groaned, covering your face behind your hands. as if that would hide the flush spreading through your cheeks. "i'm already mortified enough as it is."
"hey," azriel said softly as he gently grabbed your wrists. "it's nothing to be embarrassed about, love."
"you're just saying that to be nice."
the shadowsinger shook his head. "i torture people for a living," he deadpanned. "i am not nice."
you chuckled, which brought a smile to azriel's handsome face. "besides, practice makes perfect. i've seen you go from not knowing how to hold a sword to perfecting the eight point attack in a matter of weeks. kissing should be a piece of cake compared to that."
"kissing and fighting aren't the same thing."
azriel smirked. "it is, if you're doing it right. all it takes is a good teacher." the tips of your ears reddened. “and we all know how fast of a learner you are.”
you snorted. "somehow i doubt that nesta would be into the idea of letting me borrow her mate for lessons." a little frown formed on your face. "or maybe she would. you never know with those two."
the idea formed in azriel's mind before he could think better of it. the shadowsinger hated that he thought of it in the first place, but fuck. you were both a little tipsy and a tiny bit reckless and he'd been crushing on you for far too long and maybe tonight was the night he finally did something about it.
"i could teach you."
you stilled. “what?”
azriel shrugged and put on his most nonchalant expression even though his inner monologue was currently pure turmoil. “i could teach you how to kiss.” he cleared his throat, lowering his gaze to yours. “it might help to practice with someone you’re comfortable with.”
you cocked your head, weighing his words. “you’re…actually serious about this.”
“why wouldn’t i be?”
“well, wouldn’t it make things weird? you’re my best friend. best friends don’t just kiss.”
you had him there. azriel certainly had never offered this unique service to any of his friends before. “i don’t think it’s weird. i think it makes perfect sense. in fact, it’s weird that we’re not kissing right now. best friends kiss all the time,” the shadowsinger deadpanned.
you snorted. “so you and cassian are just having heated little makeout sessions behind me and nesta’s back?”
azriel winked. “i won’t tell if you don’t.”
that earned an earnest little giggle out of you. then you were quiet again, lost in the pros and cons.
pro: you really wanted to kiss azriel.
con: you really wanted to kiss azriel.
what if you were horrible at it? what if you had bad breath? what if you accidentally bit him? what if azriel figured out that you had a pathetic little crush on him and he doesn’t return the feelings and your friendship implodes then you’d have to move back to the dawn court and adopt a bunch of cats just like thesan always teased you about when you were children—
“you’re spiraling.”
you crossed your arms. “am not.”
azriel rolled his eyes fondly. “i can practically see the steam coming out of your ears.” his expression softened as he turned over on the couch, his chin perched in one hand. “you don’t have to if you don’t want to. i just…” the bob of an adam’s apple. “i just wanted your first kiss to be with someone who genuinely cares about you.”
that turned your insides into mush. “oh.”
the shadowsinger’s cheeks reddened. “never mind, it sounds silly now that i’ve said it out loud.”
“it’s not,” you said, sitting cross legged on the sofa. “it’s not stupid, az. it’s really sweet, actually.”
your heart hammered inside of your chest as you faced azriel. his hazel eyes glowed golden under the faelights and a warm flush colored his cheeks a rosy tone. from this close, you could make out the constellations of freckles that kissed his nose and cheeks, its traitorous little trail stopping just above his cupid’s bow. you couldn’t help it. your gaze went straight to his lips. they looked soft, sensual, and perfectly kissable. you wondered if he’d taste like sweet wine.
“y/n?” azriel murmured softly.
“hmm?”
“you’re staring.”
your cheeks reddened and a slight smirk tugged at the corner of azriel’s mouth. “you’re the one who brought up kissing,” you countered, raising a brow. “now i can’t stop staring at your stupid lips.”
the shadowsinger’s smirk grew wider. “my stupid lips,” he repeated. “that you want to kiss.”
“no,” you blurted. azriel raised a knowing brow. “yes. maybe.” you shifted awkwardly. “what if i’m terrible at it? what if i accidentally miss? what if i don’t know where to put my hands? oh my gods, what if i accidentally bite you?”
to his credit, there wasn’t an ounce of judgement on azriel’s face. he’d witnessed your outbursts enough times that he wasn’t even fazed by it. the shadowsinger grabbed your hand and traced soothing circles over your knuckles. “one, no one’s first kiss is great. at best, it’s weird and awkward because you’re just trying to figure it out. that’s kind of the point. two, you won’t miss. just follow my lead. three, the neck or waist are generally safe spots to place your hands.” azriel demonstrated by wrapping your arms around his neck. “lastly, i don’t mind if you bite me. in fact, i might enjoy it.” he gave you a cheeky wink that helped dissipate the rest of your anxious worries.
you chuckled softly. leave it to azriel to make you laugh mid freak out. the shadowsinger smiled and cauldron fucking boil you, the sight of it pretty much sealed your fate.
“so,” you murmured, toying with the loose curls at the nape of azriel’s neck. “what now?”
“that’s entirely up to you, love.”
you blinked. once, twice. the smell of cedar and starkissed night. freckles and rosy cheeks. warm, golden eyes that melted your insides like honey. scarred hands that caressed the side of your face with heartbreaking gentleness.
“kiss me, azriel.”
the shadowsinger did not need to be told twice. he tilted your chin, brushing his nose against yours for a brief moment. azriel took a deep breath like he was savoring the moment, like his entire life had been leading up to this. then he kissed you.
his lips were as soft as freshly plucked rose petals and as sweet as the wine that still coated your tongue. they pressed against yours, gentle and exploring as azriel cupped your cheek. you leaned into him and your fingers found purchase in his silky, dark locks as azriel deepened the kiss. his arm snaked across your back as he pulled you into his lap, his mouth never once leaving yours. the sweet innocent pecks did not stay innocent for long.
the shadowsinger groaned as you nestled into him. there wasn’t an inch of your body that wasn’t pressed against him, but still you wanted more. your hands moves of their own accord and slipped underneath azriel’s cream sweater. his skin felt like a warm summer day despite the fact that it was currently the dead of winter.
“fuck,” azriel growled into your neck.
you pulled away, startled. it didn’t even occur to you that your fingers were as cold as icicles. “shit. sorry, az i didn’t think—“
you slipped your hands out of his sweater, but azriel caught you by the wrist. “no,” he grunted, his voice dark and low and dangerous. “no, don’t stop.”
it was the hottest thing you’ve ever heard in your entire life. even hotter still with the way azriel tugged you to him as though he’d rather die than have you stop touching him. you greedily obliged, taking the lead this time. azriel cursed under his breath as you kissed him again, tangling his curls between your fingers. there was something intoxicating about him—his taste, his touch, his kiss. you couldn’t get enough.
when you finally came up for breath, the shadowsinger looked at you as though he’d been starving for centuries and you’d only really begun to scratch the surface of his hunger. azriel wanted to devour you.
but tonight, he’d settle for a kiss. except, it was anything but.
azriel was fucked.
he blinked, drinking in your lust added gaze and flushed cheeks. you brought your bottom lip between your teeth and it was all he could do to reel himself in. “are…are all first kisses like that?” your voice was hoarse from disuse and utterly sexy.
“no,” azriel answered honestly. “i’ve never had a kiss like that.”
your grin brought out a set of dimples that azriel had long ago deemed as his greatest weaknesses. “and i’ve never had a first kiss, period.”
and you never will again, azriel thought. not if he could help it.
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“does that feel good, love?” azriel asked as he pressed a kiss against your collar bone.
you whimpered as his lips trailed between the valley of your breasts. since that first kiss, you and azriel hadn’t been able to keep your hands off of each other. over the last few weeks, the apprehension you felt about your inexperience slowly started to feel like a blessing in disguise. azriel said you were a fast learner, but only because he was such a great teacher.
“gods,” you breathed, clutching the sheets as azriel continued his descent.
“you can just call me az, you know.”
you rolled your eyes at the cheeky male below you. from this angle, he certainly looked like a god. his hair was a tousled mess, dark curls tangled from where you ran your fingers through it. sweat dripped down his shirtless torso, his golden brown skin glowing in the afternoon light. you were vaguely aware that the sun as setting over the horizon, which meant that the rest of your friends would be arriving for dinner, but neither one of you seemed to care.
during the past few weeks, you and azriel continued your lessons. first base was easy enough to master. the two of you put in plenty of hours sneaking off to make out in azriel’s room, the wine cellar, the training pits, and even in feyre’s art studio at the river house once when things really got desperate. it was a wonder that your friends hadn’t caught you yet. there had been several close calls with cassian. mostly because the male was a nosy busybody.
second base took a little more work. you were terrified at first. you and azriel had been making out in your bed for what seemed like hours before you finally mustered up the courage to slip your hand into his trousers. the shadowsinger made a sound that was half growl and half purr and for a split second you were afraid that you’d hurt him. when you voiced your fears, azriel was quick to reassure you.
“i’m not in pain, love.” azriel said, his voice strained and breathy. “trust me, i feel the complete opposite.”
“tell me how to make you feel good, az.”
the string of curse words that fell from his lips were so filthy that it made you blush. the shadowsinger guided your hand over his cock and you nearly gasped at the impressive length. azriel was hot and hard beneath your touch, his wings flexing as you grasped him in your hand.
“loosen your grip, love.” azriel adjusted your hand, motioning for your fingers to relax and mold against him. you mimicked his movement, eliciting a low rumble out of the shadowsinger. the competitive part of you awakened, eager to make azriel groan like that again. you gazed up at azriel through your lashes with determination. “gods, don’t look at me like that y/n or this lesson will be over before it’s even started.”
heat erupted in your core, but you shook the desire away. this was about azriel. you wanted to make him come undone for once instead of the other way around. “show me, az.” you said. “i want to see how you touch yourself.”
“cauldron boil me,” azriel muttered under his breath. “you’re going to be the death of me, y/n.”
you watched as he gripped himself and pumped at a steady pace. he slowed down the movements for you and you studied each flick of his wrist as though you’d be tested on it later. as sinful as it was, there was something heavenly about watching azriel stroke himself. your hands itched to touch him. once you felt confident enough, azriel let you take over.
azriel’s eyes rolled back as you pumped his shaft, carefully watching the rise and fall of his chest. his heavy breathing filled the room and it quickly became your favorite sound in the world.
you felt a strange rush of power witnessing azriel in such a vulnerable state. his lids were heavy with lust, golden eyes barely visible from the ring of onyx swallowing up his irises. you thought he looked pretty like this, his head tilted back against your headboard while his lips parted to release a shallow breath every now and then.
"you have no idea how good that feels, love." azriel grunted. you tightened your grip, spreading the bead of precum over his tip. your little improvisation was met with a moan that seeped into your bones.
"how good, az?" you teased.
those long lashes of his kissed the tops of his cheeks as his eyes fluttered close. "fucking amazing," azriel declared. "keep going, love. don't stop, please. gods—"
"you can just call me y/n, you know."
azriel growled in response before pulling you in for a heated kiss. his hips thrust up to match your pace as his tongue parted your lips. he swallowed your moans, devouring you like his life depended on it.
“just like that, love.” azriel said in appreciation. “you’re doing such a good job, y/n.”
the praise affected you more than you thought it would. you were always seeking positive feedback when it came to your work, especially in training, but this was something else. it only encouraged you to keep going at a faster pace until azriel was coming undone in your hands. the sight of him losing control would forever be etched in your mind.
the more azriel gave, the more you craved. not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. the whole thing may have started as a practical way to tackle sex, but as time went on, it started to evolve into something else entirely.
until the lessons weren’t really just lessons anymore.
if you had to pinpoint the moment when everything changed, it would have been a few days after winter solstice. azriel had been away for a mission and was unable to make it home for the festivities. throughout the night, you kept finding yourself fidgeting and glancing at the empty seat beside you. at one point during dinner, cassian squeezed your hand and smiled sadly.
“i’m sure he misses you too, y/n.”
the gravity of those words hit you full force when you found azriel standing in the doorway of your flat. he was still dressed in his combat leathers and dark circles formed underneath his eyes as though he’d flown nonstop from wherever he was to get back home. before you could stop yourself, you rushed at him and nearly knocked him into the street from the force of your hug.
“i know, love.” azriel murmured softly into your hair. “i missed you, too.”
one bath and two cups of hot chocolate later, you found yourself curled up on the sofa as snow fell softly against the windowpane. you set your drink down on the table and turned to face azriel.
“so, i was thinking…”
the corner of azriel’s mouth quirked. “that’s never good.”
you tossed a pillow at him and rolled your eyes. “i was thinking that maybe it’s my turn to teach you a lesson, for once.”
the shadowsinger looked intrigued by that. “oh yeah? and what do you want to teach me, love?”
“i’m going to teach you how to sleep, az.” you pointedly stared at his bruised eyes, which only made him chuckle in amusement. “because judging from those bags underneath your eyes, you’re no expert in the matter.”
“i don’t get a say in this, do i?” shadows peered over his shoulders as though they too yearned for rest.
“nope,” you said cheerfully, dragging him off the couch and into your bedroom.
azriel let you bully him into getting underneath the covers. he tucked his wings to the side as he faced you. “what’s so great about this thing you call sleep, then? seems pretty boring to me.”
“well if you’d let me demonstrate,” you said impatiently before tugging him towards you. azriel chuckled and scooted closer. “i’ll have you know i’m a world class cuddler.”
“yeah? prove it then, love.” azriel teased.
the shadowsinger watched in amusement as you bossed him around. first you made him lie on his stomach and then pulled him to your chest. as much as he enjoyed teasing the absolute hell out of you, he couldn’t help but murmur in satisfaction as he rested his head in the crook of your neck. even his shadows seemed to enjoy bathing in your warmth and breathing in your jasmine shampoo.
“mmm,” az mumbled sleepily. for the first time in gods knew how long, he felt warm and safe and content. “you’re bossy as hell, but comfy too.”
“i know, you stubborn giant bat baby.”
the shadowsinger snorted. “giant bat baby?”
you rolled your eyes fondly. “shut up and cuddle, az.”
azriel burrowed himself further until his body heat warmed every inch of your skin. “that’s the good stuff,” he declared, brushing a soft kiss against your collarbone.
“told you i was good,” you said with a smile. azriel couldn’t even argue. with your hands massaging his scalp and your legs intertwined with his, the shadowsinger would’ve agree to anything you said.
“the best,” he hummed against your skin.
this was dangerous territory. with your other lessons, it was easy to shove aside your feelings because pleasure made it hard to think about anything else. but with azriel laying on your chest and clinging onto you like this meant something more…you could no longer avoid that pesky voice of doubt.
you were in love with azriel.
you had been for a long time.
shit.
“y/n?” azriel asked, cutting through the turmoil of your thoughts. his wings draped over the sides of your bed, relaxed and at ease.
“yeah?”
his golden eyes found yours in the dark. for a second, he stared at you like he was trying to commit every detail to memory. the shadowsinger opened his mouth like he was going to say something important, but he gave a tiny shake of his head and smiled.
“good night, love.”
in that moment, you knew azriel had your heart in the palm of his hand. “good night, az.”
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azriel knew it was only a matter of time before these lessons came back to bite him on the ass.
he had been so eager that first night. mostly because he'd had a crush on you for so long and it was finally time to do something about it. the shadowsinger knew that he probably should've just told you how he felt, but he didn't want to shatter this delicate thing between you.
after all, these were just lessons. for all he knew, he was just your practice partner. it wasn't really all that different from sparring. except your weapons where your lips and your hands and your fucking smile that made his heart skip a beat every time you so much as grinned at him from across the room.
gods, he was so fucked.
the reality of it didn't fully hit him until that disastrous spring night.
the two of you had perfected third base eons ago. azriel knew how to make you cum with his mouth using a combination of expert tongue flicks and help from his shadows. nothing brought him joy like your shaking legs greedily wrapping around him as he ate your pussy like a man starved.
azriel thought he found the key to happiness until you returned the favor and went down on him.
finding restraint was hard. reeling his desire in while you knelt before him with your lips wrapped around his cock was nearly impossible.
