#(at least that's the tag that works well enough to place this)

[stxrvel]

the disaster (2)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. eventually ot7 x f!reader. content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, we're still on the safe zone, angst if you squint, just silly writing! a/n. hi guys! finally second chapter is out! im blown away with your response!! thank u so much from the bottom of my heart! i loooooved reading your comments <33 pls remember updates are weekly or biweekly! and if you want to be tagged pls say so in the comments! see you next week ;)

series masterlist | bts masterlist | previous | next

“This is unbelievable! We're going to be rich!!!” 

“What makes you think my sister is going to give you any of that money?” 

“I created that Instagram account that was tagged in Kim Taehyung's damn story, I deserve a raise!” 

“What makes you drones think my daughter is going to give you any of that money?”

“None of you are going to get anything out of that act of feigned innocence. Honey, are you all right?”

It seemed like a light had gone on in the room, four pairs of eyes landing on your still pale, surprised face. The night had been heavy after Yuna's call and you'd had so little sleep that you didn't know how you were functioning at the moment. Maybe that was the thing: you weren't functioning at all.

When you woke up, you thought it had all been a bad dream and that definitely the first exposure you'd had to the guys in years hadn't been because Taehyung came across your books at a convention you decided not to go to and uploaded them to his Instagram account with over eighty million followers. It was impossible, wasn't it? Too crazy. 

Maybe not as crazy as waking up to your parents banging on your bedroom door saying that over a hundred thousand orders had been placed overnight and they didn't have enough book production for that much demand. 

Be that as it may, Yuna and your mother took care of the communications on the account. You went from having twenty followers (including your family and friends —your father had created an account exclusively for that and only followed you—), to almost sixty thousand in at least twelve hours. The posts you had worked so hard to create and put together were finally getting the attention they deserved, but it had all happened so fast and suddenly that it was too strong to process calmly. 

Weighing which was stronger, whether Taehyung's acknowledgment of your existence after so many years of zero contact or that your book sales shot up so immeasurably that they couldn't even keep up with demand, even if a month went by, didn't make things any easier. 

“She's obviously still in shock,” Yuna replied to your mother at your lack of response from the living room, right across the dining room where you had been sitting since you had come down from your room. Your breakfast was still untouched on the table, but that seemed to be the least important thing in the room with all the more important news. 

“Have the printers answered yet?” your brother's voice through the speaker of your father's phone rang as you blinked, reality settling too slowly on your shoulders. You didn't even want to think about what it meant that Taehyung had done that. Maybe it was simply an altruistic act, wasn't it? Maybe he felt guilt and wanted to ameliorate it somehow. What better way than to do an act of charity?

“I'm on it,” your father was sitting across from you in the dining room, his laptop on the glass of the table as he moved his hands over the keyboard and stared through his glasses at the full tip of his nose. From the way his eyes narrowed, your mother snorted. 

“Why don't you get those glasses adjusted if you know you don't see well up close, let alone on electronic devices?” the woman reached over, dragging your father's glasses until they were almost glued to his eyebrows. Your father barely gave her a goofy grin as your mother started shaking her hands. “You better move. I'll do it. You write too slow; you're getting on our son's nerves.” 

“Nah, I'm fine. I don't know if y/n is tho.” 

Silence returned and you growled internally. Well, that was enough conjecture and assumptions without any information to substantiate them, it was time to get down to business. 

 “Do you think we should take over this business now?” Yuna completely ignored your stretch and you sent her a confused look. 

Your brother exclaimed from the phone in agreement. “I call dibs on the treasury!” 

“There's no way you can keep the accounts right! You're studying law.” 

“Seojun is good at numbers, Yuna.” 

 “Ha, with all due respect Mrs. I/n, he must only be good at counting sheep.”

 “Hey,” you tried to get attention, getting up from the chair. 

 “y/n, don't talk, you're still in shock. Can you believe he once called me from the supermarket to ask if he got his change right? He didn't even move from the checkout counter. There were people booing him.” 

 “Ow, my poor baby.” 

 “I told you not to say that to anyone!” 

 “I can't keep quiet if they're speaking lies about you!” 

 “This wasn't lies! This is about my pride!” 

 “Nonsense. I'll handle the treasury. I double majored in finance and international relations for a reason.” 

 “You can't run anything without starting bossing everyone around!” 

 “It's not my fault you're a good-for-nothing!” 

 God. It was going to be a long day. 

- 

Sorting out the whole printing issue and the number of orders was difficult, but with a couple of stories, interactions with new followers and express delivery of the few copies you'd already had at home for months, the waters calmed down a bit. Now, in the stifling silence of your room, you wanted to run. 

 “Are you going to stare at the ceiling all night?” 

 “Maybe.” 

Yuna watched you from the bed while all you could do was stare as notifications continued to pop up on your Instagram account and your mail because the requests simply wouldn't stop, even though you had made a thousand clarifications to all the new followers. You were trying to focus on the bright side of things, regardless of whatever reasons there may have been for everything to have happened that way, but with your friend's incessant gaze lying on your bed it made it a little difficult. You knew she wanted to pierce your skull from curiosity, but you wouldn't know how you would answer her questions. 

 “Is there anything you'd like to share with the class?” 

 The tension had become a little more latent during the last few minutes, when Yuna saw a specific notification on the account. Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin had followed you. To describe your look of shock might be an understatement, and all you did for the next half hour was run across the room and throughout the house vociferating that you were living a nightmare. 

 Yuna has known all along that you had never been a fan of the siamese or their clan of friends, but she never knew why exactly. You had to tell her that you weren't interested in fashion, that you didn't like the kind of music Jungkook made, that hip-hop was never your thing, that you weren't interested in dilfs and you weren't interested in dance either. You had to tell her that all the things you once did with them didn't matter to you because it was painful, even if it was hard to accept.

 You couldn't remember the times you would go shopping at the small mall in town to buy the trending clothes to put together different outfits with Taehyung and Jimin, then go try them all on at your house and invite the others and even your parents to do an impromptu runway show. You couldn't remember how the genre of music that Jungkook and you listened to all the time on his iPod and your MP3 player was the same one that his entire music career focuses on. You couldn't remember the nights when Yoongi would share his writings with you and you would help him compose a song or two on the piano when he felt brave enough. Or the times when you would accompany Hoseok to his workouts and then watch him create dance routines to his favorite songs while Jungkook sang in the background. You also didn't want to remember the times when Namjoon and Seokjin would sponsor their trips and give everyone gifts without expecting anything in return. 

You couldn't remember those things. It was too much to bear for such a weak heart. 

“What do you want to know?” you sighed, your body sliding on the chair as the notifications grew. 

“How did all this happen?” 

“Why do you think I have an answer for that?” 

Yuna clicked her tongue, sitting on the bed with the cell phone still in her hands, still staring at the notification that snapped her out of her sanity. 

“It's just… this is all unbelievable, magnificent and unreal. But how come you're not so excited about what happened?” Yuna slid across the sheets, to be right in front of you, but you refused to look away from the computer. Every time you thought you had overcome and grown around everything that happened so many years ago, something would pop up to remind you that you still had a long way to go. Maybe the nostalgia was strong, but so was the anger. “Regardless of how things turned out, because I know you're not as big a fan as me, this opens a million doors for you and I don't know why you're not celebrating it like we are.” 

 “It's…complicated.” 

 “I don't think so. Tell me.” 

Yuna was unstoppable when she wanted to get answers out, but besides the obvious, of course there was something else that bothered you and kept you from enjoying this boom so much. 

 “It's just that all of this doesn't feel like it was a product of my effort,” you began, letting your gaze wander over the desk. The copies of your books you kept for yourself, the first ones you'd ever printed several years ago, lay there, as tattered as your failed accomplishment. “It doesn't feel like an achievement that my work had exploded thanks to a celebrity whose fans would buy even the toilet paper he uses. A lot of those people won't even read the book. They will just buy it and take a picture of it to say that they have the same book that the great Kim Taehyung read. Many of those books will never have a life, they will just be dust collectors and be reminders that all this did not happen because of my effort.” 

“What the fuck are you blabbering about? Of course it's the fruit of your effort! Of course you deserve it!” Yuna got up from the bed and moved the chair around the back to leave you in front of her disgruntled and almost offended face. You could see the words drawn in her face. “You worked so many years to pull this off and after so many bumps you finally can! You deserve to have what you wanted so badly. This recognition will last just the same because many other people will read them and love them and they may not be many, but you will form a solid foundation as time goes on with people who will be truly unconditional and supportive and that will grow over time. Don't look at this so negatively, maybe you skipped a couple of steps, but you had every right to. It was what you deserved after all the effort and dedication you put into this project for so many years.” 

 Yuna didn't hesitate for a second. Her very serious expression sent a shiver down your spine and you could tell from her furrowed brow that she really was angry at your perception. Perhaps she was right, but without knowing the full background of this specific situation, you were only left to shake your head in assent and send her a grateful smile. 

“I guess you're right,” you lifted a shoulder, turning your gaze back to your mail notifications.

“Of course I am!” the smile returned to her face and it didn't take long for her to look back down at her phone with sparkling eyes. “Now that we got the emotional charge out of the way, would you mind telling me how you know Taehyung?” 

Your breathing stopped for a second and you cursed yourself because it sounded too loud as you almost choked on your own saliva. 

“Oh?” 

Play fucking dumb. 

“What, did you think I wasn't going to notice? He wrote it crystal clear.” 

Yuna wasn't even looking at you, too focused on running her finger over the row of notifications. Her nonchalant demeanor only caused you to panic more. It was as if she had caught you red-handed. 

One of the best writers I've ever met in my life, damn you Kim Taehyung. 

“Ah… I didn't… I didn't really know him so let's just say…”

“He couldn't have said that for nothing, don't you think? No celebrity would do that unless it was a person they hold in deep regard.” 

Yuna had just caught you totally off guard. Maybe you should've focused a lot more on what Taehyung had written before you blocked his user from your personal account and threw the phone in the bottom of your drawer the night before and tried hard not to think about the rest for the rest of the night and all that day. 

“It's just that… uhm… we studied at the same school. But for a short time actually. I don't even remember it well actually, ha, ha.” 

Your laugh came out too constrained under your friend's narrow-eyed stare. You knew you'd have a hard time convincing her because you were a lousy liar. 

“You know, it always struck me as odd that you weren't a fan. Taehyung and Jimin are like the two extremes of your ideal type.” 

“Whaaaat?”

“And Jungkook's music is literally the kind of music you listen to, you just don't listen to his. All the other artists in the same genre you do listen to.”

“That has nothing to do with…” 

“And even your parents don't claim to know Kim Seokjin when your mother was literally a nurse. She probably worked with him.” 

“What does that have to do…?”  

“And your brother is a hip-hop fan. How come he doesn't listen to Agust D? He's the best rapper of the last few decades and he's been trending for a long time.” 

“…” 

At what fucking moment? 

“And all of them, plus Hobi and Namjoon, they all went to the same school. They're all friends. And you say you went to school with Taehyung?” 

“Ahm… well, yes, but it's not like I would have met the others.” 

Yuna looked at you, really looked you straight in the eyes as if that way she could tell what it was you were hiding or as if that solved all her guesses. It was impossible for her not to figure it out if she had already tied up all the damn loose ends. 

Since the boys had left one by one, clearly your family was the first to realize how much their departures had affected you. In the beginning there was communication and all, but when Jungkook was the last to leave you lost any kind of link with them completely. You never knew exactly what happened because no matter how hard you tried to contact them you couldn't, not even your parents could talk to the boys' parents. Perhaps they had simply grown up, matured, completely forgetting about their ordinary life in that town. 

They seemed to have disappeared from the planet. 

Until your family moved to the capital. Jungkook was just starting out as an idol, but he had an amazing debut. He had captivated the entire audience and was too successful almost from the second one. It was a torment to watch them grow professionally little by little because, although you were happy for their achievements and all, you couldn't forget that they had basically abandoned you. And your parents and Seojun had noticed. They had noticed how much seeing them all over the place was bumming you out, so unreachable when at one point they were all in your living room eating your mother's delicious kimchi and listening to your father's anecdotes. Everyone was affected by their departures, but clearly no one as much as you. 

That's why, of course, your parents and brother had made a silent vow to keep all media about the boys away from you, because they didn't even talk about it by accident in the house, at least not when you were present. 

“It must be a huge coincidence…” Yuna continued and only at that moment did you realize how much you got into your head. Your vision slightly blurred. “I shouldn't accuse you of anything for things like that, should I? What nonsense.” 

You were probably as white as a sheet of paper. 

“Yeah, it would be too weird… ha, ha.” 

God, you had to stop letting out those giggles when you were nervous. 

“Anyway, should we order fried chicken for dinner?” 

“I think I heard mom say she was going to make japchae.” 

“Ohhhhhh, Mrs. l/n's japchae is delicious!” 

You let out a laugh watching your friend spring up from the bed and head for the door. She stopped halfway out and pointed her index finger at you. 

“Don't tell my mom I said that.” 

You made a gesture to zipper your mouth shut and Yuna finally left. 

The previous conversation had been so tense that you already felt tired and ready to sleep at seven o'clock at night. Really the whole day had been so heavy for everyone that you didn't know how the lights in the house were still on. For now, you couldn't do anything else, even if orders continued to come in, now everything depended on the printer and how fast the books would come out, so you would have to wait. 

Maybe you should rest. You had asked your boss for the day off, but tomorrow you would have to continue working hard. Regardless of the incredible growth you'd had, you couldn't let your work go to waste. 

Tomorrow would be a new day. A quieter one, preferably. 

-

a/n: i'll try to have ready part 3 for next week! see you on june 13 at 11:59 pm - GMT5 time!

tag: @rinkud @futuristicenemychaos @pastelpeachess @parapiop7 @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthings @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @saintomie @damn-u-min-yoongi @juju-227592

#bts x reader #bts fluff #bts #bts angst #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts jungkook #bts scenarios #bts jimin #taehyung angst #taehyung x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #jimin angst #seokjin x reader #seokjin angst #namjoon angst #namjoon x reader #hobi x reader #hobi angst #hoseok x reader #hoseok angst #yoongi x reader #yoongi angst #series: i can fix them

[myname-isnia]

Ever since I first read Eugene Onegin two years ago, and even more now that I had to reread it for school recently, I've been saying that I've never related to a fictional character more than I relate to Tatyana Larina (not counting my own characters, that is, as they are intentional projections). Particularly the verses about Tatyana's childhood hit very close to home. I've been wanting to talk about it for a while but couldn't find a translation of the book that I liked. So, instead of sleeping, I spent 2 hours absolutely torturing my own brain by coming up with my own translation and I'm way too proud not to share.

Eugene Onegin, chapter 2, verses 25, 26 and 27, translated with the original temp and rhyming scheme intact, by yours truly <3

—

XXV

And so, her sister's named Tatyana.

She seldom catches someone's gaze,

Lacks Olga's beauty, lacks her glamour,

The pink-cheeked freshness of her face.

She's almost feral, quiet with woe,

So quick to startle, like a doe.

And even in her family home

She seemed a child not quite their own.

She hardly ever showed affection,

Both mom and dad would often say.

By window she would spend her day

Alone but for her own reflection,

She judged the children running wild,

Though she herself was still a child.

XXVI

Imagination was her close friend

From infancy. As village days

Kept dragging on without an end,

She'd get lost in her fantasies.

Needle and thread she too avoided,

Fabric was never once embroidered

By her unblemished fingers, for

She found needlework a bore.

An average girl would take her doll,

Sit down with it and start to talk,

Prepare it for the time to walk

Into an upper class grand ball –

To silent dolls during these sessions

Young girls repeat their mothers' lessons.

XXVII

Tatyana never had discussions

With dolls, nor did she play with them;

She never told them of the fashions,

Of city news, and even then

Of toys and games she was quite wary,

She'd rather read of something scary.

In winters, in the dead of night,

Her heart learned how to take a fright.

When for young Olga their old nanny

Would gather up the neighbours' kids

To run and play out in the fields,

Tatyana would act most uncanny:

She never played or ran around,

And found their laughter far too loud.

—

#a portrait of pushkin's wife that my grandma has on her wall was staring at me the entire time I wrote this lmao #judging me for butchering her husband's work probably #okay self depreciation aside I think I did pretty well. considering I am very much not a poet #the rhyming scheme absolutely kills me. you have to think like 3 lines ahead with every line you translate. pushkin the genius that you are #I took some creative liberties in places but for the most part I tried to stick as close to the original as possible. and again. #pretty damn proud of myself for this one :) apparently I know some things about poetry. at least enough to keep the beat intact #okay it's 3 a.m I should probably go to bed now. good night)) #eugene onegin #tatyana larina #alexander pushkin #russian literature #russian lit #idk how else to tag this lmao #tatyana wins award for pushkin's most autistic character. argue with a wall

[area51-escapee]

“A little progress is better than none!!! Vote blue anyways <3!!!!!” I’m going to start beating these people with a baseball bat I swear to god

#the ‘progress’ in question: #abortion bans. anti trans bills all over the place #book bans every fucking day it feels like #that goddamn wall is still being built #and yeah you know the fucking GENOCIDE???? #what fucking progress are you TALKING ABOUT??? #I don’t want to hear shit about progress when there IS NO PROGRESS #what does that progress even matter to thousands and thousands of people who are dying??? #what does it matter to those who are losing their families??? #it’s one thing to post this dumbass shit but to post it IN the tag??? #it’s so fucking time deaf oh my god #I’m making my own dumbass post because I’m seconds away from losing my mind #on every fucking post I see like this #how stupid can you be #‘well he’s not the other guy’ is not good enough anymore #it never should’ve been good enough #I have a feeling this chuckle fuck in charge is going to finally pull through and make good #on at least one of his promises #in a desperate attempt to win people back over #and it’s going to fucking work because people are too selfish #to care how it’ll effect anyone other than themselves

[medicinemane]

The problem with people who are "right" because they insist they're right, and the only way to be right is to simply perfectly follow their every dictation on the subject unquestioningly is this...

Ok, let's just take it as a given that you're right... the problem here is that if that's what's right I'm afraid I have to dig my heels into being wrong. If you are as righteous and just as you insist you are then I've got no choice but to be the villain because I can't stand what you're saying I'd have to do to be good

Shockingly I even think it's wrong, which is odd because we've already defined it that you're inherently and unassailably right... yet here we are

Worst part is there's a lot of these things where I'm not even full stop against it, I actually might be on their side if they could stop and address a couple of issues I consider kind of important... but they won't, because they're morally right and don't have time for addressing nonexistent issues I'm clearly just dreaming up

Undoubtedly right they are, the defect must surely be my own... and yet here we are. Vile and wicked as it might make me, I still can't just go along with you

#mm tag so i can find things later #and whatever you think this is about and however you've already decided it agrees with you #I'll say this is about like... minimum 2 topics at very different points in the political spectrum... and probably like 20 easy #so like... it may well be talking about your own behavior on certain subjects #I'm talking about not even being willing to entertain good faith questions #and especially about labeling anyone who doesn't tow your exact party line a horrible person #...the amount of shit where it's like 'you know I actually agree with you... except for this one major sticking point' #'just tell me how we deal with this one pretty big thing and I'm fully on board' and... well actually you're terrible for that #or the amount of places where it's like I agree with your goals; but not your methods but... I don't think arguing would do a damn thing #you've already dug your heels in so deep and maybe you're even right to do it.. but I'll never go along with it no matter what that makes m #and the number of overall good people I know who this post is honestly about #they may well be far better than I am; I've never claimed to be good; quite the opposite #and yet I'm afraid I have to say that... to me you're wrong; wrong in concrete ways #maybe you could even address my concerns and help me see with my stupid brain why these aren't issues... but you won't #because you're right; and you know you're right; and so you'll never be wrong #and this isn't just some idle whataboutism... or maybe it is; I'll never say I'm the moral arbiter; again I could be wickedly wrong #and there's a variety of reasons someone believes what they believe; but... there's often blind dogma at the end #I may be stupid; but I can usually draw a line from my stance to something in the world #maybe it's a stupid nonsense line and I don't see my mental gymnastics... very well could be #but I can draw a line... it's not just circular logic; it's not just bouncing between two points #and I often can actually point to places I'm not happy with how things are or will be... we live in the real world and that sucks #example that... man it's more politically charged than I like getting; but ok #I really want this Ukrainian aid to pass even though I don't like the Israeli aid attached... but I get that's the only way it's passing #I want the Ukraine aid because I see residential houses getting stuck by missiles; but I don't want the Israeli aid for the same reason #and it comes down to that I think that the aid amount is sufficiently higher to Ukraine to make it enough of a net positive #I could be wrong... but you can at least see my work; I'm coming at it from a perspective of bombing civilians is wrong #I could be stupid; I could point to two people I know on here who would tell me I'm stupid for at least one part of this... probably all #yet there it is... and... it'll be hard to convince me otherwise

[chrisemrysfics]

I am lazy so this is copy-paste directly from t/witter, I figured I'd share here too this idea that for now is just an idea (MDZS and FFXVI crossover)

Imagine WWX in the Hideaway. How he came to be there? I don't know. Maybe his canon was the distant past and he's an immortal or reincarnated. Maybe he world-hopped accidentally. Either way, he Does Not Approve the whole branded system, he's bound to end up meeting Cid.

Is it before or after Clive joins? Who knows. Now whatever the reason for WWX presence, in my head he does know about his own canon. He's looking for LWJ. And I'm feral for the idea that he's a "Dominant" of a draconic "Eikon" (Chinese Dragon). How to make it work? don't know 😂

Main option is one that ties into another fic of mine as to how WWX becomes a dragon, aka nothing to do with Eikon. But the itch to figure out how to make it work as an actual Eikon... And also what the element is in that case.. Its tempting to try making it work that way XD

All of that because I am feral for this scene my mind conjured, where Titan is about to crush the Hideaway, WWX goes "no you don't" and boom, massive chinese black dragon is curled above his newfound found family. Except I want Cid to live so Titan find the Hideaway earlier?

And then the whole fact WWX is a genius inventor, Wangxian (because LWJ would show up eventually, likely as the "yang eikon" to WWX "yin eikon" if I keep my nickname for these) are expert in cultivation. What if they figure out a way to counter the Blight&crystal curse?

Then there's the casual/fun stuff too, like WWX taking one look at Clive and going "this is my new son" which is hilarious because he would look younger/same age physically. Potential for Cid&WWX friendship. And the very fun fact everyone adore Torgal but WWX is TerrifiedTM.

Don't get me started on WWX flinging himself in LWJ arms when he finally finds him, or LWJ finds WWX, calling him his husband. The Shameless Wangxian begins and everyone else SuffersTM. And since the ship caught my heart: WWX notice the way Cid/Clive look at each other.