"like this?" you asked, licking a stripe along the underside of his cock. azriel thought he was going to come right then and there when you looked up at him through your lashes, determination burning in your gaze.
you had always been intense. azriel knew that much from months of training together, but he didn't expect you to approach sex with the same competitiveness. you put your all into everything you did, which is what made azriel fall for you in the first place. he just didn't think you'd take the same approach when it came to sucking his dick. not that he was complaining.
in fact, all he could really do was moan.
the shadowsinger attempted to pull it together long enough to utter a coherent sentence. he had to at least attempt to say something helpful. you were putting your trust in him. he liked knowing that he'd been your first everything. now he just had to muster up the courage to tell you that he also intended to be the last.
he tried. he really did.
that night in his room. laying in bed with your legs tangled together. the soft spring breeze billowing through your curtains. azriel watched as you propped yourself up on your elbows and turned towards him.
"so, what now?" you asked.
azriel's brows furrowed with confusion. "what do you mean, love?"
you tilted your head, biting down on your bottom lip as you mulled over what to say next. it was one of your many little quirks that azriel adored. "i mean, what happens now? we've pretty much covered all the bases. except for one."
sex. you hadn't had sex yet. azriel knew this would come up sooner or later, but he had hoped it would be the latter. while it was easy to pretend that the lessons were just lessons to him, azriel couldn't do that with sex. it had always been hard for him to separate his feelings from the physical act and as much as he wanted to make sure that your first experience would be with someone who loved you, it wouldn't be fair to have sex without telling you the truth.
"i don't think that would be a good idea." as soon as the words left his mouth, azriel knew it was the wrong thing to say. he could tell that much from the look on your face. "i just mean, we shouldn't rush into anything."
"rush?" you asked incredulously. "azriel, we've spent the last three months doing anything and everything under the sun except sex."
"and it's been great," azriel said, trying to reel the conversation back in. "the lessons. trusting each other. but i just think you should take a step back and consider if you're truly ready."
that intense gaze he loved so much suddenly felt like the sweltering sun that azriel couldn't wait to shy away from. "you were my first kiss, az. my first everything. i think i've made it pretty clear on where i stand." you paused for a second, scanning his face. "oh my gods. i didn't even think to ask if you wanted this."
you were up before the absurdity of that statement could sink into azriel. if he wanted this? he'd never wanted anything more in his entire life.
"they were just lessons," you murmured to yourself while gathering your clothes. “how could i be so stupid?”
"y/n, please." azriel pleaded, not entirely believing what he was hearing. he nearly tripped over his own bedsheets as he followed you across the room.
“no, az. i’m sorry, i thought—“ your eyes brimmed with tears. the sight broke his fucking heart. “it’s not your fault. i just assumed—“
“that i’m in love with you?” azriel asked, gently gripping your wrists. you froze, wide eyes pinning azriel in place. “because i am, you know. i’ve been in love with you since the moment we met. this past few months, it’s killed me to pretend that whatever this is between us is just lessons.”
your gaze softened. “why didn’t you ever say anything?”
azriel chuckled bitterly. “because i’m a coward. i was scared that you might not feel the same way, so i settled for whatever scraps you were willing to give me.”
tears filled your eyes again and azriel was scared he’d fucked it up again, but you wiped your cheeks and cupped his face. “you deserve more than that, azriel.”
“i know, love.” he bowed his head. “and you deserve more than just lessons. that’s why i don’t want to have sex. not unless you know what this means to me. if we do this, there will be no one else. not today, not ever. i may be your first, but i also intend to be your last. if you’ll let me.”
a stray tear fell down your cheek, but it was a happy one this time. “if you haven’t noticed, i’m totally crazy about you, az. i think i’ve been in love with you longer than i wanted to admit.”
“can’t blame you,” the shadowsinger said. “i’m totally lovable.”
you smacked him in the chest, but azriel only laughed before he kissed you. really kissed you. it felt like you were floating on air.
gods, you loved him. you really did.
you smiled into the kiss. “i love you, az.”
the shadowsinger kissed the tip of your nose. “i love you too, y/n.”
“so…no more lessons, right?”
azriel shook his head and scooped you into his arms. “no more lessons. i want the real thing this time.”
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here2bbtstrash · 2 years ago
Text
sunday (explicit)
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genre: straight-up smut baybey, i did it y'all i wrote a pwp again
pairing: seokjin x reader
summary: you got your boyfriend exactly what he wanted for his birthday.
word count: 5k
contains: explicit sexual content~*~ say it with me: BRAT 👏 TAMER 👏 SEOKJIN 👏 established relationship, reader is uhhh 😬 Extremely bratty lmao, jin takes care of that, BDSM dynamics (mention of safewords and hand signals but neither are used!), reader gets spanked with a belt oop 🤭, fingering/a lil bit of eating it from the back, orgasm denial, big dick jin 😏, praise kink, mouth/throat fucking, a bit of breathplay, begging and apologizing, oh yeah she cries... like.... kind of a lot 🥲 there's a dacryphilia moment in there too (~*~add a little spice~*~), unprotected sex but they're in love it's fine, lots of subspace at the end, use of a vibrator, overstimulation, she comes.... idek how many times, and a smidge of aftercare 🫠 also i promise there's no food play, you'll get why the cake's there at the end ok lmao
A/N: a day late and a dollar short but hey that's my mental health rn 🫡 this was fun!!! always nice to dust off the ol' pwp muscles and frankly i've been itching to write proper BDSM for a bit now. sometimes you just wanna get the shit beat out of you lovingly and that's valid and sexy ya know. anyway feel free to silently skip this one if it's not for you!! and i know i'm gonna get a comment on it so 🙄 i used his korean age on purpose lmao 🙄 yes i can count and yes i know their system is changing~ ANYWAY i sincerely hope you enjoy babes and that you all had a lovely seokjin day 🥺 i loooove y'all !!! 💜
thank you to @haliiimede for beta reading and being my soulmate 🥺
read on AO3!
~*~
The slam of the front door tells you that your plan for today has worked perfectly.
Standing in front of the full length mirror in your bedroom, you adjust a final strap on your bralette, then quickly scramble to pull your clothes back on. You attempt to keep your expression innocent as you slip down the hallway to greet your boyfriend.
Before you can even make it, you hear the unmistakable pop of a wine bottle being uncorked, and you enter the kitchen just in time to see Seokjin leaning up against the counter with a glass of white in hand. He doesn’t look particularly pleased to see you.
“Hi baby,” you say, sweet as can be. “Can I have a glass?”
A muscle works in his jaw as he looks you over, and the expression on his face already has a flame licking in the pit of your stomach.
“That's all you have to say?” he finally answers.
You blink up at him, feigning ignorance. Your heartbeat has started to race behind your ribs, sensing imminent danger— the good kind.
“I haven't heard from you all day today,” he tries again.
You shrug. “I was still sleeping when you left this morning, and then, I don't know. I was doing things. Does it matter?” If Seokjin wasn’t already pissed, you know your last question will get him. You turn away to busy yourself with retrieving a wine glass so he can’t see the smile you’re trying to bite back.
The tone of his voice makes you freeze, glass in hand. “I don't recall saying you could have any.”
Your lower lip juts out automatically, and you do your best to steady your breathing without making it apparent. Even your voice comes out a little shaky. “But we always share.”
The silence in the kitchen feels deafening, punctuated by the soft tap of Seokjin setting his glass on the counter. You mirror him, swallowing hard as he steps in to close the distance between you. It never gets any less exciting to have him tower over you, big and broad-shouldered, tall enough that you have to look up through your lashes to meet his gaze. A dull ache starts to pulse between your legs.
“Do you know what today is?”
You lick your lips and try to speak. “Sunday?”
It’s like you barely get the word out before he’s gripping your jaw with one large hand, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat. Anticipation buzzes through your body, all the way down to your toes, as he forces your chin up.
“Anything else?” His voice sounds like a warning.
Your mouth pulls into a grin beneath his grasp, one you can’t quite manage to keep innocent. “Oh, Seokjin, is it your birthday? I knew I was forgetting something. Oops.”
“Fucking brat.”
All at once Seokjin locks an arm around your hips, and you let out a shrill squeak as your feet leave the floor entirely when he outright slings you over his shoulder. This is, of course, exactly what you’d hoped for, but you struggle a little in his grip nonetheless. All part of the fun.
You’d left the bedroom door cracked on your way out to greet him, and he takes the opportunity to kick it back open. A shiver runs up your spine at the sight, and then you hit the bed hard enough to knock the breath out of your lungs.
You push up onto your hands as you sit up, slightly dizzy.
“That hurt, Seokjin,” you whine, but you both know you don’t mean it. You have agreed-upon methods of telling him when he’s really hurting you in a way that doesn’t feel good: safewords, even hand signals for when you’re rendered non-verbal. Anything said that isn’t one of those is just you running your mouth on purpose, winding him up. Like now. “You’re being so dramatic.”
“And you’ve got a fucking attitude today,” he snaps. “Is this really how you want to do this? On my fucking birthday?”
You blink up at him with the same sweet smile. “What if I told you I got you a present?”
This seems to surprise him a little, and he pauses, like he doesn’t quite buy it. “A present, huh?”
“Mm-hmm.” You nod as you get to your feet. “Let me unwrap it for you.”
Taking your time with it, you peel off your sweatshirt and leggings to reveal the lingerie you pulled on as he was coming home. It’s a soft pink set with a floral design, thin straps, and romantic lace, and you happen to think it does wonders for your curves.
“What do you think?”
You can see the hungry gleam in Seokjin's eyes even as he scoffs, feigning disinterest. “Oh, this is my present? A disrespectful brat that I have to teach a lesson? I should rip this shit off.”
“Hey, this was expensive!” you snap, and he arches an eyebrow as if to give you a final chance to behave. It just makes you want to push him that much further.
You step closer, allowing a perfect line of sight to your tits that threaten to spill out of their confinements, and you soften your voice when you speak again. “What, you don’t forgive me, Seokjin?”
The corner of his mouth just barely ticks up. “You know the rules. Forgiveness is earned.”
He reaches a hand down to undo the buckle of his belt, and your nipples are suddenly painfully hard against the lace fabric. You can’t remember the last time he used his belt. Fuck, he’s really mad.
“Bend over.”
You huff a sigh as you drape yourself over the edge of the bed, and his hands are already on your ass. He makes a low noise of appreciation as his fingertips dig into your supple skin, pressing firm enough to make you wince. He's not being gentle, and you don’t want him to be.
Your eyes flutter closed in enjoyment of being manhandled like this, and you get so lost in it that it takes you a second to realize Seokjin has asked you a question. By then it’s already too late.
He gives a warning slap to your ass as he repeats himself. “I said, how old am I?”
You peek over your shoulder, wiggling your ass against the flat of his palm, only for him to smack you hard over your left cheek. You bite back a whimper, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.
“I don't know,” you lie, blinking up at him. “You’re so old now, it’s hard to remember.”
In one swift move, he yanks his belt out from around his waist, and you swallow hard as you watch him fold it over in his hands.
“Then why don’t you fucking count for me.”
The belt cracks down over your ass, and you flinch at the first real rush of pain. It takes you a second to regain focus, your brain still buzzing from the hit, and then his words come back to you.
“One.”
“So you are capable of listening, huh?”
Another hit, equally as hard on the other side, and you grit your teeth.
“Two.”
“Aw, where’d that smart mouth go? Not so chatty now?” Seokjin cracks the belt again, and you can barely get the word three out before four is being delivered just as harshly. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to breathe. He's really hitting hard tonight.
“Four,” you gasp, and you hear Seokjin exhale a dark laugh above you.
“Better toughen up, sweetheart. We’ve got a long way to go.” Another hit in the same spot, this one enough to really sting.
“Five.”
“You know, since I'm so old.”
The next blow he delivers is so hard, the word comes out as a cry of pain. “Six!”
You flatten your pelvis down against the sheets, as if in an attempt to hide from the beating, but there’s nowhere to go. The extra pressure makes you feel how hard your clit has started to throb from your punishment. You bury your face in the crook of your elbow, your hips jerking reflexively as you moan through seven, eight, nine.
Every muscle in your body seizes taut as you prepare for ten, trying to encourage yourself to breathe through it, though all you can get out right now are shallow gasps for air. I can take this, you tell yourself, I can take this.
But it doesn’t come. You’re pulled so tight you think you might snap, and you manage to lift your head up from your arms to look back at Seokjin.
“There she is,” he says, and the soft tone of his voice in no way influences how hard he brings the belt down over your ass.
“Ten!” you groan, and the sharp bite of pain over your already raw skin nearly brings tears to your eyes. And he’s not even halfway done.
It’s all you can do now to remember what number you’re on, especially as Seokjin continues to allow torturously long pauses between his hits. He'll wait just long enough that your heartbeat starts to slow, teasing the thin length of the belt up the backs of your thighs, sometimes even with a laugh.
But it’s not relief: the waiting keeps every inch of you on edge, all wound up with anticipation of the next dose of pain, so tense you’re not sure you’re breathing.
You’ve hardly choked out fourteen when you flinch at a brush of contact, the warm touch of skin where you were expecting the crack of leather. Letting your forehead drop against the bed, you pant like you’ve just run a marathon as Seokjin's hand moves over your abused flesh, groping and massaging as he did before. You can’t tell if it’s been minutes or hours since then, but his touch is grounding, calming, even when his fingers sink into your fresh bruises with enough force to make you whimper.
You can feel the way the seam of your panties sticks to your center now, and you can only imagine that they must be entirely soaked through, your slickness already starting to paint the crux of your thighs. With a soft whine of need, you spread your legs a little wider in search of anything but more pain.
“What do you think?” Seokjin's voice is dark when he speaks, thick with lust. The thought of him straining hard against his pants has you practically drooling on the mattress. You want nothing more than that cock stretching you open right now. “Starting to learn your lesson?”
As much as the rational part of you appreciates the check-in, you can’t ignore the new rush of rebellion that surges up at the question. What, does he think you need him to go easy? Does he think you’re not tough enough, that you can’t take everything he’s willing to give you?
You push up to look over your shoulder at him again, your jaw set firm. “No.”
Anger flashes over his face, but he can’t quite hide his smile. “Then I guess I can stop holding back.”
Shit, he was—? You don’t get the opportunity to finish that thought before the loop of his belt is whizzing through the air, and the impact it makes against your ass hits so hard, you momentarily see stars. “Fuck!”
“That's not a fucking number.”
“Fifteen,” you gasp, dropping limp against the bed like a ragdoll, breathless with relief that you didn’t lose track. “Fifteen.”
“The brat can count,” Seokjin remarks, and then he delivers sixteen just as hard and your whole body spasms from the pain as you choke out the number. “If only you knew how old I was, you might have some idea of how much longer I have to beat your ass.”
Your eyes are really starting to well up now, but you force yourself to keep breathing, to focus on his words. It might be coded to fit the scene, but it’s a clear reminder nonetheless: you’re more than halfway. You can do this.
By twenty, the tears have started to spill down your face, but Seokjin knows you well enough to know the scene doesn’t stop unless you call a safeword. He trusts you to know your own limits, and you do. But fuck, he can really test them sometimes. You’re dying for him to touch you, fuck you, do anything but keep fucking beating you. It’s taking everything in you to keep going, your feet kicking helplessly each time he brings the belt down over your tender backside. He hasn’t lightened the weight of his hits up even in the slightest. If anything, they’re only getting worse.
“Twenty-one,” you breathe. You only have ten hits left, and you’ve already gotten through ten hits twice now. You can do this.
“Twenty-two.” You tell yourself not to fight it.
“Twenty-three.” Just give into the pain.
“Twenty-four.” Submit.
Your shoulders heave with sobs as the twenty-fifth strike finally, finally breaks your last resolve. You press your face into the mattress; you’re crying so hard you can scarcely breathe. Even though your body keeps flinching with the reflexive animal reaction to try and get away from the pain, your mind has fully accepted your punishment, all the fight gone out of you.
It’s like someone else is counting for you now, so much so that you don’t even realize what number Seokjin is on until the words leave your mouth.
“Thirty-one.”
You hear the jingle and thud of the belt hitting the floor, and then his gentle hands are encouraging your legs to spread apart. The brush of his fingers over your aching core is sweet, overwhelming relief from the pain still coursing through your system. You’d think it’d be enough to make you cry, if you weren’t already.
“Good girl,” he says softly, and that small praise alone has you floating straight up to the ceiling.
His hands move quickly to pull your panties down and off, and you work to get your breathing back under control, letting your sobs dissolve into sniffling gulps. You whimper when his palms slip under your hips, encouraging you up onto your knees. Your body shivers all over as you try to hold yourself up, to be good, and then you feel Seokjin slip two fingers into your drenched center.
“Oh my god,” you groan as he starts to rub diligently at the ridges of your front wall, his free hand gripping your ass to spread you open. His touch in both places at once, pressing down on fresh swollen bruises and curling up into the sweetest part of you, it’s so good. It reminds you why you willingly give yourself over to this man, the one you love so much, the only one who can make you feel like this. You’re so turned on from the mix of pleasure and pain, you might be close to blacking out.
The bed creaks as he shifts a little, and then he replaces his fingers with his mouth, and you keen. You bury your sounds in the crook of your elbow as his tongue plunges into you, and he snakes a hand between your legs to rub slow circles over your clit. Your mind is reeling; you can barely manage to speak.
“S-Seokjin,” you gasp. “You’re g-gonna, ngh, gonna make me—”
He pulls off just enough to mutter, “You better fucking ask first.”
You swear he ups the intensity on purpose when his mouth returns to your pussy, as if to drag you that much closer to the edge. His thumb is working so perfectly at your clit, you can feel your thighs starting to shake as you writhe back against him. “Can I— can I please come, Seokjin? Pleaseplease, please?”
“No.”
His voice is firm, unbothered, and paired with the painful loss of his touch all at once. A strangled sob of frustration escapes you as you collapse against the bed, exhausted from holding yourself up and from your denied release.
“Not yet,” Seokjin continues. “Not until you’ve learned to be a little more obedient.”
His strong hand closes over your bicep, and he easily flips you over onto your back, causing you to hiss at the graze of your sore flesh against the sheets. Your lower lip trembles, your eyes threatening tears as you stare up at him, but you stay quiet.
“Be a good girl,” Seokjin says, dragging one finger up the column of your throat. You willingly tip your head back for him as a shiver rolls through you. “Let me fuck this smart mouth, then I’ll make you come as many times as you can handle. Okay?”
When you nod softly, he hauls you up to your feet. “Get on your knees.”
You do as he says, sitting back on your heels and watching as he works his pants and boxers down to free his cock. He’s thick and long, flushed dark and dripping hard. Big enough that you go slightly cross-eyed trying to take him in. Your cunt clenches desperately at his size, at how badly you need all of him inside you, bottoming out into you again and again.
But even moreso, you want to be good.
“Mouth open,” Seokjin instructs, and you comply, letting your tongue loll out for him as he tangles a hand in your hair.
He guides himself between your lips, and your eyes roll back at the weight of him on your tongue, the feeling of your jaw stretching open to fit him. He’s so fucking big, it’s uncomfortable, but you do your best to breathe around him and give into it.
Trying to hold still, hands placed sweetly on your thighs because you know he likes it that way, you blink up at Seokjin as he starts to thrust into your mouth. You can taste the salt of his precum as his length drags along your tongue, and you fight back the urge to gag when the tip of his cock nudges into the back wall of your throat. He groans softly as he rubs himself there, his grip on your hair tightening until the pain stings your scalp. Your eyes start to water as you try to keep yourself from choking.
“Fuck,” he hisses when he pulls out, saliva stringing in thick strands from your mouth to the head of his cock. He squeezes at the base of it, eyes glazed dark with lust, and you take in as much air as you can, the cool rush painful where your throat is sore from the stretch of him.
You sit up taller as if to ask for more.
Seokjin’s gaze meets yours as the hand on his cock guides it back toward you, but he doesn’t slip back into your mouth. His eyes are fixated hungrily on your face as he drags the head of his dick down over your bottom lip, teasing it around your mouth and along your cheeks, clearly enjoying that he can do whatever he wants with you.
Your pulse drums loudly in your ears as you sit there, mouth open, and take it. The whole lower half of your face must be slick with spit and precum now, given how easily he glides across your skin, and then you’re hit with the heavy thud of him smacking his cock once, twice, three times against your flat, willing tongue.
“Are you done being a brat now?” he prompts, and you can feel drool spilling down your chin as you nod, his cock still weighing heavy on your outstretched tongue. He slips it in a little further, just past the ring of your lips.
“Gonna be a good girl for me?”
A soft whine escapes around his girth filling your mouth. You nod again, desperate, and then he hits the back of your throat with enough force to make you gag noisily. Your body shudders beneath him, and you try to keep it together.
“Learned your fucking lesson?”
Tears start to sting at the corners of your eyes as he keeps sliding himself into your mouth, the head of his cock dipping down into the tight clutch of your throat, as far as he can go until your nose is flush with his abdomen. You can’t make another sound, your mouth crammed too full, but you do your best to nod even as you lose the ability to keep breathing.
Seokjin’s thumb brushes over the bulge in your throat, and you know what he wants. Tears slip down your cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut and swallow around him, and he rewards you with an unabashed moan that lights up everything inside you.
“That’s it. You look so good when you cry on my cock,” he rasps, his hand closing over your throat as you swallow again.
You can feel yourself starting to get light headed from lack of oxygen as more tears stream down your face, but the praise spurs you on. You want it too much, it makes you eager to please at any cost, despite the dizzying surge of adrenaline, despite the way your throat is spasming painfully now. You’ll pass out with his cock down your throat, if that’s what it takes.
He pulls out all at once, and the rush of air you heave in is like broken glass against your raw throat. You fall forward, your palms just barely catching you from landing directly onto your face, and you can’t do anything for a moment but breathe in ragged, shaky gasps. Tears are still welling up in your eyes, dripping down onto the carpet beneath you.
Your world tilts as Seokjin easily scoops you up in his arms just to drop you onto the bed, flat on your back. There’s still the dull ache of the bruises he beat into your ass, but it’s like someone’s turned the volume down on it. All your physical sensations seem distant, like they’re happening to someone else, even the dull ache thudding between your legs, a desperate desire to come that was only made worse by being used as your boyfriend’s fucktoy.
Your eyes flutter closed as his hands slip up your body to undo your lacy bralette and peel it off of you, and you don’t fight it.
“Hey, hey. Look at me.” Seokjin's voice pulls you back from the edge, and you fight to open your eyes again. He's hovering over you, fully stripped now, his brow creased slightly with concern. “Stay with me a little bit longer, okay?” His tone is still serious, and you sniff softly as you nod.
He slips a palm encouragingly under your thigh and you do the rest, so out of body that it’s like you weigh nothing at all as you pull your knees up to effectively bend yourself in half for him. He practically growls at the sight of you spread for him so willingly, presenting a cunt swollen with need, painted glossy with arousal.
You watch through heavy-lidded eyes as he kneels up on the bed, and then his thick cock is grinding over you, dragged right up your center. The feeling of finally being touched where you need it most has you exhaling a moan of relief.
“Is this what you want?” Seokjin's breath is hot on your neck and chased by the scrape of his teeth, earning another noise of pleasure from you. Your clit throbs as he rolls the head of his dick over it, up and down, slow teasing.
“Yes,” you manage to gasp. Your voice comes out a little broken from your scraped-up throat. “Yes, please. Please fuck me, please, want it so bad.”
“Which do you want more?”
You’re so gone, choking on whimpers and whines, that his hand closes over your throat to make you focus on the rest of his question. The look on his face is so dark, it sends a shiver down your spine.
“My dick, or my forgiveness?”
Tears spring to your eyes immediately as an overwhelming wave of emotions floods through you. There isn’t a doubt in your mind what your answer is, you don’t even have to pause to consider it. As badly as you want, need him to fuck you, the thought of Seokjin discarding you when he’s finished, still upset, not kissing every inch of your skin, not praising you for being so good… you can’t bear it.
“Your forgiveness,” you sob, doing your best to keep breathing despite his hand around your throat. “Please, please, please forgive me. I'm so sorry. I just wanna be good, wanna be good for you, I don't need anything else.”
You can see his face soften even through the tears that blur your vision. “There she is,” he murmurs, and then he tips his head down to brush his lips over yours. The warm touch of his mouth is all the reward you could ever ask for, and he sucks sweetly on your bottom lip before pulling back.
“Good answer, babygirl.”
Before you can even process what’s happening, he’s fucking the whole of his thick cock into you, and you can only keen as he stretches you wide enough to fit all of him. Your walls are immediately trembling tight to him from how edged close you’ve been all night.
“Thank you,” you moan, your head dropping back against the pillow. A gasp rips through you as he bottoms out, your spine arching when the crown of his cock presses firmly on your cervix. “Thank you, oh fuck.”
“Yeah,” Seokjin purrs, his mouth against your collarbone. You think he might be sucking a mark into your skin, but it’s already getting hard to tell what’s happening. “You always take it so well after I beat the brat out of you. Let go now, baby. You’ve earned it.”
You’re grateful for the permission, because you’re not sure you could stay tethered any longer if you tried. Not when he’s splitting you open, thrusting hard and deep because he knows you can take it, with a cock fat enough to light up every sweet spot in you at once. Your eyes roll back as you start to float, so out of it that you barely even notice a faint buzzing sound until you realize Seokjin is pressing your vibrator down against your swollen, aching clit.
Fuck, when did he even grab it off the nightstand?
You’re vaguely aware of someone moaning, but it doesn’t even feel like you. You’ve given up entirely to it now, a sweet surrender to this all-encompassing pleasure. It’s so good, too good, it slips you out of your mind and body alike, like he’s fucking your brain right out of your skull.
“That’s it, come on my cock,” Seokjin groans, and fuck, you are, you’re coming hard enough to drench his cock with every pulse of your needy cunt. “Such a good girl.”
He doesn't even pull the toy off to give you a moment of recovery, just keeps it nestled between your folds as he pounds into you. Your hips shudder violently as you coast out of your first climax and straight into another one.
It all starts to blur together now, wave after wave of orgasm washing over you until you’re drowning in it. You come and come and come until it feels like you’re melting into the bed, pinned through by this massive cock and the endless mind-numbing buzz on your clit. You can distantly tell that you’ve soaked a wet spot into the sheets beneath you, that your thighs and even the muscles of your ass are shaking from overstimulation.
“S-S-Seokjin.” It takes you three tries to get his name out, and you’re still not really sure if you said it until the toy switches off. The humming sensation is still reverberating through your body even in the absence of it, enough to make you tremble all over as he picks up the pace.
“Gonna fucking— fill you up,” Seokjin grunts, voice thick with effort, and then his cock twitches at the very back of you, buried deep as it can go, pulsing heavy as he paints you with rope after rope of his release. 
You’re still not here, not really, not when he pulls out with a heavy sigh, when the cum starts to drool down your legs, when he drops onto the mattress beside you and pulls you into him. It comes back to you in pieces: you’re shivering all over, breathing hard, your face is wet— fuck, when were you crying?
It takes you several moments to realize Seokjin is murmuring in your ear, that his fingers are carding through your hair, his breath ghosting over your skin. “Just breathe, baby. Did so well, it’s over now. You’re safe.”
As the post-scene comedown settles into your bones, you bury your face into his shoulder, trying to breathe through the myriad of emotions and chemicals flooding your system. He pulls the blanket up over your chest, and the warmth of it and his body help to gently bring you down from the high.
You don’t know how long you lay like that until you finally manage to squeak out a question. “Y-you’re not really mad, right?”
Seokjin laughs gently as he presses a kiss to your hairline. “No, baby. I know you didn’t really forget. The birthday cake in the fridge kinda gave it away.”
The words take a second to hit you, and then a dazed giggle bubbles up in your chest. It’s like you’re floating as you start to laugh, your face still pressed into Seokjin’s skin, and you can feel the rumble of him laughing too. It didn’t even occur to you that he would’ve seen the fucking cake when he grabbed himself a bottle of wine.
“Oh,” is all you can think to say, and you keep giggling as his lips move over the line of your jaw, trailing kisses.
“You’re cute when you’re trying to get punished,” he says softly. “It's part of why I love you. You’re my perfect little brat. And this was the perfect gift, seriously.”
A warm glow blooms in your chest at the praise, and you sigh happily as you curl up against his side. “Can we eat cake in bed?”
Seokjin leans down to brush his mouth over yours, sweetly adoring. “Anything you want.”
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harrystylesfan2686 · 10 months ago
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Alone Part 2 (Alternative Ending)
Pairing: Eris x Reader
Summary: Reader finally finds someone who cares for her but at what cost...
Warnings: Minor Mention of self harm
A/N: Surprise😏
Masterlist Part 1
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It has been three days since your last mission, the very mission that got you hurt and made you realize just how fucked your head is. Three days since you left the fight that left you with a big tear at your waist which will most definitely leave a scar.
It's half healed already, so is the cut you gave yourself but you didn't realize how deep you hurt yourself because it's left a thin white line that's fully healed but can be easily recognized.
You shift on your feet from where you're standing beside the rest of inner circle. You are at the high lords meeting, accompanying your High Lord and High Lady.
You keep moving your weight from one foot to another because the pressure keeps causing pain in your waist. You can't wait for this to be over.
When you get a chance to leave you take it, running of the the nearest restroom you can find. You take off your fight leathers to find out you bled through your bandaid. You rub your hands over your head trying to think of a way you can hide your injury from everyone.
"Well, what do we have here." A voice fills the room, one that you know oh so well. He always does this, annoy you or talk to you every chance he gets. You don't know why but you put up with him everytime too. You practically hear the smirk in his words as you complaint to the Mother for putting you in this situation right now.
"Go away, Eris." You hope for him to take the hint and leave you alone but you, too, know that it's too late considering you can clearly smell you blood in the room, and so can he.
He crosses the room in just a few strides and puts a hand on your shoulder, turning you around with surprising gentleness. He sees the blood on you shirt that's seeped out of your bandaid and intakes a sharp breath.
"Left up your shirt." You are taken a back at his order. Mouth opened agaped as you see anger swirling in his amber eyes.
"Excuse me?"
"Y/N, If you don't lift your shirt up in the next minute, I'm going to rip it off of you." He practically growls. Your eyes widen and he raises his eyebrows, daring you to question him.
After a minute of silence, he raises his hands to your shirt and you take a step back,"Alright! I'll do it!" His eyes narrow and you sigh, lifting you shirt for his to see the scarlet bandage.
"Who did this to you?" His hands clench into fists.
"No one. It's nothing." You sigh.
"Was it an enemy?" You shake your head. "Who was it?" You shut your mouth and look away. Eris' eyes widen in realisation. "Was it them?" He spits in anger. You look back at him and your lack of answer in enough for him.