WWX: *smirks* LWJ: Wei Ying, behave. Wei Ying Did Not Behave, but hey, there's a nice firestorm happening now, so he's pretty happy with himself. (Note: Jill is best friend, I do love her, but I prefer platonic Jill&Clive).

Not me thinking "this is it" about the ideas and then my brain going "what if WWX is with the group in Oriflamme, which plays a part in Cid lives, as well as them arriving in time for him to go nope on Titan?" so here, that's what happens now in my brain!

Half of my brain is now going "that can explain why Cid, Clive and Jill aren't able to Prime if they KOed but alive", the other half is "ok but this also potentially allow Joshua to be there 👀

#projects #(at least that's the tag that works well enough to place this) #(even if i don't know if i'll do anything with this)

[neverendingford]

.

#hi guess what good news I don't have any kind of a mood disorder I just have “gets really fucking upset and shut down when Bad Things” #anyway good news the depresso is just me being annoyed at things happening #bad news is I don't have an excuse for why my default state is “hyped up on God-Killing jice #*juice #I'm aware enough to work on it though and now I can recover from things within a week instead of the usual month or two #currently working through another problem phase because turns out that men seeing me as a man gives rancid vibes #also bro you're nice and cool but boring #and the greatest sin anyone could ever commit is being boring. at least to me. I'm my limited opinion #just so thoroughly not interested. plus I straight up said “no that gives me dysphoria” but you asked again anyway. #anyway. for science. learning new things. learning how to spot the things I already know I don't like. #and learning how to find the things I do like. #life is about trial and error and then more trial #and I'm in a good enough place where I can recover from the failures reasonably well #tag talk

[lollixp0p]

The Video (18+)

Pairing: Best friend!Hwang Hyunjin x afab!reader

Genre: Smut (MDNI), bit of feelings

Word count: just under 3k!

Warnings: Idol!au, subby!Hyunjin, slightly perv!reader, recording, (maybe a bit dub con because he doesn't mean to send it but reader watches it anyway), mommy kink, masturbation (both but separately), Hyunjin fantasizes about reader, reader fantasizes about Hyunjin, lmk if I missed anything!!

Summary: Hyunjin finally gets some alone time after weeks of hard work and decides to use his time to... relax. The next day he ends up sending you something on accident that sets off a big change in your lives, with or without either of you really realising.

Note: My first ever fic!! :3 Inspired by a video I saw on phub. (@cbini (Ems isn't on Tumblr rn she still wanted to be tagged so I hope it's ok), @comet-falls, @hyunsvngs, @mnwrld and @skz-hell lmao hello everyone, writing blog reveal!!😁 here's this fic I've mention to all of you as an anon<3 (depending on who you are I'm either ❄️anon, 🐾anon or sounding anon😳)). To anyone reading this please give me literally any feedback (comment, reblog, anything!), I want to know if this is good or not since it's my first fic🙏😣

Please do not under any circumstance copy, translate, or repost my works!

It's been exactly three weeks since Hyunjin's had any time for just himself, though it feels like months at this point.

Recently everyone's been running around like headless chickens and between vocal trainings, dance practices and the studio, there hasn't been much time to just relax and recharge. Preparing for a new album really is the busiest time of an idols life.

There hasn't even been time to see family or friends, which is common during busy spells like this, but always dissapointing to think about. Now even more so, with how much he's been wishing to spend time with you, one of his closest friends... who also happens to be his crush. Not that he'd ever let you know though, not in a very long time.

It feels almost like a blessing, getting back to the dorms from practice late in the evening and realising... he's got the place all for himself, at least until his roommates get back from the studio.

Changbin had messaged him earlier, telling him that they'd probably be there well past midnight, so there was no use waiting up for them. To him though, this was the very opposite of an issue. With that much free time, he'd definitely be able to... make himself comfortable, so to speak.

See, not having time to relax also means he'd basically had no time to get off. The best he'd been able to do had been quick little sessions barely once a week in the shower right before passing out on his bed from the exhaustion of working hard.

The realisation that he'd be able to do anything he wants during his time alone is enough to get his dick twitching in his jeans and he decides the shower can wait until later.

Hyunjin goes to his room and locks the door after himself even though he's alone, it's just become a habit after so many years living with his members. He sets his bag down next to his bed and thinks through his plan.

Hyunjin has a little secret, which is that he loves recording himself do dirty things that range from more vanilla to much less vanilla. Something about the thrill of being recorded even if no one will ever see it just... makes him so fucking horny.

He opens the camera of his phone, puts it to video mode and presses record. Moving his hand off the lense and setting it down where he normally sets it, on the carefully placed pile of books on his desk, he sits down on his bed.

"Hmm... I hope the angle's good... It's been so long since I've had time for this", Hyunjin sighs with a pout and brushes his hair out of his eyes. He knows the camera won't see it though because he's made sure the stand, his pile of books, is at a level that cuts off his head perfectly.

Hyunjins hands run down his body slowly and he exhales deeply, just loud enough to get picked up by his phone. Once they reach his jeans he unbuttons them, unzips the zipper, then pulls the jeans down just enough to expose his underwear. Hyunjin pulls his shirt up over his stomach to be held in place under his chin, rubs his hand over his bulge and hums.

It's been so long since the last time he's been able to take his time making himself feel good. It's almost embarrassing how quickly he's getting hard.

He takes his dick out his boxers and then spits on the palm of his right hand. It's dirty and wet but it just turns him on even more. He grabs his dick with the hand and slowly moves his fist up and down, to spread the saliva and precum all over his dick to make the slide easier and wetter but to also get himself to full hardness.

"A-ah, ohh... that's so good... Feels-fuck, feels so good", Hyunjin sighs. It really won't take him too long to cum, he just knows it. He's been pent up for far too long.

He tries to think of something to help his issue and immediately thinks of you, no matter how embarrassed or dirty it makes him feel.

When you first started showing up in the dirtiest corners of his mind he felt so ashamed. Now it doesn't matter to him anymore. You'll never find out so why feel bad?

He continues to move his hand on his dick while thinking of you. The last time the two of you had time to hang out together you'd worn the lowest cut shirt he'd ever seen on you. He had tried so hard to act normal around you but whenever you bent down he'd been able to see into your shirt.

"Haah, fuck..." , he squeezes himself a little harder at the memory. Everytime you moved he could see your bra poking out from the top, black and lacy. The entire time he'd been doing his best to not bust in his pants. Oh, what he'd give to be able to see your tits. They always looked so soft and they'd probably fit perfectly into his palms.

Whenever the both of you would hang out at yours, watching movies and just hanging out, you never bothered to wear a bra. Why would you? It is your house where you want to be as comfortable as possible.

The feeling of laying down on your couch watching a movie with you on top of him, in just a t-shirt, will end up driving him mad one day. Everytime he'd felt your nipples poking into him he'd almost moaned out loud.

"Hngh... Oh my god, please... m-mommy!", he lets out pathetically, moving his fist faster. God he just wants you to use him, to do anything you want to him. The thought makes him whine desperately.

One of the most common fantasies for him is you on top of him using him to get off, not caring about if he's close or not. You'd sit on his face and ride it until you cum. He could probably cum untouched like that. All he'd need was tasting you and seeing you cum, just for him.

All the sudden he remembers the phone recording him and he shudders. He imagines what your reaction would be to seeing him like this. Would you be disgusted or delighted? Would you tell him what to do and how to touch himself? Maybe you'd touch him... He hopes you would.

"Mommy... please touch me, aah- oh!", he runs his thumb over the head of his cock just right and his thighs twitch but he keeps them open, in perfect view to the camera.

Throwing his head back he imagines you riding him. You'd be so tight and wet around him. Maybe you'd tie his hands behind his back so he wouldn't be able to touch you... he'd really like that. You'd feel godly around him, Hyunjin thinks.

"Fuck, oh fuck! Mommy I'm-haah, I'm so close, please!", his dick twitches desperately. You're so gorgeous, to him you're the sexiest person he's ever seen. He feels himself getting so close that tears spring to his eyes.

"Ah- 'm gonna... mommy, gonna cum...!", he whines out long and loud. It takes Hyunjin two more strokes to let go and he cums the hardest he's cum in weeks. He doesn't even register whispering your name. Hyunjin leans back on his left hand and keeps stroking himself through it.

The feeling is overwhelming, so much so that his thighs start twitching pathetically and the tears in the corners of his eyes fall. He's getting incredibly overstimulated but he keeps going, wanting to keep enjoying the feeling, just a bit more.

He squeezes himself one last time and suddenly everything on him feels gross and dirty. He's just had the best orgasm in weeks so it's no surprise that he came a lot, everywhere. He even managed to get some on his chin.

"Fuuck... Did you-haah... did you enjoy that?", he chuckles to the phone. It takes a while for him to come down from the high, the twitchiness and the feeling of euphoria lingering in his body. Once he's capable of standing up again he stops the video.

With his body feeling like jelly, he takes off all his clothes, drops them into his hamper and prepares to shower, at last.

Hyunjin wakes up to his alarm the next day feeling more refreshed than he's felt in weeks. He shuts off the still ringing alarm and quickly gets up from his bed to get dressed and go eat breakfast.

Checking the calendar on his phone to make sure he knows his schedule for today, he makes a note of one thing; he'd have a lot of time alone at the dorms today too, since he's only got a dance practice and a recording session today, which obviously means 3racha will stay behind to stress about their songs while Hyunjin can return early. Maybe this time he should continue the latest piece of art he's been working on after he gets back?

Hyunjin gets through the day well enough.

After eating breakfast he messages you a "Good morning pretty <3 please remember to drink water!" like every morning when he has time for it. He gets to the practice room only five minutes late, which is a record this early in the morning, because usually he ends up sleeping in at least ten minutes (which makes Chan scold him for being such a heavy sleeper).

He does well at practice, even though he ends up a little exhausted. That's nothing new though, with how hard they always work to be the best they can be.

The rest of the members leave to take a break but Hyunjin decides to stay behind to film the solo choreography he's been working on for fun. Once he's happy with how it's turned out, it's time for him to go record his lines.

The recording session goes smoothly, without hundreds of retakes and everyone's satisfied with the result. Afterwards they decide to order some take-out, as a reward for a job well done... and also because they're all feeling too lazy to even think about going to the dorms to cook.

While eating Hyunjin finally realises to check his phone again. "Good morning, take care of yourself too!! :)" is your response to what he sent earlier. It's nothing more than a kind response but it makes him grin to himself like the fool in love he is.

"Yaaah!! Hyunjinnieee, what's making you smile so beautifully?", Changbin leans towards him with his signature flirting-with-Hyunjin grin, mouth half full of rice.

"It's nothing," Hyunjin responds back to him cheeks red, "and don't talk with your mouth full hyung... Do you not have any respect?"

Changbin decides to drop it in favor of eating more delicious food.

"Oh come on... we wanna know!!", Han pouts at him from his seat on the couch in the room. Hyunjin shoves another mouthful of food in his mouth to avoid the embarrassement of explaining how a single text messaged from you manages to make his heart beat out of his chest.

Once Hyunjin's done eating he's free to go back to the dorms and just like he suspected the rest of his dormmates stay behind to work some more, although they all whine at him to stay to explain the previous mystery. He declines and they all keep their sad puppydog eyes on him until he's out the door.

He keeps texting you during his ride, all the way to the dorms. Once he's in his room Hyunjin decides to just change into some clean clothes. He's too excited to talk to you and get to painting, he can wash up later.

He lays in his bed to keep texting you and at some point your conversation changes from how your day's been going to talking about dancing and he mentions how he just today filmed a new choreography bit he's made for fun.

❣️:

Can I see what you've been working on? :)

I'm sure it's really good, you always are!!

Jinnie:

Well... since you asked so nicely😉

[video sent]

Quickly sending the video Hyunjin exits out the messaging app, feeling so giddy he can't help but squirm around on his bed. He still can't believe someone like you could be interested in seeing him dance.

It might seem like a small thing for most but he feels himself turning red just thinking about the way you look at him while he talks about something so important to him. It makes the butterflies in his stomach every time you're near go crazy. It's so attentive, like you actually care and are interested in his interests... and maybe even...?

'No' , he thinks to himself. There's probably no way you could ever actually be interested in him, not in the same way he's interested in you at least.

He leaves his phone charging and finally gets out of bed to go to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. He'd need it if he wanted to stay up late to work on his newest art piece.

Hearing the familiar 'ping' notification of receiving a message makes you open your phone again and just like you thought, Hyunjin had sent you the video of his latest masterpiece of a choreography. Not waiting a second you press the video just to see.... Hyunjin take his hand off the camera and set the phone down on the desk in his room he draws on. He sits down on the edge of his bed and says something, you aren't really sure what, because the volume's too low. In confusion you turn it up more.

Hyunjin sighs and reaches up to move his hair out his face, probably. You can't see it though, because the camera cuts his face perfectly off frame. Suddenly his hands run down his body to the button on his jeans. He opens it and starts undoing the zipper next. You just look at the video in shock. 'He isn't about to... to take them off is he?', you think to yourself, just as he pulls the jeans down enough to expose his white boxers and then palms his bulge.

Should you stop watching? Keep watching? How long has it even been playing? How long does it keep playing? While you wonder this you almost miss Hyunjin pull his hard dick out of his underwear and spit on his palm and... Oh God...

You've now done something you can never take back. The downright sinful view of his cock is something you don't think you're ever going to be able to forget. How do you even face him after this? After watching him grasp his dick in his hand and pump it a couple of times to spread the spit and precum around.

You exit the video, panting and absolutely soaking through your underwear. Your other hand rushes to your face to feel your cheeks. They're burning and feel like you've been standing out in the sun for hours, when in reality all you've done is accidentally watch your best friend play with himself.

You struggle to decide what to do with the video and in the end save the video without much thinking, then delete the message of it and decide to notify him of his mistake. As long as he doesn't know you saved it, it should be fine, right?

It takes Hyunjin less than 10 minutes to make and get the coffee. He returns to his room humming the tune of a song he's had on repeat recently. Setting the coffee down on the desk and taking his phone off from the charger he notices new messages from you.

❣️:

Uhm...😕

Hyunjin, I don't think you meant to send that.

He looks at his screen confused. What did you mean by that? He...

Oh God.

Did he send the wrong video?

Frantically opening the video he sent earlier he sees himself, in video, move his hand off the phone camera and set it down the desk near his bed and sit down. Oh no...

"Hmm... I hope the angle's good... It's been so long since I've had time for this", video Hyunjin sighs and reaches up to move his hair from his eyes. His head may be out of frame but he clearly remembers pouting while saying this. He watches himself slowly unbutton and unzip his pants, adjusting them so that his boxers are clearly visible in frame. In the video his hand drifts towards his crotch slowly, teasingly.

He quickly exits the video and promptly shoves his head under his pillow and yells. He'd accidentally sent the wrong video while hurrying to get a cup of coffee. How could he have messed up this bad? In his panic, it takes him a moment to respond.

Jinnie:

Oh god

I'm so sorry!!

Please don't watch that!

❣️:

Don't worry!!!

I stopped watching the moment you started unzipping your pants😖

I saw nothing, promise!🙏 It's been deleted already!! 

Little does he know though, you'd kept the video. You're not really sure why, but subconciously your brain keeps screaming' to finish it later, of course'.

...

Fuck it, you don't think you can wait until later.

Taking a deep breath, you open your gallery to find the video he sent you. You hesitate for a second but press play anyway. You can feel how you're already soaking through your underwear but pay no mind to it yet.

You watch him do the things you've seen already, all the way until he spits in his hand... and you pause the video. 'Is it right to watch this? I mean, he didn't mean to even send it...', you think to yourself.

But the thought of seeing him touch himself, to hear him make the sweetest noises you could ever in your wildest dreams imagine him making drives you on.

Pressing play again you dip your fingers into your pants. You rub yourself over your underwear and oh my god... you can't believe the wetness you feel after less than a minute of watching the video. You focus on the phone you're holding in your other hand and finally move your fingers into your underwear to directly touch your pussy.

On your screen you see Hyunjin start to stroke himself faster, the head of his dick a dark pink, you can feel his desperation through the screen. Without thinking you move your fingers to your clit and start rubbing it in circles, aided by the wetness of your leaking pussy.

He moans out loud and even though you can't hear it through the fog in your head, you know he's desperate. You move your fingers down to your hole and dip two of them in. You're so wet you barely need to even stretch yourself out and then he does it.

"Hngh... Oh my god, please... m-mommy!"

You push your fingers deeper and your pussy lets out he lewdest squelch which in turn makes you close your eyes desperately in pleasure. 'Mommy? When he masturbates he calls out for mommy??', the thought makes you lose your mind. You think about what it would be like if he called you mommy in the throes of pleasure.

You want to make him follow every command you give him. The way he'd look up at you on his knees with you standing above him. Maybe you could make him suck on a strap? He'd look so ridiculously delicious with his mouth full, drool dripping down his cheeks.

You add another finger and start rubbing at your clit with your thumb at the same time. The feeling makes you whimper and imagine his hands on you, teaching him how to touch you perfectly. You're getting so close and you remember to focus your screen again.

Hyunjin looks absolutely disheveled. His dick is red and throbbing, you can tell he's getting close. His voice is another thing that gives him away. He's whiny and his voice keeps cracking every time he opens his mouth. Hyunjin bucks into his hand and moans.

"... mommy, gonna cum...!", he strokes himself twice more and then finally cums. You're so close it's maddening. All the sudden you hear him... whisper your name?

It makes you go off the edge and your entire body clenches and seizes while you silently cry out from all the pleasure you're feeling. Your walls suck in your fingers with how you're clenching around them. On the screen Hyunjin twitches violently, working himself through the end of his orgasm.

You pull your fingers out of yourself and slump down on your bed exhausted, but the last 20 seconds of the video that's now over haunts you. Did you hear him right?

You gather strength to pick up your phone again and rewind the video to the part where he cums and turn the volume almost all the way up. Admittedly you end up fixating on the way his dick looks and face twists in pleasure when he cums and then he says, or more like whisper your name. Your brain blanks.

"Fuuck... Did you-haah... did you enjoy that?", he chuckles to the phone, sits in place for a bit to properly come down and then gets up to stop the video.

You're wet, confused and you can feel your heart beat out of your chest. What do you do now? How can you ever face him normally after that... Does he feel the same way you do? Is he sure he didn't mean to send it?

It's all too much to think about, so you decide that instead of thinking about it you'll clean yourself up and... crawl into a hole where no one will ever find you. Probably. The only thing you know for sure is you definitely won't be sleeping tonight.

© lollixp0p 2024 | please do not under any circumstance copy, translate, or repost my works

#cupid♡writing #sub!idol #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #skz x reader #skz smut #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut #dividers by cafekitsune

[5ummit]

AO3 Ship Stats: Year In Bad Data

You may have seen this AO3 Year In Review.

It hasn’t crossed my tumblr dash but it sure is circulating on twitter with 3.5M views, 10K likes, 17K retweets and counting. Normally this would be great! I love data and charts and comparisons!

Except this data is GARBAGE and belongs in the TRASH.

I first noticed something fishy when I realized that Steve/Bucky – the 5th largest ship on AO3 by total fic count – wasn’t on this Top 100 list anywhere. I know Marvel’s popularity has fallen in recent years, but not that much. Especially considering some of the other ships that made it on the list. You mean to tell me a femslash HP ship (Mary MacDonald/Lily Potter) in which one half of the pairing was so minor I had to look up her name because she was only mentioned once in a single flashback scene beat fandom juggernaut Stucky? I call bullshit.

Now obviously jumping to conclusions based on gut instinct alone is horrible practice... but it is a good place to start. So let’s look at the actual numbers and discover why this entire dataset sits on a throne of lies.

Here are the results of filtering the Steve/Bucky tag for all works created between Jan 1, 2023 and Dec 31, 2023:

Not only would that place Steve/Bucky at #23 on this list, if the other counts are correct (hint: they're not), it’s also well above the 1520-new-work cutoff of the #100 spot. So how the fuck is it not on the list? Let’s check out the author’s FAQ to see if there’s some important factor we’re missing.

The first thing you’ll probably notice in the FAQ is that the data is being scraped from publicly available works. That means anything privated and only accessible to logged-in users isn’t counted. This is Sin #1. Already the data is inaccurate because we’re not actually counting all of the published fics, but the bots needed to do data collection on this scale can't easily scrape privated fics so I kinda get it. We’ll roll with this for now and see if it at least makes the numbers make more sense:

Nope. Logging out only reduced the total by a couple hundred. Even if one were to choose the most restrictive possible definition of "new works" and filter out all crossovers and incomplete fics, Steve/Bucky would still have a yearly total of 2,305. Yet the list claims their total is somewhere below 1,500? What the fuck is going on here?

Let’s look at another ship for comparison. This time one that’s very recent and popular enough to make it on the list so we have an actual reference value for comparison: Nick/Charlie (Heartstopper). According to the list, this ship sits at #34 this year with a total of 2630 new works. But what’s AO3 say?

Off by a hundred or so but the values are much closer at least!

If we dig further into the FAQ though we discover Sin #2 (and the most egregious): the counting method. The yearly fic counts are NOT determined by filtering for a certain time period, they’re determined by simply taking a snapshot of the total number of fics in a ship tag at the end of the year and subtracting the previous end-of-year total. For example, if you check a ship tag on Jan 1, 2023 and it has 10,000 fics and check it again on Jan 1, 2024 and it now has 12,000 fics, the difference (2,000) would be the number of "new works" on this chart.

At first glance this subtraction method might seem like a perfectly valid way to count fics, and it’s certainly the easiest way, but it can and did have major consequences to the point of making the entire dataset functionally meaningless. Why? If any older works are deleted or privated, every single one of those will be subtracted from the current year fic count. And to make the problem even worse, beginning at the end of last year there was a big scare about AI scraping fics from AO3, which caused hundreds, if not thousands, of users to lock down their fics or delete them.

The magnitude of this fuck up may not be immediately obvious so let’s look at an example to see how this works in practice.

Say we have two ships. Ship A is more than a decade old with a large fanbase. Ship B is only a couple years old but gaining traction. On Jan 1, 2023, Ship A had a catalog of 50,000 fics and ship B had 5,000. Both ships have 3,000 new works published in 2023. However, 4% of the older works in each fandom were either privated or deleted during that same time (this percentage is was just chosen to make the math easy but it’s close to reality).