"I'm going to kill them." His body radiates pury fury as he steps away from you and starts walking towards the bathroom door.
"Eris!" You run to step in front of him, blocking the door and putting your hands against his chest, gasping because of the movement causing sudden pain to your waist. Eris immediately wraps an arm around you waist and searches you for any other cause of pain.
"Are you crazy?" You exclaimed.
"No. I'm fucking angry that the people who are your apparent family, who are supposed to protect you, hurt you. And I intent on hurting them just as much."
"Eris, you're going to start a war! And that's not even the point. They didn't hurt me alright, at least not physically. I went on a mission a few days ago and got hurt, they had nothing to do with it. They don't even know I'm hurt, for gods' sake." But that doesn't seem to calm him.
"What do you mean they didn't hurt you physically? And how the hell do they not know you've been hurt since days?" It seems like his rage just amplifies.
"I just didn't tell them alright?"
"They should've checked you for injuries the second you came back from the mission and they didnt care enough to do that. And what kind mission leaves your entire waist fucking open?!" He puts a hand behind your neck.
"Why are you acting like this? Why do you care if they care?" You don't notice you close proximity because you are so shocked from the way he's reacting.
"Because I care about you!" You intake a sharp breath. "What?"
"I care. I care for you. I always have." He looks into your eyes with so much honesty that it leaves you speechless.
"I care for you so deeply. I always have, and I thought you would figure that out yourself because of the way I talk to you. Why do you think I only talk to you. Why take every chance I can have to hear to speak to me, to hear your voice, doesn't matter if you're bitter.
I take every chance I can get to have your attention because I care for you. I do not know why, but I do and im not ashamed of it. I know you don't care for me the same way but I don't care, I'll take every second of your time that you'll give me."
What are you hearing? Someone truly cares for you? This isn't true. It must be a joke. It has to be. This is no way that Eris Vanserra cares for you. He cares for no one. Everybody know that.
So then why are you believing him, believing his words, clinging to them for dear life. If this truly is a prank, if what he is saying wasnt true, you don't think you'll survive. You won't survive another Heartbreak. But something tells you that he isn't lying, that he is telling the truth, that he truly, genuinely cares for you. Something deep in your heart tells you that he might truly love you.
You gasp when you feel it. Feel everything click into place. Feel the second everything in you life finally makes sense.
"You feel it now, don't you?" His voice soft as a tug feels on your heart. Your breath heavy as you look at him in the eyes, feeling the thin golden string connecting your souls to one another.
"So leave them." He pleads.
"Why are you doing this, my love? Who are you doing this for? They don't care about you." His hand on your cheek, swiping back and forth softly while the other hugs your waist, pushing you flush against him. "I do. I care about you so much and I refuse to see you hurt yourself for people who don't value your existence." He puts his forehead to yours.
"Leave them, come with me to Autum Court and I will treat you like the queen you are. And even if you don't want to come with me it's alright, just leave them. Please." His voice cracks with your heart, taking a piece of it with him daring not to return. You don't want him to.
"Okay. I'll come with you." Tears fall down your face as his breaks into a smile. "Really?" His voice unsure.
"Yeah, I'll leave Valaris, leave them. I'll come with you." You smile genuinely after a long time and he sighs in relief.
His lips slam to yours and you both lose yourselves in the kiss. You smile into his lips, finally happy to have found someone who cares for you enough to threaten to go into war for you.
You finally found your person and you will never let him go.
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closets-closet · 7 months ago
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little thot 🙏😏
Price working in his office inside his house, typing away on his laptop (that reader had to show him how to use) when suddenly in comes reader through his door, pretty sundress on, and baby bouncing on her hip
Piece can’t believe how hard he’s lucked out, doesn’t know what he did to deserve this as he never once imagined this type of life for himself, seeing himself as unlovable, but he’s forever grateful for his wife, and their little bundle of life. So of course he pushes his rolling chair out from under his desk so his gorgeous wife can plop down on his lap, baby now in her arms
ur welcome 😘
I screamed when I read this, i’m not even joking. I love the idea of domestic John Price…
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John Price, your all so loving husband, a man who would very well steal the moon if it ment you would give him that smile that melts away any of his worries. It’s a leasurly saturday, one of the few days your husband is home from base spending a few weeks with you and your little daughter, who just so happens to be the light of his life. He has himself sat in his office laptop open looking at a mission brief file that is refusing to open. He sighs loudly catching your attention from the sunroom where your fixing up your daughter, and a picnic basket for a family day out. “John?” You call out, voice floating down the hall “Is everything okay?” You pick up your daughter sitting her on your hip as you walk down the hall towards the study.
The second you step into his office the sight of you melts the stress and frustration from his body. You’re decorated in a patterned sundress that hangs at your knees and a babbling baby girl bouncing on your hip, her hair pulled into two small pigtails at the top of her head. “What’s wrong honey?” You ask walking over to him. “Stupid computer won’t pull up the file I need” He huffs as he pushes out his chair one of his hands patting his lap, signaling you to take a seat “Don’t understand why everything’s digital now, miss the days we had physical papers”
“John you’re showing your age” You giggle before sitting down on his lap, the muscle in his legs acting like a cushion. “Look here” You say moving the mouse “If you right click the file, you can unzip it and that will give you access to all the files” You watch as all the files he needs populate before him on the screen. “Not that hard now was it” You smile again, the little girl who’s now on your lap giving her father a big grin. “Thank you Sunshine” He whispers as he presses his bearded face into your shoulder his hands wrapping around both you and your girl. “What would I do without you” He gives you a quick kiss to the side of your neck before pulling you up as he stands. “Now if i’m not mistaken, we have a little date planned out” He gives your daughter a wink, before swooping her up into his arms. Pulling her close to his chest causing her to squeal in pure joy. He reaches, his fingers intertwining with yours. His finger moving to brush over your wedding ring. “So greatful to have you” He whispers before pulling you out of the study, and whisking you away on your family day out.
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I’m still squealing over this prompt, because i know damn well his wife is at least 7-10 years younger then him and he would most certainly be a silver fox.
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coquettetoji · 1 year ago
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{⚡️} GETO SUGURU MOODBOARD
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★ geto suguru general hcs ★
— now how do i even begin with this fine ass man
— he’s 6’5, lean muscular with a mf 8 pack like those hawaiian rolls from costco, they’re so defined and just them + his pale skin is 😏
— towers over everyone, will do that arm next to your head leaning towards you against the wall type of thing just to get you acting up
— his hands are big, not huge but definitely really big, they’re bony and veiny but callous
— his ears are pierced on each side, he has a diamond stud on both ears. he also has a nose ring on the left nostril
— left handed mf, don’t ask why he just is **also wears silver rings, suguru isn’t a gold typa guy 🙁
— his voice is really smooth and deep, like it has a certain vibrato to it that just makes me wet go feral alongside everyone else
— genetically has perfect teeth, also has a tooth gem on one of his canines, his tongue is pierced too
— has a lot of tattoos, but they aren’t huge just small ones scattered throughout
— hair hair hair hair hair hair hair hair (it’s perfect) it’s jet black and wavy, pieces are always falling in-front of his face but it’s so hot
— only wears the color black, white, or any type of neutral tone color. you’ll probably never catch him dead in like a bright yellow shirt
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—onto personality, this boy literally has puppy mentality
— like he’ll act super big and tough but once he’s around people he’s comfortable with he just melts
— has a very sarcastic sense of humor, half the time people don’t even know if he’s joking or serious now
— gym rat alongside gojo, they’re designated workout buddies
— loves physical touch as a whole and is definitely a golden retriever type of guy even though he looks kinda scary and mean
— his favorite hobbies are cooking and drinking, as for cooking he’s cooking at like a culinary chef level it’s scary
— also loves street racing, kinda illegal but kinda fun 😏
— has a very high tolerance when it comes to drinking, will probably get a bit tipsy after 7 or more drunks
— drives a bmw with black exterior and red interior, it also has skylights he installed himself (he’s a car guy)
— he’s a big partier when it comes to drinking and smoking but is so chill about it, like he’s so calm while the rest of his friends are just screaming
— has super fast reflexes? and it’s really hot? like really really hot?
— honestly always on his phone bc he’s a tiktok guy, he doesn’t post thirst traps they’re in his drafts but he just finds the videos entertaining
— listens to a variety of music but his top choices have to be keshi, and brent faiyaz ** hes also an apple music user 🤢
— definitely has a flirty personality but is super shy but people flirt back to him, honestly a cute guy stuck in a fuck boy’s body is what i’m trying to say
— extremely respectful to his elders, will gladly help a grandma cross the street any day!
— in all, he’s definitely a 6/10 on fuck boy scale, he’s just such a sweet and respectful guy and we love him #INEEDYOUSOBADPLEASEGETO
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💌 new message from mica ‧₊˚✧
ive been procrastinating so much with posting i’m sorry to my 37 followers ( appreciate y’all ) 🙁🙏
the hair omfg 😫😫😫😫
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whateversawesome · 8 months ago
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About Twiyor, Damianya and Chapter 96
Let me start by saying that, I like both stories and that both ships are great precisely because they're so different:
Twiyor is a relationships between two adults. Is it developing slowly? Yes, of course. The slow-pacing of the relationship is what makes it so real. Here's why:
Entering a relationship as an adult, and I mean any kind of relationship (romantic, friendship, or even work relationship) can be tricky. Why? Well, adults have more experience, they've seen and gone through more things, the carry psychological issues, and, in some cases (like Twilight's) trauma. All this makes it difficult to open up and trust people. Twight's character arch is precisely about trust and vulnerability and that's one of the issues that pushes the story forward.
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So, even though I would love to see Twiyor kiss like in many fics, this will take time. Maybe it's not as obvious because there's not a lot of physical contact between them (yet 😏), but there's definitely progress in their relationship (more on that here and here).
The development of their relationship is so beautiful! Can you see it too? On one side, we have a man who lost everything and thinks of himself only as a tool for peace slowly regaining his humanity through love. On the other hand, we have an innocent woman turned into a weapon, who is slowly realizing she's much more than that, and getting to know herself while falling in love. Come on!!! You don't want to miss that!
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Even though it may take a while to get there, I think it's one of those things worth the wait.
Now Damianya in my opinion is about innocence and the development of a deep friendship.
Talking specifically about chapter 96, to me, it makes sense that Anya's secret slipped out. I don't think she consciously decided to tell Damian. I believe it just kind of slipped out because:
1.It's easier for kids to trust other kids and open up.
2. This is the second time Damian guessed her secret.
3. They are kindred spirits; they both were "abandoned" children (Anya while she was in the orphanage, Damian by his family) and they both seek the approval and love of their father.
4. She often uses her abilities in front of Damian and he pays enough attention to her to realize something is off.
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Let me ask you something: have you ever been forced to keep a secret?
Keeping a secret is a heavy burden, isn't it? Can you imagine a 5 year old carrying that kind of burden for so long? It doesn't help that Anya was returned to the orphanage by several different families. It's implied in the story that Anya used her telepathic abilities and the other families considered her too strange too keep her. This is the reason why Anya has kept quiet: she doesn't want to be abandoned again.
Still, it must be hard for her to carry that and to feel that people wouldn't accept her exactly for who she is if they knew about her secret. So, I'm happy she was able to tell someone. In some ways, her arch is similar to Twilight's: Anya is also learning it's okay for people to see her real self and trust they will still love her. I hope that in the future, Anya learns that she can trust her parents too and I think trusting someone else is a big step into that direction.
I know it will also take some time, but I can't wait for both stories (and all the stories) in sxf to merge into one. It'll be a very exciting time or everyone when that happens.
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vmbrq · 1 year ago
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(about your ovulation / ethan landry post)
YES PLEASE YES YES YES
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this is SO TMI but last night i was basically crawling up the walls with how horny i was for ethan landry, and i was so fucking confused. checked my app: i’m ovulating. makes sense.
BUT YES LIKE ethan wouldn’t understand why you’re so touchy all of a sudden, not that you’re not touchy but it was amped by like, 100. and then it dawns on him and he’s like “oh. 🤔 oh 🤭😏” like he has never seen you so feral for him before, and it turns him on so much to know you want him so bad. bonus points if you cry while you’re riding him because he feels so good and you’re so horny for him.
i’m dead died dead
i know it's been a minute since i made that post, BUT MY FEELINGS STILL STAND AND YOU'RE SO CORRECT. and whenever i'm ovulating, i feel like a werewolf chained to a tree during the full moon, so you're so real for that.
your behavior would be different--not intrusive or unwanted, just different.
but, he doesn't comment on it when you ambush him from behind while he's talking with chad, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face into his back to take a deep inhale of laundry detergent, aftershave, and something distinctly ethan. you'll take every available opportunity to have at least one hand somewhere on his body in public, whether you're casually rubbing your palm over his back or hooking an arm around his to keep him close or linking your pinky with his. you steal kisses off him whenever you can. you're more forward about wanting his attention, even if you don't always outright say it.
while he certainly isn't complaining, he just doesn't quite understand where the onslaught of affection came from. sure, you love him, and you very rarely shy away from demonstrating it, but this exceeds what he's used to. throughout the day, he remains blissfully unaware, never knowing that you're a solid four seconds away from popping the button on his jeans and taking what you need. the shifting of his jaw and the concentrated furrow of his brow as he works through difficult homework questions, the defined sculpt of his arms in short-sleeve button-down, the earnest adoration reflected in his big, dark eyes as he listened to you speak--everything about him just looked so good.
how could you be expected to keep yourself in line?
he would refrain from inquiring until you two are in the privacy of one of your rooms, not wanting to embarrass you or put you on the spot in front of other people. but even then, he doesn't get much of a chance, because as soon as he shrugs off his backpack and turns around, you pounce, nearly causing him to trip over his own feet as you push him back onto the bed and climb atop him.
he's surprised, rightfully so. but you kiss him, and he's more than willing to let you. but his hands flutter tentatively around your waist as he tries to ground himself and sort through his thoughts. it feels as if his world has been flipped upside down. he simply thought you were being affectionate. was he wrong? were you trying to signal to him and he just never noticed? is there something going on?
"hey," he interjects when you finally break the kiss. his chest rises and falls beneath your hands as he pulls for oxygen, the collar of his blue shirt rumpled from where you'd drawn him closer, his eyes dazed and searching yours for an explanation. "hey, are you--are we..?" you shouldn't mistake his pause for rejection, he just wants to understand. he's rarely seen you this desperate for him before.
and when he finally does? when you, just as disheveled and breathless as he is, whine that you need him--that you need him so fucking badly, all it takes is a couple moments of consideration before he realizes what's happening with you. he swallows as the pieces of the situation click into place. fuck. you're ovulating. suddenly, your earlier behavior makes sense. your desire for his attention, your craving for touch, your insistence on being pressed as close as possible to him on the subway back to your apartment--you must have been feeling the full weight of its effects all day. and now that you have him beyond the view of the public eye, you can't wait any longer.
a hushed, broken moan of his name as you impatiently grind down on him is all that's needed to stir into creation a fire in the pit of his stomach. you want him--no, you need him. you need him. he can already feel his cock beginning to stiffen against your thigh, and the tip of his tongue flickers over his bottom lip. his gaze scans your expression once more, and his breathing grows shallower when he finally identifies that distinct glimmer in your eyes as sheer desperation and need.
at this point, he's certain nothing will be able to deter him from having you.