Ship A: 50,000 x 4% = 2,000 removed works Ship B: 5,000 x 4% = 200 removed works

Ship A: 3,000 - 2,000 = 1,000 "new" works Ship B: 3,000 - 200 = 2,800 "new" works

This gives Ship A a net gain of 1,000 and Ship B a net gain of 2,800 despite both fandoms producing the exact same number of new works that year. And neither one of these reported counts are the actual new works count (3,000). THIS explains the drastic difference in ranking between a ship like Steve/Bucky and Nick/Charlie.

How is this a useful measure of anything? You can't draw any conclusions about the current size and popularity of a fandom based on this data.

With this system, not only is the reported "new works" count incorrect, the older, larger fandom will always be punished and it’s count disproportionately reduced simply for the sin of being an older, larger fandom. This example doesn’t even take into account that people are going to be way more likely to delete an old fic they're no longer proud of in a fandom they no longer care about than a fic that was just written, so the deletion percentage for the older fandom should theoretically be even larger in comparison.

And if that wasn't bad enough, the author of this "study" KNEW the data was tainted and chose to present it as meaningful anyway. You will only find this if you click through to the FAQ and read about the author’s methodology, something 99.99% of people will NOT do (and even those who do may not understand the true significance of this problem):

The author may try to argue their post states that the tags "which had the greatest gain in total public fanworks” are shown on the chart, which makes it not a lie, but a error on the viewer’s part in not interpreting their data correctly. This is bullshit. Their chart CLEARLY titles the fic count column “New Works” which it explicitly is NOT, by their own admission! It should be titled “Net Gain in Works” or something similar.

Even if it were correctly titled though, the general public would not understand the difference, would interpret the numbers as new works anyway (because net gain is functionally meaningless as we've just discovered), and would base conclusions on their incorrect assumptions. There’s no getting around that… other than doing the counts correctly in the first place. This would be a much larger task but I strongly believe you shouldn’t take on a project like this if you can’t do it right.

To sum up, just because someone put a lot of work into gathering data and making a nice color-coded chart, doesn’t mean the data is GOOD or VALUABLE.

#ao3 #ao3 stats #psa #my words #fandom #I doubt anyone is even going to read this but I needed to get it out of my system and at least try to stop this from spreading #if you know me #you know I get Big Mad about misinformation #don't take anything at face value #do your own research

[gorejo]

▸ BOSS'S FAVORITE - gojo satoru (forbes30!gojo au)

what can you say to the boss's favorite customer when he comes five minutes before closing? Kick him out? Not an option, especially when he tips so well and has a rather cheeky motive to stay and get your attention.

content: 1.1k words. unedited. this is before the breakup! so, college forbes30!gojo. reader is his girlfriend, she/her pronouns. fluff! got this from an anon ask!! so nonnie if you see this, I hope you enjoy! also this is the shortest fic I've made in a hot minute! so be proud of me yall )) :

"you're here again," you monotonously asked, deadpanning with a raised brow, crossing your arms while you leaned to one side.

“Yes, as you can see since I’m seated here to get my order taken.” he smiled amused by your baffled expression.

“Sato—”

"your boss likes me," Satoru smugly responded while he sat back on his chair and crossed a leg over the other, his expensive shoes reflecting the cafe's dim lighting, "i came for him, so don't get mistaken," he teased with a childish smirk.

“And you know, that’s not a way to greet a valid customer. especially with my VIP status,” he huffed with the corner of his lip threatening into a smirk.

"And you know it's courtesy to not come into a store when we're just about to close," raising your wrist to look at your watch, “I don’t know like five minutes before closing.”

"well, don't blame me," he innocently batted his soft eyelashes, steadying his cheek on the palm of his hand, "I was waiting for my girlfriend outside and he so happened to kindly invite me in."

Gojo Satoru was your boss’s favorite. Not only did he effortlessly draw in customers, people curiously entering the cafe just for a closer look at him, only to end up buying a drink and some pastries to chill in the somber ambiance, but he also tipped generously — too generous to be even called a tip.

Those that walk by would do a double take when they would see the white haired man, tall in stature, dressed in a simple white shirt, and black slacks, and would reroute their steps hoping that maybe they were lucky to see him again.

Just by the frosty white of his hair, he gained attention — who wouldn’t stare at a handsome guy, covering his beautiful cerulean eyes with his notable sunglasses chilling on a seat looking through his phone, while he sipped on the most sugary drink the cafe had to offer.

The cafe was especially the busiest whenever he tagged the store on his socials. Flocks of his followers bombarded the store just to see a glimpse of their favorite college nepotism student, who happened to also be unapologetically haughty about his good looks.

And to his mercy, today, he graciously came just when the store was about to close — at least there won’t be a murderous amount of people trying to flock over. 

Because fuck capitalism.

Working on the weekends, and sacrificing your leisure to make money wasn't out of the norm. It was something most college students would do. Make a couple of bucks to comfortably buy that extra cup of coffee with oat milk, or go out with friends for some food or the club.

But for you, you had bills to pay. And it didn't help that your boyfriend was well outside your tax bracket.

He was kind and offered to pay for almost if not all the dates. But with exams rolling around, and your monthly rent just about due, you didn't have enough time to fit him into your schedule.

He never complained, simply worried that you were pushing yourself too harshly. Placing a kiss on your forehead as he tucked you into bed, or cradled you in his arms when he found you sleeping on the couch, he hoped that you could trust him — trust him enough with your burdens but he never pushed. Because he trusted you would come to him on your own time, when you were ready to invite him more into your heart.

So, he's found a rather cheeky way to squeeze some time to let you know he cares. It's just his way is not the most conventional one you could imagine...

“He likes you because you tip well,” you laughed while rolling your eyes.

Clearing his throat, "I know you like to talk to me because I am that handsome,” he opened up the menu and placed a finger to rub his chin while he “actively” tried to decide what to get, “but like I said, I do have a girlfriend and I would like to order please." He chuckled while looking up, giving you a boyish grin — the one that made your heart flutter despite how cheesy he was. 

At this point, it was disappointing how he still affected you. Flustered at his forwardness, you turned around, muttering as you felt a sudden heat radiate to your cheek. “Okay, then call someone when you’re ready.”

“No!” Immediately grabbing hold of your hand, a sharp screech on his chair scraping against the wooden floor echoing through the quiet cafe. He gave it a tight squeeze before he sat down, his puppy eyes pleading for you to wait, “I’m sorry… just, I- I’ll choose soon,” he mumbled, silently sitting back down.

"Okay, then… what can I get for you, Mr. Gojo." you sighed, shaking your head, looking at his fingers lightly playing with yours, “And didn’t you say you have a girlfriend? Not sure if she’ll like this if she saw, ” You smirked.

“eh it’s okay, she’ll understand,” He responded with a hum, “she loves me too much.” his thumb gently rubbed against your skin, the scales of the day’s stress flaking off the more his warm hands massaged yours. “but, give me a minute, gotta read through all the options.”

“You serious?... ” It was so easy to read through his actions — it was laughable, really. 

“Yes, this requires a lot of thinking,” quickly peeping at his watch latched on his vacant hand before humming exaggeratingly, “hmm…”

Tapping your foot, “Any minute now, that’ll be great, Sat —”

"Give me a couple of seconds please,” he stopped you, reading through each item, slow as a sloth — at most twenty items were on the menu, it shouldn’t even take an elementary student this long to read at his pace.

“Sure, whatever for the boss’s favorite, right?” you pursed your lips, your eyes forming faux crescent moons.  

“Oh, I got it!” he chirped, simultaneously closing the menu when you heard your boss off in the distance, shooing your other coworkers into the kitchen, “Let’s close up! Chop! Chop! The faster we finish, the faster we go home!” 

“I need to go help —” you tried heading to the kitchen, not wanting your coworkers to bear the burden of cleaning on their own.

“I'll get —" Gojo hummed, just about to say his order before you cut him off, his firm grip on your hand keeping you from leaving.

"the mochi with zunda, with freshly whipped cream and a side of strawberries to go with it, anything else?" you quickly retorted.

"Oh yes, maybe I can top it off…” elbows leaning against the table with his arms crossed, flashing you with his cheeky smile — the one that showed his teeth and the cute dimple he had on the bottom corner of his lip. 

“with a kiss, because you’re finally off the clock now, right?”

author's note: he's so annoying but I love him to death so that's alright heh

#ae.writes #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #forbes30!gojo

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Two personalities that clash, you and your lieutenant rarely get along, but when it comes to light that Lt. Riley has been messing with things behind the scenes of your life, what will happen when you confront him? Is it really hate that makes you stay in the argument the ensues...or is the tension a little too heavy to ignore?

Word Count: 7.5 k

Warnings:

Author's Note: I was planning on having more out this week, but storms here where I live have set me back a bit in getting things out due to power constantly going down. I'm behind, but I promise things are still coming. We have the steamy risking it without protection fic and the angsty Truth or Dare part 6 coming, so stay tuned!

Lt. Riley doesn’t really want to be here, stuck in the middle of the loud, crowded bar right off base on his night off and yet here he is amidst it all. Just wanted to, he will repeat if pushed for an answer as to why he’s come out and a part of him might even mean it, at least that is what he will try to convince himself of because he can’t accept that he knows it’s a lie. 

A strong grip wrapped around his glass from his large hand, he brings his bourbon to his lips as those brown eyes scan the place from within the recesses of his thinner black balaclava that he wears when back in civility. His dark eyes are constantly on the move to disguise their true target, flitting from Soap to Garrick to whoever else is speaking around the small group of tables the taskforce has claimed for the evening only to dart back to one person: you. 

He eyes you across the bar chatting up some bloke with mid length black hair and a prominent neck tattoo, smiling and giggling in what looks to be a lively conversation of shared interests and it makes his blood pressure rise until he can feel the heat in his face. Lucky for him that the mask conceals enough, only being pulled up from time to time for him to take a drink or grab a quick smoke.

For whatever reason you both have never really gotten along with one another, even from day one. There is something about your personalities that just does not mix, a tension that always leads to an argument. Maybe it is the similarities in your natures, maybe it is because you aren’t afraid to speak out where he is more subdued and calculated. Whatever the reason doesn’t matter, whenever you are in proximity it is like trying to force gasoline and fire to coexist in the same place without causing destruction. Sure, you can both be professional in the right setting, force yourselves to work together for a common goal as sergeant and lieutenant and you are good at it, but once the threat is gone and you are back on safe ground, the feud ramps right back up.

So it surprises you when the lieutenant immediately agrees to tag along tonight. He usually isn’t too keen on this type of rowdy fun, preferring quieter company, but over the past couple of months it seems like wherever it is you find yourself he is never too far away. It is a free country and he can do as he damn well please, even though it is obvious the way his stare keeps coming back to you.

He may have everyone else fooled, but not you, no. There is no mistaking the feeling you get whenever his gaze falls on you.

You have noticed it more and more in the past couple of weeks the way that somber glare subtly finds you when you are near. Clearly you are doing something right to piss him off and there is something euphoric about forcing his attention to constantly stick to you. Why not play it up? Maybe you like the idea of making him watch as you finally score. 

You hope it makes him seethe to see you happy.

Those dark eyes stick to you for a couple hours until finally he has caught what he has been waiting for. He follows your form as you get up from your seat and make your way over towards the bathrooms. He can’t stop himself from taking the opportunity and before you have even let the bathroom door shut behind you, the lieutenant is already on his feet and drawing down his mask as he stalks towards the bastard you were just chatting up a second ago with only one goal in mind. 

The same goal he has had for months now anytime you start to get too close to anyone.

Your mystery man has just brought the neck of his beer bottle up and put it to his lips when the shadow from the lieutenant’s large stature casts over the table he is still sitting at. As he looks up he is met with the most intimidating face he has ever seen staring right back at him. The firm stance mixed with the glare in the lieutenant’s eyes within the skull mask gives the man pause and the confidence he once had slips away as he struggles to find his voice.

“Can I help…?” the dark-haired man barely gets out before he is cut off as the lieutenant steps up to him.

“That bird you’re talkin’ to just a moment ago,” Lt. Riley says, his thick British accent deep and viciously harsh from the very first syllable; he’s only got a few minutes to get this done. “Ya best leave ‘er alone if ya know what’s good for ya.”

The man swallows hard trying not to choke as he is caught off-guard by the intense hostility that has seemingly come out of nowhere. “Dude, if she’s with you I’m sorry, I didn’t know. She’s the one that approached me, honest,” he chokes out his apologies, hoping that it will be enough not to get his face bashed in by this hulking specimen of a man. 

Lt. Riley ignores his comment and leans down closer to his face, his stare sharp and cruel as he places a heavy hand on his shoulder. His fingers dig in hard until the man winces. “Don’t let me catch ya talkin’ to ‘er anymore tonight, got it? Cause if I gotta come over again you’re gonna wish I didn’t and by then it’ll be too fuckin’ late for ya. I’ll make sure ta put ya in the fuckin’ ground. Do ya understand?”

Eyes wide in fear, the man slowly nods; there is no need to be told twice, not from a man like this. He knows the type of guys that frequent the bar as the military base is not but a few minutes from here and he isn’t looking to get pulverized by a trained professional. A slight tremble in his hand, the man grabs his beer bottle and takes off into the bar with a worried look on his face. 

Lt. Riley watches as the man hides himself behind a large group standing around the L-shaped bar near the bartender and a smug sense of satisfaction fills him as he heads back to his own table to finish his drink, content that once again he has succeeded in his mission. It’s not even a couple minutes that pass before the corner of his vision catches a familiar figure exiting the bathroom and heading back to the table he had just left from.

You return to your seat only to find your new friend nowhere to be found. Looking around, you second guess yourself that this isn’t where you are supposed to be, but this is your table; your rum and coke is still right where you had left it. You take your seat and pick up your drink; it’s possible that he had just scurried off somewhere and would be back any second. But as the time passes with no man in sight, frustration begins to wash over you as you realize that this shit is happening again.

It’s been months since you’ve been able to have your needs met by something other than your fingers and for some strange reason no matter how good things seem to be going, it ends in you getting ghosted. Why? Even the few times you’ve had encounters on base the guys you had flirted with for days suddenly go cold and avoid you like the plague.

Is there something wrong with me? you question yourself silently. 

Across the way, Lt. Riley downs the last swig of bourbon in his glass, setting it back on the tabletop gently as he situates his mask back down. He doesn’t say a word or offer a goodbye, opting to silently slip out from his seat unnoticed to head outside with a smirk contorting his lips beneath the fabric covering his mouth. 

He has gotten what he wanted…well, not all. There is still something else that eats away at him, a specter at the back of his mind, and even as he convinces himself that he is only doing this to make you mad it still lays there in waiting. 

Back at your empty table, you finish your own drink and are about to call it a night when you spot your potential lover tucked away at the far end of the bar, hunched down in his seat. It’s odd the way he is sitting; it almost looks like he is trying to avoid being spotted, but that can’t be right, can it? Moving your way through the noisy crowd of people, you make it over to him.

“Thought I lost you,” you say cheerfully and watch him choke into his drink. 

He coughs a few times before he is able to get it under control and speak. “Think I’m gonna call it a night,” he says. His response is quick and dismissive as he sets his bottle down and turns to leave, but you are determined to at least get some feedback as none of this is making sense. 

You block his path with your stance and watch as his whole body tenses. “Did something happen? I thought we were having a nice time.”

The man uneasily looks around the area, searching for something that he ends up not being able to find, but that only alleviates some of the tension in his brows. “Look,” he says as he turns his attention back to you, “you’re really nice and all, but I’m not interested in getting my head caved in tonight, okay?”

Your cheerful expression falls. “What are you talking about?” you ask in confusion.

He takes a breath; he needs to get out of this conversation fast. “Some big masked guy came over while you were gone and threatened to put me in the ground if I didn’t leave you alone, so that’s what I’m going to do. Don’t know if he’s your ex or something, but I don’t want any part of that,” he confirms. “So, if you’ll excuse me I’m gonna get out of here before he comes back.”

You want to convince him to stay, that there is nothing going on that he needs to worry about, that it’s just your vindictive lieutenant trying to ruin your night, but the way he is shaken up you know there is no stopping him. All you can do is defeatedly watch him walk away as you say goodbye at any chance you had at getting laid tonight. 

But this encounter isn’t completely useless; with his revelation things begin to add up now. All this time you thought it was you who scared off your potential lovers somehow, that there was something wrong with you that kept driving them away, but no. It is Lt. Riley who is going around threatening people to stay away from you, you are sure of it now.

And that makes you see red. What even is his endgame? Things have always been tense between you two, but this is going too far. You need to find out why and now because this is becoming unbearable. He has messed with your life long enough without your knowledge; tonight it is all going to end. 

You turn your head back over to where the lieutenant had been seated and you spot his glass still sitting on the table. He couldn’t have left that long ago if his empty cup hasn’t even been cleared yet; if you leave right now and hurry, you probably will catch him. Quickly getting the bartender’s attention you pay your tab and immediately head out into the night ready to get your answers.    

Each step makes your heartbeat pound a little faster the closer you get to base. Fueled by the uninhibited state you find yourself in from of the couple of drinks you had, you don’t want the moment to dissipate; you need your anger to power your words so that your lieutenant knows just how far over the line he has crossed. 

You make it back on base and head in the direction of the barracks, passing by the dark offices and other buildings that are seemingly empty for the night. It’s late so there are not many places he can be and soon you can see them come into view. That is when you catch a figure leaning against the brick, the light from a cigarette glowing orange dimly in the shadow and you know you have him.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” you spit the venom-filled words to him as you come to stand at his side, arms crossing tightly across your chest as you stop.

The lieutenant ignores you, keeping his face straight ahead as he brings his cigarette up to his lips, ignoring your presence like you aren’t even there as he takes a long drag. The audacity he has to disregard you completely after all he’s been up to behind your back makes your blood boil over and you react fast. Instantly you reach out and rip the dwindling cig out of his fingers to flick it angrily to the ground; only then does he acknowledge your existence.

“Don’t know what your fuckin’ on ‘bout princess,” he grumbles as he pulls out the pack of smokes from his jeans pocket and takes out another cigarette, placing it in between his lips as he lights it up and takes a few short puffs to get it going. 

Christ, did you fucking hate when he calls you that, all condescending and shit and he knows it too. That’s why he always uses it, just to watch the way it makes your skin prickle and your pulse race as it riles you up…just like it’s doing right now.

Your cheeks are burning red hot with your anger and you know by the feeling alone that it is visible even in the low light. “You know damn well what I’m talking about,” you accuse. “Thought you could ruin my fun and I would just never hear about it, did you? Well, guess what, I did. Guess you didn’t intimidate the guy back at the bar as good as you thought ‘cause he told me all about how you threatened him into staying away from me and now things around here are starting to make sense.”

So, pretty boy talked after all that scaring he had done; fucking hell, he wasn’t planning on being found out tonight. He can’t deal with this right now; he needs to get away before this gets out of hand. “I’m not doin’ this right now,” he mutters as he flicks away his second cigarette and begins to walk off.

You are right on his heels. “Don’t you fucking walk away from me,” you say as you quickly follow him as he takes off inside to a random room not far from the entrance. You barely register anything about the place, only caring about making sure you are on the right side of the door so he can’t lock you out until you’ve said your peace. 

Slamming the door, you press your back up against it. There is nowhere for him to go, not with how you are blocking the exit and it is clear that you won’t be leaving. Goddammit, why tonight? The lieutenant isn’t drunk, but he still has enough liquor running through his veins and he is weary of being alone with you.

You aren’t going to let him be, though; your anger won’t let you. “Well, you got anything to say or are you going to stay silent like a fucking coward?” you ask pointedly.

His fist at his side clenches and unclenches to match his jaw beneath the mask. Gasoline and fire; he can’t stop himself from matching your energy. “Fine, ya wanna know the truth? It was me. You’re distractin’, sergeant,” he says, that heavily accented voice harsh with his assertions. “Throwin’ yourself ‘round like a bloody slag ‘tween the men here and at the bar. Ya like that? Being a cheap piece a meat? Ya think that’s a good look for your rank on this team, hmm?”

You shake your head with a forced incredulous laugh before turning your gaze back to him. The only person who is ever allowed to make decisions about your actions is you; whatever you choose to do or not do isn’t up for debate with any outside party. “What I do on my own time is none of your goddamn business. If I want to screw every member of this operation, I will. If I want to fuck a rando from the bar, so be it. It’s my choice and you need to stay out of it.”

It’s a lie, you have no intention of becoming some barracks bunny, but that doesn’t make the point any less true. There’s nothing wrong with a little companionship from time to time and you aren’t going to let him take that from you. This job is hard enough as it is. Still you can’t shake the question that is floating around in your head.

Why does he care so much to go to all this trouble? Why not just stay away?  

The Lt. peers down his nose at you, those striking amber eyes looking at you through the opening in his balaclava to give him a dangerous appearance as they are cloaked in shadow. Standing in front this beast of a man has left many shaking in their boots, but not you, never you. Fuck him if he thinks this bit of intimidation is going to do anything; it’s not.  

“It is my goddamn business,” he growls. “Ya talk a big fuckin’ game, but ya don’t know what the hell your doin’. Gonna get yourself in trouble one a these days.”

“Oh, so you’re just looking out for me is that it?” you ask. “I don’t need a savior. I can take care of myself, you know.”

Even he can’t deny that you can handle whatever it is that comes your way. He has worked beside you for quite a while now and there is a reason you were selected to this task force in the first place. No, it isn’t his need to protect that causes him to put himself where he doesn’t belong, but he can’t face the truth; he can’t…can he?  

“Besides, what the hell do you care, Lt.?” you spit the question harshly into his face to break him out of his thoughts. “Just like to screw with my life as a part of some goddamn powerplay? You got nothing else better to do than fuck everything up? Pathetic, even for you.”  

The lieutenant’s jaw shifts as his dark eyes are silhouetted within the confines of his mask silently stare back into your own. There is a glint in their depths, a catch of the light that makes them glisten as he locks your vision in that stoic glare.

“Watch your fuckin’ tone there, princess,” he warns as he moves in closer until the tips of your shoes are nearly touching. “You are playin’ with fire and if ya ain’t careful, you’re gonna get fuckin’ burned. Ya best quit it now or else.” 

Taking your pointer finger, you lean forward and poke the tip of the digit directly onto his sternum over his t-shirt and push down. “Make me.”

Hearing those two deadly words come from your mouth while being this close with emotions this high makes his brain short-circuit and he scrambles to get control of the thoughts at the back of his mind; no, he can’t let them get out. For a split second you catch a flash of something in his gaze that gives you pause and leaves you with a strange but familiar sensation in the pit of your stomach before it is gone just as fast as it came on. 

Flustered and confused, you don’t notice that his hand has moved from his side until it is wrapped around your wrist as he wrenches yours off his chest and smacks it against the door, pinning it there next to your head. “You’re on thin fuckin’ ice right now,” he threatens as he gets into your face. “Keep it up and see what happens.”

The lieutenant is so close now the sensation from the warm air leaving his mouth is felt against the lower half of your face even through the fabric of his mask. You can smell the bite from the tobacco and liquor as he exhales a weighty, ragged breath. There is a curious tension permeating the space now, filling the area around your bodies until your chest begins to ache with anticipation for something you can’t put into words.

What are you wanting to happen? You aren’t entirely sure you want to admit it, but still there is a growing impatience that makes your limbs tingle as you wait for the moment to break. “You’re not going to do shit,” you scoff. “I haven’t been touched in fucking months and it’s all your fault; you think I care about showing you respect? The way I see it, you have two options: either leave me the fuck alone or I make your life a waking nightmare until you do.”

Why aren’t you shoving him away? Your wrist is still gripped in his fist and yet you haven’t even tried to free it. Sure, your words are ruthless and heated, but you’re still here and he doesn’t understand what is happening. The atmosphere is shifting and he can feel it like a perplexing magnetism, a push and pull that he is finding harder and harder to fight off. He needs you to leave and quickly as he isn’t sure how long he can last under this growing torment.

“Ya best get out, now,” he growls under his breath. “It ain’t a good idea for you to be here anymore.”

His threat does little to make you back down and instead you tilt your head with a cocky smirk on your lips. “Why’s that? Can’t take the fact that someone can actually stand up to you?”

“Not that,” he says curtly.

“Then what?” you push him for the answer.

Lt. Riley stays closemouthed to your question. How the hell is supposed to answer that when your pulse is pounding through your veins and he can count the rapid beats through his palm that is around your wrist?  He can’t do it, he can’t stop the way he craves the feeling of it. 

The silence is heavy and dangerous, too much and you aren’t sure what is going to happen, but you can’t leave with nothing; one of the many questions you have has to get a response at least. “Fine, you don’t want to answer that one I’m not gonna make you, but if you want me to leave you are going to have to give me something. I’ll go back to my original question: why do you care about any of this?”

The lieutenant is suffocating on the strength of the tension shared between you. It’s intoxicating, more than the whiskey he’s consumed tonight. Try as he might, he can’t stop himself from wanting more and suddenly the fingers on his free hand are lightly grazing along the waistband of your jeans in that sliver of space between your shirt and your pants where just a millimeter of skin can connect with his touch. It’s too late for him now; he can’t let you go.

Your breath hitches and gets caught in your throat at the electricity of the contact. The longer his touch lingers on your body the more disoriented your thoughts become until you aren’t sure what is happening. You desperately want to slap him, shove him off and storm out, but a secret part of you that has started to glow like a tiny ember in your chest quietly begs for him to keep going. 

Why can’t you tell him to stop?

“I can’t let anyone get to ya,” he murmurs with a labored inhale. “Don’t care what it costs.” Those hazel eyes with their blown out pupils never break the connection with yours as his fingers draw a line over your warm, soft skin and suddenly it’s near impossible to pull in enough air to keep you sane.

“Why?” you ask. “Hate to see me enjoying myself? Just want to keep me miserable, is that it?”

Those rough, thick fingers risk a bit more as they slip ever so slightly up so that his palm can rest against the meat of your hip and that’s where he stops. His gaze drifts down just a moment to admire how far his touch has gotten. This is the closest you both have ever been in the time you’ve known each other and it is overwhelming.

A shift in his stance, a half step in closer, his hand still resting against that soft, balmy flesh, and is that the pounding beat of your heart you hear pulsing in your ears? You need him to say something, anything, in hopes that it will break the spell that is making you more delirious by the minute.

“Say it!” you demand as you wrestle with the flood of sensations.

His eyes drift back to your face. “ ‘cause,” he says, that gruff, masculine voice making his words firm, “if I can’t fuckin’ ‘ave ya, then no one can.”

The confession knocks the wind from your lungs and you struggle to intake a breath. This has to be a new game he’s playing at; that’s it, a new tactic to make you lose your shit and destroy you in new ways. There’s no way he is serious, right?  You study his gaze for any sign of deception, for him to crack and mock you for falling for it, but all that meets you is a fervent stare that makes your body burn.

“Fucking bastard,” you snarl as your resolve to break away from him slips silently away.

“Slag,” he responds.

A few seconds drag on into eternity as you stare back into those dark eyes, your heartbeats racing  faster and faster with each labored breath you intake from one another. This isn’t how this is supposed to go, you are supposed to hate each other, but is that really what it is?

You’re the only one who has always treated him like a person, not some monster to be feared. It’s true you fight and bicker and drive each other mad at times, but not once have you ever backed down from him. You’re headstrong and steadfast in yourself and that is something he respects. And more than that, he desires. 

His words, why do they sound so good? If it was anyone else you would have slapped them silly and told them to fuck off, but the way he covets you feels like ecstasy. You enjoyed his attention before and now that you have all of it, it’s all you could ever want. There is an ache in you now that can only be quenched one way and that is from him.

The adrenaline coursing through his veins blurs that thin line between hatred and desire until it no longer exists. As if another is piloting his body he cannot stop. All at once something snaps and before you can fully comprehend the action, he is shoving his body into yours as his hand wraps around your throat. A wall of massive, bulky muscle presses tightly into your curves, pinning you to the surface as he wrenches that god-forsaken mask above his lips and grabbing your face between his hands, those large, rough things that have more experience holding a weapon than something soft and tender within them, he meets your mouth with an insatiable intensity that sends your fucking head spiraling.

Things you’ve both buried deep rise to the surface as the dam breaks wide open, feelings that you both had suppressed under the guise of hatred because you couldn’t…no, you wouldn’t admit that maybe there was something there. It all comes pouring out into the kiss with a feverish urgency as you unsuccessfully scramble to contain them. 

There is no restraining this fire of desire from catching you both ablaze. 

Lt. Riley’s grip is strong, holding your head in place so there is nowhere for you to turn as the brunt of his need is forced upon your lips until they sting the harder he presses into you while the stumble along his jaw pricks your cheeks and the skin around your mouth. The taste of the bourbon that he had been imbibing all night is on his breath, crisp and sharp as it hits your tongue with its bite, but it does nothing to deter you from taking every ounce of his embrace and matching it with your own.

You want him tighter against you still and your hands run up the back of his head through the cropped bits of hair that have popped out from below the edge of his pulled up mask. The feeling of your fingers running through the short hairs near his neck as you bear down on his mouth make that hulking military man shudder and you sigh delightedly into him at the reaction. 

Is it really that easy to make that big man fold? Oh, you are going to use that against him.

Strong fingertips jab themselves into your hip so that he can pull your pelvis flush against his while he shoves his boot between your feet to pry your legs apart, widening your stance so that he can fit his bulky thigh between them. The curve of your hip is accentuated by the position and he runs a heavy hand across the length of it as he pushes up against your pussy and you both gasp into each other’s mouths from the feeling.

That instant pressure against that gnawing ache in your clit has you grinding on his thigh. “Christ, Simon,” his name falls from your lips onto his while you cling to his neck to hold your body up as you push down on him as hard as you can to get enough friction through your clothing. He lets you have at it, using his leg however you see fit until you can feel the gathering moisture in the crotch of your panties.

“Do you even know how much I’ve fuckin’ wanted to do this?” he growls, the feral lust in his words palpable on your tastebuds as he shoves his tongue into your mouth past your lips to meet your own so that they can dance.

He has a taste for you now, a craving that cannot be quenched, an insatiable hunger that eats him alive. And he needs more.

Catching your bottom lip, he sucks it in between his teeth to give it a fierce nip that smarts, but you like the pain; it only makes you feel more alive as the aggressive nature of your attraction makes you feel like you are drowning. 

“Fuck, need it now,” you demand desperately. “Where can we go?”

The question makes him pause and Simon pulls from your mouth to look over his shoulder before returning his attention to you. “Ya know where we are, dontcha?” he teases.

Your eyes drift from him and really look at your surroundings for the first time since you got in here; you are in a bedroom, not just a random room like you thought. There is a small chest of drawers beside a bed not far from where you stand and on top is laying that familiar hard shell skull mask. 

You’re in his room.

“Shut up,” you breathe. “Just fuck me already, bastard.”

“So fuckin’ nasty,” he says with a smirk before he is back on your mouth again.  

Coarse hands desperately paw at your clothes as softer ones claw at his, undoing buttons, pulling off shirts, shoving down pants; a flurry of lips caressing while limbs frantically move until both of you stand bare naked before each other. The last is his mask that he removes himself; he is about to be inside of, there is no need to hide from you anymore.

You barely have time to take in his striking features: that strong jaw accentuated with old, faded scars, that prominent nose, that stern brow, before two strong arms pick you up and carry you the few short steps to his bed, forcing you down and shoving you onto your back so that you are pressed down against the surface as he clambers on top with you. His hands part your legs like warm butter and he keeps them spread as he positions himself on his knees between your thighs.

Quickly he leans over to the short chest of drawers and flings open the bottom most one, reaches inside, and grabs a small, square packet. Holding it between his thumb and forefinger he brings it to his lips and grabs it with his teeth, shredding the top to pull out the rubber. He tosses the packaging to the floor and in one swift motion, slips the condom over the fat tip of his girthy cock and rolls it down the long shaft.

That is it, without another sound he sits back up and clenches his abdominal muscles while his strong fingers hold onto the meat of your hips as he makes sure he is aligned with your entrance. “Ready, princess?” he asks through short, quick breaths.

Your hands grip into his shoulder blades. “Stop fucking talking and get inside me,” you order aggressively. 

The tip of his cock is prodding against your opening and you are panting with anticipation as you wait to feel it break through the threshold. It’s right there, right at the point you need it to be to give you the relief you’ve been seeking after the months of agony during your dry spell. Then all at once Simon’s hips rock forward and the head slips inside, stretching you wide open.

You gasp and buck your hips as he gathers the strength for another thrust to slip it in a little more; you are taking him so well. God, he could not ask for more. One more strong thrust and his cock rips into you deep until he reaches the base, bottoming out with a loud, guttural moan.

“N-nh… ah…” Simon groans as he twitches from the constriction around him. “Fuckin’ hell princess, your so tight…oh, f-fuck.”

Breathing through the intense feeling of being stuffed full you roll your hips into him to send shock waves of ecstasy through his shaft and his head falls forward to hang limply as he attempts to calm himself enough that he doesn’t blow his load right here and now just from that initial contact. 

“Gimme a second,” he growls, but you shake your head. 

“No,” you say, “waited too long for this.”

You will be the death of him and what a fucking sublime death it will be. 

Fine, if you want fast and rough that is what you are going to fucking get. He holds on tight as he begins to pound into you hard, making you bounce with the force of his thrusts up and down as he takes you at this unyielding pace. You are anything but fragile and he uses that to his advantage to be as animalistic as he wants.

The longer he drills his cock into you in that relentless tempo the more lost in the feeling he gets until he is completely ravenous only for the sensation of your body. He has waited so long for this, dreamt endlessly of this, yearned in secret for months for this, and it feels exhilarating to finally have it.

His primal grunts fill the room the harder he gets and you are suddenly swept up in it all as your needs are finally being met. You lose yourself in the moment, whimpering and whining as the euphoria washes over your body to make your limbs tingle. Soon you are so loud that you are surely going to draw unwanted attention. 

Reaching out his fingers find your lips and roughly he pries them apart so he can shove two of those thick digits inside your mouth. “Keep quiet,” he grunts as he continues to thrust. “Don’t need anyone hearin’ us before I’ve finished with ya.”

Getting you quiet, he needs something for himself and he knows just the thing. Leaning down over your body, his hot mouth latches on to the side of your throat just below your ear and you feel the sharp sting as his teeth dig into the supple flesh. The pressure is so hard from the suction of his lips you can almost feel the skin bubble up further into his mouth; there is no question that there will be a big, angry, purple blotch by tomorrow if he keeps at it. A token of who has claimed you.

And he is going to make sure it sticks.

It is a while before he unlatches his mouth and when he does he brings his lips up from your throat to your ear to fill your mind with only his voice as his hand finds the top of your pussy so that his finger can stroke over your clit. You’re gonna come and you’re gonna come hard if he has anything to do with it. “Look at ya, fallin’ apart just for me, princess. God, I wanna fuckin’ ruin ya.”

Simon pulls his fingers out of your mouth so that he can kiss your raw lips, making you swallow all his desperation until you are gasping for air. “I’d do whatever it takes just have ya all to myself,” he says, the words husky in his throat as he groans them into your mouth. “Need ya to belong to me and only me.”

Simon leaves your mouth to sit up higher, taking the pressure off his knees and pulling your body up slightly with him, and that’s when he catches a glimpse of your bodies at the point of their union and fuck is it a beautiful sight. The way he disappears inside of you is mesmerizing and he doesn’t want to look away, but he also needs you to see it. You need to know how both your bodies are made for each other.  

His hand moves to the back of your neck and tilts your face down. “Look at how well your gorgeous body takes me. Do ya think anyone else can give ya this?” 

Your dreamy gaze drifts lower between both of your bodies and stares at Simon’s imposing figure with his chiseled abdominal muscles as they contract and release with each thrust, his hips plowing into you, filling you up completely as each of his thrusts go down to the very base of his shaft. Your mind is in a daze as you feel him hit that sensitive bundle of nerves within you time and again before his shaft reappears covered more and more with your juices over the condom.

There is something so primal about watching his cock slip in and out of your tight body, watching as you slowly fall into oblivion. 

His amber eyes catch yours and he smirks. Your cheeks are flushed bright and it thrills him to know that it is because of how he makes your body feel. “Fuckin’ hell, you’re a picture wrapped ‘round my cock like this,” he groans, his strokes becoming more sloppy as the slapping sounds of your overly wet cunt get louder. 

The longer he thrusts the more his sanity wanes until there is not a single thought left except for the animalistic need to rut into you until he comes. You can see the change wash over his face and through his eyes and it only thrills you more as he becomes a hunter ready to catch his prey; it makes you shiver.

“Ya like the way my cock feels inside ya, dontcha?” he asks in a low growl. “Fillin’ ya full, stretchin’ ya out. Ya think anyone else can give it to ya like this? Ya think anyone else is gonna make ya come as hard as I’m gonna fuckin’ make ya? This pussy is gonna belong ta me after I’m done with it.”

Ragged, broken moans escape your lips while your hips rut up to meet him at the height of each thrust as his voice begins to push you over. Your hands around his shoulders tense and as he strikes into you again your nails dig in, raking across his back in angry red lines that tingle and burn as you drag them down over his muscles. Oh, you are definitely close. 

“Ya gonna come for me, princess?” he teases mercilessly, desperately clinging to you as he too is about to spill and wanting you to go first. “Do it then. Come on my fuckin’ cock.”

The way this beast of a man is wrapped around your body, you are completely at his mercy, his size letting him do with you as he pleases and you have no say whatsoever. And yet here he is furiously pounding into you harder and harder as his fingertip strokes at your clit; he is doing his utmost to get you off even though he could leave you high and dry at any moment. 

Never have you ever wanted someone to take away your power more than you want him to right now.

Your hands leave his body only to gather in the sheets, gripping them so tight you can hear threads popping and feel the strain on your fingers. Each slam of that throbbing cock into you causes the warmth to grow in your stomach, each second that passes the pressure gets stronger and stronger. Finally at long last, you fall completely silent and with a few more desperate thrusts that pressure is released and shoots through you white hot as you come hard and fast.

Simon continues to grind into your pussy through your whimpers as he lets himself go and within a few more seconds he too is falling over that ledge, his torso shuddering with the force of his orgasm as he pumps all that built up frustration into the tip of the condom inside you. His hips buck and are punctuated with deep groans until he has nothing left to release and he slowly comes to a stop, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs to help him catch his breath again.   

You both stay locked that way as you calm yourselves back down from the high, your legs trembling around his waist, the sound of his inhales the only thing to break the quiet that falls over the room. Once he is able to he pulls out and falls down onto the bed beside you. 

Moving onto your side, you look over at him with a smirk. “Well, shit, never would have expected that,” you mutter sleepily.

He turns his head to face you. “Is that right?” he asks in that low, gravely tone that sends a shiver down your spine. “As if you haven’t been flauntin’ yourself to keep my attention. Was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Like you haven’t been undressing me with your eyes for months now,” you push back. “I’ve noticed the way you look at me.”

Reaching out his arm, his fingers lock into your hair, tying it into a ponytail in his grip before he gives it a strong tug. “Yeah well we’re gonna change that. Cause I wanna be the only person ya look at, princess,” he says harshly so you know he means business, “the only one that holds your attention, the only that gets ta be in your ‘ead. I’m gonna be the only one that gets between your legs and no one else; I wanna be the one that knows just how ta make ya fall apart. And any bastard that tries to get in my way is going to fuckin’ get it.”

You chuckle. “Possessive much,” you say snarkily only to receive a solid tug on your hair. 

“Absolutely gonna be selfish with ya,” he returns as he brings your face in closer, “cause I would rather fuckin’ die than watch anyone else take this away from me.”

Pulling your head to him, Simon licks the smile from his lips before latching onto your mouth one last time. Maybe you two can find common ground after all…can’t be too mad at each other when you’re making each other orgasm.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon smut #simon #ghost simon riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost smut #ghost call of duty #ghost #ghost cod smut #cod ghost #cod

[makoodles]

ミ the mightiest

part one | part two

🍓 pairing: neteyam x human fem reader

🍓tags: nsfw, aged up neteyam (obviously), jealousy, alien cultural misunderstandings, oral sex (f receiving) vaginal sex, size kink, voyeurism, brief na'vi oc x reader, mentions of reader sleeping with other na'vi men

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

notes: adult neteyam art created by the incredibly talented @cinetrix, whose work motivated me to write for adult neteyam in the first place!!

It was just a fluke, you tell yourself. A moment of weirdness that had come about because… because…

Okay, so you can’t really explain it.

You don’t like Neteyam! You never have! The sight of him appearing while you’re mid-rendezvous with Txetyo (the same man he had interrupted you with only a few days before!) should have sent you into an angry tailspin. And yet, you can’t forget the pulse of excitement that had throbbed low in your belly when you realised that he was standing there watching you.

Really, you should have been the one to speak up. But it was like your brain had switched off, like all your rational thoughts had gone on a temporary leave of absence; why else would you have stayed silent instead of stopping Txetyo and drawing attention to Neteyam’s presence?

Just like after your last confusing encounter with Neteyam in the healing hut, you end up sticking close to the human outpost for the next week.

It’s probably a little cowardly to hide instead of facing your problems head on, but you don’t care. You avoid Neteyam, you avoid Txetyo, you avoid any of the guys you’ve had flings with before because even the sight of them reminds you of what had happened that night in the forest. Inevitably, that leads to you avoiding the village entirely.

The outpost is as boring as ever, but it’s better than facing the mortification that’s no doubt awaiting you in the village. But at the very least, it’s not lonely.

Spider is kind enough to keep you company in the outpost for the first few days, though you quickly wish he wouldn’t. There’s not much to do, and Spider never deals well with boredom.

“Quit that.” You grit out, your eyes sliding sideways.

Spider is sitting next to you, drumming his fingers insistently on his thighs. He sighs, rolling his eyes up towards the ceiling and leaning back on the lumpy couch you’re both sprawled on.

“This is mind-numbing.” He complains, throwing his dirty bare feet over your thighs. “It’s so boring here. I don’t think I’ve ever spent this much time inside in my whole life.”

“You don’t have to be here.” You remind him, shoving his feet off you.

Spider sighs, swinging his legs back to the ground so he can sit up properly. “Right, sure. I could leave you here alone to mope all day by yourself in your dank little bedroom. Or you could tell me what’s going on with you.”

You grumble, and avert your eyes. Okay, so maybe your avoidance has been a little more obvious than you had intended. You’ve barely missed a day in the village your whole life, and yet in the last two weeks you’ve spent most of your time hiding out in the outpost.

“Nothing’s going on.” You say, and it rings hollow even to your own ears.

Spider purses his lips. He seems pointedly unconvinced, and stretches back on the couch with his arms across the back of the headrest.

“So it has nothing to do with whatever the hell happened when you went off with Txetyo during the hunt celebrations?”

You almost wince, but manage to keep your expression neutral as you stare at your knees. “Nope.”

Spider hums. “And I suppose the fact that Neteyam very conspicuously disappeared into the forest about ten seconds after you left is also unrelated.”

That cracks your composure, and you take a shaky breath as you glance sideways at Spider’s face. He doesn’t look like he’s judging you or anything; he’s just waiting patiently for your answer, a single eyebrow raised.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” You mutter, avoiding his eyes.

There’s a long pause, and then Spider huffs out a sigh and tilts his head back to stare at the water-stained ceiling up above you. You feel a little bad about keeping secrets from him; usually you and Spider act as each other’s confidants by virtue of the fact that the two of you are humans the same age amongst all the Na’vi. But this whole mess with Neteyam is something that you’re struggling to wrap your own head around – you don’t want to start explaining the whole mortifying ordeal to someone who was as good as your brother.

“Lo’ak’ll get it out of you.” Spider says confidently.

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “Please tell me he’s not coming over.”

“He’s worried.” Spider protests. “You’ve been acting super weird, dude.”

“He’s nosey.” You correct.

Spider shrugs, unable to argue that point. “Well, whatever.”

It’s as if speaking his name summons him, because the shoddy linoleum floor creaks behind you as a big nine-feet-tall body steps into the room. You catch a glimpse of bright blue skin out of the corner of your eye and groan, tipping your head back against the back of the couch and closing your eyes.

“Seriously, I am not in the mood to be interrogated by the Idiot Brigade today.” You complain. “Can’t you come back and bother me another time?”

There’s a pause. And then, a low voice filled with amusement says, “Am I a member of this “idiot brigade?”

That is not Lo’ak’s voice.

For a moment, you don’t even turn around. You just breathe slowly, your eyes shut tight. Maybe if you don’t turn and look, Neteyam will just vanish from your presence as if he had never spoken at all.

But instead of Neteyam’s spontaneous disappearance, you get Spider shifting on the lumpy couch beside you before climbing to his feet. Your eyes shoot open at that, and your head whips around to stare at him in disbelief.

“Where are you going?” You hiss, already reaching out after him.

Spider stops, hesitates, his eyes flicking between you and Neteyam. He looks as though he would rather be literally anywhere other than here; you know the feeling.

“Uh… I’m gonna go find Lo’ak.” Spider mutters, his eyes darting around cagily. “Seems like you two probably need time to talk some things out.”