"how badly?" he pants. it's paired with a slight, teasing upturn of the corners of his lips, just testing the waters to see how you'll react. to see how deeply your desire runs.
he gets his answer when you, in a fit of irritation at his lack of urgency, draw him into another searing kiss that he returns in full. he gets his answer when you swat his hands away from your waist when he attempts to ease you down on his cock, your own pace much more reckless as you sink down on him without giving either of you a moment to adjust. he gets his answer when you pin his wrists down to the mattress, using them as leverage while you fuck yourself stupid on his cock. you treat him as if he were nothing but a toy for you to maneuver and utilize for your own pleasure, relentlessly pursuing orgasm after orgasm even as your thighs tremble and tears of bliss pool along your lash line.
for a moment, he wonders if you're too drunk on pleasure to speak properly. but your hands move from his wrists to his strong shoulders, and you dig your nails into his skin as you begin to babble mindlessly. "feels s' good. more, i ne--i can't--" you hiccup, a single teardrop slicing through the layer of perspiration blanketing your cheek. "need you to cum," you mumble. "want it inside."
"you sure?" he pants, eyes wide. "we've never--"
"ethan!" you complain petulantly.
shit. his hands, now freed and granted permission, move to grip your waist firmly. a squeal is punched from your throat when he meets your descent with a sharp, upward thrust of his hips, burying himself as deep inside you as possible.
he grins. fine by him.
261 notes · View notes
sunofpandora · 2 months ago
Text
 V I R A G O                   
Chapter 5
Honey, you’re familiar.
Neteyam x fem!omaticaya!reader
𝓭𝓮𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓵𝓼/𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼/𝓼𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹i𝓼
»»———–➤»»———–➤»»———WARNINGS:
Mentions of dick sucking and eating pussy???? IT'S A JOKE GUYS I SWEAR JUST READ AND YOU'LL UNDERSTAND GIVE ME A CHANCE!! 
Anxiety/mentions of hunger/mentions of not eating/ heights/ sex jokes/murder jokes?? Neteyam has like, one dirty thought?
Synopsis:  Y/n and Lo’ak spend some time together at the lake, and return to the omatikaya to join the sullys for the communal clan meal. Jake and y/n have a heart to heart.
Extra characters:
Kyuna: Omaticaya clan member
Popiti: Omaticaya child, Tuk’s best friend according to the visual dictionary.
Authors note:
HI GUYS! Did you miss me?? It’s okay to say no 😭. I’m in such a good mood guys and you won’t believe why 😏 and because I am in such a good mood, I have decided to give you guys some fluffy  sully family feels before the next chapter, where neteyam and Y/n will start their training! As just a reminder, please remember to go back and read chapter 3 (all 3 parts if you can) bc I have a feeling that not a ton of people have.
VERY IMPORTANT!!
This chapter is what I call a direct chapter. This means that the events in this chapter are happening on the same day as the ones in chapter 4 (found on my masterlist.). Ik it’s been awhile so pls feel free to refresh your memory
»»———–➤»»———–➤»»———»»———–➤»»———–➤»»———»»———–➤»
 “Damn that thing is huge.”
“…”
“So big and juicy looking…”
“……”
“I can’t wait to have that thing inside of me…mmm….my mouth is just watering thinking about it.”
“Lo’ak. Shut the fuck up.”
Lo’ak cackled, shoving you playfully.
“C’mon sis you know I play around.”
You huffed, trying to keep up being unamused with his sexual innuendos. 
“Lo’ak it’s not funny.”
“Yes it is.”
You thwacked him with your tail, hissing at him lowly, making him shut up immediately.
“You know for someone who complained about neteyam moaning into a fruit, you talk a lot of shit.”
Lo’ak shrugged.
“Is it so wrong to admire a fruit for its nice curves??”
It was inevitable that Lo’ak would bother you like this while you tried to focus. It wasn’t anything new. And while you were practicing the art of perpetual kindness, the occasional sex joke from Lo’ak deserved a whack of your tail, did it not?
You huffed, dropping your shoulders and letting your stance slip. You had been out in the woods with Lo’ak for the last 2 hours. Just exploring and enjoying conversation and gossip as usual, your bow slung around your torso and a few arrows, sharpened and freshly fletched at the ready in case of trouble.
It wasn’t trouble you were trying to shoot right now, luckily. Your current target was the fresh bunch of fruits that glistened under the canopy’s kisses of sunlight leaking through the foliage.
Lo’ak shifted on his feet.
“I could just shimmy up there and cut them down at the stem.”
You rolled your eyes, fondly recalling how about 5 minutes ago he tried that and fell on his ass…7 times.
“No, Lo’ak. I don’t want you injured. We’re doing it my way now.”
You raised your arm again, placing your arrow against the string of your bow, carefully constructing your once slipping stance to its previous position.
You took a breath, widening yourself at the proper angle, the sweet sound of the stretch your bowstring was a gentle satisfaction. You felt your nose twitch as the fletching of the arrows brush your nostrils.
You can feel Lo’ak’s eyes on you. Tracing the way your muscles tensed and stretched, enamored by your skill. It seemed as if everyone was. 
To be honest, it would have felt weird if it was anyone else other than Lo’ak.
You finally released, watching the arrow fly up and into the tree, the sound of the vine snapping as the arrow pierced straight through the stem that hung the fruits by the bunch to the branch resonated through the moistened air.
The fruits fell with a thud, you let out a satisfied sigh.
“There we go.”
You hummed, handing Lo’ak your bow as you squatted to swing the fruits over your shoulder.
Lo’ak was quiet for a moment. Just staring at your weapon as you stood to your feet.
“What? What’s wrong?”
You queried, stepping over the few stones to stand with him.
He shrugged, a smile allowing itself to sink upon his features.
“Nothing. I just feel like I should be more formal. I’m in the presence of our clan’s mighty archer.”
You rolled your eyes, pushing him as you started to walk down the path you came.
“Shut up.”
“No im serious. I should’ve done my hair or fixed up my outfit-“
“You’re not funny.”
“My mom says I’m funny.”
He puts his hands on his hips, chin high as if his existence was the height of humanity’s greatest accomplishments.
“Yourn mom also tells Tuk that babies come from flowers. So she’s extremely reliable, it seems.”
Lo’ak gasped frantically, dramatically tumbling over his steps and clutching his chest as if he’s entering cardiac arrest.
“You fiend of a woman! How dare you speak to me with such a tounge!?”
“Oh suck my dick Lo’ak.”
“Eat me out y/n!”
Lo’ak leaned against a tree, posing seductively. Spreading his legs and falling his hands around to gesture to his loins.
You covered your mouth and nose, gagging for effect. 
“Put it away Lo’ak, phew, I KNOW it stinks up in there.”
“It smells delectable.”
“Mo’at had a heart attack scare last time she washed your loincloth. I wouldn’t count on it.”
Lo’ak flipped you off.
You both couldn’t restrain yourselves from the ugly cackles that erupt from your throat.
Your laughter weaving floridly around the forest before soaking into the late afternoons sunrays. The sky blushed it’s shadowed hues into breathtaking. It was at this time when the sun settled its intensity and ceased staining the world with its harsh tones, when the night crept behind a curtain of clouds.
Lo’ak and you continued to wonder around, Lo’ak carrying the fruit in the woven satchel bag that hung by it’s strap over his shoulder, your hands remained free, feeling the diminutive weight of the bow on your back, reaching out every now and then to swing on a branch or hurl yourself over a log.
“So, question for you.”
Lo’ak started, throwing himself over a rock to land on the patch of moss.
“Uh huh.”
“If we were to go swimming right now, would we be late going back to high camp?”
You think for a moment.
“Not if we make it quick. Try not to lose your loincloth in the rapids again.”
You snickered, recalling the incident during a fishing trip that your fathers took you on when you were both 12,
Jogging off before he could pull your tail or pinch your ankle or grab your leg or something obnoxious
“For fucks sake, will you ever let that go!?”
A boisterous laugh leaves you as you doubled over against a tree.
“No. It’s so funny.”
“Shut the fuck up. Listen-“
“I’m listening!”
“No you’re not, you're laughing!”
Another cackle leaves you. You wave a hand around, as if to rid the air of your own facetiousness.
“Okay— okay. I’m done. I’m done laughing. I promise.”
The wheezing endnotes of your breathless words betray you, and another fit of laughter leaves you. Lo’ak joins, and your chest starts to ache with the amount of breath that presses through your fits of giggles.
Lo’ak swings an arm around your shoulder throwing you both of balance, as if your steps weren’t already unparalleled and uncoordinated.
“No because- how did you lose your fucking loincloth—“
You rasped, your eyes squeezing shut.
Sounds that you’re almost 89% sure resemble some animal dying leave you and Lo’ak in sync.
And all the shit you’ve been through the last few days seem to just melt away when you’re laughing with your best friend so hard you can’t breathe.
After a few minutes, the chorus of chortles and raspy sentences cease. 
“Oh eywa. You’re a fucking idiot.”
You sigh, shoving him lightly.
“So are you. We’re a package deal.”
He pushes you before sprinting towards the river.
“Lo’ak! Fuck— wait up.”
Lo’ak’s smile was different from Neteyam’s. Neteyam’s was full of warmth and sunlight. Saturn’s rings sulking in a lightning storm of gold gilded gardens. 
Lo’ak’s smile was made of healing boyish hearts and oddly shaped persuasion. Flames and rings of smoke that radiated its warmth beneath incandescent skin. Rattling notes of wooden beads clinking together and a fragile temperament.
He throws himself in the water with a running start, an accented yelp echoed like a final chord striking before a late curtain call of a sunset evening’s songs.
Your laugh is loud, it shakes your body as his head emerges from the water.
“Come on. Don’t be a wuss.”
You took a breath, diving in the water.
You felt your body slicing through the surface, the air around you revisions itself into a 
You enjoyed swimming. And you were actually really good at it. There was something about being in the water that was so soothing, sirenic sensations that seemed to lift the world into light.
Your vision consolidated, surrendering to the soft undercurrents that brushed along your skin.
You motioned your arms and legs forward, propelling yourself through the water. You swiftly raised your head above the water, feeling the surface break as you retreated for air.
As the film of aqua haze vanishes back to the thickened victorious viridescent shades  painted the jungle. The light leaked through the canopy, reigning a rutilant warm glow, burned by the late afternoon sun.
Lo’ak’s silhouette blackens, shadowed by the thick line of fire that forms itself into the shape of sunlight.
“You’re crazy good at that.”
“At what?”
“Swimming.”
 Your mother and father were traders.  
Well, really, your father was.
Your father’s family were the representatives for your clan while traveling and trading for years. 
His family had an almost nomadic lifestyle and spent much of their time away from hometree and the clan. The olo’eyktan of the clan at the time, Lo’ak’s grandfather, followed the tradition of leaders many years before him of entrusting your father’s family to be the ones to travel by ikran away from home in seasonal patterns to trade resources and gather new information to report and bring back to the clan. Its a system that has been in place for many years.
As a child, you occasionally traveled with your parents. Visiting the planes where the tipani resided, and even the beaches under the cliffs where the tayrangi dwelled. When you were little, you loved to swim in the oceans with the other tayrangi children. 
You shrugged. Rubbing the back of your neck, your braids strung loosely about behind you, some  some swaying across the surface of the water and other sinking against your back. 
“My parents took me when they traveled east a lot. Remember? I guess I’ve built up some swimming skills.”
Lo’ak nodded, glancing down at the water before flicking his gaze back towards you.
“Do you think you’ll do it?”
“Do what?”
“Travel. Like your parents did.”
You think for a moment. Letting the silence settle. There was a time, where you and Lo’ak were dumb and 12 years old would stay up past dark quietly sneaking around the clan to steal some snacks and climb the yovo fruit trees that surrounded your village, the one you lived in before high camp. You would whisper about your plans for the future. How one day, you both would pack up your ikran saddles and fly off to a far away land, explore and travel the uncharted territories of Pandora together, and return when the journey ended on your own terms.
“Maybe.”
You hummed, thinking of how possibilities place themselves into puzzle pieces so quickly with time.
He nods, paddling around.
“Remember when we were kids? And we always talked about running away? Convincing my dad to bring back our old trading systems? Just going wherever we wanted? No nagging, no worries, just a bullshit-free life.”
You splashed your face with some water, the refreshing coolness washes down your neck.
“Should we really leave the clan like that?”
Lo’ak snorted.
“Please. I think they’ll be fine. The trade needed to be brought back anyways. There are resources we could use and it’s good to strengthen our connections with the other clans and blah blah blah.”
You couldn’t argue with that.
He swam to you, his expression statued a seriousness that was almost unfamiliar to his usual demeanor. 
“But I want to be real for a moment. I don’t want to be stuck here forever. You hear what Norm and max say. Pandora is huge. It’s too big for us to just stay in the forest for the rest of our lives.”
You frowned, a heaviness blanketed your heart that you couldn't quite name.
“Your family will miss you.”
Lo’ak laughed, but it was thin and forced, almost bitter.
“No. I don’t think they would.”
You shook your head, knowing that wasn’t true.
“Lo’ak. They love you.”
“My siblings and you may love me. But I don’t think the great Toruk Makto always likes me.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe he does like you, and that hes just afraid of loosing you?? Because you are so much like him, so much of a mirror into his own youth, he knows the mistakes he made.”
Lo’ak was quiet for a moment. His voice was softer this time, this tell-tale of a familial tragedy that unconditionally refused to acknowledge one’s individuality. Where Jake and Lo’ak walked the thin line of being a mirror that refused reflection, a window that showed you what you prayed you would never see. History’s cruel rhyme schemes never surprised you. Not anymore. 
The hoarseness in his voice edged his tone, you could tell he was disassociating from the conversation.  
“That has nothing to do with me.”
“I think he’s still learning to make peace with that. You never really grow out of growing.”
Silence settled between you before it was shattered by the heavy sweep of water that crashes onto your face.
You cough up some of the water, slapping Lo’ak’s shoulder.
“What the fuck was that for?!”
“Stop being so fucking smart.”
He whined, dunking his head under water.
You rolled your eyes. Yanking him up by his forearm. 
“Lo’ak, I’m serious.”
He glared.
“And I’m not in the mood.”
“Your dad doesn’t hate you. He just-“
“I never said he hates me. I said he doesn’t like me. You don’t have to like someone in order to love them.”
“That’s not— Lo’ak I’m sure-“
“Y/n.”
That was your cue to close the curtain on that conversation. It pained you to know that Lo’ak thought like that. But you knew he would open up. Eventually.
Your mouth tapped shut. Your lips pressing into a thin line. 
He sighed, running his hands down his face roughly.
“I’m sorry. I didn't mean to snap. Not at you. It’s just-“
“It’s okay, Lo. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
And of course, what kind of awkwardness couldn’t be avoided with a change of topic??
You swam next to him, splashing him playfully.
“I’ll tell you what. Let’s wait a few weeks, we’ll pull together something to present to jake. We can meet with him and discuss if he’ll let us travel and revive the trade.”
In all, it wasn’t a bad idea. Which was rare for Lo’ak. The least you could do was give him the opportunity. 
He smiled at you. And before you could say anything, he whooped wildly like a child, his elbow thrown around your neck, forcing you to wade abruptly closer.
“Aye! Y/n! I knew you could come around. We’re going to be such badass travelers.”
You chuckled, patting his back.
“As if I would say no to you.”
“If you did I might have to spit in your food.”
He announces proudly, floating on his back.
You gag.
“You’re disgusting.”
“I’m distinguished.”
He corrects, reaching out his arms and moving them slowly in a paddle motion.
☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ ⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊ ⋆⁺ ‏𖦹  ₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ 
Water was forgiving. Maybe that’s why you felt so familiar with it.
You haven’t felt forgiven for a lot of things in your life. Not now, anyways.
Underwater was where the sun’s warmth didn’t feel so harsh. You never had trouble discerning the safety and the solitude of land. 