Before you can even protest that, Neteyam is stepping forward, marching his way around the couch. You sit up, properly startled now, realising that your window for escape is rapidly narrowing.

“Tell Lo’ak not to come.” Neteyam says simply, stepping nimbly around the couch so that he’s in front of you. It’s like he knows that you were thinking of an escape, because he tilts his head as a subtle smile tugs at his mouth.

“Yeah. Got it.” Spider sounds a little strangled, sending you a look that you can’t quite decipher before turning and scampering out the door, letting it slide shut behind him with a quiet thud.

You stare at him for a long moment, your mouth hanging open like a moron. Neteyam just stares back, his expression even, as though he’s waiting for you to speak first.

You swallow thickly, then push yourself up so that you’re standing. It’s a weak attempt to put yourself on a more even level with him, but it fails as you find yourself eye-level with his damn belly button.

“What are you doing here?” You snap, though it comes out a little weaker than you had intended.

Neteyam doesn’t answer immediately. Instead he gingerly lowers himself down onto the ancient lumpy couch that you and Spider had commandeered for yourselves from the desolate wreckage of Bridgehead. He’s almost comically large for it, his knees bent awkwardly up as he settles back, the springs creaking ominously.

“You have been avoiding the village.” He says simply.

And… oh god, you can’t stop staring. It’s stupid, because you’ve known Neteyam your whole life, you know what he looks like. But it’s like your eyes are taking him in differently now. You hadn’t spent much time with him as kids; you were always chasing after Lo’ak, Kiri, and Spider, and Neteyam usually maintained a distance as he trained under the guidance of his parents. And then he was gone, departed for the reef villages, only to return after the worst of the war years had passed.

But it’s different now. He’s a man, his shoulders broader than ever and his muscles more defined than is typical of the Omaticaya warriors – no doubt thanks to his time in the reefs with the bulkier Metkayina.

Your mouth is a little dry; it’s not a good time to be reminded that you find big, muscly Na’vi men really, really attractive.

“Yeah.” You say, your voice scratchy. “Uh… I’ve been busy.”

Neteyam’s hairless brow raises in an unspoken gesture of doubt as he leans back into the couch. Your eyes dart down nervously over his abdomen. Each sculpted abdominal muscle speaks of his physical prowess and the sheer discipline and dedication to his training, and his slim waist is accentuated by the woven battle band around his waist. Fuck, you want to touch his belly.

You can hardly believe that you had this man’s cock in your hand, or that he had been grunting and fucking your fist. Maybe you had hallucinated that. Looking at him like this, taking in his big amber eyes and strong jawline and high cheekbones, you’re reminded rather harshly of just why he’s one of the most sought-after men in the village by the unmated Omaticaya girls. It seems unlikely that he’d ever lower himself to allow himself to be touched by you.

And yet, you know you hadn’t hallucinated him standing only mere feet from you in the forest, watching intently as Txetyo had railed you into the mossy ground.

As if he knows what you’re thinking, Neteyam speaks again. “Avoiding Txetyo? I do not blame you.

You almost choke at that. Good lord, the audacity of this man. He knows perfectly well that you’ve also been trying to avoid him, judging by the smug look on his face.

“No! He- he wasn’t so bad.” You protest, though the words ring unconvincingly in your own ears.

“Tawtute, you’re so tight!” Neteyam gasps mockingly, lowering his voice into a dude-bro register that decidedly does not sound like Txetyo. “Fuck, you’re so wet, I’m gonna cum—"

You squawk, hastily stepping forward to swat ineffectually at his shoulder. “Will you shut up, that’s not what–“

Neteyam grabs at your wrist when you smack his shoulders, his long fingers wrapping all the way around you before tugging. You stagger, pulled off balance as he tugs you onto the couch beside him. You end up with your limbs in an ungainly sprawl as you attempt to collect yourself beside him, flustered behind belief. He doesn’t let go of your wrist.

“And he– he made me finish, so.” You say lamely. You’re sitting next to him. Why are you sitting next to him? You should be trying to shove him up off the couch and shoo him out the door.

“I’m pretty sure you made yourself come.” Neteyam corrects, his head tilting. His glossy braids spill over his shoulders, colourful beads clicking together. “Which wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t there, by the way.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just pointing out the obvious.” Neteyam’s smug little grin is growing, and he leans in a little closer. “I don’t think you were enjoying it at all until I showed up.”

You gape at him, stunned.

“I- you-!” You stammer, your breath catching from the sheer swell of your indignation. Who does he think he is, showing up here all muscled and gorgeous like this only to embarrass you?

“Speak for yourself!” You finally manage to splutter, trying to sit up on the couch; Neteyam’s grip on your wrist prevents you from going too far, so you give up and resign yourself to being stuck beside him until he grows bored of tormenting you. “Txetyo was– That was pretty much par for the course. I mean– it wasn’t unusual, sometimes that’s just how sex goes–“

Neteyam sits up straight, so suddenly that it startles you. His brow is furrowed, his eyes flicking rapidly over your face as though he’s trying to assess if you’re being honest.

He’s… he’s leaning in rather close to you. You blink at him, but don’t move back. It’s so rare for you to be around Neteyam without your respirator mask acting like a shield over your face, and you feel a little naked now without it.

“That was a standard experience for you?” He asks, and his voice has… changed a little. That smug amusement on his face has vanished, replaced with what looks like bewilderment.

You scoff at his surprise, rolling your eyes. “Shouldn’t you know what my standard experience is? You’ve interrupted enough of them.”

He doesn’t respond to your snarky remark. He just stares at you as if he’s examining you, and you shift awkwardly on the couch, unsure in the face of his scrutiny.

“What, you’re surprised that all men aren’t sex gods?” You ask a little testily. “They want to experiment with a Sky Person, and I like sex with Na’vi men, so… win-win.”

Neteyam just frowns, pulling back a little. “No, that’s not… I don’t understand. Why do you spend time with them if they are not successful in pleasuring you?”

Boy, is that a loaded question. You don’t want to explain to Neteyam that it’s not really about sex, that it’s more about a pathological need for physical connection and comfort, especially when you try your very hardest not to think about it yourself.

“Maybe I’m just hoping one of them will really impress me.” You mumble, a little sourly. “I guess I’ll keep holding out hope.”

Neteyam’s ears flatten, pressing low against his head as his eyes widen a little. He shifts, his body looming over you like a big blue behemoth as the couch springs squeal beneath his weight.

“I could.” He says. “Impress you, I mean.”

You snort, glancing up at him with a wry sort of smile that falls off your face almost immediately when you see the look on Neteyam’s face. His expression is perfectly earnest, his jaw set and his pupils dilated with an odd sort of urgency that you’ve never seen from him. He… he doesn’t look as though he’s making fun of you at all.

“What?” You croak, blinking.

And then you realise what all this about. Neteyam is always so determined to prove himself, to be the best at everything. He’s always pushed himself beyond his limits and worked himself to the bone to be stronger and faster and wiser, to be a better leader and a better hunter and a better fighter. You probably shouldn’t even be surprised that now he’s decided to prove that he’s better than his peers at fucking you, too.

“This is just a competition for you, isn’t it?” You scoff, yanking your wrist out of his hand. He shifts forward on the couch then as though preparing to catch you if you move to run, but you’re not making any move to leave.

“No. They are not worthy competitors.” Neteyam scoffs as if the question is absurd. “This is to prove to you that you have been wasting your time with men who are not capable of pleasing you.”

You scoff again, but it’s a much weaker sound this time. “I–”

“You have bad taste in men, paskalin.” Neteyam murmurs, shuffling closer on the ancient couch.

You stare up at him, your breath catching a little in your chest. God, he’s so much bigger than you. You hate that it’s making your body heat up, and you feel yourself growing wet as he leans in close, smelling like fresh water and the forest.

“Are you going to let me?” Neteyam whispers, reaching out to trace a finger along your jawline. “Let me prove myself.”

You should say no. You should tell him to leave, to get out. You should absolutely not feed into his own ego by fucking him.

“Yes,” You breathe stupidly. “Okay.”

You’re expecting him to grab you immediately and flip you around onto either your back or stomach; in all your previous experiences, you’ve gotten right down to it with your partners. But to your surprise, Neteyam leans in and holds your hips with his big hands as he presses his mouth to yours in a kiss.

Kissing is not something that you’re used to; the Na’vi you’ve hooked up with have stayed clear of the human outpost, unlike the Sully kids who had paid frequent visits, which means that all of your sexual encounters have occurred in the forest or in empty corners in the village with your respirator mask firmly attached to your face.

Now your face feels naked and vulnerable, and you gasp shakily against Neteyam’s mouth when he leans in and kisses you firmly.

It’s slow and deep, at first. All-consuming. It lights a fire in your gut, which expands and spreads throughout your body.

Neteyam doesn’t just kiss with his mouth, either. He kisses with his hands, his whole body. He clutches you to him, holding you close even as the force of his kiss bends you backward, your body pressing into the raggedy couch cushions.

At the same time, it’s all you can do to concentrate and respond to the kiss itself, your attention stretched and strained by the feeling of Neteyam’s hands running over you, stroking your sides and clutching your neck and squeezing your ass.

“Hah,” You gasp out when Neteyam’s lips slide sideways to find the corner of your jaw. His mouth is hot against your skin, bruising, and you’re embarrassingly wet already, just from a little kissing.

Fuck, he’s a good kisser. That’s so annoying.

You run out of breath too fast, and you have to gasp. Neteyam breaks the kiss for barely even a second, and shifts some of his weight to his elbows as he follows you down onto the couch, nuzzling and nipping at your jaw before returning to your mouth.

There’s a hand on either side of your head during that blink-and-you-miss-it break in the kiss, but then he moves his big hands to hold onto your face like they’re afraid you’ll escape, and now they don’t want to let go at all. One of his hands cups your jaw, the other clasping around the back of your neck and tilting your head farther back, deeper into the couch, opening you up. You think about the fact that he can thread his fingers together behind your head with his palms pressed to your cheeks and nearly moan like a whore into his mouth.

Neteyam’s eagerness surprises you. The kiss is messy and graceless and airless and greedy, frantic and full of teeth, and you can only roll your hips in reflex, in mindless desperation, in a feeble attempt to buck, your mind repeating a refrain of yes holy shit holy shit YES. You can’t even squirm, because holy hot fuck Neteyam is heavy, and he’s got every inch of you covered and owned.

God, have you always been this easy? Just kiss you, feel you up a little and want you enough and you’ll end up happily whimpering under someone on the couch? Even someone like Neteyam, who you’ve been so resentful of for so long?

You spread your thighs, and Neteyam’s narrow hips slot into place like a damn puzzle piece. Neteyam hums a small laugh and pauses, pulls back an inch or so, gazing steadily at your lips and smoothing the tips of his thumbs back and forth over your cheekbones. He takes a moment to fumble with his respirator and takes a deep breath before dropping it and leaning down to kiss you again.

“Oh, fuck.” You whimper, your eyes fluttering shut when his hips roll fluidly against you.

You pull back from the kiss, just enough to get a look at his face. His eyes are a little clouded, his lips puffy and spit-slicked. He looks dazed, and there's a thin line of saliva connecting your mouths together. His brow scrunches in a frown, as though you pulling away from him is a personal offence.

Oh god, you think. I'm so fucked.

The hand that had been cupping your cheek releases you, slides down your body as well. Your breath hitches when he passes over your breasts, drags down the plush skin of your belly, before reaching in between your thighs to cup at your pussy over your clothes. His hand tightens, grabbing you. Cunt, pubic bone, the whole shebang, all of it right there in the palm of Neteyam’s shockingly big hand.

“Bedroom.” You gasp, your head spinning as he just holds your cunt over your denim shorts. “Bedroom now.”

Neteyam grins, and wraps his arms around your waist to haul you into his arms before he lifts you off the couch and practically staggers down the hall. His excitement surprises you, and you cling to his neck as he ducks his way through the corridor.

Mercifully the outpost is quiet today, with most of its human occupants out in the forest or in the village – that means there’s no one around the witness the sight of Neteyam’s enormous blue ass squeezing himself in through the small doorway of the closet-like bedroom you’d claimed for yourself, with you dangling from his arms like a doll.

You’re still breathing hard when Neteyam clumsily gets the door shut before placing you on your squeaky old bed, following you down on it. He’s careful not to crush you with the bulk of his body, instead resting his weight on his forearms where they’re planted on either side of your head.

The consideration makes something squirm in your belly, and you reach up to intertwine your fingers at the back of his head and pull him down to resume kissing him.

Neteyam rolls his hips into yours, and you can feel the thick ridge of his erection pressing into the seam of your shorts, right over your clit. The sound you make is absolutely humiliating, and you will deny ever making it until your last breath, but you twitch as you try to catch that exact same friction again.

And fuck, kissing like this may be new to you, but you never want to stop. You didn’t even know that kissing with tongue could feel so erotic; Neteyam’s hands are on your face again, angling you this way and that way and however the fuck Neteyam feels like angling you, and goddamn he must be doing it just because he can.

You try desperately to remember any little kissing tricks you’ve learned and draw a pathetic blank. Luckily, Neteyam seems intent on showing off. His creativity is more than enough to occupy you both, and you’re too busy being excruciatingly horny to really be self-conscious anyway.

Besides, your next exhale is a chest-rattling groan, and if Neteyam’s immediate grunt of approval and slow thirsty grind against your trapped body is any indication, then you're doing just fine by his standards.

But then, to your absolute distress, Neteyam pulls away.

“Hhh — Shit! Shit, hang on. Shit.” Neteyam hisses, turning his face away and levering himself up on his arms. He’s breathing hard, and the sound of the English curse words falling out of his mouth in that strained tone of voice has your thighs squeezing together pathetically.

“What?” You ask, your voice sounding dazed and stupid even to your own ears.

Neteyam huffs out a few centering breaths and then shakes out his head to clear it. He fumbles for the respirator, takes several deep gulps of air before dropping it again. He angles his hips away from you for a moment, breathing steadily.

“Why’d you stop?” You hate the way the words come out as a whine; you feel as though you’re losing your mind, as though you’re actually going to die if he doesn’t keep kissing you.

Neteyam breathes out a quiet laugh, sounding a little disbelieving as he drops his forehead down to rest on your shoulder.

“Fuck.” He whispers, but he doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he pushes himself down your body, sliding between your legs.

When he tugs your shorts, you lift your hips eagerly to help him shuck your pants off. As he’s tugging at your panties, you work on yanking your oversized pyjama shirt off you. It feels as though the two of you are descending into a frenzy, touching and kissing and tearing at each other like animals.

When you’re naked beneath him you shiver, staring up at him in eager anticipation. You wait for him to come back up and kiss you, to take his own loincloth off and stick his cock into you, but he doesn’t. Instead, his head bullies its way in between your thighs.

“No,” You whine, making a face. You don’t want him to waste time with eating you out when you’re ready now. “Just put it in.”

Neteyam shoots you a reproachful look as though he thinks you’re acting crazy. “You said you would let me please you.”

“But–” You frown, feeling a little ridiculous for having this conversation when his big head is blinking up at you from between the pudge of your thighs. “You don’t have to. I don’t enjoy getting head all that much anyway.”

But instead of changing his mind, that just makes him snort as though you’d told a damn joke.

“Let me show you, syulang.” He whispers, turning his head and brushing his lip over the soft skin of your inner thigh. He kisses you there, and then sucks a hickey-like bruise into the squidge there.

And damn, you can’t turn him down.

“Fine.” You sigh, a little irritated, and spread your legs wider so that Neteyam can muscle his way in.

He grins as if he knows something you don’t, grabs your legs and pulls them so your thighs are hanging off his big broad shoulders. You can feel his warm breath ghosting over you between your legs, and you prepare to lie back and let him lick you down there until he deems you’re wet enough to start fucking you properly.

But then he actually gets his mouth on you, and… oh. Oh.

You tilt your head back, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes. That feels… better than you had expected, actually.

Each of Neteyam’s movements are calculated, precise. He laps against your clit, then closes his lips and sucks. You nearly yelp, but manage to tamp down on your reaction and merely wheeze instead. Neteyam points his tongue and presses inside of you, sucks and licks like he’s actually eating something. At one point, he even bites, and you jerk so hard that you accidentally grind against his face.

It’s not like any of the head you have ever received. You’ve enjoyed it before, sure, but it’s never felt like this, and it’s definitely never made you come. And yet, to your honest surprise, you can feel a familiar coil of tension beginning to build deep in your abdomen.

“Oh god.” You breathe, sounding a little bewildered.

You feel his tongue against your clit again, hardly noticing that his hands are gripping at your ass until he yanks you forward as he buries his whole damn face between your legs. His fingers return, delving into you, deep and searching. His mouth works against your clit and it feels like you’re being squeezed between the kinds of pleasure, worshipped and wrung out and attacked all at once.

“Neteyam,” You gasp like a fool. “Oh, what the fuck, it– Neteyam, hang on, it’s too–”

Neteyam is still devouring you, sucking hard and persistent until you cry out. You try to clench your thighs around his head as he laps at you like a man starved, but his hands are still on your thighs, locking you in an iron grip, keeping you spread wide for him, and you can hardly breath because every time you think to try and take a breath his tongue is moving over your clit again and he’s sucking against you.

Your head swims, and you wonder why on earth you had been so resistant to allow him to make you feel good like this. Fuck, have you just been getting really bad head this whole time? You didn’t even know it could feel like this.

Your heels are digging into his back, and the closer he brings you to the edge the harder your thighs clamp around his head. He barely seems to notice the force you’re exerting, merely groaning to himself everytime you squeeze tighter.

Your thoughts splinter and unravel, and you can do nothing but buck uselessly against his hold, desperately chasing more of his lips and his tongue.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god.” You chant, eyes squeezed shut tight as you whine.

He's just so good with his tongue, and you’ve never felt like this in your life. It feels as though you can't breathe properly, as though you’re melting from the inside out. None of those awkward, fumbling sexual encounters with those other Na’vi ever had you feeling like this.

Your breasts are heaving with the effort it takes just to breathe through the white hot pleasure crashing through you, and you stare down at him with wide eyes as he suckles again at your clit. When he sees you looking down at him, he throws you a cheeky wink as he laps at you.

You let out a helpless, gasping laugh at him, your hands clenching compulsively in his braids. Your giggle has him pulling back a little so he can look up at you properly; the grin he shoots you is extra shiny thanks to the fact that the lower half of his face is covered in his spit and your own slick, but he looks dopey and happy.

You manage one word, on a long and broken moan- “Please!”

Neteyam laughs quietly, the sound vibrating through his lips and into your pussy, but then his tongue is on your clit again, sucking you into his mouth, and you’re shattering around him as he finally pushed you over that edge you’ve been teetering on.

You keen and shake violently, spasming around Neteyam’s fingers and jerking into his mouth, coming so hard that you see black spots in your vision. Neteyam doesn’t let up, pulling broken moans out of you with tongue until you’re writhing.

You squirm and whimper until suddenly it’s too damn much, and then you’re reaching down to push at Neteyam’s neat braids to try to get away from his relentless tongue. Damn, he’s acting like he’s hungry for you, like he’d swallow you whole if he could. He doesn’t let up until you’re begging him to, albeit wordlessly — whimpering and shoving at his face, trying to arch away from the too-sensitive touch.

Finally, Neteyam relents. He lowers your legs from his shoulders and you practically crumple, going limp against your mattress. Neteyam’s face is wet and shiny, and he looks ridiculously smug. You’re still trembling, throbbing with the aftershocks.

“Mm, you sound so pretty.” Neteyam murmurs, his words coming out muffled and almost slurred as though he’s drunk.

“Fuck.” You whisper to yourself, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes as you struggle to catch your breath.

Neteyam hums, pressing kisses all over your pubic mound and lower belly. He seems so damn pleased with himself, pushing himself up your body so that he can nuzzle into your neck, pressing sweet nipping kisses to your throat.

His breathing is a little strained, and you grab blindly at the respirator hanging around his neck before bringing the mask up to his face.

“Breathe, Neteyam.” You gasp out, still a little breathless yourself.

He grunts, as though irritated over something of secondary importance, and takes a couple of deep breaths before dropping the mask again. His pupils are blown so wide that his iris is barely visible, just a thin ring of gold around a pool of black.

You laugh, panting and overwhelmed at the sight of his shiny face, and reach up to wipe his slick face with the palms of your hands. He huffs a quiet laugh of his own, turning his face towards your hands and nuzzling against you like an oversized cat.

“That was… that was better than I expected.” You say, still struggling to collect yourself.

Neteyam’s smile turns a little sly, his teeth flashing as he kisses at your palms. “Impressed?”

And you can’t help but laugh at that, feeling as though this whole situation is spinning around far beyond your wildest imagination. Fuck, he’s really giving his all to this, just to prove to you that he’s superior to the other men of the clan.

“Not yet.” You whisper, biting your lip and hoping that he takes it as the challenge/invitation you mean it to be.

And luckily he does, his smile only growing.

“I should keep going then.” He murmurs, his hands stroking up your sides.

He gently caresses both breasts, a little knead of big, rough hands that can cover much more than just one tit and you love it. Your back arches as you shiver, revelling in how bizarrely gentle he’s being with you.

“Yes,” You whisper eagerly, your legs spreading further until the muscles of your inner thighs are burning with the strain of it. “You definitely should.”

You reach out to tug at the band of his loincloth, your fingers actually trembling a little as you try to unknot it at the sides. Neteyam’s own breath hitches, and his much more nimble fingers reach to help you untie it and draw it away.

And fuck, now he’s naked too. You sit up eagerly, peering down between your bodies to try and catch a look at him properly. You may have touched him that day in the healing hut, but it’s completely different seeing him.

He’s big. So big. All the Na’vi are big when compared to you, of course, but this just… it feels different, because this is Neteyam. His cock is the same pretty blue shade as the rest of him, decorated with darker stripes and pretty glowing tanhì. Your heart thumps recklessly at sight of it twitching towards his belly, and you reach out towards it eagerly.

Your small fingers wrap around the hard length of him — he’s too thick for you to comfortably hold in one hand, but that doesn’t seem to matter because he groans appreciatively anyway when you run your fingers down his length and then back up, feeling warm and sticky precome gushing from the tip to coat your fingers.

“Ah!” Neteyam groans breathily, his hips rocking as your hand slides up the long, velvety length of him. “Fuck… so good.”

You feel like you’re burning up, your skin sweat-slick and far too hot. The weight of his cock in your hand has your head spinning; you want him inside of you, stretching you wide and fucking you deep. If he fucks as good as he eats pussy, you feel like you’re in for a very good time.

“C’mon,” You breathe, writhing a little. “You– you promised me that you’d.. That you would…”

“Mm, I promised I’d make you feel better than Txetyo ever could,” Neteyam finishes for you, leaning in to kiss your neck. “You like ‘em big and stupid, huh? That’s why they can’t please you, syulang.”

You toss your head back, your eyes fluttering shut as his sharp canines drag over the sensitive skin at the side of your throat. Fuck, maybe he’s right. None of those guys have ever made you feel this good before; you don’t think you’ve ever been this slick and eager in your whole life.

“God, you have such a big head,” You huff, quivering. “Maybe you’re big and stupid too.”

He just laughs at that, a dark chuckle that has your nerves buzzing, and leans down to nip at your shoulder hard enough to make you jerk beneath him. “I am not like Txetyo, or Art’alak, or Pewalsku, or Urtiltey.”

You scoff, before reaching up to push hard at his shoulders. You’re not actually strong enough to shift him, but he pulls back obediently, falling back to lay on his back on the bed. You rise up on your knees then, looming over him as he lays flat.

The way Neteyam is looking up at you, it’s like he’s seeing god. If he could worship you with just a look alone, he is. It’s a little overwhelming, and you feel something deep in your stomach knot just at the sight of him looking at you like that.

“Prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen.” Neteyam whispers, reaching out to grip at your hips, guiding you into straddling his lap.

You don’t think anyone has ever talked to you like this, or looked at you like this. You hardly know what to do in the face of his attention, so you revert to what you’re familiar with; you settle yourself against his lap and grind there, feeling the length of his cock glide along the seam of your cunt.

It feels as though your belly has been set alight, and you take a slow breath as you rock against him. His lips drag from the base of your throat up the length of your neck, then he nips gently at the hinge of your jaw. The softness of his breath against the sensitive skin of your throat elicits a shiver from you, and Neteyam’s hands pull you closer when he feels your reaction.

You make a soft sound against his mouth when his fingers clench tight around your hips. His hold on you encourages you to grind down against him. It's not as though you really need the encouragement, but the way his eyes darken as he stares up at you is enough motivation for you to tilt your hips and grind down just like he wants you to.

"Fuck." He breathes, his eyes going half-lidded as he tilts his head back against your bed to watch you move above him.

Heat is growing alarmingly quickly in your lower belly and at the apex of your thighs, and you tremble over Neteyam as you use your grip on his shoulders for leverage. The soft sounds of pleasure that are pulled out of his throat every time you roll yourself against him send sparks through your entire nervous system; it feels as though you just can't get close enough to him.

Your patience runs out, unable to keep up the teasing; Neteyam seems to feel much the same. When you raise yourself up, chest heaving, Neteyam grabs at his cock and holds it still to allow you to settle against it, the head notched against your entrance. He glides over the opening again, pressing in the barest amount. You can already tell it’s going to be a stretch. Neteyam is thick, and you want it in you, want to feel it pressing you open.

You clench around the head of his cock, trying to pull him in, and Neyeyam groans.

“You’re—” He starts to say, his big hands clutching at your hips. “Shit. You’re tighter than I even imagined, paskalin.”

The idea that he might have imagined this is almost more than you can take, and you surge forward to kiss him again, your mouths clashing clumsily.

“You—you thought about it?” You manage to say, your words coming out a little muffled as he sucks at your lower lip.

He just rumbles a laugh, as though your question is ridiculous, and doesn’t even bother answering. Instead he places one hand securely under your ass, the other adjusting himself—there’s a short, sharp burst of pain as you felt him start to push in, just the tip and your head is spinning. Your nails are digging into his shoulders but if he feels anything it doesn’t show.

He kisses your cheek and then pushes in a little deeper as his mouth falls to yours once more—swallowing up your sharp cry as another inch sinks into you, and you feel like you’re splitting open.

Fuck, you feel as though not grabbing lube was probably a mistake; you were too cocky, too confident in your ability to take him, so sure that he’d be as adequately satisfactory as the other Na’vi men you’ve been with.

He goes in and in and in, pressing farther into you than you even thought was possible. The stretch and the pressure inside you is glorious, so tight that you can barely even flex around him. His mouth is open, each breath escaping him quickly, and you can see your own amazement reflected back to you on Neteyam’s face.

You dig your nails into his shoulders to offset the pain radiating through your core as he shoves himself deeper into you, chased by another wave of warmth as his free hand move between you, thumb settling gently over your clit.

“Ohmygod,” You gasp, pleasure mixing with that burning ache. You squeal, but your noises are half-moans as you try to rock your hips against his hand even as you try to ease the feeling of his girth inside you.

“Ungh..” Neteyam groans into you shoulder as he rocks another inch into you, until you’re sobbing and moaning by turns. “Oh. Fuck. Txetyo didn’t deserve this, syulang. Didn’t know what to do with you.”

You whimper in his grip as he just holds you there, buried to the hilt, thumb still working at your clit and sending frissons of electricity up and down your spine.

“Feels good,” You slur. “You feel good.”

Neteyam pulls out half an inch and fucks back into you from below, making your breath hitch. “Yeah?”

“So big,” You gasp. “I-I want—"

“I know, I know. I’ve got you,” Neteyam rumbles, his full lips brushing gentle kisses over your temple, right in your hairline. “Take what you want, lovely girl.”

And you do, rocking your hips and taking one of his enormous hands to pull between your legs so he can continue to rub at your clit with his fingers, so he can feel all the ways you’re leaking onto him as you lean forward to run your own hungry mouth along his collarbone, his pecs, as your hands grip his shoulders to try and lift yourself up and onto him over and over again.

It doesn’t take long for that coil in your belly to swell, sweet and hot. It’s as if Neteyam is intimately familiar with the way you want him to rub your clit, how you want it pinched but only just so between two fingers, as if he’s been taking fucking notes all those times he had walked in and interrupted you. It doesn’t take long until you’re trembling and squeezing impossibly tight around him, taut like a violin string.

It’s like Neteyam is puncturing your lungs, and every time he fucks into you, you respond with stupid sounding little ‘ah’ sounds.

“Ah, ah, ah!” You gasp, teary-eyed and desperate. Neteyam’s mouth is parted, his eyes wide. They flick over you quickly, drinking you in as you ride him.

Your movements are slow to build, but gradually you establish a steady, desperate rocking. It doesn't take long for you to realise that grinding in his lap feels better than raising yourself all the way up and down. Distantly, you feel little guilty — you know that grinding and rocking in his lap in the way that you are feels better for you than it does for Neteyam, but he doesn't seem to mind. He's watching you with a rapturous expression, his arms urging you closer so that your sweat-slicked chests are pressed close together and your foreheads are resting against each other.

You find a rhythm that both satisfies and stokes you, riding him with abandon as your thighs clench tight around his narrow hips. Neteyam’s hands slide from your hips down over your lower back, worshipful as they drift lower to clutch at your ass and use his grip there to help lift you up and down.

You ride him with mindless intent. His fingers dig at the meat of your ass, his mouth dropped softly open as he fights to keep his own breaths even — it takes a long moment for you to realise that he's fighting to keep himself still and to stop himself from thrusting wildly into you. His restraint and the realisation that he's really allowing you to have all the power in the exchange strikes you hard. You’ve never felt any real sense of agency in sexual intimacy until now, and the realisation that he's being so considerate of how you’re feeling only contributes to the intensifying of those flutters in your belly.

The rush builds in you, relentless, mounting with every jerk of your hips. There would be no catching your breath until it broke.

You rock on him, hard, hard and fast and there, there it is, that’s it — that perfect deep unfurling. A moan rises from the depths of your chest as you gasp at it, your body trembling. Neteyam just stares up at you, mouth open, eyes gone wide and dark.

The wave crests, the world explodes around you, a kaleidoscope of sensation as you come undone in his arms, trembling even as he keeps sliding home into you. You keep moving over him through the ebb of it, through the helpless little sounds that break from his throat. You’re still shuddering when he reaches up to take a firm hold of your waist. As though he can't help himself, his hips thrust up into you.

“Yes,” Neteyam hisses, his flat nose all scrunched up in a feral sort of pleasure. “That’s my girl.”

You tremble, gasp-moaning as your joints turn to jelly. Your orgasm very slowly gives way to thunderous aftershocks that rocket through your body every few seconds, shuddering your whole frame in intervals.

"Fuck," He groans, his breathing gone ragged. "I'm going to-"

He doesn't even finish his sentence before he seems to lose some of that iron control he's been exerting; his hips jolt up into you, and then again, until he's thrusting up into you with a sense of urgency that's almost breath-taking. All you can do is cling onto his hair and bury your face into the crook of his neck, attempting to muffle the embarrassing little gasping sounds that you’re making into his skin as his fucking into you prolongs the breath-taking pleasure of your orgasm.

You don’t fuss when his big hands use his grip on your ass to lift you up himself, fucking up into you and letting loose. Then he's shaking, stilling, spilling himself inside you, and you watch eagerly as his face goes slack and relaxed.

You don't go still immediately. Your hips keep rolling slow and steady as you tremble against him, chasing that feeling of molten shivery pleasure that's still burning in your belly even as it starts to turn into almost unbearable oversensitivity. It's not a fully conscious movement, as you’re moving mostly on instinct, and after a few moments Neteyam takes a hold of your hips to slow you to a stop.

He stays inside you like this for what feels like an eternity, spent and nestled deep inside you as you sit in his lap, slumped against his large strong chest.

"Oh my god," You whisper eventually as another pleasant shudder jolts down your spine. It feels as though you’ve been kicked in the chest, as though the breath has been knocked out of you entirely to make room for the lovely floaty lightness that's beginning to fill the space between your ribcage”

"Mm." Neteyam hums quietly, his fingers tightening in the soft flesh of your hips as he tilts his chin up to brush his lips over your sweaty temple. "Alright?”

No, You think, with no small amount of panic. You’re absolutely not alright. Neteyam may have just been fucking you to prove a point, because it’s always been so important to him that he’s perfect at everything he tries his hand at, but it feels as though he’s just cracked you wide open. You don’t think anyone will ever make you feel as good as he just did.

When you don’t immediately answer, one of his big palms cups the back of your neck so he can tilt your head back, and he leans down to kiss you again. He sucks your swollen bottom lip into his mouth so he can worry at it while you whine, toes curled where you tucked them under your legs, balanced on his thighs.

"Impressed?” He murmurs into your ear, his warm, dry hands stroking soothingly over your sweat-dampened skin.

You laugh despite yourself, and it comes out breathless and broken. “Fuck. I—yeah. Yeah. I’m impressed. Asshole.”

Neteyam’s expression brightens, his ears twitch back as his smile grows. He leans in and kisses you again, once, twice, then three times in quick succession, and out of the corner of your eye you see his tail coiling lazily against your sheets.

“Feel like I need to lay down,” You say. “For a week maybe.”

Neteyam just chuckles as you slowly lift your hips; when Neteyam slides out of you a soft sound of loss escapes from his mouth. You sympathise — you feel uncomfortably empty now that he's no longer nestled inside of you, but Neteyam is already gathering you into his arms and flopping back onto your mattress with you all curled up ontop of his chest.

It all feels so natural — you’ve never cuddled after intimacy like this, and you never would have imagined that Neteyam would allow you to do this. But it seems like he craves physical touch as badly as you does, because it feels as though his hands are everywhere as he holds you.

"Don't look so pleased with yourself, dickhead." You grumble, though you’re already relaxing under the pleasant warm weight of his hands

Neteyam’s smile only grows. "Why shouldn't I be pleased with myself? Have I left you unsatisfied?

You groan loudly, before burying your face in the pillow. The worst part is that it's true — you’ve never felt so satisfied in your life. You think that you could close your eyes and cheerfully float away on a cloud, but you don't want to suffer the humiliation of admitting that.

“I’m satisfied.” You admit, mortified. “It— yeah. You won that stupid competition. Well done.”

That has exactly the effect you had expected it to have; Neteyam’s chest puffs up where you’re laying across it, his eyes crinkling up as he grins. God, he’s so fucking smug.

You manage to swallow down your embarrassment so that you can ask the question that’s been knocking around your head since the first time he had kissed you.

“Can we… do that again, sometime?” You mutter, keeping your face pressed into his chest so he can’t see the vulnerability on your face.

Neteyam’s chest rumbles in a deep laugh, and his large palm settles between your shoulderblades.

“Whenever you want, yawntutsyìp. We have all the time in the world.” He murmurs, nuzzling his face into your hair. “Where ever you want. Here, the forest, my hut in the village—”

You laugh, blinking in surprise at his eagerness. You guess he must be absolutely pussy-whipped right now, which is pretty sweet.

“Next time we mate, we’ll do it in the forest so Txetyo can find us.” He says, and you can feel his teeth against the top of your head when he grins. “Let him watch as I make you scream again.”

"I did not scream!" You snap, embarrassed, reaching to smack at his chest. But then his words actually parse in your head, and you push yourself up quickly on top of his chest so you can look down at him, wincing a little at the ache between your legs.

Neteyam obviously catches your wince because he frowns and one of his hands reaches for your thigh, but you grab at his wrist as you gape at him.

“What the fuck did you just say?” You blurt.

That must have been a slip of his tongue. Every man you’ve been with before has been so damn careful to avoid the term mating, obviously terrified of you somehow getting the wrong idea; they made it painfully clear that it was just fucking, with no strings attached, because you were small and exotic and apparently the tightest thing they’ve ever gotten to put their dicks into.

Neteyam blinks owlishly, as though confused by your response. “What?” He asks, before his face relaxes. “Ah, it’s only the thought of me watching that does it for you?”

“No, it—” You blink at him. “You said… you said next time we… we mate.”

“Yes.” He says, wrapping one big arm around your waist to tug you back to him, as though he doesn’t like the fact that you’re shifting away. “I enjoyed mating here, where I can kiss your face, but it is very...”

He pauses then, and glances around your room. For the first time, you see it through his eyes; it’s small and dingy, the electric lights buzzing and flickering as they run on the ancient generator that Norm and a couple of the other older scientists had dragged from Bridgehead. Even though he’s gotten comfortable cuddling you on your bed, it’s far too small for him; his legs are hanging off the end of it, his feet flat against the floor. Compared to the fantastical natural homes of the Na’vi, your little bedroom seems like a shithole.

“You will be more comfortable in my hut in the village.” Neteyam says decisively, using the arm wrapped around your waist to pull you closer to his chest again. “I wish to take you in the forest, at Vitrautral, as is tradition.”

“Mating.” You repeat, just to check if you had heard him right. “We—that was mating.”

“Mhmm.” Neteyam’s hum sounds casual enough, but you can see the ridiculously pleased wave of his tail in the air behind him. “I told you that you were wasting time with those skxawngs, but I did not mind waiting for you. I did not like hearing them talk about you, about how you felt and how they pleased you, but… I knew I could prove myself a better prospect than all of them.”

“But—” You’re still struggling with this, staring at him with a bewildered expression. “But it—that was sex. It wasn’t—”

“I will take you to Vitrautral tomorrow, and mate you properly,” Neteyam murmurs, and you feel his big chest rumble beneath you in a pleased purr at the idea. “You do not need any other now. Yes?”

It feels almost too good to be true. Almost. Because damn, you want that so badly that it actually aches. After so many years of craving intimacy of any kind, it seems shockingly unlikely that it’s being offered by Neteyam, the very personification of an Omaticayan golden child. How have you gone from getting fucking in empty corners and deep in the forest to having the Olo’eyktan’s son talk about mating you?

You think of the herbs and plants he always brings to the healing hut, the bones and fibres he forages, the food he brings you after hunts. You had always thought he was just shoving how great he was in your face, but now all of that is starting to rearrange itself inside your head. Was he seriously just trying to impress you?

You laugh a little disbelievingly, and Neteyam’s arm tightens around you.

“I have a necklace,” He murmurs, nuzzling against your forehead. “Made with freshwater pearls from the ocean. I was going to give it to you earlier but—we got distracted. It is in my tewng—”

“Get it later,” You whisper, clinging to his chest. You’re so comfortable, you don’t want to move, just in case the moment slips away forever. He made you a necklace. Fuck, he made you a necklace! You’ve only ever seen Na’vi mating gifts from a distance; the thought of receiving one is beyond anything you’ve ever imagined.

Neteyam’s chest seems to swell, his expression brightening the moment you cling to him. He hugs you close, his purr now reminiscent of a damn chainsaw as he curls his whole big body around you.

Taking a chance, you do something that you’ve always sort of wanted to do, ever since you found out what it was; you reach behind him and take his kuru in your hand, feeling the thick, glossy protective braid in your fingers.

Neteyam shudders under you, his rumbling purr stuttering a little as his eyelids flitter, his eyes going dark. He doesn’t stop you, watching you with lightly parted lips as your hand closes around the most sacred, sensitive part of him.

“This is okay?” You whisper, your vulnerability clear in your voice.

“Of course,” He whispers back, as though the moment is a soap bubble that could burst at a slightly raised voice. “It is yours, syulang.”

Emboldened, you drag your fist down the glossy braid until you reach the end, where the glowing tendrils that make up the exposed manifestation of his nervous system. The fleshy pink tendrils writhe in the air, and you watch in eager amazement. You’ve only ever seen diagrams of this part of the Na’vi anatomy, and you want so badly to touch it.

“You can play with it all you want,” Neteyam murmurs, and his voice is breathless.

You breathe a laugh, glancing up at him with a little grin. His pupils are blown, his lips parted, his chest heaving. You want to gnaw on his ribs, swallow him whole; he’s so cute.

“I’ll save that for tomorrow,” You whisper, the words ringing like a promise.

Neteyam looks briefly disappointed, before his mood is promptly buoyed at the thought of mating you again at the Tree of Souls, as he had promised you. He buries his face happily in your neck as you pet absently at the protective braid covering his kuru. It’s a non-sexual touch, and yet he goes entirely boneless, purring up a storm as you stroke your hand over it.

“Told you those others could not please you, paskalin,” He murmurs, his words slurring a little as his eyelids flutter with every soft touch to his kuru. “Told you they did not know what to do with you.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the fond smile pulling at your mouth.

“Mm. You did. Guess I needed someone like you, huh? A mighty warrior?” You say, teasing him with that silly little nickname he always called himself when you were a teenager. At the time you had thought he was so annoying, but now, looking back… you’re willing to admit it was pretty adorable.

Neteyam’s drowsy face pulls up in a sweet smile, his flat nose brushing against your collarbones. It seems like he’s pleased you remembered, or maybe he’s pleased that you’re impressed with him.

He kisses your neck, then mumbles sleepily, “The mightiest.”

#neteyam x reader #neteyam x human #neteyam fic #Neteyam #avatar 2 #avatar x reader #na’vi x reader #na’vi x human #avatar way of water #fics

[basicinstnct]

can’t quit you / miguel o’hara

word count: 1642

tags: oral sex, size kink, friends with benefits, strength kink, slight angst, commitment issues

ao3 link: here

summary: you know what an addiction is, and the definition doesn't seem too far off.

a/n: i’d like to add a better graphic but the movie just came out. one day!

small prequel: here

“This is practically breaking and entering,” you tease. You’re less than new to returning from work to a huge form sprawled across your couch. Miguel has no issue making himself at home, at least not in your apartment. You figure it’s a sign that you don’t scream at the sight of him, even if you’re stuck on how weird it is, coming home to a shadow at night and not being bothered. It’s part of his strange charm (and you secretly revel in the fact that he’s only this comfortable with you).

“Wouldn’t have to break in if you’d let me have a key,” he’s entirely serious.

“You know why that can’t happen,” you say, like you’ve had to say a dozen times. Any number of excuses come to mind. You’re emotionally intelligent enough to know that he’s emotionally unavailable, no matter what he says, or thinks.

“I can be your man,” he says with his typical resilience, “more, if you’ll let me.”

You don’t even know what more means, if he’s already in your apartment like it’s his, if he’s already been inside you like you’re his. What will one more step do? You know what an addiction is, and the definition doesn't seem too far off.

“Miguel…” He’s run out of reasons to refuse you. You’ve run out of reasons to refuse him. Nice reasons, at least. But knowing what’s good for you doesn’t mean that’s what you want.

He rises from the couch, and it is a rise. He normally towers over every piece of furniture in your place, over you. It doesn’t take much trying. You’ve wondered if it’s hard for him to always be the biggest thing in the room, but a guy like him probably likes that, likes being unavoidable.

Miguel only knows how to kiss one way, sloppy. When his lips meet yours it’s like all the desperate parts of him come out of hiding. His tongue grazes all parts of your mouth like there’s something sweet inside, and you whimper when you realize he’s swapping spit with you. Even his saliva runs a bit hotter. It makes you pull back, panting in lieu of straight up whining.

“Baby,” he says with your face in his hands, like he knows it’ll make you weak. You try to avoid his gaze but he catches your jaw, squeezed a little the way he knows you like. “No,” he sighs, long and heavy. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna say no now.”

“I’m not saying no…” 

Miguel sinks to his knees and looks up at you like you take the wind out of his sails. Being able to look down at Miguel is a hard pill to swallow. “Gonna let me taste that sweet pussy again? Or are you gonna make me beg like you did last time?”

If you remember well, denying him didn’t end well for you the last time. You have flashes of being put in a press, legs to your ears with Miguel growling, talking about the feeling of your wet cunt on his dick, about how good you felt milking him, about how if he didn’t know any better he’d think you want his cum. You didn’t even know he could talk like that, talk about anything other than preserving and protecting. It’s like a switch is flipped when he’s with you, even if it’s been weeks or months between seeing him.

You give an inch and he takes a mile. Lifts your thigh over his shoulder so he can get at what’s between your legs. His hands travel up your thighs, gripping at parts of your flesh just to hear the sighs you make. When he goes under your skirt you expect to feel something, his fingers or tongue, but instead it’s just him breathing against you. Smelling you.

“You’re disgusting,” you whine, flushed anyway.

It doesn’t stop him, probably encouraging him instead seeing as he nestles his face in deeper, grabbing your hips so you can’t pull away. Your squirming only pushes him further into you. You can feel his nose bump your clit, and his tongue pushes fabric against your pussy.

“Miguel, come on.” You feel so ridiculous, even though he can’t see you.

“I want you to beg me,” you hear him say, “I want you to beg me like you made me beg the last time. Bet you feel just as needy as I did. I can hear it in your voice. so it shouldn’t be that hard.” He starts to palm you just to prove a point, dragging thick fingers up and down your slit. It doesn’t take long for you to start soaking through the fabric. 

“Please,” you murmur, “pleasepleaseplease.”

“Please what?”

“Please, Miguel, touch me. Touch my pussy.”

“All you have to do is ask, baby.”