You took a breath before submerging yourself under the 
The vault of the sky caves around its azure dome as light bent and broadened across the surface, stretching the sunset into a  henotic harmony. 
You dived deeper. Your arms pushed you forward, like wings guiding a bird through the skies.
The opaque world of glass rests under the world. The shadows of the depths are drunken words spreading orisons that seem like obstinate Orphics. 
mazarine whispers, and cyan and cerulean sing. 
Your thoughts seem to retreat to the uninhibited corners of your mind as you remain nantant.
Nothing could reach you here.
Well, maybe Lo’ak’s bitchy screeching.
“Y/n! Dude! Come on!”
He yanks you out of the water, his arm uncomfortably clamped around your waist like a child trying to retrieve a toy by fishing it out of water blindly.
You sputtered out the water that rushed to your face with the unexpected motion, so lost in your haze of serenity you barely heard Lo’ak the first time.
You coughed, squirming as he threw you into the plush riverbank grass.
“Shit! Sorry!”
He patted- well more like slapped your back roughly to try and aid your recovery.
“Sorry, sorry. You just weren’t coming up for air. I called your name like 10 times.”
You whacked him with your tail, and he hissed and held the spot on his arm.
“I don’t like being manhandled.”
You rasped, clearing the water from your throat.
“Dude who the fuck cares! My dad will handle us into a ditch if we’re not back in time!” 
Shit.
₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ 
“Keep going!”
You yelled over your shoulder, scrambling over branches and through the brush. 
You jumped over a rock, slinging yourself up a step with a vine, looping around to check on Lo’ak, who was halfway seen sprinting to catch up with you.
“Shit! My bow-!”
“Don’t worry! I grabbed it back at the lake!”
He calls back to you.
“Just keep going!”
You nodded, nearly tripping as you sprang forward once again.
You raised two fingers to your lips, pressing air as the shriek of a whistle left you.
The flap of wings you heard wasn’t that far away.
You stopped at when you reached a cleaning, turning around to see Lo’ak skid to a stop.
Kailo landed infront of you both, you Quickly mounted him, throwing your bow in the holster on the side of the saddle.
“Hey buddy.”
Lo’ak cooed in a rushed manner, quickly giving him a few pats before hopping on behind you. You reached back, pulling him up. He wrapped an arm around your neck, hiking up his legs.
“Comfy?”
You asked, turning around to meet Lo’ak’s eyes. He was out of breath, chest heaving.
“Uh huh— SHIT.”
You took off before he could answer, gently digging your heels into the sides of the saddle, pulling the strapped reign as Kailo took off.
Lo’ak tightened his hold using his elbow around your neck, his upright headlock was no unfamiliarity whenever you gave him rides.
But this is Lo’ak we’re talking about. Of course he got comfortable quickly.
There was a comfort to flying with Lo’ak.
It made you feel like a little kid again. Carrying eachother around on your backs, playing games and doing stupid things for stupid reasons because there was a time where being stupid was fun and okay.
And maybe, with Lo’ak, being stupid wasn’t so bad.
You banked left, diving through the center of an arched mountain over the forest. Lo’ak cheered and whooped, throwing his hands up, before cursing and holding onto you again after realizing he almost lost his balance.
His palm roughly cupped your shoulder as he sat himself up a bit higher, looking out onto the world below.
You climb a lift of air before directing Kailo to drop, a straight dive down the waterfall. Once you leveled out again, you and Lo’ak both leaned to the side, letting your fingertips skim the surface of the lake below.
You were never carelesss or reckless with Kailo. He was one of the fastest ikran your clan had ever seen, plus he was larger than most average ikran. That was no excuse to go flying so fast you fling yourself off the saddle.
But occasionally, you let yourself go.
“Please please please go faster!”
Lo’ak yelled, his volume competing wit. The wind.
“What? No. Any faster and we’ll crash into something.”
“Please!?”
Eh, why not? He’s had a rough couple of days. So have you.
You dived down again, grinning as you joined Lo’ak in his wild bouts of yelling.
But the fun didn’t last forever. Ahead, high camp came into view.
₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ 
You could feel Lo’ak’s hand shaking slightly as you both touched down through the large entrance crevice of high camp.
“Dad’s gonna kill us.”
Lo’ak groaned, sliding off the saddle behind you, petting Kailo a few times.
“Just relax and let me do the talking.”
You shook your head, giving his shoulder a small squeeze.
“It’ll be okay, I promise.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know everything.”
“Where the hell have you crotch stains been!?”
And you sure as hell knew who that voice belonged to.
Lo’ak jumped a bit, turning to see Jake barging himself towards you both.
“Fuck.”
Lo’ak muttered under his breath. So quietly he might not have said it all.
He hung his head, a few of his braids swinging over his shoulders, he shifted uncomfortably on his feet, only glancing up once to look at you.
A few heads turned, some na’vi bearing witness to the spectacle of their olo’eyktan yelling at his kids.
And boy, he did not look happy.
Lo’ak puts both hands up, something you’ve noticed Neteyam do when Jake got heated like this. As if trying to calm a raging animal from attacking.
“Dad, I know this looks bad.”
“I would be concerned if you thought this didn’t ‘look bad’, Lo’ak.”
Jake bit back, his taller figure looming over his son.
Lo’ak bit his lip, his fingers twitch as his fingers dangle at his sides.
“You disobeyed me.”
The space between his brow wrinkles offensively.
“How did I disobey you?”
“I asked you, I asked ALL of your siblings this morning to let y/n rest and i found out you two go off on a joyride!?”
“Slow down Jake or you’ll have a heart attack.”
You sigh, stepping forward until your gaze is paralleled with his.
Lo’ak snorts, but he quickly masks his amusement as Jake sends him a glare, then he sends you one.
“You and I will talk later, I can only deal with one delinquent at a time.”
He waves you away.
“No, since you have enough to dish out for Lo’ak here, i’m sure there;s plenty for us to share.”
You felt like a teenager edged with attitude, especially when you loved and respected Jake so much. But seeing Lo’ak get wrung out all the time was exhausting. 
“Jake this wasn’t Lo’ak’s fault.”
Lo’aks shaking fingers stilled, the ghost your side, gesturing to you that you didn’t have t0 take this for him.
“I’m the one that suggested we go for a ride. We took kailo and went to the lake for a few hours. Cleared my head. Did some meditating just like you suggested.”
You nudge him playfully, but the man didn;t look amused. Conflicted was probably the right word.
“Either way, I said he was to stay away from you for at least a day.”
“Jake, he doesn;t run up my blood pressure like he does yours. He’s fine. No one was hurt. Nothing happened, and Lo’ak didn’t want me to go alone.”
You Lo’ak a look, commionucating silently with your eyes.
Dude. say something.
Lo’ak nods, fishing himself out of a daze.
“R-right. Yes. right, we just went to the lake, dad.”
Jake sighed, rubbing his fingers to his temple, attempting to soothe the brewing headache, virtue to the usual shenanigans Lo’ak and you could never seem to shake.’
“Guys, i really don’t think that-”
“Wait! The only reason we stayed longer is because Lo’ak wanted to grab these.”
You grabbed the satchel that rested on Lo’aks hip, opening the woven flap to display the fruits you gathered earlier.
You gently thwacked lo’ak with your tail, and he immeditaaly caught the jist.
“I know theyre mom’s favorites.”
Lo’ak batted his eyes while you gave jake a sickeningly sweet smile.
He groaned, turning away.
“Out of my sight. Both of you. Now.”
“Okay thanks! Love you dad!!”
You and Lo’ak sprinted across the camp, submerged in your own laughter. You scurried mo’at;s tent, shutting the flap when he turned to you.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Eywa wouldn't let us face battles if she knew we were going to do it alone.” 
₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊
Neteyam’s pov, the sullys tent:
My mother hates crowds. It’s not something I’ve inherited. 
You can tell by the way she shrinks behind my father or grandmother when we have clan gatherings. The way she resorts to fidgeting with her songchord or holding Tuk’s hand to distract herself from the ocean of eyes that are standing in front of her.
Tonight the clan eats communally. We do it every once in a while. My grandmother told me that the people did it every night before hometree was destroyed, but as time faded, so did our habits, I suppose.
Maybe thats why tonight, as my family prepares to leave for communal meal, the air is uneasy and tense.
Kiri and I had been home almost all day, watching Tuk while my grandmother rested and my mother attended to her duties around high camp.
It feels empty without my father, Lo’ak, and y/n.
My mothers voice pulls my attention.
“Neteyam, go wake your grandmother.”
She kneeled down in the corner, tending to Tuk, trying to pick the leaves out of her hair.
“Uh huh. Give me a second.”
I set the freshly washed bowls I just finished scrubbing down in the pile where we left all our dishes. 
I turned to see my grandmother, currently 18ft deep in her beyond-afternoon nap. 
I sighed, stretching my arms behind my back, locking my fingers together to soothe the tightness in my muscles as I walk my way over to her.
“Grandmother.”
I tap her shoulder, her snores blaring lowly.
I sigh. Waking up my grandmother was usually a two man job.
“Grandmother? Grandmother???”
She stirs, but doesn’t wake.
I poke her shoulder lightly with my fingers.
She gasps awake, flinging her arm at my face, I step back, flinching at the action.
She sits up, squinting at me before her gaze softens.
“Neteyam, I’m sorry. I thought you were your father.”
“So you were planning to smack my father?”
“That’s beyond the point. I had the most wonderful dream.”
She reminisced dreamily.
I shifted on my feet awkwardly.
“That’s wonderful, grandmother. But I woke you because-“
“Quiet boy. I’m speaking.”
Great. Just what I was aiming to avoid.
I straighten, a rough breath falling from my lips. Settling in for the haul of whatever was to come.
“Apologies, Tsahik. You were saying?”
“Well.”
She begins.
“It was many years ago…when your mother told me she was with child.”
“Uh huh.”
“And then once she started, eywa she just wouldn’t stop..one child after another..”
I catch my mother glaring out of the corner of my eye.
“Neteyam, I think your grandmother can get up on her own.”
She hisses.
Grandmother waves her off.
“Don’t listen to her, boy. Go fetch my cane.”
My mother throws her arms up to express exaggeration.
“You don’t need a cane, Sa’nok.”
I stand warily between the two of them.
“And you don’t need to be sneaking off with your husband every few nights.”
My grandmother shoots back.
Maybe there was a reason for my father’s constant headaches.
It’s kiri’s voice that grasps my attention. I turn to see her enter the Marui with a half-weaved basket in her hands.
“Neteyam, while the golden girls are fighting, you might wanna take the time to worry about yourself.”
I shake my head, protesting gently. Something keeping me tied to multitasking bites at the back of my mind.
“No, I got it.”
She gives me a look, setting the basket-in-progress down and crossing her arms.
“Neteyam, you have been chasing Tuk around all day, helping mother clean, and as much as I know you enjoy being serenaded by grandmothers snoring, you need a break.”
“Kiri, really I'm fine.”
“I wasn’t asking. Go.”
Arguing with Kiri was useless. There was no competing with full-bodied ambition when ignited. 
I surrender. Retreating behind the curtain of the divider between the two areas of my family’s home.
I busy myself with personal tasks. Sharpening my knife, rummaging through lo’ak’s hammock to retrieve the armbands I know for a fact he's stolen from me. Again.
About 1o minutes had passed. I had found 8 armbands when I heard the familiar voice of my father as he entered the tent.
I slip under the divider sheet to see him. He alternates looks between Lo’ak and Y/n as they shuffle inside.
“Ma’jake.”
My mother sighs in relief, as if my father is the shower of fresh rain after a drought.  She holds Tuk on her hip as she squirms and giggles.
“Where have you been? There is much that needs to be done.”
My father pauses as he takes in each dilemma. 
Kiri and Grandmother arguing in the corner.
My mother is holding an overly-hyper tuk.
Lo’ak and Y/n laughing for whatever reason.
And me. Peeking out from behind the sheet.
“I can see that.”
He affirms, reaching out to take tuk off my mother’s hands.
running his hand down her back in soothing circles, trying to get both of them to calm down.
My father knows my mother is full of love. He also knows when not enough of that love is kept for herself.
Lo’ak stares at our parents, his expression of mild disgust.
“Do you two want a moment alone?”
A laugh follows, my eyes ascertaining to its source.
Her. Oh it’s her. 
Oh. 
It’s her.
She stands behind Lo’ak, a lean azure frame. Droplets gleam and scintillate as they slide down her skin. Her bangles and bracelets shine under the fractured light. I try so hard not to stare. I try to focus on anything. Anything at all. Anything that won’t make me feel like I’m staring at a woman who’s wet and shiny like some kind of pervert. 
Fuck. That sounded like I was describing a river rock or something.
‘wEt aNd sHiNy.’ 19 years old, future Olo’eyktan of your clan  and you can’t even talk. I feel like the ground envelops me in quicksand, my lungs famine for air. Eywa, she was pretty.
‘Pretty’ feels like a disparagement. Makes me feel inarticulate for lacking a better word. Beautiful. Stunning. Hot? Is hot weird? She is hot. Is that weird? Am I weird?
If there is another word. I’ll find it
Her braids cascade down her back, a crown of curls and waves Unwinding at the where the braids end, the curls I sometimes imagine spilling through my fingers while I capture sweet sounds that fall from her lips.
Am I weird for this? 
My father speaks, yanking me out of my haze.
“Baby, I can always call off the clan gathering if you’re not feeling a crowd tonight.”
He adjusts Tuk on his hip, picking a leaf out of her hair.
My mother shakes her head.
“No. I’m alright. There is just much to be done before we leave…”
My dad nods graciously, placing Tuk back to her feet again.
“Say no more. We’ll get everyone outta here in one piece.”
“Were you planning on us leaving disembodied?”
Kiri asks, her tone welcoming sarcasm in its arms.
Lo’ak chimes in.
“Can I swap out my loincloth real quick? I hate having the wet weaving slapping against me every time I walk.”
“Then why would you get wet?”
Kiri asks, rather harshly.
“Why do you cut your hair like that knowing your forehead is too big?”
“It astounds me how every day you talk about my forehead. Did you know they almost had to cut mom open because your head was so abnormally enormous??”
Lo’ak looks at my mom with incredulous eyes. 
“Ma she’s lying. Right?”
My mom evades any squander of the moment as she turns to duck under the divider flap to where  my parents slept.
“Ma’Jake, I’m going to change my top before we leave.”
Lo’ak falls to his knees, a dramatic anguished groan leaves him.
“Oh shit. I’m a freak. I’m a freak with a huge head.”
“You’re not a freak. You just have your fathers genes. I’m sure Jake was unusually large as well.” y/n comforts him, gesturing to my father.
“The hell I wasn’t.” My dad pipes up, trying to wrestle Tuk into sitting still.
Kiri shrugs, leaning against the wooden pillar to the side of the sheet as she fidgets with one of Y/n’s braids, standing behind her.
“I think we should banish Lo’ak for the attempted murder of the Tsahik daughter.”
I snicker, nudging Kiri 
“Mother would have joined eywa doing what she loved. Screaming at father.”
She laughed, tossing her head back.
Lo’ak’s jaw drops, he tries to speak but only a string of syllables come out.
“That’s not fucking fair.”
My dad glares at all three of us.
“Watch your mouth boy. And what did I say about plotting murder during dinner.”
Y/n blinks, tilting her head.
“We aren’t eating dinner.”
“I don’t give a damn-!
Okay, you know what? New rule. No discussing murder. Period.”
Kiri clicks her tongue, the usual gleam flickering across her irises.
“Can we discuss manslaughter?”
The sentence teases its own tone.
She places her palms against one another in a paring position before pointing them outwards towards my father.
Y/n mimics her.