You feel him drag your underwear down your legs, toss it somewhere in the room. Then he’s free, free to pull apart your folds so he can see you clench and drip around nothing. He leaves you just like that, before you feel the heat of his tongue, lips following soon after. And it’s not just touching, it’s like he’s making out with it. You can’t help the throb that goes through you, and you’re sure he can taste it in his mouth. 

You shiver at the heat of him, aggressive and persistent, not unlike a raging fire. Your body is torn between reactions, goosebumps on your flesh and sweat on your brow.

“It’s ok, baby,” he’s saying, sounding like he’s got a mouthful of you. “I won’t look at the faces you make. I know how embarrassed you get.”

Miguel slides two fingers in deep, and then starts curling. It doesn’t make much of him for you to feel split open. He’s big all over, everywhere where it counts.

“Cute,” he mutters, when you buck against his hand, “you still think you’re strong enough to get away from me.” His words have the intended effect. You feel powerless, so you give in. You’re barely standing on your own feet, his hand and shoulder and face giving you all the support you need.

“I know,” you moan, “I know, I can’t.” You feel yourself gone boneless in his grasp. He has you.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen: I’m gonna keep you on my fingers until you soak my hand, and then I’m gonna make us both come, okay.”

“Yes, yes, okay,” you agree without listening, “Miguel, please make me come.” 

He takes away his fingers, but not before sliding them against your pussy again, like he’s trying to collect all that drips out of you. When he moans shamelessly into you, and you start to hear a slick sound, you realize that can only mean one thing.

“Are you…” You can’t say the words.

You can hear him fist his cock, spread what he took from you all over his dick, using it as lube. The sound of wet skin so loud you can almost see him. Shlick. Shlick. Shlick. You know how he gets when he’s pent up, how he leaks like a faucet if he hasn’t come recently. You’ve felt him throb in your hand, seen the dark look he gets when your hand can’t even wrap around him. Miguel moans like he knows what you’re thinking, and goes at you harder. You barely feel there, like he’s just using the taste of you to get off.

“You’re wet,” he slurs, like he’s confirming, “‘s gonna make me come.” 

“Me too,” you sigh, high on the feeling of him. “I’m gonna come too.” But you can’t yet, not until you see. Your hands are clumsy and shaking as you fumble with the buttons of your skirt. You pop them out one by one until it all falls away and you can finally see Miguel.

He looks as debauched as expected. His jaw and mouth shine with what you’ve done to him, and when his eyes flicker open he looks like he’s under a spell.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is a lilting tease, “I thought you wanted me to make you come.” He looks you straight in the eyes as he leans back in, licks your clit until you whine. You’re right back on the verge of orgasm. 

You know he’s close too by the way he shivers. It’s his tell, you’d realized the first time he fucks you. Miguel shakes like the pleasure is too much, and when it finally is you hear it rather than see it. Thick streams of his cum wasted on the floor beneath you. The sound of him so eleated, knowing it’s the taste of you that has him like this, has you right where he wants you. 

You grab onto him as you come, feel his strong shoulders tense with the effort to hold you tight. He doesn’t let up with his mouth, licking up all of you until you shake from the stimulation.

It’s not surprising that you teeter when Miguel lets go of your legs, still weak from your orgasm. “Oh, baby,” he says, “if you needed to lay down you should have said so.”

You end up intertwined on the floor, his hand combing through your hair. You can hear him breathe deeply, and the peace of it threatens to send you into a deep sleep. It’s laughable to have him fawn over you like this, when in the morning you’ll choose to go back to separate lives, so much so that you can’t help but joke about it. “You treat all your girls like this?”

“There are no girls.”

“Sure,” you giggle, “so when I don’t see you for a month…”

You don’t believe him for a minute until you look at him, and his face is so honest, so genuine, that in the back of your mind you wonder if there could be a future for the two of you after all.

#marvel smut #marvel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #smut #my writing #spiderverse smut #spiderverse x reader #miguel o'hara #1k #2k #3k #4k #5k

[sttoru]

Toji x reader kids first nightmare

⟣ tags. dad!toji x female reader. fluff.

“ugh,” toji groans as his peaceful slumber was interrupted by small cries. it was currently 4:35am and the two of you were cuddled up underneath the blankets after putting megumi to bed a couple hours earlier. toji’s beefy arms were tightly wrapped around your bare figure, his vision blurry and his voice hoarse from the lack of rest once abruptly awoken. you started to stir too, however toji quickly soothes you back to sleep;

“ssh, ssh, i’ll take care of ‘m.” you were usually the one who instantly rushed over to your son during the night and it made your husband feel bad. you already do so much around the house, the least he could do in return was take over this simple task.

toji gets up with a quiet yawn, scratching his head as he tries to find his boxers somewhere on the floor. he manages to spot them scattered near the bed along with your own pile of clothes; “comin’..” toji grumbles, almost stumbling over his own feet while hurriedly pulling up his boxers.

the soft, weak cries of the little baby were at their loudest in the nursery. megumi was in his crib, hands aimlessly flailing around, cheeks red and tears staining both his face and bedsheets. toji’s heart ached at the sight once the lights flickered on.

“i gotta say—y’re breaking my heart there, kid.” the man sighs deeply and reaches down to lift megumi up in his (hopefully) consoling embrace. he’s seen others have nightmares before, his wife being an example, but there’s something about seeing a child—his child—in distress that makes him doubt himself as a dad. he doesn’t have any experience with kids and it showed in specific moments like these. he has no clue on how to handle a child who just got awoken from a bad dream. though, as always, he tries.

“shhh,” shushing is a simple first step that anyone could think of; “it’s okay, daddy’s here,” reassuring the little one of his presence is a decent second step, although there’s no guarantee megumi could understand. toji’s mind was working overtime as he tried to recall the methods you used to help megumi quiet down

he eventually decides to simply sit on the nearby rocking chair, leaning back against it while carefully swaying his son back and forth. his lips were brushing against megumi’s ear to whisper sweet, reassuring things in hopes it would calm the kid.

“must’ve been scary, hm?” toji mumbles, hand gently patting the back of megumi’s head. the baby was still crying, however the volume and intensity of the sobs had decreased greatly the moment he was in his dad’s arms;

“i know.. i know, shhh.” toji continues after placing megumi’s little body close to his bare chest, the chair still moving back and forth slowly—the motions being calming for both father and son.

a couple minutes pass by and megumi was finally back asleep on toji’s torso; it seemed like hearing his dad’s breathing and voice was more than enough to soothe his nerves. toji had his big hands placed securely on megumi’s body, head held low to kiss his son’s forehead as his own eyes started to droop.

“g’night..”

before toji even realised, he had started to doze off as well. he made sure to hold his son tightly—cuddling up to the tiny boy in an attempt to keep him safe and sound from any bad nightmares.

“..love you.”

#ෆ : parenting 101. #jjk x reader #toji x reader #jjk fluff #toji x you #jjk x you #jjk fic #toji fushiguro x you

[gremlingottoosilly]

Eat your Young (viking!Konig x fem!Reader)

You weren't afraid when the Vikings came. Your ruler pays them well, and they protect you from enemies far worse - there is nothing to worry about as you, an unmarried maiden, wander into the embrace of one of them. They are on your side. Right? Tags and CWs: Age gap, size difference, Konig is a bit obsessive and a huge perv, mentions of violence, Vikings Are Actually Kinda Nice No For Real, hand jobs, oral sex, naked man/clothed woman, slightly historically inaccurate, jokes about inbreeding Thanks to @angelbabysblog for the idea. I changed quite a lot because I was reading articled about how many of the Slavic cities were actually cool with Vikings and worked with them AO3

The Vikings are here. Your Father never allowed you to meet them before – as an unmarried girl, even if you’re already of age, it would be…scandalous. Not smart. Dumb, really – everyone knows that girls that are messing with the warrior from overseas often end up being taken away. And you couldn’t survive sea travel. The Vikings are here, but it’s not really a problem – you know that there are other countries over the sea, the countries that die and burn every time a ship is sailed in their harbors. You also know that you do not live in a country like that. That sound of Vikings approaching is a good one – that you’ll be protected from the other enemies your country has. You always stole glances, despite what your father has told you – you were a curious thing, always searching for trouble, always interested in everyone outside of your small village. You’re on the border – stuck between sea and great plains, open for any enemy if it weren’t for mercenaries who deemed this place as worthy of their camp. They live here, occupying the territory outside – even build themselves houses, despite every rumor calling them nothing more but overseas barbarians who would tear you down for a flick of a coin. 

Well, you always thought you’d have nothing to worry about – you are not made of coins, after all. The Vikings had a leader, the one that stayed in the long house just outskirts of the village – the one that would always visit the elders, discussing the payments and the spoils of war. Father always punished you if any nosy neighbor would see you sneaking out to look at the warriors – but you couldn’t care less. If you are going to end up in a marriage with a fool, you could at least steal a few looks at the real men. Not the ones from your village – they felt more like brothers than anything else. Some of them were – second, third, fourth, just diluted enough to make the babies a bit less disfigured. 

But, oh, nothing compared to the vikings. You see them when you run for the lake, far from the shore. They are clean – cleaner than sailors from Byzantine who sometimes stumbled upon the small village by the sea. You think you heard them talking about how cleanliness is a sin – and just how silly it sounded. You think you didn’t like people from this place very much – sailors were often drunk, always handsy and never spared a kind word without an insult…not that you knew their language – but you are smart enough to know that if a man is attempting to grasp your breasts while sneering something through his teeth, it won’t be a love poem. 

— What are you doing here? 

Ah. 

You were spotted. Like a fox in a hunter’s trap – you are standing in the tall water grass, looking at the man through the weeping willow branches. Maybe, if you are lucky enough, he’d think you were a mavka, trying to drown him – some men were foolish enough to fall for the act, sparing you the consequences of your curiosity. You aren’t sure if the Vikings have legends of mavkas – if they even have lakes back where they are from. All travelers are mixed in your head – desserts, great plains, barbarians who would steal your sisters if you’d been blessed with some. Sea beasts who will take you on your ship, away from your father and…ah, it doesn’t sound too bad. 

— Can’t you talk? 

His voice is rough, and accented. Younger than you thought he would be with a body like this – a seasoned warrior, ginger hair covering his muscular chest and a small trail falling down his…

Viking knows your language. Shouldn’t be surprising – they are working for the elders and your ruler, after all. They get gold from your village, they get food from your village. They get sons – you heard about at least some of the women falling pregnant to the guests overseas. No one dares to say anything against it – but the rumors are still falling. You wonder if it’s as bad as it sounds. — I can talk. 

This sounds dumb, but there is no use in hiding. Your intentions weren’t innocent – you are curious and curiosity is what leads to the devil. Or god of death. Or goddess – you are not well-versed in matters of spirit and while half of your village is still worshipping old gods while the other preaches about new, stronger ones, you wonder what kind of beliefs Vikings have. You heard their women can wield magic – and can count. And read. You would love to read, you think. — Gut. Thought I spotted a Margygr.

The word is weird. Rough. You don’t know what that is, but you certainly aren’t one. You take a step forward, not caring that your linen dress is getting drenched in water – not caring about what your father might say after. You would just tell him you wanted to go and drown since he was so adamant on marrying you off to some one-eyed half-wit quarter brother of yours. He wouldn’t be surprised – and you probably wouldn’t be missed. A whore to be, as some older women from your village would say. 

— What is that? 

He tilts his head to the side, his blue eyes looking at you. You notice a piece of cloth in his hands – something that must have been covering his face, you think. He is covered in scars and dirt, blood from some battle is getting washed away into the water of the lake. Gods, you say to yourself – you won’t even be drinking from it again. Although you promised it to yourself a few years ago already, when you spotted a dead deer lying in the water – and it’s not like you held to your promise. Better than seawater, after all. — A…drowned creature. Drowning creature. Your people are calling them… — Oh. Mavka. — Others call it mermaid. Selkie. Mermaid sounds harsh too. Rude. Other languages are rude – still, you would like to know more. Still, you would like to do anything to get out of your village. Learn to read. To write. Maybe hold a baby goat close to your chest and not have it ripped away for the nearest dinner. 

— I’m not…that. 

— I can see. 

He laughs and you steal a peak at his manhood. You should be ashamed, really – if your dear mother was alive, she’d beat you up for being so immodest. If your dear mother was alive, you wouldn’t be allowed to sneak out like that – but she isn’t, so you stare at the man who can crush your skull in one hand. You stare at the trail of ginger hair going down his waist. The muscles flexing and the scars on his hips, glossy from cold lake water. 

Hm. 

Is it supposed to be this big? 

He coughs and you peek to look at him again. Coughing isn’t good – he can be sick. Contangenous. There is a sickness coming around from sailor to sailor – you wonder if vikings have it too. You don’t want to get sick – but it would surely keep you out of marriage for a long while. Maybe, if you’re lucky enough, you could be buried like a pretty maiden. White dress and mourning relatives. That would teach them how to send you off to marry some dumb cousin you never knew before. Or knew too well. — You shouldn’t come here, Schatzen. 

— Why? 

— My men won’t be as nice as I am when they see a maiden in the lake. 

You smile, tilting your head to the side. There are rumors – you can’t invite foreign mercenaries into your country without them taking their toll on the locals. Some people like them, some people are scared of them. Some are going out of the ordeal pregnant and some are not returning at all. But, you can run. But, this is your lake. You like it here – the quiet, the tranquility. You think that if your father proceed with calling you an old bride who should be married as soon as possible, you could just run away and live here. Fish is nice and there are berries when it’s not too cold. — Where are your men? 

You never saw Vikings in battle. Never saw a group of them up close – you’d like to, of course. There are warriors in your village, but their best shot is wolves and deer. Not other men – you think you’d like to see war sometimes. Maybe, all the boys of age would die and you won’t have to worry about anything anymore. You would be nice as a local witch – or a local healer. Old hag sounds nice too. — Around. Waiting for the order. — What order? 

You ask so many questions, König thinks. Pretty thing – smart, too. You aren’t afraid of him, even though you have to be. Most women would be screaming and crying if they saw someone like him in the lake next to them. Not Viking women of course – but people from around here are soft. Cherished. Coddled. You also seem soft, too soft, too gentle – a woman living in a small village on the shore without a husband shouldn’t be this careless. König knows you’re just lucky that the ruler of your country is kind enough to pay the overseas mercenaries instead of suffering the pillaging. Not all of people are this lucky. 

If he won’t get a promised weight in gold this village won’t be lucky either. 

König looks at your sweet face, at the way your eyes constantly dart to his crotch. Curious little thing you are – he isn’t sure if he is that happy that the payments have been consistent up to this point. That he can’t just screw this all over and demand a payment in other ways. That pillaging this village and taking all of its women isn’t really an option while they get their gold from here. Your long linen dress clings to your skin - you’re shaking, he notices. From cold, probably, dumb lady who is too curious for her own good. Hm. He has furs not far from here. He can…

— We’re protecting the shore. The border, too. You smile, nodding. And here he thought the locals knew why the foreigners were here – but he can’t expect too much, he guesses. At least it seems like you haven’t heard of most of his accomplishments. The rivers of blood would be enough to fill this whole lake three times. Or, maybe, you heard – and didn’t care, brave and fearless little thing. König likes the sound of that. 

— Are you cold? 

You ask him, to his surprise. Your gaze is switching from his face – he is open, cheeks flushed from the cold and a maiden right next to him, and he can’t even find it in himself to cover his scarred mug – to his cock. It’s standing proudly, heavy, balls hanging low as if asking to be held in your soft palms. König isn’t embarrassed – but he is surprised that your body, showing only a little bit in that dress of yours, is already enough to make him this bothered. This ready to give up the supposed protection of this village and take what’s his. — You can warm me. 

You tilt your head to the side, mimicking his action from earlier. Curious bird – he could keep you at his ship. Tied up to the post, ready for anyone to use you. You’re strong, and resilient. Should survive the long way home – and he is getting quite ready to find someone at last. If the ruler of your little kingdom won’t be as stingy as the previous one, König can walk away with a sack of gold hanging on his shoulder. Enough for him and for him men. Surely enough to sway you. — How? 

— Do you have a husband? 

He knows, you probably don’t. A husband wouldn’t allow his wife to run around and flirt with other men – and if König was yours, he surely would keep you locked in like the treasure you are. There is too many men ready to take what doesn’t belong to them. 

— No. And I won’t.

— Why? — Soon I will be too old to be a bride anyway. Not that I want it. He laughs at that. Surely, little bird, it wouldn’t be your choice. If the luck is on his side, it wouldn’t even be the choice of your father. — Touch me, Schatzen. You want it, ja? 

He says this with more awkwardness than before. Swaying women by his side isn’t his strong suit – and even with his strength, not many of them would just throw themselves at him. Being a mercenary leader might bring him money but with the whole team consisting of equally strong and handsome men, the broody leader usually isn’t the first choice. He gets his fill eventually – but not the one that would make his heart flutter. With you, however… Your hands are traveling down his abs. Caressing every bit of skin you see – sending goosebumps down his navel and straight to his hard and leaking cock. He wonders if you’ve done this before – but your actions are the one of an explorer, not a professional. YOu grab his cock with both hands almost as if strangling him, and König lets go with a choked moan. 

You retrieve your hands, nervous. Good girl. Eager, pretty. Such a shame this village usually pays its tolls. — Are you hurt? 

— Nein, it’s…go on. You proceed to touch him, the softness of your touches is making him groan from pleasure. This is something else – you’re something else. Having the power to bring a seasoned warrior to his knees – god, how much he liked the way you looked at him. Eager and curious, always going down to touch his cock some more. You press your palm together, making s steady rhythm – using the pre-cum from his cockhead like a lube. 

König relishes in the feeling – he might be one of the strongest soldiers, but it was the first time he felt victorious. With your hand pumping his cock up and down, the pleasure settling in his stomach and threatening to burst, he felt like a king. No, the king. Gods, you were beautiful. Worthy of throwing this village into the fire for. Worthy risking the payment. Your mouth is warm on his manhood – he didn’t expect you to be this active, to wrap your lips around the bulging head and bop your head just a bit. Up and down. Tongue swirling, as if tasting him. Making him sweat that you will decide to take a bite out of it, just to satisfy your curiosity. To his peace, you didn’t. He came shortly after you decided to put your mouth on him – when your tongue started to swirl around and collect the bitter taste of his pre-cum. When your curiosity about foreign warriors bathing in your lake finally made you do something about it – and he would feel bad about pressing a hand in your hair and forcing you to choke on his length, your nails digging small red paths in his pale thighs. You choke and squirm and cry and this is the sweetest sound he ever heard – so when he finally drags you away from his cock, smiling as you wipe your mouth and whimper. Squirm again, some more. The light in your faded a little as he pushed one calloused finger into his mouth and pushed your lips apart. Poor thing, he thinks. — You did good, little bird. 

His seed tastes weird on the tongue. You wince, but swallow – it’s what good brides should do, you think. Somehow, looking at this warrior, you don’t feel so bad about being considered a bride. Maybe…no. You stalled here for long enough – you saw the Viking. You touched him. Tasted him. Father is probably looking for you. 

You don’t even bother to say goodbye as you come out of the water – but König stops you right on the edge of the lake, firm hand on your shoulder. Squeezing. Touching. Feeling. 

— I…I apologize, maiden. I lost control. 

His voice is hesitant. You don’t like how unsure he sounds. It made you feel unsure too. Weird. Uncertain and meek. 

— Are you going to leave soon? 

He stops mumbling, looking into your eyes. This is settled – he is not leaving you here. You must return to your family, say your goodbyes. Maybe enjoy a few weeks of peace before his troupe finally gets a clearing on killing whatever enemies grouped at the border – and he will take you no matter the payment your ruler can give him. Nothing will be worth more than you. 

— Yes. Yes, I will. You turn away, almost running. He didn’t stop you this time – you need to get as much freedom in your lungs as you can. He will take you eventually and, well…you best enjoy freedom as much as you could before this. 

When your village will burn along with all the cousins, half-triple brothers, and elders, you’ll find out why most countries fear the Vikings. When you will be hauled to the wooden ship over a giant’s shoulder, with his hand sitting firmly on your ass and his other palm preventing you from screaming, you’d know why taking the attention of overseas mercenaries is a bad idea. When your ruler would refuse to pay the warriors for their service and force them to just take everything by force, you’d know why making payments on time is so important. 

When König would finally make you his wife, you’d understand why you should have drowned in that lake instead. 

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #yandere cod #call of duty #cod x you #konig x you #konig cod #cod konig #yandere x you #yandere x reader

[roturo]

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ SHE'S BACK! PT2

GUESS HE COULDN'T KEEP IT IN, SO HE HAD TO KEEP IT INSIDE! (again)₊˚⊹♡ dilf!gojo satoru x teacher!reader

tags: smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, size kink, jealous!reader, jealous!gojo, fluff, creampie, squirting, matingpress, age-gap, reader is described as way smaller than gojo, tummy buldge, teasing, use of nickanmes, overstimulation, dumbfication, fluff, gojo has an ex-wife, yuuji is gojo's son...

PART 1

Life is fun.

To say you’ve been having the best months of your life would be an understatement. Starting to know Go- Satoru Gojo has been a rollercoaster of emotions. Mostly the age difference. It wasn’t that big, but 7 years was enough for people to talk. And now that he’s turning 32 people have been checking on him for no stop. You guess he was pretty famous when he was younger, at least more than now. 

Even though he is older than you, he’s a ray of sunshine full of brightness for this sad gray world. He finds fun in the sadness, and that’s why every time you see him, not only his eyes shine because of his beautiful blue orbs, but he makes your life shine with how good he makes you feel.

Another day being a teacher wasn’t like any other- But now you have this pink haired kid running across the classroom, and even though you don’t let your personal ‘persona’ interrupt in your job life, you couldn’t stop from falling into your lover son’s cuteness. But you don’t have favorites! At least you don’t say it out loud…

Satoru always trusted you to keep Yuji Itadori with you whenever he had some extra work to do– and he would spend time with you, sometimes at the classroom while you finish some work, or on special days both of you go out for some ice-cream.

But now Satoru hasn’t called or sent a message. 

You were kinda nervous- Your turn was over and you were waiting for everyone to go home, but you were still wondering what was going on with Yuji.

“Hey cotton-candy, is your daddy coming for you?” You asked the little boy, leaning down to have his attention. Not that you needed it much, you know this kid was about to be as tall as his dad.

“Uh, well…” the kid looked up, shifting your gaze too, looking towards a beautiful woman with pink-ish hair and hazel eyes. holy shit- she really looked like Yuji- maybe she was his-

Mom. Standing next to fucking Yuji’s daddy.

Gojo Satoru.