“If we can’t discuss it can we at least plan one? Me and Kiri have already worked out a date and time.”
“And we have a target.”
Kiri adds, nodding confidently.
“For the love of god, I will put all of you on time out. And your grandmother can join you.”
My father threatens. Glaring at all of us.
Grandmother speaks as she slowly arises from her sitting spot on the floor, Lo’ak assisting her by holding her arm.
“Good. That will give me and the children time to plot against you.”
She speaks matter-of-factly.
I laugh, watching Tuk’s big eyes travel between my father and the rest of us as she tries to keep up with the conversation.
We all turn to see my mother as her figure is guided back through the divider, a new top now covering her chest.
It had flowers on it, delicately placed in a pattern over her breasts. Vines braided over her shoulders to hold the garment in place.
My fathers eyes take the shape of stars as he sees her, the sun setting outside and him both share a flicker of breath as she moves toward us.
“Are we ready?”
She asks, placing some of her braids behind her shoulder.
My father whistles, a hand coming up to cover the grin that etched its way onto his face.
“Goddamn. You look..”
“Like a pretty flower!”
Tuk chirps, clapping excitedly as she runs to my mother, hugging her waist.
“I was gonna say gorgeous, but yeah. That works too.”
Gorgeous. That’s the word I was looking for.
She giggles as she strides her way over to him, He takes a step behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist, another hand tracing circles in her hip.
“Y/n made this one.”
She murmurs, speaking quietly for my father.
“Do you like it?”
“Kids’ got taste. It’s stunning. Do a spin for me.”
My dad nods approvingly, Y/n feigns cockiness, posing and swaying her hips.
“Of course I have taste. The best there is, no doubt.”
Out of all of the fabrics, all the leaves and flowers and materials on the planet, I think her smile always looks the most stunning.
“You know who else has taste?”
My father whispers, clearly not quiet enough, the endnotes a purr.
My mother gasps, it twirls into a chuckle.
“Ma’Jake, the children are watching.”
“Kids, look away!”
My dad demands, kissing my mothers cheek as she squirms in his arms.
“Oh I think I’m gonna be sick.”
Kiri gags, clearly not fawning over my parents' affections the way y/n or tuk is.
My grandmother wedges herself between my parents, poking my fathers chest.
“Enough of this. It is time to depart. Before you both go and make another child I will have to deal with it.”
That was my fathers cue as he sighs dramatically, scooping up a squirming Tuk and twirling her around like a princess.
“Alright family let’s get going. Roll tide.”
“Roll tide!”
Tuk mimics my fathers lingo as we exit the tent, single file. 
Tuk scurries infront of me. Hopping vigorously to squeeze her way in between my parents as they walk ahead of us. 
Lo’ak and Kiri take turns bickering with grandmother, keeping their paces ahead of me.
I saunter off behind them. The cool air and dwindling distant conversations plexure in the atmosphere. Families talking, children laughing, all coalesce into a chorus that ceases its journey where the darkening night sky ends.
I turn as I feel a tap on my shoulder,
Big, doe-like gold eyes invade my gaze. Those eyes are my vice. My biggest sorrow and my greatest gift.
The auric hues captivate me. The gleam so picturesque the shadows run for shelter. 
She’s still wet from the river. The shine from the droplets define her features, tracing every curve, clinging to every dip.
I feel ensnared in her equivalent of hypnosis. The expanse of her throat, the coves of her eyelids, every inch of her has me infatuated.
She doesn’t look like she belongs here. Her features lack those of a mortal being in regularity. A deity you’d sacrifice yourself for in the form of a disguise.
“Oh— you.”
Oh wow. That must make women swoon. ‘Oh. You.’ Might as well have said ‘ew. It’s you.’
Pull yourself together!
She recoils, its so slight you might not have noticed it at all.
She’s nervous. 
“I’m sorry, I just wanted to check up on you.”
Her steps find competence as they match my own. Her fingers lock together as she strides with them behind her back.
I awkwardly shuffle to keep pace with her.
“Oh, no. Please don’t apologize.”
I wave my hands stupidly, as if she’s hard of hearing and needs to have everything signaled. 
I clear my throat, clearing the hoarseness. Letting a silence settle before I realize what she’s said.
“You..wanted to check on me?”
She nods, her eyes meeting mine for a 
moment. She’s only a few inches shorter than me. It always reminds me of how she teased me when we were kids, saying I’d never catch up to her height. 
“Yeah. Well, I mean, I just…Lo’ak told me you were acting a little…off? This morning?”
Oh. You mean where you consumed every single one of my waking thoughts? This morning where I woke up still imaging you hugging me? This morning? Where I woke up stunned, paralyzed, drunken in enamorment of how on eywa’s green ground you could possibly be real when you have beauty of such extravagance?
“I have no idea what you speak of.”
I shrug,  crossing my arms over my chest.
She’s skeptical.
“Oh. I see.”
“Yup. Nothing wrong.”
“So, you weren’t moaning into a a fruit this morning?”
A who-was-moaning-into-a what?
“What are you talking about?”
She laughs, shaking her head.
“I just heard from a friend, that you were…excited for breakfast.”
Oh, the joy of having siblings.
I groan.
“No, that was a misunderstanding.”
She nods, trying to regain seriousness.
“Of course..I figured it was.”
Her cheeks puff slightly, harboring laughter.
I would probably be annoyed if it was anyone but her. and if her laugh wasn’t my favorite sound.
“Okay, you know what? It was early, I was tired-“
“Oh please. I’ve known you since you could walk. You’ve always been a morning person.”
I scoff, trying to pretend she wasn’t right.
“Yeah, okay.”
“Neteyam, I’m going to be your teacher soon. You should confide in me,”
Her arm accidentally brushes mine as we walk.
“So I should know if there’s something between you and that fruit that might interfere with your focus.”
I sigh, shaking my head, my tail gently swishing behind me.
“Say it with me now. Okay? 1..2..3…you’ve been spending too much time with Lo’ak.”
She chortles, recoiling at the sound.
I doesn’t phase me.
Not one bit.
“It’s the other way around.”
She argues.
“I can’t disagree. Last week I caught him wearing one of your armbands..”
“The one your father gifted me after completing my rites of passage?”
“Amber stones, arrowed weaving?”
She snaps her fingers.
“That’s the one! The bastard. I’ve been searching for weeks.”
I chuckle, catching a glimpse of her profile at the side of my gaze.
“I don’t blame him, you know.”
My voice carried a sincereness that seemed out of place with the conversation.
She looks at me, confused.
“What do you mean?”
“For looking up to you.”
She scoffs.
“Neteyam-“
“No. I’m serious.”
And as much as I regret cutting her off, the way she said my name, so tired, as if it was worn.
“You are one of the strongest warriors this clan has ever seen. I know that for a fact. I hear the way my parents speak of you. The way the people look at you, the way the children braid their hair to look like you. Everyone loves and admires you. I know for a fact I lov-“
She slows for a millisecond. That’s all it took to correct myself. Her steps only broke its pace as consciousness calculated on the ledge of what i knew so well I almost said.
“I love admiring you. I hope you know that.”
She shifts slightly, her fingers fidgeting with one another instead of being held behind her. I can tell my words are an impudent invasion that scratch and claw at the walls she’s built.
“You don’t have to say things like that.”
All I can do is smile.
“I wasn’t born with jesters privilege, I’m only saying what I know. I’m not glorifying you.”
And suddenly, i forgot the concept of boundaries.
I blame the aureate iridescence in the paradox of her irises. 
“You just don’t give yourself enough credit.”
She looks at me, confusion capturing her.
“What are you talking about?”
I shrug.
“You’ve saved lives. Protected our clan. Defended us against the sky people. What more can you ask of yourself?”
She stops walking this time. Her eyes staring straight ahead of us. 
Her head turns slowly to stare at me. It’s not a look of offense, or fear.
My hand reaches for her back, my palm placed against the small of it.
“It’s just something to think about.”
☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ ⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊ ⋆⁺ ‏𖦹  ₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ ☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ ⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊ ⋆⁺ ‏𖦹  ₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎
Y/n’s pov 
You stare at him as if he's shown you colors for the first time. Epiphanies impulse under your skin, their unwelcomed and you’re unprepared.
As you approach the large area where other clan members have already sat down with their families, sharing food and laughter, you find yourself wandering astray.
“Give yourself more credit.”
Credit for what? What did you do to deserve praise?
Protected others? It wasn’t a task. It was second nature. If you didn't, what else would they ate from you?
What were you if not the sword and shield? What would you become the day the war ended?
There was no credit to be given. There was nothing to be given because there was nothing left. Because you refuse to repeat your mistakes. To suffer at another’s hand, to suffocate under the wreckage of what was built only to be torn down. Cankered, tattered, stained fingers clutching at the flesh that stretched across your bones, bruises worn like badges of honor. 
You were afraid. So afraid of being sheltered and delicate. Being blinded and impetuous. 
“Y/n. Come sit with me.”
You feel an arm link with yours, and you catch Kiri at your side.
The stray braids that hung by her neck like vines from a canopy of verdant haven swung while she walked. She guides you out of your solivangant sondering.
Her gestures were laconic. Her eyes marbled over with a generous concern as she whisked you away, grabbing a wooden bowl for herself and one for you as well where they were being distributed.
“Are you alright, dear? You’re zoning out a ton.” She whispers, placing a hand on your back.
You shake every former thought from your head, washing your mind clean.
“No, it is nothing. It’s foolish.”
“It’s not foolish if it’s bothering you.”
She corrects, looking down as she gathers some meat onto her plate from the communal fire.
You shift on your feet, eyes trailing her movements.
“I’m fine. I just..suppose i haven’t eaten enough today. Its making me spacey and slow.”
She nods slowly, her tail lightly swishing behind her.
“Well then, take this plate.”
She hands you the plate she had just finished filling with roasted sturmbeast, and squares of yovo fruit.
You shake your head graciously, handing it back yo her mindlessly.
“Oh Kiri no– no this was yours.”
She scoffs, waving you off.
“I'm more than capable of making myself a new plate.”
She smiles at you, and the familiarity of it is a comfort. 
The frail dark bangs that wisped lightly above her eyebrows sweep subtly in the night breeze, the weightless braids that hang on the sides of her head swing softly, you reach your hands out and tuck a strand behind her ear, your fingertips grazing the subtle honey-oak streaks, a delicacy in your touch as if you were handling something a fragile as a flower petal.
“You’re so good to me.” Your tone was beatific, gentle.
She smiles smugly, dragging her fingers across where your collarbones rose and fell upon each drawn breath before handing you the plate once again.
“I’m keeping you alive and fed.”
Lo’ak peaks himself from behind kiri, his tail swishing.
“Kiri can you make my plate next?”
Her smile drops.
“No. Make your own damn plate.”
She rolls her eyes, grabbing another wooden piece to start piling with food for herself.
Lo’ak gawks, offended.
“You made Y/n’s no problem!”
“That’s because I like y/n. I tolerate you.”
You laugh as Kiri links her arm with yours, whisking you away to the large dwelling in the center of highcamp.
A large fire with meat cooking over it, and families scattered into their little circles and sat around the ground, people weaving in and out to reach their group.
Some families wave to you, calling out thanks as you walked, because it was you who had hunted the sturmbeest with neteyam they were eating now.
Kiri and you found a seat next to Mo’at. Neytiri, Lo’ak, Tuk, Neteyam, and Jake had not returned yet, so you 3 waited.
“Did you girls get everything you need?”
Mo’at asks, resting her hand atop her knee.
You nodded, taking a seat.
“Yes ma’tsahik. We did.”
There was an unspoken formality between you and Mo’at. Despite her knowing you since you were born. An implicit etiquette that’s been emplaced in you ever since childhood.
She reaches out for your arms, her nails scarcely printing tiny marks on your palm as she inspects your wrist and hand.
“Your cuts are healing.” She informs you, somehow knowing even though your incises from the day before are not visible anymore.
You figured the cuts you got from spider's mask would heal relatively quickly. However, the memories of the accident would leave a different kind of scar. 
You gently placed your hand back in your lap, your gaze only flicking away from Mo’at to see Tuk skipping towards your small sitting area with a bowl in her hand.
“The lake water might have sped up the process. It’s not bothering me, though. Just another couple cuts to add to my collection.”
Kiri giggles, nudging your arm.
“Another paint stroke to complete the masterpiece. Maybe we should hang you up next to tuk’s artwork.”
You snicker, making room for the smaller na’vi in question as she scurries to your side, snuggling herself in place next to you on the log.
“Healing cannot be rushed, child. Scars are more than just victories. It’s time you know that.”
Tuk gasps just as Neteyam, Lo’ak, and Neytiri find their places in the circle. 
She peers her head over your shoulder, looking down at your palm.
“It’s gonna be a scar??”
She blinked up at you with those big, disquieted, doleful eyes. She concernedly fumbled with your fingers, and you have to quickly gather her bowl into your lap with your other hand before it tips off her own with all of her movement.
“Oh no Tuk. I’m okay, love.” You kissed the top of her head, smiling at the way her nose twitched when you did.
“Do you want a kiss? To make it better.”
“Awh, sure. Thank you.”
She presses her lips to your bandaged palm.
“Mwah! All better.”  her sweet and stagey movements make you melt, proudly admiring her work.
“Thank you, Tuk-tuk.”
“Mhm.”
She sits back down, and you hand over her bowl.
She starts to eat, carefully picking the seeds out of her fruit slices.
“Are scars good or bad?”
She muffles through a mouthfull of juices.
Jake shrugs, leaning over to wipe the corners of her mouth with his thumb.
“Depends who you ask.”
Neytiri nods, her hand pressed to her chest briefly as she swallowed her bite before speaking.
‘Your father is correct. Scars are pieces of our memories. We carry them with us.”
“Nothing to be ashamed of, either. Back where i come from we wear our scars like badges of honor.”
Jake chimes in, setting his elbow on his knee, his back stretching forward.
Mo’at scoffed.
“Don’t listen to your father, children.”
Waving him off, she took a sip from her herbal tea. 
Jake frowned, wincing as if he were in a cramping-kinda pain.
“Oh, I think I just got a new one.”
“A what?”
Neytiri inquires, concerned, confused, placing a hand on her husbands back.
“A new scar?”
“From what?”
“My mother in law..agh, how she wounds me.”
Neytiri hisses, a smile breaking from her and my fathers lips. 
Mo’at is unamused.
Jake shakes his head as his laughter dies out.
“Come on, I mean, it’s symbolic.”
“Symbolic of what? Stupidity?”
Mo’at chuckled.
“Of bravery. Strength. Survival.”
Jake defies the Tsahik gently.
“Scars are cool.”
Lo’ak agrees half-mindedly, munching and speaking with a full mouth in a similar manner to Tuk.
“Look at y/n. Her scars are badass as fuck.”
You kept your head down. Stuck between accepting it as a compliment or perceiving it as pernicious.
“Lo’ak, we do not speak of others bodies.”
Neytiri sterns.
“Right, and how many times have i told you to watch that mouth.” 
Jake rebuked Lo’ak’s word choice rigorously, pinching the back of his neck lightly.
Lo’ak shrunk away from his touch, receiving it with nothing much than a scrunch of his face before continuing.
“Scars are like ways of saying ‘I got through it’. You know? I mean, I’d rather have a scar than the other alternatives.”
Neytiri opened her legs the slightest bit, propping up one crossed as she displayed the inner of her thigh. With delicate fingers, she traced over a darkened discoloration, a jagged scar that dragged across the surface.
“This scar appeared shortly after giving birth to Tuktirey.”
She explained, her tone soothing and benign. 
You leaned forward, getting a closer glimpse at it.
Tuk pouted, guilt striking her expression.
“I did that? I’m sorry.”