“Yeah?” He called out your name, you were too lost staring at the couple that you never realized you said his name out loud. Shit. Giving the fakest smile to ever exist in this universe you bowed to both of them, while saying your greetings towards Yuji’s mom.

The little kid called your name, losing the soft grip from your hand and while he ran towards his parents. Real. Real parents.

“Look! Mom and daddy are together! They’re taking me to an amusement park because of my birth-day!” His birthday is next week. You know- you have it in your calendar. But you suppose he wanted to spend a day with both of his parents at the same time.

Does she know you’ve been fucking her hus- ex-husband? And you guess she knows about you by the way she looks at you with a sour face, masked with the hypocrisy of a ‘capitalism smile’

“Oh! You must be Yuji’s favorite teacher- Him and Gojo love talking about you.” The sound of her voice almost made you puke, but the moment she places her hands on Gojo, you swear something inside you exploded. You couldn’t tell how he was feeling- your mind full of how you’re getting yourself out of this situation, and maybe out of the city too.

Are they getting back together? Does he still love her? Is he playing with you?

Does he also have that ‘capitalism smile’? Do you have to be at their economic level? The fuck.. why you’re feeling like this! You and Gojo haven’t even officialized any titles for your…. relationship?

Gojo sensed the change of atmosphere once he saw you staring at them with a lost face. He didn’t intend to come here with her. But he didn’t trust her with you. Your shoulders were tense, that fake broken smile you give to people that have hurt you but way too afraid to speak up towards his way. That kinda broke his heart. 

And what angered him the most, was when the witch laid hands on him. He also felt like he was about to puke, way too disgusted with this encounter that it was almost an instinct when he rapidly moved his body- But at the time he did that, a voice called out your name, making you shift your gaze to the sudden voice.

A tall blonde (not as tall as him), buff, (not as buff as him), with formal clothes he could easily identify that were old but classic- nothing like his style. He was not boring. Came walking towards you, waving at you and later placing his hand in your fucking lower back before both of you paid attention to the family infront of you again.

“Oh- I’m sorry. This is the school principal, Mr. Kento.” He might be overreacting, because a principal shouldn’t be this close towards a teacher, his blue eyed-gaze piercing holes into his face, clearly criticizing any aspect that came from him and fit his mind.

Everything after that was like a bullet piercing his head. Getting in automatic mode to survive this awkward encounter and finish the day as soon as possible. Obviously missing the fact Mr. Kento was married and you were his bridesmaid. 

Gratefully the next was saturday- not losing the chance to get drunk and convince yourself that yesterday didn’t happen. You kinda have problems.

Gojo was worried you didn’t answer any of his calls in the morning. Instead, he went looking for you at your house- using the extra pair of keys you gave him. He was practically married to you. At least what he thinks. 

But he couldn’t understand you. Not once he entered the room and found you staring at the TV, your phone long forgotten somewhere. He called out your name, obviously worried about you. Thank god you showered and cleaned yesterday’s mess. “Baby- Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Are you getting back together?” 

“With who? What are you talk-”

“With her.”

Gojo gave you a breathless laugh after the last words came out of you before embracing you with his arms. Feeling the heat radiating from his body, the sun to your moon. “With that witch?-- Ppft”  His chest pressed against yours while he chuckled at your assumption. “Why would I ever go back to her, or even meet other women when I have you?”

He felt the tears coming out of your pure eyes wetting his shirt, before his hand traveled and caressed your cheek– kissing away those awful tears that he hated. If he ever has to see you cry it should be– one, because he fucked you so good, or two because he gave you a ring to be by his side for eternity.

“Are you with him?” It’s now his time to ask questions.

“With who?”

“Blonde old guy from yesterday…”

“Oh, Mr. Kento? He’s my best-friend's husband and he's younger than you Satoru” You said while a giggle came out of your mouth and hit his chest with your hand in a light way. 

“Ouh- You tiny thing- How can you hit so hard?” His movements were fast, caging you as fast as possible in his body while he laid you again on your back into your mattress, filling your face with kisses. Seeing you like this was something different to Gojo, it was… more intimate. Your beautiful smile is all for him to adore. Seeing your small body compared to his affected his brain chemistry, leading his blood all down into his cock. 

“I can’t stop wanting to kiss you when you smile, because I want to steal it from you.” His words went straight to your heart, making you blush and avert his gaze from you. “Don’t hide my love, please- let me show you how much I need you.”

His kisses were tender, starting as pure pecks until those pecks turned into trying to claim you as him all over your neck– making you whimper only by his touch. “Maybe we should fullfish Yuji’s wish of giving him a small sister- what do you think?”

“Satoru…”

“What? He keeps rambling about you even when his biological mother is around. Kids his age don’t know how babies are made- but I would gladly show you how and keep you full of my cum everyday just to make sure, y’know?... fucking you here, at mis house… ffuck- at your desk… whenever I have the chance baby.”

Whimpers became moans once his hand reached your trembling core searching for release. Moving your panties to the side– “Sshit baby- You’re so.. wet.” A moan came out of you when his fingers went back to his mouth and he thrusted his covered hips into yours– also searching for friction.While he undressed you and himself too. “Wanna keep you full and nice f’me. So everytime you sit down you think of me. I would love to see your body once I get you pregnant– Ffuck- Scratch that. I would love to wake up every morning by your side. Wake up because of the cries or sounds of our kids. So be a good girl f’me and get pregnant and wifey just f’me, yeah?... fucking yyeah…”

His voice echoes inside your brain, being a trembling mess once he ponders inside of you. Keeping it there just for a moment and feeling him twitch because of how good you make him feel. His thrusts went feral once he truly realized the size difference and the bump forming in your tummy every time he thrusted inside you. Leading one of your hands to rest on your tummy. “Ya feel that? Yeah baby honey… I’m gonna fill this up with my cum- and you’re just gonna take it.” You were a rambling mess once he pressed hard in that spot- Trying to move his hand away from there because the abuse your g-spot was receiving.

The only coherent thing coming out of you,’ah, ah~, ah’ while he dumped his cum inside of you. Still rock hard and full to do it again. His arms engaged with your legs to have better accesses to your pussy, feeling his cock way goo deeper than the first time– taking you in a masting press.

“Fill me up again ´toru…” And oh shit. That made him go feral. His thrusts were erratic and unsynchronized, but each time you swear you could feel him inside your throat. He knew how to use his thing. Your orgasms were not like the other ones you had before. Coating your sheets and Gojo’s pelvis with your liquids– heavy breathes trying to accompany you while Gojo reached his high while you received him like a good girl even when he could barely fit it in again because of your intense orgasm. 

He would always whisper cute things in your ears after sex. Making the both of you laugh with adventure you were slowly creating with him. The family you were creating. And now? His talk while cleaning you up was about baby names 

A/N: this was an experience... the sex was A LOT for me, i never want to hear the word cock again.

taglist: @sirachano0dles @4imhry @chimmysoftpaws @philiatothephobia @xthatpottahfanx @chaotic-tnt

#romy's writings #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #gojo smut #gojo jjk #satoru gojo #gojo jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader smut #gojo satoru fluff #gojo fluff #yuji itadori #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk fluff #toji smut #nanami kento #jjk x reader smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

[saltburnedme]

My requests are open! Message/comment to be added to the tag list!

Paring: Oliver Quick x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3520

Summary: You’d only been visiting family at Saltburn for a few weeks, but this time you couldn’t shift the feeling of something or someone watching you.

Warnings: SMUT (ONLY READ IF YOU ARE 18+) unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), choking, stalking? Kind of?, two way mirrors, vague horror ish themes, dubious consent, generally fucked up smut overall

Writers note: Hi friends! This is my first Oliver fic, I’m planning on writing more so let me know if you have any requests. I’ve only seen the film once so I apologise if my writing of him isn’t quite right yet.. just read his parts with his accent and I think it works! Please share, comment, like and all of those good things 💕💕

Part 2

21 days, almost a full month, that’s how long it had taken you to get to grips with the enormity of Saltburn. Most of that time had been spent mistakenly walking into a linen closet which supplied one of the many bedrooms believing it was the entrance to your room. You’d even drawn yourself a map by this point and somehow, you still managed to get lost, the house was almost as much of a maze as the actual maze in the garden was. You had checked off your room, all of the shared spaces and most of the other bedrooms, inhabited or otherwise, all marked down perfectly on your little map. There was only one wing of the house which you were not allowed into, Elsbeth called it the ‘bachelor pad’ something you know Felix would have at the very least groaned at. He’d been sharing this space with his guest, another student named Oliver. He was quiet, a bit of a mystery overall but from that you assessed that he was a man who liked his privacy, making you chalk up their reluctance to have you in that space no more than a matter of comfort. A comfort you wish that you could say you felt also.

You visited Saltburn many times as a child, the family themselves were distant relatives of yours which is why you always summered there when your parents were away on business. You’d never felt uncomfortable there before, but this time something was different even though you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Maybe it was the heat getting to you, maybe it was the ever changing list of house guests that visited or the way that it seemed the eyes on the paintings of long dead aristocracy seemed to follow you around the room. Something had changed, if only you could put your finger on it.. or a toe.. maybe even an out stretched palm if you felt confident enough, anything to make this restlessness end. Every night that you laid in bed, you felt something, someone, watching you. You had checked, you’d opened every door, searched every shelf and wandered into every linen closet in the vicinity of your room and every time, nothing. Your well drawn map granting you no ease of mind, even with all of the labels you’d added to it over the last few weeks. The constant tossing and turning ceased only by one saving grace, you’d remembered to pack your vibrator.

Every night like clockwork your little buzzing friend would find the tingling mound between your legs, slipping in and out seamlessly like always, making you cum within a few minutes. That was until tonight, maybe you should have expected it. 21 days in a row of usage, the batteries were sure to go flat at some point, you just didn’t think it would be so soon. Placing it into the draw of the bedside table you go back to the constant pacing feeling in your mind as you attempted to sleep. The watching feeling was back, the hairs on your arms standing up, the feeling of the familiar prickling at the back of your neck as if something dangerous was approaching from the shadows. But sleep finally took you, once again.

The sound of knuckles tapping against the wood of the door early every morning tore you from your sleep, a much needed sleep. The curtains being torn open and the light hitting your face remind you of where you are almost immediately, at least this time with the maids in your room you knew who was watching you. ‘Breakfast is ready’ she says as she leaves the room as promptly as she arrived, off to wake another of the Saltburn family without a doubt. Crawling out of bed in your white night dress, you throw on a matching robe over the top, fumbling your slippers on, briefly checking your reflection in the full length mirror mounted to the wall across from your bed before wandering down the long halls to the breakfast table. Taking your usual seat you notice no one else has awoken yet, your tired eyes settling on the food in front of you, you almost fall asleep sitting up eating. The exhaustion of the last few days finally catching up with you. ‘You looked frustrated last night’ a low voice utters quietly a few seats across from you, the low muttering making you jump out of your skin with shock.

‘Excuse me?’ You question, a puzzled look on your face which could have been mistaken for anger, your words coming out harsher than you expected. You see the man across from you almost retreat into himself, he’d barely uttered a word to you in the last 21 days and now this? Your mind immediately flashing back to your frustration at your vibrator unceremoniously dying on you, surely that isn’t what he refers to tho.. right? ‘Oh Oliver, I’m sorry, I’m so tired that came out poorly. what do you mean?’ You question, making Oliver un tense slightly.

‘I saw you looking for something last night’ he begins. ‘Anything I can help with?’ He questions.

‘Oh, That. I was just trying to get a better lay of the land. Every time i visit I swear this place is rearranged, it’s like a new house every time.’ You reply.

‘Sure, that must have been it’ he replies, no follow up, nothing. Although it was more of a conversation than you’d managed with him this whole time, you expected maybe something else would have come from this. He could have offered to help you, anything. Although you hadn’t spoken that much you’d find it hard to argue that you hadn’t developed a little crush on him, his dark hair in contrast with his piercing blue eyes, surely that would make any girl swoon.

Just as you finally thought of something to say, the thought of offering him an invitation to explore the mansion with you to further expand your map, the rest of the family arrived, keen to discuss plans for the day. Your hopes of getting to know Oliver better shattered once again.

You continued your day like normal, a dip in the pool, a little bit of reading, another trip to a random room to expand the map and eventually dinner and straight to bed.

Once again you were kept up, tonight you indulged in wine a little bit more than usual, the knowledge of the lack of batteries to fuel your only release weighing heavy on your mind.

Crawling into bed you listen to the creaking of the wooden floorboards in the hallway, the sound of the old house almost swaying in the breeze as if that were possible. You try to ignore the familiar ache between your thighs as you long for sleep subtly grinding against the palm of your hand as you crave the release you know you can’t have. The feeling growing stronger and your movements becoming more unsubtle as you move the covers off of you, the fabric of your night dress pooling up around your hips as you grind, longing for that familiar feeling. ‘Ugh, fuck sake’ you groan, it’s of no use. You roll over frustratedly, your face buried in pillows as you let out a silent scream. That’s when you hear it, the floorboards creaking, the sound too loud to be from the hallway and it wasn’t just creaking this time, footsteps. But it couldn’t be, you’d locked the door to your room, the only other way in was through the window which you had ensured was locked.

‘Hello?’ You ask tentatively, sitting bolt upright in bed at this point. You weren’t sure if you prayed for an answer or not, at least if there were an answer you’d know for certain that you weren’t alone. But no answer came.

2:41am, you’d checked the clock at least 20 times by now every time you had almost drifted to sleep another creak on the floorboards would tare you from your dreams. It sounded almost as if they were getting closer, they’d began earlier by your mirror and by now they were approaching the head of the bed. Sometimes you even thought you could feel something touching you, lightly re arranging the way your hair fell on the pillow, or something lightly tugging at the blanket that covered your body. But this time you felt it for sure.

The weight on the bed shifted, while you lay in the middle, the bed dipped on the side, the unmistakeable feeling of someone sitting at the side of the bed. Another second and you felt it, a hand on your ankle wrapped tight. Terrified you sit, unable to move. You never imagined this is how you’d be in this position, you’d scream and fight when you’d imagined this scenario previously but you were wrong, so wrong. You lay there silently, only when you felt the grip on your ankle tighten did you even let on that you were awake as you were harshly dragged down the bed, now splayed out in the middle. Before you could scream a hand smacks over your mouth with a slap, silencing any sound that could have come out of you.

‘What were you thinking about?’ A voice in the dark asks, an accent of some sort laced in his words surely belonging to the owner of the strong hands currently pinning you against the bed. ‘Who were you thinking about?’ The voice continues, more demanding this time as the accent becomes clearer, Oliver? Surely not. The sweet, quiet man who sits across from you silenced by his own nervousness every breakfast, it can’t be him. You try to answer, your words muffled by the hand over your mouth, although you’re sure it would be less of an answer and more of a demanding to get out of your room.

‘Was it me? Tell me it was me.’ He demands, his hand dropping from your mouth to your throat, wrapped around tightly grasping at the column of your neck.

‘I-I Uhm’ your reply coming out as nonsense. He was right, you had been thinking of him. You’d seen his physique while sunbathing, sneaking a glance when you believed no one would notice. But now with his hand wrapped around your neck and his body pressing into yours your mind was blank.

‘Answer me’ he demands, hand tightening as his face grows ever closer to yours. At this distance you swear you can almost see the moonlight shining through the window reflecting off of his blue eyes, glimmering at you.

‘You.. it was you’ you stutter out quietly, your words shocking even you as they come out breathy and quiet.

‘What a good girl you’ve been for me’ he says, his grip loosening on your throat as he glides his index finger down your cheek.

‘Bu-but how did you.. where.. what’ you question, a full sentence becoming too much for your brain to handle, but the man on top of you seems to have gotten the gist of your line of questioning.

‘I’ve been watching you’ he replies. ‘You and your little map. Wandering around like you own the place’ his words laced with venom. ‘I’ll admit you did make it harder for me. You thought you were so smart checking everywhere, you never bothered to check within your own room’. He continues as your eyes fight with the dark, darting around every corner of the room. That’s when you spot it, the light reflecting off of the mirror slightly wrong, it was almost as if the glass was rippling, the reflection always seeming a little off, it was a two way mirror. From the spot where it was mounted on the wall, you realised that it was pushed slightly further than usual, the story all making sense in your mind suddenly. You hadn’t been imaging things, you had heard footsteps inside the room, someone was watching you, Oliver.

‘Our rooms share a serving corridor as these old houses do sometimes’ he says as if it was an obvious fact, something everyone would know. He could see a million questions whirling behind your eyes, snapping you out of your thoughts as his soft fingers against your cheek suddenly turn into a slap, grasping your face turning your lips into a pout. ‘Now, I know what you do to sleep and I took the liberty of removing the batteries from your useless little toy there’ he sneers at you, you can almost feel his smirk against your lips as he comes in closer. This was nothing like the man you had vaguely come to know over the last few weeks, he was mean, cruel even and you knew it wouldn’t be long until you admitted that you liked it, you loved this version of Oliver. ‘I thought, just maybe if you’d get impatient enough you’d come to me yourself. But the little miss never came’ he continues, finding himself amusing at his own pun. ‘So I came to you’ putting extra emphasis on his words to make a point as to almost poke at you. ‘Now, I can either leave and go back to my room or I can help you with your predicament. Would you like that?’ He questions, still holding your face in his hands ensuring you look straight into his eyes as your head nods, partially guided by Oliver’s hand moving your face for you. ‘Good girl’ he places a light peck onto your lips. ‘The former was never really an option anyway, did you really think I could leave all this now that I have you here?’ His question sounding more like a statement, he didn’t care about your answer, he decided you belonged to him the moment he stepped into the room. His hand slips from your face, grasping your throat once more before climbing further onto the bed, throwing the covers off of you and pushing your night dress up.

He sighs, the view of you almost making him cum on the spot. Oliver never imagined he’d actually do it, sure he’d thought of the thousand ways he could take you, he wanted to bend you over and fuck your brains out over the breakfast table every morning for the last month and now, in this single sigh he released a months worth of frustration. His desperate hands kneading at the supple flesh of your thighs, roaming up to where he was at his most desperate for you. The moment the pad of his thumb pressed against your clit a jolt of electricity raced through your body, moving you with a shocked flinch against the bed. His eyes bore into yours as if almost warning you to stay still, a warning you would absolutely heed. His eyes transfixed on yours as his thumb swirled around your sensitive nub, gathering slick from your entrance just to return to your clit, your climax building from the moment he touched you. You were almost there, your peak was in sight you could feel it building when he tore his hand from you. A smirk pressed against his lips as he bent down to kiss you, he was proud, he ruined your orgasm and he was proud of it. Just as you settled into the lack of his touch, his lips hovering against yours he plunged his fingers into you, without warning a loud gasp leaving your lips. You knew you’d fucked up the moment the sound left your mouth, his fingers being pulled from you once more.

‘Good girls stay quiet, do you understand me? We wouldn’t want the rest of them finding out how much of a whore you are now would we?’ He sneers, your heart rate increasing as you nod your head again. ‘Such a good girl for me. I’ll make sure to reward you, just stay quiet for me’ he continues, his words softer this time as his fingers return to your warm, wet entrance.

It was harder to stay quiet than you expected. His pace was relentless and now as he kissed down your body, your night dress torn from you and the remaining scrap of fabric now discarded to the floor, the want to moan for him was overwhelming. This was only made worse when his lips wrapped around your sensitive mound. His tongue and fingers moving at the same time, sucking on your most sensitive parts like a man starved. He was desperate for you and now, you were for him. You couldn’t resist it and he could tell, your climax was imminent as you rocked your hips against his mouth. From watching you he knew that you covered your mouth with your hand or bit down onto your fist when you came in an attempt to muffle the sounds. To compensate for this, at the moment your shaking orgasm rippled through your body he shoved his fingers into your mouth, the taste of your own juices heavy on your tongue as he suckled and licked you through your peak, his eyes still fixed on yours.

You thought that was it, he said he wanted to help you and he had, you’d half expected him to leave when he tore his own shirt over his head, pushing his boxers down his thighs as he pushes your legs further open with the weight of his own body. With one hand next to your head and his other white knuckle grasping his cock he glided his length through the slick of your pussy. His lustful gaze had left yours now, favouring watching his tip spread you wide for him. Just as your eyes left his face to watch the sight between your legs you were interrupted. ‘Look at me’ he demands ‘I want to see the look on your face when I split you open’ his words being of continuous shock to you, where had your quiet kind man gone?

Although you’d hate to say he was correct, he was. Even with your drenched hole and your legs spread wide for him the burn as he entered you was real. He was unbelievably thick and long, his length impaling you again and again as he begins thrusting into you relentlessly. He was as desperate for release as you were, maybe you should have known, your sweet man in his full right mind would surely never break into your room and do this to you if he wasn’t desperate you reassured yourself. This can’t be the real him after all, it had to be an act.

These thoughts stayed with you for merely seconds as your eyes rejoined his as they flutter open, your mouth hanging open in a silent moan just like his. As if you could both feel the sound about to release your lips came crashing together, muffling the sound of your joint moans as his tongue slips into your month. It was a dirty, sinful act and you loved every second of it. You’d never felt this desperate for anyone in your life. You wanted him to cum inside you, breed you and make you his.

‘Once I cum inside you, you’re mine. Do you understand? I fucking own you’ he says, making you question if he has a future in a career in mind reading. He doesn’t wait for an answer taking the feeling of your walls tightening around his length as the only reply he would ever need again.

His pace quickens his body pressed against yours as his hand clasps over your mouth silencing you, your head held still as he glares into your eyes. You can feel it, his climax nearing, his thrusts becoming sloppier and more erratic as he breaks his own rule, groaning loudly into your kiss as he cums within you, his liquid filling you to the brim. The sound reverberates against the walls, someone must have heard that you think as he continues to fill you up. Just as you think he’d stopped, almost possessively he begins to move again. The feeling overwhelming both of your senses as he fucks his cum further into you before pulling out and repeating the same process with his fingers, watching a little bit trickle out before pushing it back inside you once more.

‘You’ll keep this inside you, you understand? You don’t get to clean yourself up’ he demands. ‘You’ll be a good girl for me tomorrow, at 10pm sharp you’ll get into the bath across the hall and wait for me. Got it?’ His demands continue as he places one last harsh kiss onto your lips, your eyes flickering closed for only a second, re opening when your kiss has parted. Just like that he was gone. His clothes, every part of him had left you almost without a trace. Your night dress torn on the floor you ponder how you’ll explain that to the maids in the morning as they’ll have to fix it. You cover yourself with the blanket again, your head pressed against the pillow as you finally go to sleep, the best you’ve slept in 21 days.

Part 2

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