You gently drew her closer to your side, a small laugh that was horribly compressed left you.
“No, Tuk. You didn’t do it. Some mothers get them after having babies. It’s normal.”
You explained.
Neytiri nodded, smiling graciously at you for explaining so gently.
“That’s right. And it has been with me ever since that day. It’s a symbol. Like your father says. Celebrating the day of arrival for a gift in my life.”
She gently runs her slender fingers down Tuk’s cheek in an affectionate stroke, Tuk giggles at the sensation.
Jake took a swig from his cup.
“Hell, if that’s not strength, I don’t know what is. I know I sure as hell couldn’t do it.”
“Ew dad. We know. We know how the male body works.”
Kiri retorted, appalled.
“I’m surprised mom doesn’t have a scar from giving birth to Lo’ak and his big head.”
Neteyam mumbles into his cup, clearly not quietly enough.
A laugh was shared around the circle, even Neteyam shaking with chuckles as his head hung low for the moment.
Tuk looked at you, big eyes gleaming with curiosity.
“You have scars. Do you like them??”
The circle became silent for a moment.
“Tuk!”
Neytiri and Jake both hissed in unison, their tone hesitant, scold-like.
“Tuk, we don’t ask such things.”
Neteyam, always the 3rd parent, corrects softly.
Tuk glances back at you, the sully’s eyes tracking her gaze.
You shook your head, clearing your throat of the hoarsness.
“No, no. Its alright. I mean, we were talking about it, right? No harm in asking.”
You turned to tuk, your eyes softening at the sight of her.
“Most of them, yes. They are symbols, like your father says. Scars are like..stories. Every single one has a place of origin, epitomes of remaining unbroken.”
“I like this one.”
Tuk points to the scar on your shoulder, the zig-zag imprint that dragged across the plate of your acromion almost resembling lightning.
You smiled, letting her trace her smaller fingers over it.
“So do i.”
You whisper.
Neytiri smiles at the both of you. Her gaze holds its tender warmth, radiating its warmth like a sun ray washing your soul.
“My beautiful girls.” She coos, reaching out to kiss Tuk’s head and Tuk a braid behind your ear.
She turns to Kiri, side-gazing at Lo’ak and Neteyam.
“All of you are beautiful. No matter how many scars you have, you are all so much more than what lies on your skin.”
“We’re not beautiful Neteyam and I are stoic, unfeeling, we don’t have time for that.”
Lo’ak affirms, proudly slinging an arm around Neteyam, making him lurch to the side awkwardly, a couple of fruit slices roll off his plate due to the action.
“Lo’ak, my food.” Neteyam swats Lo’ak away.
Neytiri pouts, “No, both of my sons are beautiful.”
She grabs Neteyam’s face, peppering it with kisses before she does the same to Lo’ak.
Lo’ak groans, floundering in her hold.
“Ma, come on..stop..Okay, okay, stop. I’m not beautiful, I’m handsome.”
Neytiri taps his nose with her finger. “You’re both.”
 She giggles.
“You’re neither, you hell-raiser.”
Kiri hisses blatantly.
The air remained unscathed of burden as laughter simmered in the air, you found nepenthe with the Sully family, making the night seem so endless it could stretch into the stratosphere. 
»»———–➤𖤓☽꩜———–➤𖤓☽꩜———𖤓☽꩜———–➤»»———–𖤓☽꩜———»
You laughed as you spun Tuk around by her arms, the meaningless balter keeping her entertained her laughter.
“Again! Again!”
She laughs, jumping up and down, reaching up to be spun around again.
You smile, grabbing her arms.
“Okay, okay- ready? 1…2..3..”
Supporting her tightly by her forearms, you swing her around as her squeals of laughter flood your ears.
“Y/n, you up for a quick flight?”
It was Jake’s voice that beckoned your attention. You turned away from playing with tuk to see him gathering the wooden bowls in his arms to haul back to the sully’s tent.
“Right now?”
He nods, shifting the pile in his arms. “Yeah. I mean, do you have something planned?”
You can’t remember the last time Jake Sully willingly encouraged anyone in his family to go on ikran out after dark since the return of the Rda unless it was him and Neytiri for the occasional date night.
You turn to Neytiri,  who only gives Jake a pensive look.
“Will you be out late?”
He shakes his head.
“Of course not, baby. Just taking Y/n out for a little nighttime crusade.”
Neytiri nods, slowly and pensively as she hands the bowls in her hands over to Neteyam.
There’s a stretch of quiet that spreads through the air. High camp was settling down for the evening. Families gathering up their food and families and eating ware and retreating back to their tents and huts for rest. It was unusual to be out past that tim unless Jake had arranged a patrol group.
“Where are you guys even going this late?” Lo’ak queries intrepidly.  
Jake shrugs, starting to walk behind Mo’at, who held hands with Tuk and walked alongside Kiri back towards the sully’s tent.
“Just got something’s to discuss.”
Jake’s answers are succinct and ambiguous.
Neteyam rears himself closer to Jake, his steps carefully matching pace with his father as he carted the woven sack of sitting mats under his arm.
“Will you be discussing the next raid? I can accompany you both if needed, father.”
He glances at you preventively, as if desiring to shape himself into a shield around you.
Jake causally declined his offer, patting his shoulder supportively.
“I think we’re good for tonight, son. You can rest easy.”
Neteyam nods, but you can tell he’s chastened. Jake always kept Lo’ak and Neteyam in this constant cage that clipped their wings, keeping them away from the fighting.
But something tells you this wasn’t about raid planning, or even the war.
Jake hands the pile in his arms off to Kiri, who mumbles under her breath as she tries to catch up with Mo’at. He turns to you, “Y/n, why don’t you run along and gear up Kailo. I’ll meet you at the crevice in a few minutes.”
Before you could answer, Neytiri appears behind him, her eyes softening soothingly, her gaze condemning with concern.
“Please be safe. Both of you.”
She whispered, placing a hand on your cheek and reaching up to kiss Jake’s shoulder.
“Baby, nothing will happen to her or me as long as I’m there.”
Neytiri doesn’t seem consoled.
“Y/n, please keep an eye on him.”
She sighs.
You chuckle, letting her kiss your hairline.
“I promise.”
She cracks a small smile, Jake reaches for her palm. Ghosting her fingertips across her lip, kissing the heel of her palm.
As if committing the feel of her skin to memory, even if he’s not away from her for long.
“Don’t worry I’ll be back before you know it.”
He winks at her, his eyes drifting to the cinch of her waist.
“Ew gross.”
You recoil, scrunching up your nose at Jake.
He rolls his eyes, waving you off.
“Go. Get your ikran ready. I’ll be there in a bit.”
You nod, jogging off to the rookery where your clans ikrans resided.
The air tonight was warm. Undertones of a glass remnants and tattered clouds. You were halfway to the crevice, quieting yourself with your inner thoughts, when you paused at the call of your name.
“Y/n!”
A juvenile voice echoes behind you. High pitched and distinct.
You turn around, and a small Na’vi child comes into view. She has yellow feathers in her hair. A woven grass top and braids that reached her shoulder blades. 
Popiti. She was one of your students. She was apart of the group of children Makeyo and you taught archery lessons.
“Popiti! What are you doing here, evi’? (Child, affectionate.)
She scampered to you, wrapping her arms around your waist, smiling wide.
“She wanted to come say thank you.”
Another voice gathered your attention.
A taller Na’vi slowly sweeps her way out of the shadows. Tall. Feminine. Her steps were rushed. They lacked gracefulness. Her confidence was pure forgery, wearing a mask made of fool's gold and a fetish for mystique.
“Kyuna.”
You greeted, your face rather neutral.
Kyuna was only older than you by a year. Regardless of your age, you always surpassed her in most aspects.
Hunting?
She could never finish a hunt. Meanwhile you were dragging home freshly arrows skin-deep in a yerik.
Status?
Everyone is valued in your clan. That was a known fact. But it was you who was named the Olo’eyktan a strongest warrior.
You were stronger. Faster. Smarter. 
It made you feel a bit guilty, how often so many didn’t make any effort to make your transcendence discreet. 
She smiled at you. It was thin. Fake. Feigning any ounce of genuine decency.
“Popiti here wanted to thank you for y tonight’s meal. It was you who hunted the sturmbeast, right?”
You nodded, still stroking the top of Popiti’s head affectionately
“Yes. I was. It was my pleasure, Popiti.”
You smiled graciously down at the little girl who beamed up at you as if you were everything she ever wanted to become.
“When I get big, I’m going to be a warrior just like you. I’m gonna have a beautiful bow, with carvings and beads just like yours! And I’m gonna have-“
Your heart melts a bit as she rambles on, every word idolizing you.
A sudden hand on her head cuts her off. Kyuna pulls her closer in the opposite direction. Her ability to endure the nicety’s hanging by a thread. 
“Popiti, why don’t you run along home.”
Her smile pathetically conceals the bite in her tone.
“But I don’t know how-“
“Now.”
With a small, sad wave, the smaller Na’vi huffs and stomps away.
You tilt your head back up to Kyuna.
When your eyes met hers, you can tell she’s frustrated just by the mere sight of you.
You cleared your throat, trying to rid the awkward intermission from the air.
“It was nice of her to thank me in person. She’s a good kid.”
Kyuna’s arms remained crossed, her gaze distant, occupied with other things
“Mhm. I’m surprised you had time to see her, after all, you’re always busy with the Olo’eyktan or..or those Sully boys.”
Lo’ak and Neteyam were both men but whatever.
She clicks her tongue, raking your figure up and down.
You forced a laugh.
“Well, I am living with them after all.”
“And sleeping with them.”
You snap your head up. The comment a little too dour to be a meaningless joke.
“Excuse me?”
“Oh! Y/n, I’m sorry.”
She suddenly gasps, her hand flying to cover her mouth that hangs wide open like an animal expecting food.
“I would never mean it like that, I just meant that ever since the clan decided to come up here to the mountains, everybody’s tents became a little…disorganized. Right? You’re sleeping in a hammock with Lo’ak? So I’ve heard.”
You don’t know where the fuck she would even ‘hear’ that from.
You straightened, your patience running thin and your tolerance for jealousy incredibly low.
“It’s two separate hammocks woven together. We’re not sleeping ontop of one another.”
You elaborated, chuckling to yourself.
“Can you even imagine sleeping so close to one of them? Well, I’m sure some would want to imagine it.”
Your tone carried a clear enmity.
Her cheeks flushed, her tail swishing fervently behind her.
Shes nervous now. What happened to all of that confidence?
“Well, I hope I don’t strike you as someone who’s desperate.”
“Oh no, of course not. That’s what makes people so good at it.”
You smiled, locking your fingers together behind your back.
She’s stunned for a moment. Stilling as her imperceptible brain struggles to process everything that’s been said.
“Well, I must be going. I have to meet with the Olo’eyktan. But I wish you a good night, Kyuna.”
She snaps out of her daze.
“H-huh? Oh. Oh yes, good night, Y/n.”
She stares at you. A mix of awe and envy compete for sovereignty.
☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ ⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊ ⋆⁺ ‏𖦹  ₊⋆⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ 
“What are we doing here?”
You and Jake had flown into the night, and landed on one of the mountain tops, the flat rock making space for you both as he sat across from you.
“Have a seat, Y/n.”
You didn’t know why he had brought you there. And you were feeling anxious for n some unknown reason. When you left, Jake insisted you leave your bow and other weapons at home. He promised that you didn’t need them. But how could he know that? How can he possibly understand the stability you felt when those objects were near?
Death, chaos, war, grief, it didn’t wait for anyone. Ever.
“Am I in trouble?”
You asked, nervously shifting on your feet. The rest of the world seemed to drift farther and farther away.
“Y/n.”
“Because If I did something wrong, I can fix it. I promise.”
“Y/n.”
“Jake this is killing me just tell me why-“
“Y/n.”
You felt his large palms cup your biceps, holding you still.
“…yes?”
“Take a deep breath.”
He said softly.
You looked at him puzzled before inhaling in, holding it for a good 3 seconds then exhaling out.
“Attagirl. Are we calm now?”
You nodded, finally sitting across from him, crossing your legs.
He smiled at you, clearly proud of himself.
“Y/n, welcome to your very first therapy session.”
You begged the finest pardon?
You froze. 
Did you hear him right?
Therapy. The word sounded familiar. Then you remember that day he told you about it when you both went hunting.
Should you laugh? Be pissed? Both?
“What the hell are you talking about. Jake?”
He shrugged.
“Well, I’m no professional-“
“Clearly.”
“But I’d figured this would help with…”
He considers his next words, opting for gesturing to your entire self with his hands, 
“Jake, I love you. I really do. You’ve done so much for me over the years. But I’m about 2 minutes away from rocking your shit.”
Not paying any mind to the threat. Jake waves his arms, ridding your frustration from the air.
“You know what, let’s start over. And please. Just give this a chance, yeah?”
“Fine.”
Jake leaned back, locking his fingers together and resting them on his stomach.
“Usually this kind of thing starts with a simple introduction.
Hi, my name is Jake. And I will be your therapist this evening.”
“Jake you know my name.”
He nods.
“Maybe I know your name yes, but I’m here to know your soul and what energy you put out into the universe.”
“Are you stroking out? What the fuck are you talking about.”
He groans.
“Come on kid, bare with me.”
You sigh defeatedly.
“Okay. Okay. Hi. My name is y/n. And I’m an adrenaline addict. Better?”
“…well, we had to start somewhere.”
☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ ⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊ ⋆⁺𖦹₊⋆⁺☀︎₊
Authors note:
Stay hating Kyuna. Ik your itching like a bitch without your eczema cream 💕🫶🏽
lol anyways, I hope you guys Enjoyed this chapter. It’s very rushed but I had so much writing sully family fluff. And starting next chapter, we’ll get into Neteyam starting his training with Y/n. And you best believe there is some tension 😌 also you’re gonna have mini therapy sessions with Jake from now on. Remember when they discussed that in chapter 3?? lol.
But I wanted to share a little life update with you guys. I hope you don’t mind. For those of you who don't know, I’m in a relationship. And yes, sme of you probably know him as the guy who was the victim of my cgi faces avatar experiment 🤭
GUYS YOUR GIRL GOT A PROMISE RING 🥳🥳
Now, I don't want anyone thinking I'm bragging or ‘rubbing it in others' faces)’…you guys are the first people I've told. I'm still in shock about it. The point of telling you guys this is that love is beautiful, and I don't think my writing can even begin to express the full extent of that. And one of the many things I love is writing for you guys. I know you guys have never met me and probably never will, and I'm just some person tapping away about blue aliens and posting my silly little rants from time to time, but please know that I appreciate all of you. Every single one of you who read, support, comment, like, repost, my anons, my followers, the friends I've made here, I hope I make you guys as happy as you all have made me. I can’t wait to share my fics and creations with all of you. One of the reasons I love writing for ‘y/n’ and reader inserts is because as someone who has read y/Insert fics, I know how special they can make us feel. So long rant short, I hope I make you guys feel like sexy, gorgeous, devastatingly beautiful, badass bitches yall are ☾⁺☀︎₊𖦹✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⁺☀︎₊ ⁺☀︎₊☾⁺☀︎₊ ⋆⁺𖦹₊⋆⁺☀︎₊
Taglist 🪐🌑🪻
@fluorynn (my guest of honor 👑)
@mntx666
@isnt-itstrange @thebestrouge
@bay7let
@fairuzwhat
@jackiehollanderr
@6423btw
@satesatesate2009
@OstargirlO
@heavenlysstuff
@dayyzlol
@iheartamajiki
@fluorynn
@bakugouswaif
@eljaynosine-triphosphate
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@strongheartneteyam
@hungrynessforfics
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